The morning call., December 21, 1890, Page 14, Image 15

About The morning call. (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895

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14
AN OPTIMIST;
-OR-
Amzi Crow : Farm-Hand and Philosopher.
WRITTEfi FOR THE SUNDAY CALL BY JEANETTE L. GILDER.
CHAPTER I.
C — p MZI CHOW was an optimist.
/. \ There could be no doubt on tho
(A ) subject, yet I should not like
i *-^ { to have told him so to his face,
/ [ \ \ for lam afraid that, with his
C__l C Jlimited knowledge of what he
described as "dixonary words." he would
have thought that 1 was calling him hard
names. Amzi was an old colored man who
lived with his family in Knsetown aud
farmed "on sheers" for the Widow Ilance,
who owned a well-kept farm on the
l!eckle>stown pike. Kver since she had
been left a widow. Mrs. Hance had a great
deal of trouble with her farm. Ail the good
farmers in her neighborhood had farms of
their own which kept them busy,
so she could get none of them to
help her. When she put on her best silk
gown and got her last year's bonnet out of
it* box in the bisr mahogany wardrobe in the
"spare room," and went to Philadelphia in
quest of "help," she always ;-ame home
completely discouraged. The advertise
ments that took her tv Philadelphia were
the most alluring that could be imagined,
but when she saw the "competent farmer"
who conld take "entire charae" she u«ually
found him to 1« an incompetent person who
could nut be trusted to do more than drive
the cows home or scare the crows from the
fields.
Her success nearer home was little better.
She hireu a man and his wife from lieckless
town, and found some comfort in the ar-
v
ranet'tiif-nL, tot the wife was an excellent
cook and laundress. TUe husband, how
ever, as the husbands of so many hard
working women are, was lazy, and never did
anything that he could shirk: still, he was
a man in the house, and that .whs something,
Mrs. I lance was a pretty z^.od overseer, and
she got alone fairly well while this arrange
ment lasted, but that was not fur wry long.
One stcnny winter evenine 'he was sit
ting alone in her little front i*rlor listening
to thp pattering of the raiu on the tin roof
dl the h an-io across the hall, when she
heard a stumbling step on the piazza, and
then a thud, as though some heavy body
had been thrown against the iront door.
The cat that shared the genial warmth of
the lire with its mistress, >ptang into the
corner and arched its bark to the limit of its
skin, while Mrs. llance dropind her knit
' ii>: ..nl siood as if routed to the spot. S.'ie
was t-ntirt'.y al'>ne in the house, Martha
havins been called away by the illness of a
daughter and l)anit:l having into
Keokle-stown to mike some parchase, the
nextd:iv being .Sunday.
Sirs. Hance was not as great a coward as
some women, uor was she as brave as othirs,
and she told me, in narrating the incident,
that it was several minutes befure she DOOM
make up her mind to go to the door. 1 .\ <-;i
ttnii the had not tho courage to open it, bin
called out in her mo-t ioipressive voice,
'■Who's there?" There was a scunU of
snuietiiiiig heavy rolling about. .She re
,.-,.■..■ i her excUimatfon, aud theu v thick,
uncertain voice replied:
"It's Dan'l, your protector."
At first she «as inclined to leave him out
side in tne storm, but her humanity g..t tbe
better at her judgment, and she opened the
door, whereupon her "protector" rolled in
noon the mat— the uj(ist thoroughly intoxi
cated man that ilrs. Ilance, with her lim
ited experience, had ever seen. It took no
little iugfiiuity and strength to get him iuto
the leau-;o, where she locked him up as se
curely as the primitive fastenings permitted.
Then", trembling in every limb, exhausted
and thoroughly alarmed, for she did not
know what a man in bis coiidition might be
capable of doing, she locked herself in the
parlor and sat there throughout the longest
night of her experience.
With the first breaking of dawn she
stepped out into the hall, where she was
greeted by the deep, heavy breathing of the
intoxicated man in the lean-to. Putting on
her sun-bonnet she went out over the wet
grass to the barn, and there, hitching old
Kitty to the farm-wagon, she drove to Keck
lesstuwn for the constable. That function
ary remrned with her, much against his
will, and with the assistance of another
man got Daniel into a cart and drove him
to the town-house, leaving Mrs. llance for
the time being without a protector.
It was about a week after this episode
that she heard nf Amzi Crow. "He is the
salt of the earth," said Dr. Bloodgood, who
recommended him to her, ''and he has the
trreat merit of nlways seeing the bright side
of things" Mrs. Hance had about made
up her mind that she would never have an
other colored "protector," but what she
heard of Amzi was so attractive that she
determined to send lor him and see how he
Impressed hei.
lie came up to the farm one day after he
had "tidied" himself up a bit after a hard
day's w.irk. He had on white trousers that
were very tight about the thighs and very
lnose about the ankles. They did not reach
the tops of his calfskin shoes by several
inches, ami a« socks were a luxury he
did not indulge in in summer there was
a gord deal of brown skin exposed to
view a* he walked. His cuat might have
own almost »nc color originol'y, but it had
laded to an olive green. On his head was
a well-worn derby al a low-crowned, wide
rimmed pattern, which had once been the
mode. It was battered and greasy beyond
description, but, almost defaced by contact
wiih Amzi'l wool, the name of a fashionable
New York hntter could be made out in the
crr'wn. Perhaps it was because some one
had told him that this maker's name was a
good one, or because the hat bad been given
him by Dr. Bloodgood's brother-in-law, a
New Fork man, that Amzi was so much at
tached to it When he came into Mrs.
Dance's kitchen he removed this hat care
fully from his head and liald it tenderly in
I. is hands while he talked with her.
bho m favorably impressed by him at
once, for though ho hardly could have been
failed a. handsome nun, even of his race, he
lia-l an honest open countenance, particu
larly abnut the mouth. His none was the
hnmdest of Its kind— a discouraging nose
f r the influenza 1 should say, but admir
al ly adapted lor scenting new mown hay or
any strong odors about tho house. Not a
particularly keen no?e, but a honielv useful
nose lhat made up in breadth what it lacked
in prominence. Jiia „ were uot largp
and ihrir whites had that peculiar reddish
yellow color noticeable in the eyes of ne
(jn es but their expression was IM-nevolent.
Amzi s figure betokened strength rather
than elegance. lie wasUll and brawny ana
his arms were uuufitially long. Ordinarilysat
gentle as a child, 1 should think that if un
justly attacked those long arms and sinewy
hands of his would be as deadly as a go
rilla's. There whs a great deal of gray in
his hair and In his scraggy beard. One's
belief iii the Darwinian theory was strength
ened by his appearance, and I cannot gay
that his intellectual development altogether
contradicted it But he was a good man
and did his duty according to his light.
"Well, Amzi," ■> id Mrs. tfanee, "I hear
good accounts of you lrom Dr. liloodgood."
'Think 'cc, ma'am," replied the nezro.
twisting Ms hat; "Dr. Uloodgood he's •
coi'd word to say fer every one. He don't
'spise a ninn 'cause he's pore, no, he don't—
he don't 'spise a man 'cause he's pore, Dr.
Ulcodgood don't— that's so, he don't."
Uuw lm.it Amzi would have cone on with
his reflections there is no telling. It was a
trick of his to slowly ring the changes on
liis last words, but Mrs. Ilance, who always
liked to net to the point without waste of
time, begun at once to explain what his du
ties would bf if he came to her. Ho listened
attentively, and then replied:
■' I'd like to try, Miss Hunce ; I'd rather
have one steady job than half ad"zen on
ct<-ady ones, 1 would. I don't like onsteady
jobs, nohow: the'ra mighty oncertain, they
are— that's BO— mighty oncertain; but," he
added, as though he hadn't been quite fair
to them, "tlie'ie better than nothiu'. Yes,
an unsteady job is better than nnjob— that's
so. I'd tike to take your farm on sheers,
Mi«s Hanre, 'cause it's a big farm, an' half a
big farm is more'n half h little one, no it is."
"1 shall want you to sleep at the house,
Auizi," said Mrs. Ilance; "how can you ar
range Mutt, aud you a married man?
