The Forrest City times. [volume], December 27, 1895, Image 4

About The Forrest City times. [volume] (Forrest City, Ark.) 1871-1919

Image provided by: Arkansas State Archives

                
EAD TEAR, upon.
whose bier I lean!
Dead Tear, whose
sheeted features lie
Half-formless In the
falling snow!
Tou brought auch Joys, auch sorrows keen
Such mingled pain and ecstasy,
I cannot lightly let you go;
But pause awhile to shed a tear
That you should Us so low, old Year.
How blithe you were when first we netl
A flying chorus round you sung.
The snowdrops peeped to see you pass,
And where your hasty foot you set
Deep violets and field daisies hung
Their trembling blossoms on the grass;
And hope, with swiftly-moving wing,
Tou brought to make eternal spring.
A grass-green klrtle next you wore,
And gathered wlld-flowers In the wood.
Sweet odors all around you stole
Forth from the chalice that you bore.
Knee-deep In tangled brakes you stood:
The red sun cast an aureole
About your golden head, old Tear,
An4 that glad vision brought me cheer.
Then with a sheaf of ripened grain
Laid close against your heavln - breast.
And crowned with purple grapes, you
came.
1 Marked the brown and stubby plain,
I marked the forest's waving crest,
Vlth tufts and branches all aflame.
\Clth every feature grown more dear,
I loved you dally more, old Tear.
At last the solemn winter laid
Its diamond crown upon your brow;
The Icicles hung on the eaves;
And deep within the beechen glade
The bare trees in the blast did bow
Their heads all shorn of crisp, brown
leaves.
You taught mo how old age might bo
Made grand by aim pie majesty.
Now garbed and silent for the tomb.
You lie before me still and white.
With burning tears 1 say: “Good-by,”
And take from out the darkened room
The happy hopes that once were bright.
In guise of tender memory.
What most was precious cannot die.
Old Yeas, although so low you lie!
—Curtis May, in Youth's Companion.
©LL.
ART II A, Jeanne
-J-^-Land Yvonne were in
the library with their mother. Add
the ages of the three and you will have
just 30 years. The last—the little one
—wai only eight, the second nine, but
the eldest, who was 13, restored the
equilibrium and made the average ten
years a head.
It was the 2d of January, and the
room waB tilled with great picture
books with gilded edges, with dolls and
with toys. Martha, the eldest, seated
on a cushion, looked at a book posed ou
her mother’s knee. The knees of a
mother serve as a table, a chair or n
refuge to little girls; even when they
grow big, very big, they are not
ashamed to climb them—perhaps when
they wish to tease—and does their
mother ever find them too heavy? •
The second daughter was counting
the plates of a wonderful porcelain din
per set, which she had spread upon the
door. It was no longer a full Bet, how
ever, for she had broken three of the
plates since morning.
The little one, instead of playing,
sulked in a corner. Why does she sulk
on the 2d of January? It is not natural,
with all these beautiful surroundings.
And the other two sisters are listening
to every noise outside, and start toward
the door when the bell rings. Can they
be hoping for more gifts?
Yes; a gift whicli they long for most
evidently, which they have seen in their
dreams for two weekB, a gift promised
them by a friend who has known ihem
all their lives, who loves them with
all his heart.
A little while before New Year’s he
had called them to him and said:
“What shall 1 give you for New Year’s?”
They had expected the question, and
had an answer ready. With one voice
and as one man they iuude answer:
‘‘An indestructible doill"
“An indestructible doll?” he repeat
ed. “I will remember it. You shall
each huve your indestructible doll.”
“Oh, no!” cried Jeanne, "they would
be too small; we want one, only one,
but a big one, as tall as this, as tall as
Yvonne.”
“But are there any?”
“Yes, indeed; we’ve seen them.”
“And you will all play with the same
doll?”
“Yes." replied Martha, the eldest. “I
shall be grandmother, Jeanne the
mother and Yvonne the aunt.”
“What a charming family! You shall
have your indestructible doll, iny dears,
as tall as this, early in the morning, on
New Year’s day.”
But on New Year’s day, neither in the
morning nor in the evening, did the in
destructible doll arrive.
