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SAVANNAH, MISSOURI. Daddy Flick's Spree. KY I'IM.KG AKKWKIGIIT. Daddy Flick was a queer old Dick, Trudging along with a crooked stick, Frowsy and dirty and tattered and torn. Wearing a hat. that a goat would scorn To nibble at, it was so forlorn : And I state, with a solemn regard for truth, That a garment must be in a state of ruth, A very unsavory speeios of gams, If an up-town goat will reject the same. Jle was gray a a badger and old as a crow, And his escs wi re queer well, beery, you know, Illeached ai.d weak and he had, I suppose, The most absurd and peculiar nose That ever invited a passer-by To think of the worth of ebrietv. Naught can I sny in his praise J wot. Ie-pect ible'r Honest:- Oh, certainly not! 31 o.st people ca'led him a wretched old sot. Only a beggar, lie used to stand Day by d.iy. with his hat in his hand. Asking for pence from the grave and the gay, And getting them, too, I am glad to say, Not in abundance, but just enough For a little bread, and more of the stull That went to nourish his curious nose And keep it blooming, a full.blown rose. "Life," he said, "for the rich or poor, 3Ieans but the sauu endure, endure! Troubles to poor and rich befall, But the bottle." he said, "is a friend to all.' Now that you know the old reprobate, lleggar, dishonest, inebriate. All that he asks, sir, of you or me Ts a little measure of charity. For twenty years he had been the same, Till at last the usual period came "When age began to assert itself And threatened to lay him upon the shelf, And parties said in that part of the town That the poor old sinner was breaking down, "When all at once he was seen to be Displaying a greater activity Begging with more than his usual vim, And, what was entirely new for him, Ticking up jobs and inquiring, two, For any work he could find to do. People said it was strange, if true. When they heard a rumor to that effect A change impossible to expect, ft seemed, you perceive, anomalous That Flick should be turning industrious. Hut so it was; if you'll listen well. The bottom facts of the case I'll tell. All of u in tills vale of tears 3ush along through the busy years Chasing phantoms, and. when they're caught, Finding out we have captured naught, have caught shadows confound the same! Happy the mortal who has no aim. Flick, for seventy years to date, Had never thought to be bothering fate; Had been contented to barely live, Caring for nothing the world can give A sort of philosopher, as I think. In seeking for naught but his meat and drink ; P.ut, mind you, never a notion had he Of any claim to philosophy. The grca'est and wisest have one solt streak, And so at the last Flick showed up weak. He said to himself on a certain day, "Daddy Flick, you are old and grav, Likely to drop off any day. l.efore your coffin is lowered down, Or, what is woie, you go on the town, You ought to have, as it seems to me. One good, old-fashioned, expensive spree." Ala-;. I fear that my readers all Are disappointed at such a fall. I wish he had felt a higher call. Something of nobler and healthier tone, An aspiration with more backbone. l!ut I told you before that the poor old rat Had never a virtue beneath his hat. I must tell my stories as they befall; If you don't like "em don't read 'em, that's all. After a couple of months had passed Daddy Flieh had at length amassed A sum sufficient, he thought, to see His way to that same old-fashioned spree. And so one night as he paddled home llesaid to himself that the time had come. And, cackling over an ancient song, He jingled his cash as he went along. What were his his assets? A marvelous sum ; Enough to purchase unlimited rum (Listen, you who collect your rents!) About a dollar and fifty cents. Passing along by a vacant lot (The namftof the street I have clean forgot), A very diminutive boy he spied, Slouching a very tall fence beiide: A lonesome figure so woe-begone, So desolate-looking and haggard and wan. That even Flick, iu his callous heart, Telt a movement of pity start. Ragged he was and exceedingly small, With garments that covered him, that was all ; A cap remarkable after its kind, With front dismantled and baggy behind; Shoes too big by about a mils, But gaping wide with a frightful smile, As though they laughed at the tiny feet That dragged such a burden along the street. He stood there li-tless and weary and worn, Hands in his pockets, alone and "forlorn ; His features stained with the dirty streaks Of the tears that had dried on his little cheeks. Flick was none of your tender sort; Philanthropy never had been his forte; But the look of the child was so wofully sad That he stopped and sp.ke to the little lad, And got the story I'll tell to you, Since it only requires a line or