"I can 'range, that, .Miss Ilauce, easy
'uough. It wont take no 'ranging' this sum
mer, no way, for -Sally — that's uiy wife — is
a confessed cook, she is, an' she cooks to
Raspberry T'ark la the summer time. In the
winter she spends most ol her time visitin'
her Tattoos. 1 never seen oue raui with
so many— all her own, too, nona of mine.
She's a wonderful woman lor nussin'. They
nil want her when they're sick, an' luin'
there's s<> many, there's aim st always one
of 'em g.t sutliiu' lira mutter, but Saliy kin
pull 'em through. Mib savi-d my life — last
summer was a year— her an' Or. BioodgOOd;
I was awful low — abscesses in me intrills —
but Sally's nussin' and Dr. IJ.oi.dgood's
dortorin' pulled me through."
So it was agreed that Amzi should take
the farm on shares. "Never iv my life,"
said bin. llauce, "did I have such comfort.
Nothing went wrong, or raiher umhing
stayed wrong. If the puuip-han lla broke,
Amzi patched it up, and said he thought it
worked uelt^r than befora If the rain
poured down on ills hay, ho turned it over
and over when the sun came out, r- marking
cheerily that Uio rain 'kinder Iresiie.icd it
up.' "
He never ssw tha dark side of thing-, but
always tried to make the best of evtrjihuii;.
He born malice toward no man, or only
toward one, who was a confirmed gossip and
did not he.Miate to lie about Ins neighbors
when he wanted to make a point. An.zi
looked almost wicked when lie spoke of this
man.
"That Job Perkins," said he, "is bound to
git his come-up- Ins. 1 never knowed a
man to lie like him without gittln' cotclied
some way. He don't Lave n;. lack. Every
thin' goes again tmu- His h ss died las'
year just for DUthln', but'eanseit was bU*n.
Be said it had been phcened, but it hadn't.
It was lust bid couie-iip-iiis. Now he's got
the chills and his wife scrabblu'the Boor
yistetday run n splinter two inches lorm un
der her thumb nail. She had it cut out by
the doctor, ami now she has to have but
thumb done u;> in a poultice snd carry it
'roan' like it was a baby. It's all his ec>me
ui-'ns — that's just what Ills, BOthln' else,
that's so." And Auizi shook liis he.id re
flectively.
\\ hile Auizi was very communicative as
far as his own nffairs were concerned, he
had an idea that he proved his loyalty to his
employer by being close-mouthed iv matters
that pertained to hpr business. 1 met him
one day as lie was pitching hay iv the
meadow along the roadside, and for tin
sake of engaging him in conversation I in
quired tlift price of liny. His vice had th.it
peculiar up-and-down quality assumed on
the negiv-iuiii-trel sta^e, and 1 could never
resist the temptation to draw him out.
Amzi stuck the prongs of his pitchlork in
the ground, a;.d poshing back his old straw
hat (the derby was for ' 'dress-up" oceasil ns).
hesitated a moment, then said uowly: "The
price o' hay depends upon distant things.
Last year's hay is allus darer'u tins year's
hay, and » liatsuinever last year's hay was,
this year's hay'il be cheaper— that is, it
would be cheaper only this year's tiav is
beiter'n last year's hay, so this year's bay
will be darern last gear's hay."
"What was tlie price of last year's hay?"
I a-ked.
He let go his hold on the pitch-fork, and
bringing liis brown forefinger down into tlie
pink, seamed palm of his left hand, nnd
wrinkling his foivhead so that it looked like
a piece of brown corduroy, he said, with a
ciinniiig gler.ni in his eve:"
"Ontrusty men got hold o' last yeai's hay
an' sol' It Tor the price o' this year's hay,
that's good hay. Some men haint got no
princip'l, they haint."
"But wlmt'did Mrs. Han ee get for last
year's hay?" 1 persisted.
Auui's face brightened, for he saw a way
out of the difficulty.
"What did Mis' Hance get fo' last year's
hay?" said lie, "why, last year's hay was
oats."
CHAPTER 11.
The next farm to that of Mrs. Hance be
longed to Squire I'ulsey, a widower, who
was considered well off as fanners go. lie
was a mean sort of a man, hut honest, a not
OOtUlud combination; and he hold a mort
gage on Mrs. Hance's farm, for her lm<=
batid lived better than fanners are apt to
live, and it cost him a good <l"al to ao it.
Believing that lie would b* able to pay it
back without ilirti-nltv , he borrowed money
of Squire l'ulsry and gave him a mortgage
on the farm. An attack of pneumonia car
rit-d him off in his early prime, so that he
really left an laberttance of debt to his wife.
She was a plucky woman and a good tanaet
and given time, iSquire I'ulsey would be naid.
But the Squire was nut anxious for his
principal so long as his interest was paid
regularly, for he enjoyed the privilege ol
calling tor it himself. Mrs. Hance had never
given the Squire much encouragement to
call, so these semi-annual occasions were the
only ones that found him in the little front
pailor of the willow's farm-house. He was
the opposite of the lat* Mr. lianec in every
way. in character as well as appearance,
and he knew it, but as their farms adjoined
eftch other, he thought it would be a good
thing to marry the widow and thrnw them
in t (i one.
One pleasaut evening early in the summer,
when the honeysuckles that clustered at the
froutof the house were sending their swceU
est perfumes through thi; open window into
the little parlor, Mrs. Hance s:\w Squire
Pulley coming g;iily up the path, ns gaily,
that U, as his ago nnd labor-stiftVned joints
would allow. She noticed that ho was in
gala-day attire and that there was actually
a bit of lilac in his button-bole. Nothing
could b« farther apurt than flowers and
.Squire Pusley, nnd Afis. llance said this to
herself as she sawliim approa-h. His were
mean features and his expression robbed
them nf none of their inpannes-".
" I knew this was collection day. Squire,"
Raid Mrs. Hance, ushering him into the par
lor, 'and lam ready for you. Here's jour
interest," nnd she dn-w an envelope with
the money in it from her pocket and handed
it to the caller. The squire took it in his
horny fingers, and opening the envelope
counted it carefully and then wrote a re
ceipt and handed it to the widow, who stood
waiting for him to take his leave. But lie
was in no hurry.
"Mis' Hnnce,"s«id he, "it want only
the interest money that brought mo over
here this evenin 1 . It was suinthin' else.
CanHyou gues3 what?" said lie, trying to
lonk sentimental, but succeeded so badly
that Mrs. Hance exclaimed:
"Yes, I know. That mealow fence is
down again, and my pigs have got into your
clover. Auizi was too busy with the hay to
do anything with the fence to-day, but he
will put it up the first thing in the morning."
"No, Mis' llance, 'twan't that that
brought me here this evenin'. l'tn a plain
spoken man, Mis' Hance, an' I don't go
round the long road when I can cot 'cross
lots. You're a widder, an' I'm a widdewer;
°. ur >an'« jine. Why shouldn't our nan's
Squire Pusley hail boen preparing this
speech for a long time, and he rattled it off
very glibly. Mrs. Hauce was not prepared,
however, and she stared in stolid amazement
at the old man. At last she said :
t . "* tl '' nlc there must b « B <"ne mistake,
Squire Pusley ; 1 do not understand you."
'My meanin's plain enough," said the
fcquire, rather tartly, for her manner was
THE MORNING CALL. SAN FRANCISCO. SUNDAY. DECEMBER 21. 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES.
not encouraging.- "Will you marry me?
That's the ]>lain English ol it."
"To be equally plain, Squire Pusley. I
will not, and 1 am surprised that you dare
ask rue such a question."
"Surprised at gitten sich a good offpr, I
guess," replied tlie Squire, hotly. "I'd
make yer a much better h'.isban' than Jog
Hancp did. for I wouldn't leave ycr with a
mortgage on yer farm."
"Squire Pulsey, if you say one word
against my dead husband I'll have you
thrown into the road," said the indignant
woman, her eyes fairly snapping with
aimer. She had hardly spoken when the
voice of Ainzi came through the window
clearly aud distinctly:
* * I* in agoin' to turn %c ole hog out, Mis'
Bailee.'
Then there was silence for a moment, dur
ing which fcquire Pusley's face became pur
pie with rage, while that of Mrs. Hance
took i v mingled expressions of amusement
and surprise.