“It seems to be the invisible doll, not
the indestructible doll,” said their
mother, who herself felt the ch igrin
and disappointment of her children
How could the good friend have forgot
ten them so? It was extraordinary for
him. If he were still in Paris she might
write to him and sny: “Is it possible
you are keeping the doll to play with?”
But he had gone to spend New Year’s
day with his mother in the country.
But as Jeanne on this 2d of January
broke her fourth plate the bell rang.
Martha left her book, Jeanne her din
ner set, Yvonne her corner, and all
three in a row waited anxiously. The
good friend appeared. They rushed at
him, embracing him, perhaps a little
absent-mindedly, looking all around
him. Of course he has the baby; per
haps he is dragging it by a bmb. No,
he is alone—quite alone; nothing in his
pockets, nothing behind him.
Martha and Jeanne, being big girls,
made faces, but did not dare to cry, but
the little one, who had not yet ac
quired a respect for conventionalities,
could not help it and began: “And the
indestructible doll?”
“Well, are you pleased with it? Is ’.t
large enough ?”
Astonished and perplexed, they look
at him; at their mother, who says:
“Your baby must have stopped on the
way, for she has not arrived. You don'*
know what a life these children have
led me.”
“What? I bought her day before yes
terday evening, and they promised to
send her yesterday morning.”
“You must have given the wrong ad
dress.”
“Not at all”
“Then there is some mistake.”
“Probably. Give me half an hour,
children, and I will bring your baby
back again, dead or alive.”
He fled. The smiles returned to the
children’s faces. Yvonne* pouted no
longer, but helped Jeanne to break her
plates. Ten minutes elapsed, then an
other ring at the bell. The good friend
could not have returned so coon; It was
probably some visitor. No, the maid
entered and said: “There ie a man who
wishes to speak to madame.”
“What does he want?”
“He did not say, but it seemed to be
something very important.”
“Where is he?”
“In the reception room.”
“Very well. I will speak to him.”
She rose, went out of the parlor,
leaving the door open, and advanced
toward the stranger who was waiting
there. He was a man of 40 years, with
a sweet, sad smile, his bearing was
modest, self-respecting.
“What do j*ou wiBh? What have you
to say to me?”
“Madame, 1 want to explain to you,
but it will be a little long.”
“Go on, I am listening.”
So, with a trembling voice, which
gradually grew stronger, speaking
quickly, very quickly, as if he were in a
hurry to get through:
Mid to me: ‘Times are hard Just now,
we have too many employes, come later
and we will see,* I came later, to have
the anme reply. What could I do? 1
was obliged to hide it all from my wife,
for she was very sick with consump
tion—she died last month—”
Mine. X. still standing, leaned against
a desk a few steps away from the man
who was speaking and listened without
much emotion. His story resembled
all others usually retailed by the needy,
the private beggars. She was tempted
to 6ay: “There, that will do—it tires
Hie to stand up and listen to you. How
much do you want? Five francs 1 sup
pose! Here it is.” But she did not, for
this unknown man inspired her with a
sort of unreasoning sympathy, and
then the three little girls, finding the
parlor door open and seeing their
mother in the reception-room had come
out and were leaning against each
other looking with all their eyes and
listening with all their ears. So she
did not dare, before her little girls, to
interrupt this poor man and send him
away too abruptly. It was one of her
principles that children ought to be
taught while very young, to be charita
ble and listen patiently to the com
plaints of unhappy people. The man
continued:
“My lost resources were exhausted
by my wife’s illness, und 1 was so un
happy that I did not know anything
und did not hopo for anything. It is
still more pitiful you Bee, madnme, at
tliis time of year, because the streets
and the brilliant stores hare such an
air of festivity. At each step'you meet
people carrying flowers, candy, pres
ents; and all the toy stores with their
playthings 1 Oh! It was that above
everything else which made me sick at
heart! All these playthings and my
children would not have even one of
them! More than that, several days
before her death, my wife, with her
eyes resting on her little girls, mur
mured in my ear: *1 shall not live until
the New Year. You will give them
some pretty New Year’s presents for
me, will you not?”
As he said these last words, the long
repressed tears escaped their bounds,
and fell down his cheeks. At last lime.
X. was moved, she no longer leaned
carelessly on her elbow against the
desk, but was standing up, resting her
hands on the three heads pressed in a
heap against her.