two; His mother had died in a drunken tit, He was hungry, and that was the whole of it. Flick, as you know, was all jprimed for a spree ; All the same he aid, "Come with me!' And took the child to his narrow den, And fed him and kept him that night, and then, To eut it short, he put up the tin lie hud labored so Ion- :iud so hard to win, , i,ts tju. Ivt.01.,is shoW that Kobert rat Anil started the boy n the paper trade, I terson, the wife, ami his father, AVil Y here he prospered well and a living made. J .. ' ' , ,, l4. ham ralterson, the Baltimore mer- Then Flick returned to his ancient ways. And loafed and begged through the listless days; Cracking, by way of amusing folk An occasional rummy and senile joke; But what is the funniest thing to mo, He always thought he had had that spree, And bragged about, it to every one That for once in his life he had had some fun. He died in the course of time and went, I make no doubt, to his punishment ; I For, of course, such a wretched old sinner as he Could stand no show in eternity. There's just one tiling to his credit though He didn't ask to be born, you know. Xein York Graphic. THREE AMERICAN PEERESSES. How Tlirte Halt imoio Sisfcrs Ilecame lifsju-ct ivoly tlic Iuclitss ol" J.ci-tls, tlie niarcJiioiitrss of Wollesli'y, uml lmly Stnflord. From Appleton's. Journal. In this centennial period, the links which connect the last century of American freedom with the presented! tury of American progress are few, and are gradually loosening and dropping apart. Time's effacing fingers will soon ob literate the general memory of a group of brilliant Baltimore beauties, the most celebrated by far in that city, re nowned for its beautiful women . They come from the stirring times of the eighteenth century into our own day, for one died high m honor in England only last year; and one, with indomita- bl le will and vitality, still lives-Madamc Bonaparte, wife of Jerome, King of . W estphaba, whose name and romantic ; career will come only incidentally into j this sketch. Of three of the compan-; " v . ions of her youth, the story is almost as remarkable as that of "Petsy" Patter- j -on . ! hi the year 1S7-1, there was admitted to probate, in the Orphans1 Court of Baltimore, the will of "the most noble 1 . 1 -I 1 1 Louise Catherine Duchess-Dowaircr of , , . , , ,. . , ' A Leeds, widow and relict of the iiio-t , , ' ,. . , ,, noble 1-rancis (lodolnhin 1 rev ( )s-. , 11 , , ,', borne, .seventh Duke ol Leeds, ot Horn-!.,. . c , ., by ( astle, m the couutv of l ork, Eng- , " , ., ' ' laud. , -r i ,, . . 1 'til i. ij 1 1 j i 1 111. '.'I noble Catherine,' as if she had stepped out of one of Shak-qeare"s )lavs, was the survivor of three sisters, daughters I if 1 ? 1 1 -1 1 .i (''.tun Mnit 1 1 i M-n- ,. , , ,. ..,', ' ' i v. arrou, ami gramioaugnters oi narics Carroll , of Carrollton, "the signd'."' i She left I'xjifiisive estates in Maryland, and Virginia, principally to religions iki In A 1 lixrli! in- 'iiiiiitT AT-iit , , , .. "' .... ' ' ,. land, alone lie some littecn thoi.-and , aeres, known ami this is one chief reason for mentioning the fact by such curious old patent-survey titles :is "Anthracite Pange,'' "Fat Pig,'1 "Addition to Fat l'ig,"' "Devil Take It,'1 "Take All,1' "Last Shift," ' ' Baron Devilbess or, from some fan- .ied resemblance to the objects, "Legs,1 "Cuii," and other equally quaint designations. We have said that the Duche. of : Leeds was a granddaughter of Charles ! Carroll of Carrollton. The father left two daughters, the eldest married to Pichard Caton, of English birth, but a 7 7 citizen of Paltimore; the vounge-it to Pobert (Joodloe Harper. From the latter, Mrs. Harper, the Bayards, of Delaware, inherit much of their tal ents. It was of her daughter, Mrs. Mary Sophia Bayard, that dohn Kan dolph of Koanoke wrote the crabbed old man could pay a graceful coinpii- nient when Ik; chose " Washington is j dull, although Mrs. Bayard is here'1 j flattery delicate enough from him, the ' subtle bouquet of old times. I Mi and Mrs. C'aton had four daugh- ! ters, who would have been called "the 0 races, 11 but for being one too many . Three of them are, however, known in England as the "Three American Peeresses.'1 They were respectively, Duchess of Leeds, Marchioness of "Wellesley, and Lady Stafford. The eldest was Mary Caton, who married first Kobert Patterson, the brother of Madame .Bonaparte. The marriage ceremony was performed by Bishop Carroll, of the Catholic Church, in the chapel of Mr. Charles Carroll's private residence in Annapolis, ft was the most brilliant wedding that had ever taken place in that State. AVith her husband, she went to England just previous to the Bonaparte-Patterson marriage, and Ave find Kobert Patterson bothered beyond measure, while in Europe, with the