" You called your hired nigger In to Insult
me. did you ?" said the squire. " A fine lady
you are! Hut I'll make you pay for this.
Abigail Ilance," aud shaking his fist almost
in her face, the irate squire left the house
and Miiiill.-il down the path as fast as he
could, closing the gate behind hiiniwith a
bant; that ahuoat broke the hinges. Mrs.
Ilance watched him until he disappeared,
then she looked around the room to see if
she was really awake and in her own parlor.
Yes, everything was just as it always was,
except that a hit of purple lilac lay on the
floor, rts frasrance crushed out by an angry
boot-heeL Then .Mrs. Ilance RYutoutinthe
dusk to look for Amzi, whose threat had so
enraged the squire and rid her of his hateful
presence. Sue crossed over the Ml of bleaeh
mg-ground at the back of the house and
Walked down to the acre lot by the barn, but
she saw nothing of me negru. bo raising
her voice, slio called, " Ainzi, Auizi!"
Buck up the hillside ciiuie the answer iv
Amzi's familiar, cheery rones.
"J'mdown here, Mis' Ilance, turnin' the
big bag out 'er Squire Pusley's madder.
Mrs. Ilance sat down upon a moss-covered
bowlder at her feet, and. burying I.er face
in her hands, shed a fow tears in men.ory (if
the husliana whose good name had been in
sultea by liie mean-spirited Squire PtUleT.
'J'lilii she burst forth into a merry laugh.
Which came very near turning into hyster
ics ; for it was a trying scene she had gone
through, notwithstanding its ridiculous de
uoiiment. "Well," said she, as she arose
from Hie bowlder an i walked slowly back
to the house, "Atn/.i certainly proved him
self my 'protector' this evening."
A u!7, 's early education had been neglected,
but Sally, waoai he adored not only for her
goods 1 oks (siie was a conn lv mulatto.), hail
learned to lead nud write, aud ol this Auizi
was very proud. "Silly's got a heap o'
lam in',' 1 lib would say. "She's a real schol-
Urd, she is so; slit* can read readiu' and
'r.iin'. too. Well, I 'spose I'm better off
unlsuut it. fur if I could read readin' I'd
allns bn a stopiiiu' off work to do It, Bo k
1 irniu' i> :i good tiling f;;r women, but man
badn I urter take th- time away from their
Work fur sicil tilings."
All the same it was a i;reat grief to Aimi
that be could int re nl, and that he was
obliged to make his "mark" on occasions
that called fir liis signature.
"I ki'i make a good n.ark ef I have a cod
l>"n. Tiiuis a great deal in lens. Why,
I've -i" d room pens that cnuldn't make no
mark at aii."
1 tniuk Amzi would have felt less bailly
Uiau lie ilid mi ths Subject of his education
if be had "illy been ablu to read Sally's let
ters. Sally was proud of her accomplish
ment as a conetp mdent, and slm wrote
\\n/\ long letters when .-.he was away from
home, which was most of the time, and he
would cany them ar.mnd in His pocket for
days before ho could make up his Brad to
:,sk any one to read them to him. One even-
Ing Mrs. Ilance saw Him sitting on the Mi
st.'.ie which served as the kitchen douist •;>,
with his spectacles on his nose and a letter
spread out on his kuees. As she not within
a few feet of him she saw that the It ter
was upside down, but she did not like to
tel! him so. At last ha got it right side up,
puri-ly by accident, and he was laying to
himself:
'•There's ah A. I ken allus tell an A
when I see it, for it stands fur Ainzi. If
writin' was nil A's I could read it well
enough, but it's g.it so many other pesky
littl ■ letters in it, I can't 'member at all.
Oh, Mis' llance, is lln-t you? Ilow ycr
skeert me!"
".Sit st. II, Amzi," said Mrs. Hance, "don't
let me disturb 71111, if you are reading a
letter. 1 soopose it's from Sally. Is it
good or bad news? 1 '
"Li's g»nd news. Mis' Hanre, bad news
never omes in letters; letters Is ton slow
lur bail news. I a'.l'is know when I 2*t a
1. ttir lli.it it's pood news, for £0. il news 'II
k'-ep. Wouldn't you like to read it Mis'
Hurnv?"
"Thank you, Amzi," snid Mrs. nance,
taking the letter and reading it to herself.
" 'Spose you wus to read it out loud ; I
wouldn't mind hearin' it auin. Sally's
letters 'II hear a powerful lot o" readin'."
Tins is Hie letter that Mrs. Hance read
after laying; in a good stock of breath :
Pear Amzi I received your kind and welcom
It Her and was Moor Ihari g!ad too lieie frlini you
and tn know ihai you are well and I am well ut
the pre»ent time ( .f my ruing and hope ttni wen
tlies few lini-? i:.-nch you !!iat llioy may nnd you
Hie same Mis Green and 1 staited too Camp
ineeiiu' und just (Jut to the train in Time ton gel
left I leil you wol 1 wus verry Much disappointed
tor I liadst-t my hail upon (lowing there Tliur*
daywit amitliei l.idv and iuys*lf went ton I'an
rauiH ut the bethul chinch it wus veiry nice Tlie
wither is verry chaugeble hear and i think that
Ililr will be A verry erly (all 1 hope tuo he 111
itoM'tiiWD tif.'or » niter sets in every lijursdav
nlte the I,iue;ly camel b:md give A open airt
concurt on the beech The music is grand well
my dear husbuu as 1 have no Moor to say Ht
presi-nt 1 will draw my Idler to a clos by
saviu pi'iid by Auswer Soon Inim yuur lavlnu
wil Sully Crow. ]•. s. dear lui^bun you nmst
excuse mis w»y of wiiiin' as one leiter has b-en
staried ?ince Muiinday as I did 1101 have Ihe
time 10 bluish ou Miiunday tlier was a tnlic
stiom it swep tilings as It went ami struck a bed
nnd duheled all of tue Bed-Close all 1111 in A heep
But strange 10 say It did not set uoilnii A Kler
this mm v 111' I got out of my bed at six o'clock
and looked out 01 My windo acros the water and
lhu mud was a blowln lue leaves o( the trees and
It was a Huttftil site 1 am Aconlu to Die concert
this evenln llitre is n«itlmi like goin round and
seeiiiE All Hie worw and It siuhis I do not w»ut
nuililiiF out off my Trouuk a* sumiir Is almost at
an End I cot a new dre^s and new Mioues mad
too Oder I lliluk iliat 1 have wriiun you A (food
long Letter and 1 think that you out too wilt me
a lon_'f 1 one court uy giv my love to mis Hants
and ductur lSJudgud ausersoou From Sally.
Amzi's face as Mrs. Hance read this letter
was a study in the expression of umtitied
oride.
"Well, now, ain't that a letter! She's
got everything in. What a place liasberry
Park is! Little of everything* goin' 011
there, and bally, she's seem' il all. That's
right. I'm glad miff that onn of us can git
roun an' see what's goin' ou ; yes, I
am glad one of us can git roun',
an' ; I'm glad thet one's Sally, fur
she's got such an education .she can 'predate
travclin'. 1 aint never beeu further nor
Trenton. I aint, but I seen enuff
there to show me th«t it wants an education
in 'piwiate travel, and thet's wot Sally's got.
Yes, I'm glad that ef only one of us can go,
Sally's thet one. '.Spose 'twas me. I never
could write such letters. Why, it's as good
:is goin' to read one uv Sally's letters, and
no trouble of gettin' roun, nuther."
Mrs. Ilance gave him back the letter,
which he folded up carefully and tucked
away in the lining of his hat.
CHAPTEB 111.
Anizi believed in the old probeib, "Early
to bed and eßrly to rise." Eight o'clocu
found him slre'.ched upon his cot under tlie
eaves in the open attic. It didn't tsikn him
long to get to bed nor long to get to sleep.
Such a word a 9 night-gown found no ulnce
in Anizi's vocabulary. The old rlnnnel
shirt that he woru during the day served the
purpose of a gown at night. "Too
much chancing' of clothes was bad
fur tlie health" lie said, and there was
no reason to fear that his health was going
to suffer from any such cause. Once asleep,
I think the house mieht have fallen down
about his ears without awakening him.