He wiped his tears, and with a
stronger voice went on with his story.
“If my wife had thought of New Year’s
gifts during her last moments, ruy
children did not forget them either.
They did not know that I was poor and
miserable. What good would it do to
tell them? Would they have under
stood it? In the evening when I came
home after a thousand useless attempts
to And a situation, they surrounded rue
and said: ‘Papa, you will remember us
on New Year’s day, will you not?’ 1
replied: ‘Yes, yes, I think of you chil
dren, I always think of you." Then the
older one, encouraged by my wonlfc
and my smiles, said to me one of th*
last days of December: ‘What we want,
sister and I, is a beautiful doll which
we saw the other day. Oh! such a doll!
A very, very large doll. An indestruct
ible doll.’
“AH IHDESTRUCTIBLE DOLL,” I BEPEATED.
“Madame, laBt year at this time 1 was
clerk in a banking1 bouse. My salary
enabled me to live and support m3' wife
and two little girls, and us the bouse in
which I worked seemed prosperous
und the greater part of the employes
placed their savings there, 1 did as the3'
did. 1 guve all my savings and 3,000
francs which I had invested. In the
course of the j'ear the house stopped
pH3’ments, dismissed its employes nud
closed its doors. I had lost not only
what I possessed, but also my place.”
He stopped, took breath, and w ith his
eyes lowered, twisted his soft hat with
nervous fingers, and continued: “I
w as desperate, but no one has a right to
allow himself to be discouraged when
he has a wife and little children. I be*
gan to look for another place. Alas, l
could not find one. Everywhere they
“An indestructible doll! I repeated
the words over and over again, and re
peated them all night during my sleep.”
Martha, Jeanne and Yvonne, after his
mention of the Indestructible doll, lis
tened more attentively than ever, si
lently pressing their little hands to
gether with excitement.
“It was several duys afterwards,”
continued the unknown man, “that 1
was returning for the tenth time from
an employment office, when some one
told me that X, the great toy dealer,
wanted more hands to deliver pack
ages and offered good wages. I did not
hesitate about applying, and was ac
cepted. And all day long, as well as
evening, I was traveling about to everj
quarter of Paris. I liked it far better
than staying in the stores, where the
sight of the toys, the parents and the
children who came to choose, made me
sadder and sadder. All day long 1 car
ried the toys, in my hands, by armfuls,
on my back, but they were all done up
in parcels and tied, so I did not see 1
was more hopeful then, for I would re
ceive my wages at the end of the month,
they would add a little gift, and 1 could
buy my girls, if not the large doll which
they desired, at least a smaller one.
“On the 31stof Decemberthey told me
at the store that they could not pay un
til the first days of January. The firm
was too busy with receiving money to
give any.
"How could *1 live until pay day?
And the New Year’s gifts? To wake
up on the 1st of January with no
money in the house and nothing, noth
ing for the children! 1 did not have
courage to wait for them, for I dreaded
their New Year’s greetings and their
kisses would make me sick on that day
for the first time. 1 went very early in
the morning before they waked up.
with a sort of feverish despair,
and for a long time I walked the streets.
At eight o’clock 1 went to the store
where I thought they might have some
presents for me to carry to other chil
dren. Yes, they gave me a very heavy
load of them. I had taken several bun
dles and there were still three to be
taken—two in my quarter, and one far
ther off here in this street, where 1 was
to deliver the largest package, which
was on enormous one. 1 had had no
breakfast, and 1 thought 1 would go
home to get u little to eat, without let
ting the children see me. I entered to
find that the two little rooms which l
occupied in a basement at the foot of q
court, were empty. A neighbor had
taken my children out to amuse them.
So, as the large bundle was very heavy,
1 put it down in a corner, to te<ke it
again soon, when 1 should have carrieo
the other two in the neighborhood.
Half an hour afterward on my return, I
heard cries of joy. 1 entered and my
children rushed to me and kissed me.
The older one exclaimed in the midst of
her kisses: ‘Thank you, dear pnpa,
thank youP And the littleone: ‘Thank
you, papa, thank you!' Thank you?
For what? And while l was wondering
for w hat they could thank me—me, who
had given them nothing, they ran into
the next room and came back with a
magnificent doll—an indestructible
doll! Oh! heavens! 1 understood then!