affairs of his sister "Betsy,11 his slippery brother-in-law Jerome, and the angry First Consul. He tried to pour oil on the troubled wa ters; but he might as well have trickled it out of a cruet upon the Atlantic Ocean. The final catastrophe soon came the separation; the second mar riage of Jerome ; the persistent refuel I of recognition . Through sill the trou- chant-prince, acted very manly, frank, and honorable parts. Mrs. Patterson had been joined abroad by her sisters, Elizabeth and Louisa C'aton. They were in Paris when Wel lington and the allies entered, and were conspicuous figures in the festivities which followed. They were favorites of the great Duke himself, and it is said that he found his "Waterloo in the fair presence of Mrs. Kobert Patterson, and that only the trilling impediment of a husband on her part, and a wife on his, prevented her becoming the head of Apslcy I louse . Her sister Louisa became the wife of the Duke's aide-de-camp, Sir Felton Bathurst-llervey, baronet. I'pon his i death, soon after he committed suicide i she married the Marquis of Car marthen, eldest son of the Duke of j Leeds, who inherited his father's title, . .,, i;v.(l ., V1V ,..,,..,1 fnvj, ,,;, r j ctmiitrv life, and left his widow, the j Catherine Louisa, who, as we have I seen, died last year, an ample fortune, and the dower-house of Hornby Castle. The second sister, Elizabeth Caton, also married well that, is, she married a nobleman, and he was rich the eighth Lord Stafford, of the Jerninghnm family. In the meanwhile Kobert Patterson had died, and Mrs. Patterson, a lovely i vi(lmv ? roluni0(I to Klll,:m(i. s:ll1v ,,.. ,,.., .,.,.,, ';.. t , . , Paris dav. and the time of the. Arniv of 'imi , ... that ioil ? m S0(.ial Hrdes, ,0 , ()ml,m hpr tl.iuni hs wm rei)eatt.tl ;lm, s!u, (,mM SO(m I)o;lstof ll:ivil I)(l(M) th( SO(.i:lI (metM1 of thmi countries, the social queen KlvJ.hlwl Fnuu.0 thr,c vV L()m x- ind America, and of omion, rans ami Ualti- more. Nor was this all. After her second marriage she conquered the tur bulent Ir -land, and the still more tur i.nL.i.t i . 1.1:,. r. ... ..1.,, "(Ill-Ill lU"Hil, IWt SIIL" lIUU.lllll- UIU IU- . . .' .. ... ,. , ... 1 of the Marquis ot Wellesley, iceroyof , , , , 1 . . ' , Ireland, previously dovernor-deneral . T .. ' 1 , , , oi India, and the brother oi the Duke ot ... ; ,. .... .Wellington, a diamond edition ot a ; ., .. ,. ,, , . ! British nobleman, as Hazhtt calls him , so gifted, small and irraceful wa- he. ! Thus we see the "three American peere--: which es" tirmlv fixed among the stars revolve nearest the English When we consider that only throne five American ladies have ever wedded the possc-sors of Briti-h coronet. the other two being Miss Magrmler, of Washington, who married Baron Abin- ger, and Miss Bingham, of Philadel- ihia, whose husband, Alexander Bar- ! . . . . 1 1 1 ii , h;i liiisrii n nn' pi-ci;igi- ill id). as Baron Ashburton and that of thee live three belonged to one family, the ilistingui.shed one in American history of Charles Carroll the fact has an addi tional interest , which justifies a few reminiscences of an elder day ami gen eration . Many citizens of Baltimore reineiu I ber, as visions of t heir youth , the beau- t.l--.l Al" . . '1-1 .1 111,11 M1Sj"'s 1 ;uo- 'U'' gi'"uemen of th oll -"""l. "'ho still remain with us' :l,m 1',!l:,IH :1" 1110 ,inu ul(l "'y hd'I softn.'ss of manners which are too ,,fl(n :l dumb sarcasm on those of our ........ 1 TT .li. i.ll. P.l 1"'1L '""'ni age, oengm io uuk oi xue time when the Carrolls, the Bidglevs, the Olivers, and the (Jilmors, disjilayed the hospitality of merchant-princes, and when their wives ami daughters act ed all their lives the stately parts we revive now for the amusement of an evening. 1 h)' ten us that Elizabeth Caton, 'ho became Lady Stafford, was tall :lll- remarkably graceful, with eyes of dark gray, expressing quickly both feeling and intelligence. She was more highly cultivated in literature than her sisters, and her society was more large- ly sought by men of letters, and the statesmen and thinkers of the time, than by the ordinary beaux of society, for her mental qualities were brilliant and attractive. At the time of her wo manhood it was an important part of education to cultivate a talent for con versation. If a man of celebrity at a dinner-party or elsewhere began to speak on an interesting subject, it. was the custom for all the guests to listen to him, and if replied to, as was often the case, the encounter became a spirited debate, or a sharp cut and thrust of wit. Ladies never entered the Held at dinner; but at evening parties their share in these contests wa. conceded them, and among those who carried off the palm of victory most often was Miss Elizabeth Caton. She was less admired in