Mrs. fiance had fnnnd this out when she
wanted to call him one evening about 9
o'clock to drive the bull out of the door
yard. She gave up in despair, nnd the bull
remained master of the situation until
morning. When she told Arazl of her efforts
to awaken him, he said:
"'Pears like I did here some one call me
in the night. I'm awful sorry, Mis' Bailee;
why didn't ynu call louder or shake me ?
That would n woke me up. I'm a werry
light sleeper, I'm."
As Mrs. Hance had shouted in his ear
until she was hoarse, and had shaken him
by the shoulder until she was afraid she
would push him out of bed, she did not
share the opinion that he was a light sleeper.
However, it was seldom that he was wanted
in the night, so she was glad that he did
sleep so soundly after his hard day's work.
Although he slept soundly he awoke early.
Amzi arose with the dawn.
"I can't lie abed till sunrise," he would
say. "there's too much good light gone by
that time. When dawn breaks at half past
three I can get a heap o' work done before
the air gets hot with the sun."
Until Mrs. Hance got i-sed to hts earlr
hours she used to think that tramps had got
into the house, for it seemed to her some
where about thn middle of the night that
she heard the back stairs creaking under
the miiffleii tread of Awzi'a bare feet. One
hot July morning she heard him go out with
the dawn, but the breakfast hour mine and
he did not return. Maggie, the greenhorn,
who did the rough work nbout the house,
was sent out to look for him, but he was
nowhere to be spen. She looked every
where she could think of about the place,
and then, taking thn old tin horn down
from its nail behind tlie kitchen door, she
blew a blast that would have brought a
blush of envy to the cheek ol a fish-peddler.
"If he don't hare that," snid she, as she
looked out over the dew-coverpd meadow,
'•he'll nivver hare auld Gabrel's horn, in
dade."
"Have you looked everywhere, Maggie?"
asked Mrs. 11 uce.
"Shure. ma'am, there's not a bit of the
place I haveu't bin over. Hist awhile! 1
wasn't at the woodshed beyant," and away
she darted for the woodshed by the barn.
In a moment more Mrs. Ilance, who was
standing in the kitchen doorway, beard a
cry such as had never reached her ears be
fore, it was like the nail of a lost soul.
She ran as fast as her trembling limbs
would permit towards the woodshed, whence
the sound proceeded, and there she saw
Blaeeie wringing her hands, the picture of
terrified ignorance, and Amzi stretched out
upon the ground, apparently unconscious,
lie blood tiowiug from a wound in his bare
foot and staining the white chips that lay
about it.
" He's killed, the poor crathur." ex
claimed the girl, with another wail; but a
deep groan liom the prostrate mau dis
credited her diagnosis.
Mrs. 1 1 aii.-" was equal to the emergency.
Thu bloody ax that lay by Anui's sido told
how the gapiug wound had been made.
Excitement often gives us strength to ac
complish that Which iv our calmer moments
would be impossible. The two women suc
ceeded in getting the unfortunate man to
the house, and there they laid him on the
settee in the sitting-room. While Mrs.
llauce washed the wounded foot with cold
water aud tied it up in strong bandages,
\
Maggie harnessed Kitty to the fann-wajr,on
anil ur.'Ve into LJirdiingtown for Dr. I'.lood
good. The doctor was eating his breakfast
when she arrived, but her wild nature and
and warm heart were not to be restrained
by conventioiiKlilies.
"Come, conirt quick, doctor," she cried,
rushing into tlie dining-room. "The poor
black man is killed aud in -Hess wants you
to come back With me and save his life."
i..\i\ :iu his breakfast uuliuishcd — no nn-
UMial thing for the doctor to do — he ques
tioned the excited girl as to the. nature of
the accident, got together such remedies as
were necessary, »nl set oif at once in the
farm wagon. When they reached the house
Amzi was feeling very much better, and he
was <iuite able and rather anxious to tell the
story of his misfortune.
"It was jes' this way," said he. "I crep
downstairs worry airly this morniu', for
there was some wood wantin' to be chopped
f V thu kitchen tiro, i'd pot kinder Ixihint
han' with the wood on nccount o" hayin'.
Sn 1 sez to myself, sez I, I'll jes get sum o'
that wood split up fo' the busy part o' the
day tafias. It was putty warm this
iimrnin , so i 'loweJ I'd leave off my shoes,
the. cool year th felt so pleasant to my feet.
Then I began a choppin'; the ole axe had
jes bin gionu' and it cut as easy as goin'
through butter; but all ai wanst I struck an
onery piece a wood with a kuot inter it.
The ole iix she shyed oil to one side jes
where my foot was, an' she c.uteleau inter
it. The next thing I knowed" was nuthin.
Then 1 heerd Maggie a fCieechiu' an' seen
Mis' Ilance a standiu' over me, but I was
t<Ki dean gone to ■peak. I must a d rapped
off again, for the next timo I knowed any
thin' I was a lyin' in hero with my foot all
done tip and Mis' llanee a feedin' mo with
suthin' that bunt me all the way down my
windpipe."
Having told his talc, Amzi sank back ex
;;.;■■•■. and Mrs. llaneegave him aunther
teaspoouful of brandy for fear that he might
faint again. Dr. Idoodk'ood removed tbe
baodagei, an 1 was chucked at tho serious
ness of the wound.
"This is a pretty bad business, Amzi,"
said he, "this cut is live Miches long and
nearly an inch deep."
"lei don't say so!" said Anizi. "Five
inches loug and nearly an inch deep— my,
ruy! well, that is lucky."
" Lucky," said tin; doctor, "I don't sco
anything very lucky about such, a wound as
that."
" I was jes' a ihinkin' how l:ieky It was
thet I'd left off my shoes. They'd a bin
clean ruined with a vat live inches lons and
nearly an inch deep. Shoes wont stan' no
sicli blow us thet. It's jes' luck, so it is."
The doctor dressed the wound and put on
new bandages, and, with the help of Mrs.
Hance and Maggie, gut Amzi up to the little
hull bed-room on the second lloor and iuto
the snowy bed.
•' Vo' ain't goin' to put me inter this air
bed?" said he, protestingly.
" Yes, we are," replied the doctor. "We
are going to make you as comfortable as
possiole, for you wont be able to get out
doors again inside of two months."
"For the Lawd's sake, doctor, don't say
that."
" It's true, Amzi, ami whether you ever
have the use of your foot again depends
upon your keeping quiet."
" I'm thankful, e[ tliet's so, thet the hay's
all in. That's morn luck nut to nit laid up
till after hayin' time."
".Now, doctor, if you will help me, we
will puil thi.s bedstead around so that Amzi
can sen out the widow," said Mr.?. Ilauce.
'J lie change was soon made, aud Amzi was
propped up with snowy pillows wliich threw
lii.s black face into strong relief against
tiieir wnlteneM.
"E£ this 'ere aiut jes too much." ex
claimed he, his eyes turned toward the
open window, "There aiiit no 'sense for
fe.elin lonesome here, with such a nun view
ol the einietry, and as many hs three fun'els
B day agoiu' bj"; and a siniie of profound
contentment passed over tlie| optimist's
face, succeeded by a look of eager anticipa
tion as the bluw tread of horses' l'eet hoard
upon the turnpike announced the approach
oi a funeral cortege.
'•"H'JiiVlit. IHSO, by thr AxitUurs' Alliance. All
riyhlu tie urea.
JiOKSK-FOWEK.
A Fnls* Unit of One of tii* Most Impor
"ni Mf>n*nr»mnniii In ili« World.
When men first begin to become familiar
with the methods of measuring mechanical
power they often speculate on where the
breed of horses is to be found that can keep
at work raising :»,()00 pounds one foot
per minute, or equivalent, wliich is more
familiar to some mechanics of raising 3rsO
pounds 100 feet per ininuie. Since ;«ouo
pounds raised one foot pei minute is called
one horse power, it is natural that people
.should think the engineers who established
that unit of measurement based it on what
horses could really do.
But the horse who can do this work does
not exist, lhe horse-power unit was estab
lished by James Watt about a century ago
and the figures were fixed in a curious way.