They hud come in during my abtence
and seen in the corner the bundle I
had laid down. It was the shape of the
large doll of their dreums, and they
thought it was my New Year’s gift.
They had undone the parcel and were
soon in possession of the doll. 1 ought
to have snatched it from their hands
crying: ‘That is not for you—it is not
for you. It does not belong*to us. It is
for some other little girls.1 But they
were so happy 1 Oh! If you had seen
their joy! With what big eyes they
looked at their baby and devoured her
with caresses. 1 did not huve the cour
age to take her away from them. I
went out, 1 was saved. 1 wanted to run
to the store and say: ‘You owe me
money, give me a large doll instead.'
Then 1 would have carried it to you,
madame, for 1 had read your name on
the package. But 1 could neither speak
to the owner nor to the cashier, they
were so busy just at that moment, and
then, 1 was afraid. 1 was really afraid.
This morning 1 decided to come and tell
you all about it—confess everything.
Madame, 1 beg of you not to complain
of me at the store. They know nothing
about it and think you have received it.
1 have the reputation always of being
an honest man. I shall get my pay in a
few days, and I will swear to you that
I will bring you a doll exactly like the
one which my children kept—in per
fect innocence, 1 assure you.”
The door bell rang. It was the good
friend back again. “They say positive
ly.” said he, “that the doll w as sent yes
terday morning.”
“That is true,” said the mother.
“Well, where is she then?”
“In the hands of some little girls not
quite so fortunate as these. Isn’t that
it, Martha, Jeanne, Yvonne?”
The eldest answered: “Yes, we have
given it away,” and the two little ones
echoed: “We have given it away.”
And all together they rushed from the
room, to return a few moments later
with the dinner set, which they thrust
upon the father, saying: “Give this
to your little girls from us.”
The good friend understood nothing
of all this. Afterward, when they told
him the story, he looked up the man's
references, and liuding them excellent
he gave him work.
And he gave to his little friends an
other indestructible doll. For, al
though it is well to teach children to do
good, they ought not to regret having
done it; not until later will they learn
that one gives doubly when one makes
a sacrifice.
The two indestructible dolls have
neither heads nor legs now—but that
only verifies this story.—Translated
from the French by Annie E. Gardner
for Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
Horse Yet.
“I began life without a cent in my
pocket,” said the purse-proud man to an
acquaintance.
“1 didn’t even have a pocket,” replied
the latter, meekly.—Pittsburgh Chron
icle-Telegraph.
\ do to provo the sinceritj
£L‘d young Mr. Hpifflns hi
Boston sweetheart. “Promise me that ■
n Llnlearn,to llke Urrnv»inK," replied'
TeliS£ crealure—■Pittsburgh clironi
SOUTHERN GLEAN^
A Celebrated c#|fc
Judpre Rruce, of the federal
Birmingham, Ala., rendered TH**
•onantl rr in o _j • ® UfW
recently in a large and import*^
$ase.
It was
3ar lisle
is the case of the United Sut~
earnl the Tennessee Hi*
idee Bruce dismiss.^ .v. wiinm
•-- ic.irssee ® r,,T.-» w
3a Judge Bruce dismissed the hiii
Vfaj. Carlisle becomes the largest f Wt,<r%
n A lah^rnu mu i ►. *®H(J OWj^
n Alabama, as well
wealthiest citizens. '
as one
of th»
"«rt
HI8TORT or THE CA8Z.
By act of congress, passed In law
mty thousand acres of land In mJT”*
Stowah counties were irmnt^ . ar8h**‘ a
Stowah counties were granted J **
instruction of the Tennessee *r *»
•oad. Most of these lands were su^°** ^
-—-^ ——.. t-uuipanv tA ic«4
Isle for the construction and eouinm.
•oad. The road runs a distance 0,11
•rom Gadsden to Littleton, Ala ,
rovernor, alleging that the road' hi?'*1'
instructed within the ten years aiu ^
ihe granting act, and that Mai Carl?.?"
lot a bona tide purchaser for ralue aui* ’
n the United States court to recover
ind oust Maj. Carlisle. Meanwhile Tl*
passed a forfeiture act in the uremiZT
the land In question. ***• *1
DISAPPOINTED SQUATTEH8.