Europe, however, than her more showy sisters. The third daughter, Louisa Caton, afterward Duchess of Leeds, was small of stature, but a beautiful figure, light and agile in all her movements, her conversation gay and playful, but com monplace. She had, however, her own peculiar charms, although in umn- ners she differed from her sisters. Her ; admirers were a different style of men; and she was what is known, by a deli cate shade of distinction from more solid merits, as a great "belle.11 It is upon the eldest sister, Mary Caton, first Mrs. Kobert Patterson, and then Marchioness of Wellesley, that we find the most extravagant encomiums lavished . Old men grew young again in describing her fascinations. Said a gentleman, an intimate friend of the j family, one who passed his younger days under the roof of Charles Carroll; "Mary Caton was the most attractive woman I ever beheld in my life. I have seen the courts of St. Petersburg, France, and England, but I never saw her equal never! The graee and ele gance of her form; the charm of her manners; the sweetness of her voice wen; inimitable. She was the most en gaging ami fascinating of human be- i wigs, l have seen her at a dinner given by Mr. Carroll to Sir Charles Bagot, the loveliest and most brilliant lady of an intelligent and courtly company, stately, courteous, kindly; richly dressed, and in a blaze of diamonds a picture for a court-painter." Her bearing was as exquisite as her face, and her dignity never rallied. This was one of her greatest charms her courteous, graceful, even tempera ment. "Were the obscurest commoner talking to her and a king waiting, -die would have shown no impatience. Her companion would never have known by a shadow of change that he was not the most interesting of men to her. She was too proud and well bred to exhibit the slightest discourtesy; but she would have much preferred the king. For, after all, in all her nature she was a woman of the world, of fashion and of society subdued, nevertheless, by the maxim impressed upon all these young girls by Mrs. Caton, who was not pretty, but very popular a maxim extremely sim ple, but socially extremely comprehen sive. It was this: "My dear child, there arc a number of people in the world who take delight in saying disa greeable things. Xow, it is jut as easy to say pleasant, ones. Never tell an un truth; but never displease." In personal appearance Miss Mary Caton was large and handsome. Her eyes were dark brown ; her face oval and rather sallow : her hair dark : her mouth , nose, and chin, beautifully formed: her voice soft and musical. Lord Broug 1 1 r l nam, wno ;as a .cotcliman was, we suppose, a judge in matters pertaining to a foreign tongue we beg everv Scotchman's pardon and who certainly acquired a copious command of strong Saxon, once said that .she spoke the English language more correctly than he had ever heard it from the lips of woman. She was, nevertheless, no blue-stocking, but possessed both sound judgment and a tine perception. She was an excellent talker, and what prob ably fascinated Brougham, a still better listener. While at the head of the vice- royal court at J)ublin she united all parties, Protestant and Catholic, al though a strict Catholic herself. Her charities wen? as free as her means would allow, and even to this day her memory is cherished by the poor of Dublin as that of a saint. On the death of her husband, she lived in England in chambers granted her by the Queen in the honorable re treat of Hampton Court. All the sisters were devoted to their religion, the Catholic, but were no bigots. Their acquaintances comprised both Protestants and Catholics. They never forgot old friends. However fortune would turn the scale, whether to poverty or to riches, former associ ates, we are told, wore never ignored. The three sisters died childless ; and the direct descendants of Charles Car roll of Oarrolkon eame down by the line of the only son, Charles Carroll, of Homewwod, near Baltimore, and by that of the Harpers and MaeTavishes. In Maryland, the "three American peeresses" hav long been but a shadowy presence in old mansions of Baltimore and Annapolis, and grateful memories in the hearts of the young gallants who met them at the balls and assemblages of long ago, and perhaps who knows? time buries the marks of much besides beauty cherished the passion of "the moth for the star, the day for the morrow," and who have grown gray, but never disloyal. The crop of broom-corn in the Mo hawk (X.Y.) Valley promises to be less than that last year with the usual weather the rest of the season, con siderably less. Some large areas of 50 to 100 acres and less are very backward and often thin, and will amount, unless under very favoring circumstances of weather, to little or nothing. From a