Watt found that the average horse of his
district could raise L'L'.OdO pounds one foot
per mluute. This, then, was an actual horse
power.
At that time Watt was employed in the
manufacture of engines, and customers were
so hard to find that all kinds of nrtilicial \n
ducemeuts were necessary to induce power
users to buy steam engines. As a method
of encouraging them Walt offered to sell en
glues reckoning js.QOO foot pounds to a
horse-power. And thus he was Uie mean*
of giving a false unit to one of the most im
portant measurements In the world.— N. T.
The new hotel which William W. Astoria
building on the northeast come™ of Fift£
ninth street and Fifth avenue, New York
will be seventeen stories high
An Equivalent f..r Suicl le.
If we allow our bodily Infirmities to make away
with u 3 through neglect, have we such an Immense
moral advantage over the deliberate suicide T
Scarcely. For eiample. the deadly progress of
Bright* disease, dlabetea. acute uephltls and grave!
Is sure-often terribly swift in the cata^opho
Most people of average Information know that thta
Isthesuuple.uurarnlsnod truth lv regard to those
widely prevalent maladies. To delay judlctou. med
ication U specially .ulcldal In bu4 case, rL
rn.au. of re.traliit Is to be found In Hostette".
Stomacn Bitter.. Oive an lmpetu. to the action „!
vH^~?~^r
JUVENILE
SOVEREIGNS.
The Little Rulers O f Holland,
Spain and Servia.
A Btview of ths Situation id Eorops-Tha
Fsrils to Which the Balkan Eulen
Ars Expaied.
SjT%HREE of the thrones ol Europe,
Slß^ namely, those ol Holland. Spain and
j!£? Servia, are occupied at the present
moment by mere children, and if all the per
sistent rumors concerning the ill-health of
Emperor William and Dom Carlos have any
foundation it i 3 possible that the number of
infant sovereigns will shortly be augmented
by a nine-year-old K.iUer of Germany and a
four-year-old King of Portugal. -It is there
fore quite possible that on the occasion of
the next congress of crowned heads in Eu
rope the anointed of the Lord will be at
tended by their nurses in lieu of Chancel
lors or Prime Ministers, and that the festiv
ities in honor of the meeting will take the
form of reviewing dolls instead of soldiers,
writes the Paris correspondent of the New
York Tribune. Their conferences will be
devoted to the discussion of candies, and
they will toast one another in bumpers of
pap.
While this reductio ad absurdam may
call forth a smile, the latter will quickly
make way for a look of extreme gravity
when one remembers how vast are the
interests which center on the precarious
lives of these royal children. In the case
of the little Queen of the Netherlands, as in
those of tli6 baby King of Spain and of the
boy monarch of Servia, the happiness and
welfare of their rnspeetivo subjects and the
tranquility and peace of Europe are staked
upon their existence. For the death of any
one of tiie three before the attainment of
their majority would result iv certain chaos
at home aud iv probable war both within
and beyoud the frontier. A painful feature
ot the situation is to be found in the fact
that although the majority of people are
thus impelled by considerations of self
interest to express wishes and to offer
up prayers for the continued safety aud
health of
Till! INFANT SOVEHEIGXS,
Yet there are many who yearn and hope for
their death. Several dastardly attempts
have already been made at Belgrade to take
the lifeof young King Alexander <>f Servia.
In Spain both the Cariists and iiepublieans
made no attempt to disguise their disap
pointment when the little King began to
recover from his severe illness a year ago,
and they make no pretense of concealing
their conviction that they have even thing
to gain by his departure for another world.
With regard to the Nethei lands, tne d3*S>p>
pi arance of little Queen WMhelmina would
result in the accesM.iii to the throne of the
wife <f the reigning Grand Duke of
Saxe-Weiuiar, and Holland, with all its
enormous trade and magnificent colo
nies, would become to all intents and
purposes a German province, endowed
»itu about as much autonomy aud inde
pendence as cities of Hamburg aud Bremen,
it is doulnfuL however, whether the popu
lation will submit to German douiinati n
without a struggle for the maintenance of
their liberties, and although the Dutch
".•sehutters" or militiamen are scarcely a
natch for the trained armies of tile German
Emperor, yet the victories uf the Boers over
the English in South Africa, and the mag
nificent resistence which bJU been offered to
almost every f jreigu Invasion of the Nether
lands, furnish grounds for belief that they
Would not suneuder without making a big
and sanyuinary tiiht iv defense of their
political and material interests.
Although little Queen AVilhelmina is ex
ceedingly frail and delicate, and, like the
majority of Albino 6, suffers greatly from
ana'iuia, yet the German^ are determined to
TAKK XO fI'ANC'KS
And to secure themselves against the im
probable eventuality uf tbe girl living to the
attainment ol her majority. With this ou
ject iv view, tne Court of Berlin lias ar
ranged with the Kegent of Holland, who is a
German Princess, for v match between her
daughter, the lit: lo Queen, and the second
son of I'rince Albert of Prussia. The lad
is about 15 years of age, aud instead of be
ing educated like the other members of his
family in Germany, is passing his boyhood
at i he Hague, where he resides per
manently in a houso purchased lor his
use. He attends Dutch schools, receives
his military training from Dutch officers,
and is being fitted in every conceivable man
ner for the Somewhat delicate and difficult
position of a King Consort of the Nether
lands. It was the knowledge of this pro
jected alliance that BO embittered the last
year of old King William's life and which
converted his love and gratitude for Queen
Emma into feehugs of intense animosity.
For, a Dutchman to the very core, he hated
and feaied the Germans, of whose covetous
designs he was perfectly aware. He could
not bear the thought of his kingdom failing
under the sway ol the Hohenzullern Emue
ror; and during liis last days his malady as
sumed the limn of maniac ravings and rail
ings against Germany and everything and
everybody connected therewith, including
his own wife.
While the infant sovereigns ol Spain and
the Netherlands are jealously tended by
ip'itliers who, independently of tlieir feel
ings of maternal devotion, are impelled to
particular watchfulness by tliu knowledge
that the death of their children would beat
once followed by loss of rank, wealth an«
power, and by a probable expulsion from
the country, the poor little King of Servia
is passing his boyhood in solitude. No
mother is permitted to smooth bis pillow, to
greet him with affection in the morning and
TO KISS HIM GOOD XICJUT.
He Is left alone to face the dangers wliich
surround Mm, mid they are many in num
ber. His father's predecessor oti tlie throne
of Senria was murderea ia euld blood by the
Karageorgcwitcy pretenders, who are as
eager for the crown to-day as they were
then, aud who h;ive evea far more to gain
now by the duatii of Alexander than by the
usMUD&Uon of MllosD, twenty-five years
ago. Moreover, the kidnapping of Prince
Alexander of Bulgaria in the middle of the
uihiit bom bit |i ii.i'-r by Russian emissaries
allords auotlier demonstration of thu perils
to winch Balkan rulers are exposed.
The domestic troubles which led to Ms
patents' divorce and to his father's abdica
tion iv his favor have resulted In his being
debarred from see' us his mother, except on
rare occasions, notwithstanding the fa t
that she resides within a hundred yards ot
his palace gate*. Every effort is made by
her enemies in Keneral and by her husband
iv particular to inilucnce the lad against
her. and only th« otter day lie was indued
by his father tit write her a letter in which
he declares that he will break off alt rela
tion- with her if she penbt] in submitting
to Parliament the disputed question as to
legality of the divorce which Milan, by iui
uitiper methods, secured ngaiust her.
Queen Natalie's reply t<; her child, to whom
alia in devotedly attached, is worthy of
being placed on record. It runs thus:
" 1 would give much if you had not
written that letter, my boy. But A3 1 know
who made you write it I excuse you. For
twelve years 1 taught you to love your
father, and to honor him, and concealed the
misery of my life from you. Had King
Milan seen the situation clearly, he would
have dove as much for me. This inusi snow
you how different are your parents' charac
ters. If I appeal to the Skuptchinn, I
merely make use of luy good right. If you
fulfill your threat yuu will lose th« respect
of your people and of the wliole civilized
world. Kings are expected to have hearts
as well as other people. Tua nation will
say, 'lie has no heart for his mother — he
will have no heart for us.' "
STROLLING PLAYERS.