A thousand men hare nettled andh»«v~
ately refusing to pay rent, in the
;he government would win the raw 7
lulllfytng the title of their landlord L*
ibllng them to get a squatters title'
fovernment. They owe 8,000 notes
» t 00.000 The dismissal of the bill e,uh, 2
^ title of Maj. Carlisle beyond *££*
rewards him for the expenditure of
X» which he spent on the construction
•oad. 01 ■
Killed In a Personal Diairalty.
At Fitzpatrick, Ala., Dr. Sutton Bali
tvin. a well-known Georgian, shot urf
instantly killed Wade Edison, a pro®,
nent citizen. The parties to the if
plorable affair were prominentlyc»
nected, both in Alabama and Geonfc
Dr. Baldwin is a son of Dr. M. A. hjj.
win, of Cuthbert, Ga.
THK SKW8 KII,I.ED HIM.
Says a dispatch from Montgomery
Ala.: Alvin Thomas, an old citizen jj
Thompson, Ala., dropped dead np«
being- advised of the death of yen
Wade Edison, who was shot to deni
by Sut Baldwin, at Fitzpatrick. Ala
Thomas had been a life-long friend,
neighbor and army comrade of Edi
son's father, and loved the young mu
al most a s a son. H is death is attribw
ed to the shocking news.
Shiloh Battlefield Land*.
The jury selected by the United Stats
district court of west Tennessee to dt
eide the price of lands on the Shiiok
battlefield, have made a decisions
the case of O. C. Meeks A Co., and hart
allowed them 85,588, being abonttt
per acre. Meeks asked the Shiloh cos
missioners 8*25.000 for the land. Tlx
ease will be appealed to a higher coir.
The Shiloh Battlefield association ha
legal options on the remainder of tlx
2.800 acres on the battlefield at an aw
age of 81*2 per acre, and if the ShM
commissioners and the governnws
avail themselves of these option* then
will be at least $40,000 saved to the goe
ernment.
Fought Over a Woman.
John Bailey and Love Hendenoa
young men. over the Tennessee lineii
*outhern Kentucky, not far froa
Clarksville, Tenn., fought overayom
woman, and Bailey was killed with i
shotgun, but Henderson escaped ifr
jury. Henderson wouneed his brother,
Sidney, and his mother the first time
he fired at Bailey, as he was shooting
into a house where there were quit**
number of women and childrea
Slaters Wed Kduratora.
A double wedding took place at tlx
Cumberland Presbyterian church #
\Vh‘st Point, Miss., Prof. 0. A. Macflt
and Miss Louise Moseley and Prott
A. Andrews and Miss Edna Moselcf,^
of West Point, l>eing the contracting
parties. The grooms are both profw
sors in the Southern female college, aid
the brides daughters of Capt. T. *
Moseley.
Cremated Himself.
John Roth, a German farmer.went'*
Memphis and bepan to cclebrtt*
Christmas. lie suffered remorse
next day, and, hiring a bed in a ehe»jj
boarding house, lay down on it, set
on fire and lay there until he ***
burned to death. Firemen hadah&N
time saving the block from destrueuot
Through the Heart.
Jerre Pettus was shot throughi ti*
heart and instantly killed in a “fl
with Albert Thomas at Bell s j
on the Clarksville & Princeton ra]*r07.
near Clarksville. Tenn. The men w*0?
over a woman. During the tight
woman received a serious wound.
HU Leif* Ground by Cog*.
William Edwards, aged tiO.
Anniston, Ala., from injuries. He
employed by the Woodstock If00
and worked at ore washes. He ,
ble and fell upon the screeners. »
both legs were caught in the cogs
ground off.
Pleaded for HU Brother’* S00' .
Booker Steinberger, the slaver
young cousin. Anna Steinberger,
Glasgow, Ky., was not lynched.
Robert Steinberger, the father ,
dead girl, met with neighbors^
asked that his brother's son besp^
to the law.
Mexican Cotton Crop.
The cotton crop in the Laguna ^
trict, Mexico, has been Harre'stf7t
the government reports show t » ^
total yield there this seasonu8' .
000,000 pounds. All of this w»s
keted at cotton factories in McXl