careful estimate made by those interest ed, the area in the Mohawk Valley planted with broom-corn the present season is 400 acres less than last vear. William C. Ralston. The following personal sketch of the. late William C. Kalston, President of the suspended Bank of California, who committed suicide by drowning, is from a San Francisco telegram to the Chica go Inler-Occan: Personally, Kalston was no less re markable a man than his operations would imply. Each morning at the bank he received hundreds of visitors men who had projects to promote, men who wanted to share in his ventures, men who wanted his indorsement of their schemes, who came to him for ad vice, to borrow money, to consult about the politics of California, Oregon, or Nevada, in all which he took active part, making and unmaking candidates, Congressmen, Governors, and county officials and to all he gave quick, rap id attention , exhibiting marvelous mas tery of details ; determining with aston ishing rapidity, and acting a-lniost as soon as he had determined. His rejec tion of a project was almost invariably fatal to it, his indorsement almost as invariably seemed to insure its success, until his mere commendation itself was taken as certain augury of profit. Among his most potent agencies was the press. As often as a new paper was started on the Pacific slope the ad vertising card of the bank was inserted, and, of course, at the highest rates, and kept standing the year through. He knew how to reach the press of this coast, too, and has wielded it almost wholly until very recently, when the ring operating against him secured its organs and forced the fight on him vig orousl. Put at the close of business hours his business for the dav was ended. No matter what great operations were do pending in the. balance, on leaving the bank he gave himself up wholly to the entertainment of the guests with which his palatial residence at Belmont w:w ever filled. In that oft-described pala tial establishment, in the maintenance of which he is reported to have spent ?2."),000 per month, there was no car rying of the shop into the parlor. He was a splendid host, entertaining like a prince in most princely fashion. His table was furnished for forty guests daily. There were sixty elegantly fit ted-up guest chambers in the palace at Belmont. All the appointments and surroundings were on a scale of Oriental magnificence, and the spacious grounds lighted with colored lanterns from hun dreds of gas-jets at night presented the appearance of some fairy palace. Thither he invited every notable who visited California , and as well as every one who had the smallest claim upon his hospitality. Every thing about the place at Belmont was princely, and there, in princely fashion, Kalston en tertained all who came with the same quick tact in matters social that distin guished him in his business operations, lie was a man of princely tastes, and enjoyed to the full princely living. But there was none of the brutal coarseness of a Fisk about him . His residence was a piece of magnificent display, but in all about it, though in many things florid, there was nothing actually vulgar. He was a man of some culture, too, and was always rain of the society of literary folk , and no cor respondent of a newspaper ever visited California who was permitted to escape Kalston's hospitalities even if he would. In a business sense, too, this wholesale entertaining was an important feature in Kalston's operations. He took to his house every capitalist who visited Cali fornia ; every prominent politician whose influence might be worth having; every newspaper man. whose letters might alVect public opinion, and, with the innumerable schemes which the bank had on foot , this vast entertaining was a vast lobbying continuously kept, up . The sad termination of his career has arrested all cavil. To-night we speak of Kalston, not as a cheat he never was so spoken of but as a. man of wide sympathies and open-handed generosity. His thousand unobtrusive charities, the untold times he has ex tended a helping hand to small trades men and needy adventurers, are re membered now. AVith all Ins regal sumptuousne.ss--and lie enjoyeu u. as never did born king this king of Cali fornia was a soft-hearted, generous fel low, who never turned a deaf ear to n tale of suffering, and whose generosity Avas in truth of princely prodigality. Moralize about it as you will, to the last, old Californians will pronounce William C. Kalston "a brick." MissBkkd, an American Amazon, entered the jumping-ring at a recent horse show in London, and when, after she had got her horse three times over his fences, he jumped deliberately into the pond, she kept her seat bravely, and brought the ugly little hunter out amid the applause of 20,000 people.