A Class Who Are Delighted With
Little.
The srtolling players who visit our villagos
and small town: are dear to the hearts of the
people. The demands of these rustics are
small, and tbtty are delighted with modest
returns. Tinsel, spangles and stage scenery
painted at the rate of Id per square yard are*
to them spectacular splendors, and comruon
plsiees are regarded with a kind of awe if
delivered in velvet cloak and buskins in a
stately Ciceronian style. These rustic au
diences have no touch with the great world,
and if knowledge of it, past or present, shall
be had by them, it must be imported. The
strolling player In a sense becomes one of
their benefactors, teaching tbem the deep
records of history and leading them through
the enchanted realms of romance. Puck,
Ariel and the Fairy Mab convey tbem to the
sweet lands which they bave never seen
since their childhood's days— and then only
in dreams. They cheer with Henry Vat
Agincourt, and with a grim satisfaction,
thank the destiny which slays Richard 111
at Bosworth Field. What a charming
witchery haa been wrought for them by
these nifiKicians of the stage! What a bridg
ing of the centuries ! What a resurrection
of history-making events! Agincourt! King
Henry V! Why, here they are. this very
night, rubbing shoulders with the monarch,
and within touch of the fateful fight that
contributed so much to make England's
greatness. Or mayhip they have a delect
table glimpse or pastoral life so like that in
the hamlets, dales and woodlands of merry
England. Beyond the footlights there, re
cliniug on the grass by a huge bole of an
oak (foliage and vegetation hastily impro
vised, but no matter), the melancholy Jnques
moralizes on human life —
All the worMs a stage,
And nil men anil women luerriy players.
They see Rosalind gleaming like a heavenly
vision among tlie shadows of tlie wood, ai,d
in the sharp wit of Touchstone and the
wholesome laughter of Audrey hear echoes
of their own round of life, and, as they go
home to dream again of "As You Like it,"
they begin to realize that, after all. the
Forest of Arden is not so far removed from
them, and that Jaques and Corin and Touch
stone and Audrey aae wondrously like them
selves. — The Gentleman's Magazine.
SOME HOLIDAY GAMES.
New Amusements Devised for
Young Folks for Christmas.
The great toy manufacturers, in prepara
tion for the Cbristniiis soou to arrive, have
got out Eome very interesting novelties in
tl.e. way of games, which will tempt those
who want to purchase such means of amuse
ment for ttie young people.
That interesting sport called "tiddledy
winks," otherwise kuowu as the "idiots'
delight," has already achieved great popu
larity, XJut liddledy-winks tennis is new
and most attractive. The UMial "tidiJle
dies" auu '• winks" come hi the box, to
pether with a green llaunel tennis-court
marked In wliile with the proper lines, and
also a wire net with posts that can l.eset up
across the middle of the nanneL With this
apparatus you piny tennis by the same rules
us are adopted on a grass court, snapping
tlie winks with the tiddlediea. over the net
and back. I'rogessive tiddledy-winks is
something particularly exciting, and is per
formed just lik« progressive anything else.
Another new aud pleasing gain- is called
"reversi," and is played uson a sort of
checker-board with sixty-four sp;iees. The
players must be only two, and each of them
has thirty-two of the sixty-lour pieces, which
are led ou oie side auu yellow on the other.
At the beginning the pieces are not put on
the board, but are piacea upon it one after
another, each player taking his turn. »ne
piayer places Ilia with the yellow side up
aud the other with the red siue. First, the
four middle spaces are occupied by the
pieces, one atatinie, after which a piayer
can only place a pitee in a vacant space
next to one of his opponent's pieces, mid
must also so place it as to reverse one or
muro of his adversary's, Reversing is
done in this way: According to the rule all
o» the opponents pieces that lie iv a eoutin
uuus, unbroken line, straight or diagonal,
between tlie pieces played and any other
piece of the same kind' are. captured and
turned over — i. c. "reversed" so as tv show
the CJlor belonging to tue captor. A piece
once laid down is never removed ffuin a
place, but tuny be reversed any number of
times, Should a player not be able to piny
lie loses .his turn until he is able to place a
piece. The game is finished whi'ii the board
is entirely covered by the sixty-four pieces,
or when neither player is able to place a
man, the victor being the player who has
the giealest number of pieces c/f his own
coh.r un the board.
The "game of Louisa" is a novelty brought
over by a l:\dy of that name from Italy.
Two, "three or four people can play it. A
boaid checkered in the sliapeof across, with
yellow, black a:id red spares, is used, Each
player tiirows dice from a box to determine
bow many spaces he shall move at a pl»y,
the object being to mi.i ce the entire round of
the b. ard and iset in "home," somewhat as
in the game of "parcheesi." In fart, tlie
game of Louisa is only a modification of
parcheesi, though it is claimed to be an im
provcuii'iit.
There 13 an improved kind of steeple
chase game also, which has a very elaborate
board and is very expensive, ousting S- '.X).
By its rules each person enters a horse for a
race, paying a stated amonut into the pool
for the. privilege. Dice are thrown to deter
mine the leaps that each animal makes in its
ji'urney around the course. It a player stops
at the spaces marked 20, 30, 40, 50, UO, 70, SO
or "JO he got* back to the start and begins
over again. Supposing that lie is so un
fortunate as to pause al SO, he must leave the
game unless he cares to enter another horse,
paying the sameentrauce fee as before. The
player who limt reaches 100 wins tlie pool,
but if he jumps beyond it he mu<t throw his
die until he gets a number that will take
him back to 100, when, if he has reachtd it
before any of his adversaries, lie wins.
Wliile yet in the game he may enter a sec
ond hotse at any lime by paving 50 percent
of the ordinary fee lor entrance.
"Aladdin ' is another new game played
on a board, in tlia middle of which is a space
murfted '•treasure." The piayers make their
way around the board by throwing dice,
moving tlfeir places accordingly Irom place
to place, while in the center is placed a box
filled with big beads of different colors to
represent diamonds, rubies aud gold. Each
player lias a wooden jewel cup and bowl.
As many as four can play, each ime having
his own starting point. Should a Wayer stop
on a space marked with representations of
one, two or more jewels, he takes that num
ber of actual jewels from Uie treasure in
the middle and puts them into his cup.
When he gets five or more jewels in this
way he pours them into his bowl. But if he
should .stop ou one of the four places marked
"forfeit to the genii," he must return to the
treasure any jewels he may have in His cup.
If he alights upon one of the two spaces
marked with a lamp, lie has another turn,
and if he pauses on a space occupied by an
other player's piece, he takes to himself all
t\\f jewels in the latter player's cup. What
jewels have been poured into the bowl can
not be taken away. When the treasure is
all gone the player who has thu must of it
wins.
A game called "popping the question" is
played with cards, half of them red and the
other half white. The two players must be
of opposite sexef, the lady taking the white
cards and the gentleman the red. Each red
card lias a proposal of marriage of some sort
upon it, while each white card is inscribed
with some reply. The gentleman draws
first, hands the lady a card from his pile,
and she responds with cmc from her pile,
tiie question and the answer being read to
gether. For example, his card reads: "1
love you. Will you marry me? Say yes
ana I gain a treasure. Say no ami you lose
one." The answer, likewise taken at ran
dom, may read: "I would rather wed a kan
garoo than such a popinjay as you." The
next proposal may obtain a more favorable
answer, such as: "Oh, sir, this is so — so sud
den that I hardly know what to say." And
so the game goes until the cards are all ex
hausted. This sport is highly recommend, >d
for introduction to bashful lovers.—Wash
ington Star.
P.li-w Up His Chanter.
An amusing episode recorded of the Pe
niusular War seems to prove that even the
charms of onr beautiful national pagpipe.s
fail to soothe these savage beasts! It hap
pened that while one of the Highland regi
ments was marching across a desolate part
of Spain one of the pipers, (or some inex
plicable reason, found himself separated from
his comrades. Halting on a lonely plain
he sat down to ent bis breakfast, when,
to his horror, he saw wolves approaching.
When they came very near lie flung them
all the food he had with him, fully con
scious, however, that this meager meal
would not stay their advance for many
seconds. With the calmness of desperation
he then said : "As ye've had the meat yell
hae the music, too," and thereupon he pro
ceeded to "blow up his chanter." No sooner
did his unwelcome guests hear the first
"skirl" of tho pipes than they turned in wild
terror and, tied as fast as their long legs
would carry them. "]>eil hae ye!" said the
piper; "had J thocht ye were so fond o' the
music ye wad hr.c gotten if afore meat, in
stead o' after!" Then, hungrily, he went
his way, not forgetting from time to time to
blow a blast so wild aud shrill as might
effectually scare any prowling foes.— Temple
Bar.
Overrated Importance.
The sudden death from overstrained nerves
of one of the chief operators in the Western
Union telegraph service gives point to the
observation of a physician iv one of Kud
yard Kipling's stories. "More peoplu are
killed by overwork," he said, "thau the im
portance of this world justifies."
The value of the world to a man who has
killed himself or made his life a burden by
overwork or overworry is relatively so small
as to make it a source of constant wonder
that human beings will persist in paying so
much for so little. The searching iuquiry
of theureat moial teacher: "What .shall
it profit a mnn though he gain the whole
world and lose his own soul?" might well
be asked ofteuttr concerning tlie material
tilings which stand for worldly success.
The importance of this wurld certainly
does not justify a man in killing himself
with overwork, either on his own account or
for others. Of all bad bargains none is
more foolish than that in which health,
peace Of mind, a good conscience and com
fort and joy hi living are sacrificed for tlia
sake of getting rich quickly or of living up
to a standard set by other people. — «; Y.
World.
llrnrv liaboucbere says that the funds of
tin- Irish Niitinnal League, which at present
amoimt to $100,000, are deposited in bauks
at Paris in the name of Mr. Pnrnell. but no
check can be drawn by Mr. Parnell without
the assent of his leading colleagues; neither
can the latter draw out a single penny with
out the consent of Mr. Parnell.
THE AMERICAN BORDER.
An Old Town on the Bio
Grande Biver.
The old Mexican town of Paso del Norte
on the Kio Grande River is now known as
Juarez. It nas a good deal to interest the
sight- seer. In the place is a Mexican gar
rison, and not far away, on the American side
of the stream, is Fort Bliss. Juarez has not
changed, outwardly, a great deal in the past
thirty years; but the changes were t*m in
the previous 300 wars, says the Globe-
Democrat. The Catholic mi«sion was
established early in the sixteenth cen
tury, and there was an Indian pueblo
of iinpnrtnnco at this point for a lons
Unw before thnt. The old church is the
quaintest structure in the city, homely as it
is; while the hamisouie adobe-built depot
and offices of the railroad are interesting
because they indicate the new life, and
THE REASON WHY.
What Makes the Expression in
a Portrait— The Secret.
"Why Is it that so often a picture resem
bles the original, and yet is lacking in some
thing that would make the likeness per
fect?" asked a writer on Tjie Call of one
whose life had been spent with the artist's
pencil.
"Your question is delightfully vague."
was the response. "I suppose that you
have in mind sometliingof tliis sort : You
have seen a picture in a newspaper, and you
have wondered why the artist did natCMM
nearer the truth. Something is lacking and
you could not tell just what that something
was, and after puzzling over it for a while,
you concluded to ask the first of 'them pic
ture tellers' with whom you chanced to
meet. Have I stated t!ie fact correctly?"
"I think so," was the rejoinder, "only
you have stopped half way in your state
ment of the facts. My question was sug
gested not only by what I had seen in
newspaper work, bat also in portraits done
in oil. I have a special oue iv mind. The
original is a face of gi eat beauty and power
of expression, and is lighted up with a look
of great intelligence, not lacking ie sympa
thy ; and yet in the painting, while all this
13 suggested— for there's not a doubt but
that the likeness is umiuestionabiy a good
one— the idea conveyed is that of a stern
man, cue whose natural mood is a severe
one. What has the artist done or left un
done? I know that the cant phraje. would
be that 'he ha> failea to catch the exi>res-
Mnn,' but that does not satisfy me. 1 would
like tn understand by what trick of his
brush he failed to catch the. expression."
During this somewhat leugthy circumlo
cution of his question the artist bad stood
patiently liitoniug, with a faint smile upon
his countenance.
" 1 think that 1 can make it clear to you,"
said he, "rortraits that are criticized as hav
ing a sad or a stern 1 ok, that persistently
refuse to smile, have been executed by an
artist who has not made the muscles of the
face his special sludy. The controlling, or
expressioual muscles, I should say, particu
larly those abimt Wie eyes and "the corners of
the mouth. You know it is ihe proper thing
to speak of the eye- as the window of the
soul, and yet, us every one who has given
the subject any thought will readily under
stand, the eye with nil it-> varied expressions
depends entirely upon the muscles and their
movements around the eyeball.
"Observe these controlling muscles close
ly. In smiling, the corners of the mouth
turn upward rather than downward; the
lines at the outside of the corners of the
mouth have much to do with the expression.
In a smiline face these lines curve outward,
and the nostrils are elevated. Do you note
that the tendency for mirth, happiness or
delight is upward. Now note the differ
ence ; in a sad or a stern face these lines be
come straight and the nostrils droop. In
smiling, the eyes also change. The upper
lid is elevated, the oupil is made very dark,
and the high ight of the eye should be very
bright and sparkling. This is done by put
ting in a touch of almost pure wince with a
small pointed sable brush. The under lid
is made a little higher in the center than at
the corner of the eyes, and the lines under
neath follow the same direction. So you see
that it makes all the difference in the'world,
as far as the expression is concerned, whether
the artist sends Ins expressional lines up or
down. And, by the way, now that we are
talking upon the subject, let me tell you that
1 have a theory of my own in regard to
portrait-painters, and it is simply this:
trom what I have seen of different artists
mid their work, I have come to the con
clusion that a portrait is bound in some way
to bear the impress of the artist's own per
sonality. For instance, if he himself be a
Dleusaut, jovial man, his portraits will have
a pleasant, jovial expression. If bo be a
disappointed man, his work will show a
morose look, and so on, through all the
varied states of feeling. This may seem
fanciful, but I am certain that it is suscepti
ble of proof. Another thing that confirms
ma in this theory is the fact that
the face-drawing of one nation is
sure to bear the impress of that
nation's facial characteristics. Let me see
if 1 can't make it clearer. Some years ago
it was the fashion to send photographs to
the Orient to have the native artists paint a
portrait of tha s-übject, dressed iv Oriental
robes, on their panels call d kimonoes. Bat
although I have boon called upon to admire
many of them I never yet have seen one
that did not strongly suggest a Mongolian or
ilupanrse type of countenance. And the
same with our own artists. They always
fail to get the typical cast of countenance
when they try to depict an Oriental. The
Caucasian t\pe will come through and spoil
their work. Haven't you noticed if.'"
"I think 1 have, sain The Cam. re
porter, " and since you have taken the
trouble to explain so much for my benefit
perhaps you wouldn't mind a little more of
the same sort. Will you tell me why so
many portraits in oils have a hard, waxy
lock? They don't look at all like flesh."
" The reason is not far to se«k. It is
caused by Uyo faults iv working. Oue is
that the artist smooths oil his paint too
much, makes the canvass too smooth. The
other reason is that the color planes are not '
properly observed. To mak« a good por
trait each tint, light, half-tint aud shadow
should becarefully placed in its exact form
and relation toothers. These tones roust not
be blended, but must be simply united at
the edges with a clean, soft, flat bristlx
brush, aud care taken to preserve the shape
of each shadow where it meets the light.
There, isn't that perfectly clear? Is there
anything more you would like to know ? We
shall next have you trying your hand with
the brush."
BY THE STRAWS THRY TELL.
A Fccnllnr Custom on Clirislmx* Eva In
I'oliali Vill»ga«.
It is customary in Pojisli villages to strew
straw over the Christmas eve supper tables,
and for the young people, blindfold or in
the dark, to pick out each a straw there
from. Should the straw be Rreen the lucky
maiden expects to wear a bridal wreath or
the youth to lead a blushing bride to the
altar during the approaching year; but a
dried straw foretells to either long waiting,
possibly even until death.
In other rural Polish districts on the
"Christ's eve." wine, beer and water are
placed by a girl between two candles on a
table. 6ne then retires into a corner or an
RdjoiniUK room to watch the result rellweted
in a mirror hung for this purpose. If, as
the clock strikes midnight, a man enters and
drinks the wim\ she is happy, fur her
wooor will be rich. Should he drink the
beer, she may be content, for the wuoer
will be "well-to-do." If the water be
chosen, her husband will be very pour. But
if, as the clock strike*, no man comes to her
table, the anxious maiden shivers with
more than midnight terror, believing that
."be is doomed to be early the bride of
Death.
Poland is peculiarly rich in these observ
ances, opreading themselves throughout the
year, both sexes being equally superstitious
in this respect. On >'ew i ear's eve the
young unmarried men place themselves be
lore a lire, mid, bending down, look beneath
their less. Should a woman uppear in the
background it is the one they » ill marry ;
but, if thny see a shape as of a' coflin, it for
bodes for them death during the year close
at uaud.— Chambers' Journal.
show, too, what use can be made of • most
unpromising building materiai, v hich, how
ever, is fittingly adnpted to climate and
conditioas. The railroad's staff fill quita a
prosperous little town of its own. There
are more fields to the south. Chinese do
the gardening instead of the former peons,
who are now railroad Inborera or working
over the river. There »re more adobes and
moie people— about 8000 now against 40()0
thirty years since. The stores are not much
larger. There are more contraband goods
about; everybody smuggles in Mexico.
There »re more ruffians nnd rowdies also
and they are generally from the American
side. Drinking aud duncing places are too
JVARSZ.
numerous by fat, and there is also an inter
national street-railway running from Xl
Paso to the Mexican Central Depot at
Juarez. Everybody uses it for personal
smuggling. Mexican streets are badly cob
bled, and those of Juarez will "take tJie
cake" for roughness. The plaza is still
broken, ugly and unkempt. The littl«
church has served several times as a fort
ress, the last time being for a nonsid»rablo
period during the so-called empire of Maxi
miliau.
EXPERT PICKPOCKETS.
London Seems (o Be the Training-
School for Them.
About a century aso Paris hnd only about
fifty pickpockets, now the police reporls
show that their number has reached 4000 in
the metiopolis alone, aud about 10,000 in the
rest of France. These figures are nearly
doubled at times of reviews, races, ptpulnr
fetes and exhibitions by recruits from
abroad. But, singularly enough, they
all e.jr.i- fi in or have been trained in
Great Britain. England is the cradle "and
hotbed of pickpockets. It is a profession as
firmly established as carpentering or hriek
laying; it has its apprentices, graduates,
professors, experts ami commercial agents.
Novices itte taught to distinguish a French
man from a native, a Russian from a Her
man, a South American from an lUlia:> ;
they are made acquainted with the slight
but all important differences in each na
tionality, in the out of the clothes, the place
of the pockets, the mode of carrying jew
elry, watches, purses or lcose cash. - _^
When the pupils are supposed to have pro
fited sufficiently by their education, they ar«
dispatched at Christmas time to a ' ertain
suburb of London, where they are farniel
out. The agent, who lias enme to select a
trio, i uts them through their pace-, and if
they acquit themselves creditably he engages
them, give? them clothes, board and special
instructions and takes them abroad to ply
their trade under his uianagemeit. As soon,
however, as t:<eir personality has become in
conveniently familiar to the police of tha
locality, they are returned and exchanged
for a fresh set tinder the same conditions.
The community iiumDers 10U0U0 in Lon
don, including women aud children. Their
headquarters are in the obscure purlieus of
St. Giles, Whitechapel, the Minories and the
low-lying wharves of the Thames. It is
there they hold their meeting*, organize
their detachments, deliberate on future
movements, have their savings bangs aud
clubs, and settle on the way of assisting
those of their pals who are ill, shadowed or
in prison. They form a regular association,
like the house-breakers and shop-lifters,
lrom whom, however, they are quite distinct.
])uring their visits in Paris, although ope
rating in common, they do not dwell to
gether, but are scattered all over the city,
meeting ouly to share the spoils at certain
specified moments, in dark or borgne tav
erns and wine-shops situated in the neigh
borhood of the Champs Klysees and the
Grand Opera. The foreign as well as the
French operators have their receiving
houses, called in Paris nieuniers (inTllors).
whore they dispose of their gleanings, and
It is a remarkable feature of these
transactions that they are carried on on
both sides with scrupulous fairness and
honesty.
A sharp and observant person might de
tect the pickpocket who shadows him with
evil intent by the peculiar roving restless
ness of the eye, of which even the most ex
perienced cannot entirely divest themselves.
The habit is contracted at the outset of
their careers; imperative theD, it becomes
inveterate. The pickpocket embraces '
at a glance the pirticular article in a
shop window calculated to attract the
pas^er-by, the conformation of the »ic
tim's pockets, the foot passengers iirouud
I him and the quarter from which his bug
hear, the "Bobby," Is likely to apnear. The...
English pickpocket rarely offers any oppo-i
--tion if caught in the act; he submits sileut'y
to be led off by his captor; only the women
howl, thrash, sob. scratch and fight. It is
the characteristic natural coolness and lack
of emotional irritability that contribute
more than any physical aptitude to make the
British pickpocket facile pnnceps iv his art,
and an object of envy and admiration to
members ol the profession in other coun
tries.
Iv each country the profession retains its
own particular methods. The Spaniawl,
like the 'South American, does not attempt
to operate save in a tolerably thick crowd;
the Italian works generally only on la'lies,
and badly, because he is too precipitate;
the Turk is fearless, awkward, audacious,
and even in the clutches of the police, with
one hand pirjioiifd, attempts to ster.l with,
the other. The French make a specialty of
"recognition," which is effected by one pal af
fecting to recognize in snnie mho ent, rustic
looking individual a relation or old friend,
effusively falling on his or her neck; while
the error is explained and apologies offered
the deed is done by an associate. The me-'
dangerous of tiiat species is the becotouy-', —
usually a younn and very pretty girl, wlw
rushes into the arms of "a benevolent old
man, kisses him on both cheeks and calls
him "uncle," a relationship he will have
good cause :o remember, as it has cost him
all his portable property.
'llie utterparelessnesh of the public facili
tates the operations of the pickpockets to a
degree which has often elicited from them
expressions of withering contempt. To sup
plement the lefi«Mid which bids people be
ware of them, the authorities w ,uld dn well
to affix a few simple rules, the observance
of which would bean effejtiva protection.—
London correspondence X. Y. Sun.
Rich Trnpplnei <.r Medlem! TtmMk II
When the Duke de Valentino!*, son ol
Alexander VI, visited Louis XII of France,
his horse was loaded with gold leaves, ac
cording to Hrantone, and his cap had double
rubies that threw out a great light. Charles
of England rode in stirrups hung Witt SSI
diamonds. Richard II haa a coat valued at
30,000 marks, which was covered with baias
rubies. Hall described Henry VIII on his
way to the Tower, previous to his cornnn
tion, as wearing a "jacket of raised grid,
the placard embroidered with diamonds and
other rich stones, and a great bauderike.
about his neck of large balasses."—Dry
goods Chronicle.
The students of Hnskell Indian Institute,
in Kansas, consumed 131 chickens, 17 gal
lons of mince-meat and » barrel of cranber
ries on Thanksgiving rfay.
A VOICE
FROM THE RAIL.
Kinufacturm o/ 7*. Cnat Slvra «r/«fe.» and Umr Cunt
Gentlemen: — Having been in the
railroad business, a conductor, for
years, I contracted very serious disor
ders of my kidneys and bladder. I was
getting weaker daily, and did not leave
my bed for three months; also was
despaired of by my doctors. I was
lucky enough to hear of your GREAT
Sierra Kidney and Liver Cure, and
sent for one bottle, as you well know,
I have used five bottles and am now
out, around and able to attend to my
work. Your valuable remedy has
saved my life, and to you I owe my
heartfelt thanks. Yours truly '
EUGENE GUY,
With Leek Glove Co., 521 Market St,
San Francisco, Cal.
Sold by all druggists.