Semi-weekly Bourbon news. [volume], August 24, 1883, Image 2

About Semi-weekly Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Bourbon County, Kentucky.) 1883-1895

Image provided by: University of Kentucky, Lexington, KY

                
T7
TIEUE M"E"WS.
BRUCE CHAMP, Publisher.
PARIS. KENTUCKY.
MY NEIGHBORS.
My neighbors are honest and quiet and meek;
They are in the frame houses just-over the
way;
Not one of my neighbors a quarrel will eek,
Nor invite; and they're made of the commonest
clay.
They.lie not, they sigh not they care not for
any
Man, woman or child who inhabits this
. sphere;
Queer, is it not, among all of the many
Who inhabit this globe, there are nooe to
them dear?
Their houses are all that my neighbors possess;
But their houses are wooden not brown-stone,
like mine;
And my neighbors' expenses and incomes are
less
Than would pay fox a pint of the cheapest
of wine I
But they seem quite contented I've watched
them from here
(Tho watching one's neighbors is not quite
the thing,
And they never watch me,) year after year,
Through summer and autumn and winter
and spring.
They are not slaves of fashion, or passion, I
know;
They drink not, they think not, they swear
not at all;
They lend not (nor borrow); they're pure as
the snow;
They know not the meaning of "cheek,"
"nerve" or "gall."
They know not the meaning of envy or hate,
They possess no ambitions, and harbor no
spite;
They rest in their houses, unmindful of fate,
Prom night-time to day-time from morn
until night. .
Grim Death has no fears for these neighbors
of mine;
They're indifferent to sunshine, to snow and
to rain.
They care not to breakfast, to lunch or to
dine
Indigestion will never give my neighbors
pain.
You cannot call one of my neighbors a churl;
Every one to a scandal will turn a deaf ear;
They frown not upon the unfortunate girl
Who seeks mercy and rest from the end of
the pier;
My neighbors will never gloat over the fall
Of a weak brother fighting the battle of life;
Not one of my masculine neighbors will call
The plainest or fairest of sweet women
wife!
They often go in, and they never come out;
But my neighbors are only inanimate clay,
And the framed little houses I'm writing
about
Are in Trinity Church-yard, just over the
way. Puck.
t
' ZESTHA'S FORTUNE.
Whiz.! whiz I whir ! whir ! puff! puff!
and the Through Pacific Express, on
its way to the Golden Gate, paused before
the station at Fremont, Neb. The
engine drew a long breath, like a boy
after a race. The passengers hurried
out to get some dinner at the refreshment
room near by ; the train dispatcher,
conductors and telegraph oper
ators joked each other merrily; and
every one was smiling and happy, although
the day was unusually warm for
June.
On one s:ide of the track stood a large
crain elevator, and many men were busy
loading some cars with barley4destined
for the New York market. The elevator
platform, like that of tne station, was
crowded with people. A little apart
from the crowd stood a girl of twelve,
with long braids of hair down her back
and a sturdy baby boy in her arms. At
the open window of a Pullman car a
young lady and two children sat watching
this girl. A strange, wistful look
in her eves attracted them.
"Come here, little girl," said the
young lady; "come and get some candy
for your little brother."
"He is not my brother, and she bids
me never cross the track alone," said
the girl, and her large brown eyes grew
more wisttul. lne pretty children in
the car reached oui and tried to toss
some chocolates across to her; they all
fell, however, . on the track near the
wheels of the grain cars.
"Is 'she' your mother?" asked the
young lady.
"No; my mother is dead," replied the
girl.
"Oh, Aunt Sue, do you hear?" cried
tha onrl m tne car. "Slip, hasn't any
mother iust like Hal and me. I'm so
sorry."
"Yes. Vesta. I hear." said the voun?
lady; "the poor child looks unhappy.
Just then the conductor came in to
say that some Chinese were engaged, in,
cooking their dinner on the prairie
close by, and to inquire if Miss Perkins,
with her little niece and nephew, would
like to visit them.
Miss Perkins was delighted, and at
once nodded to the little girl that she
was coming out.
"Can you tell me anything about that
child?" she asked, as the conductor
assisted the party across the track.
"The one with the baby?" said he.
"No; I have noticed her here frequently,
sometimes when it storms hard, and
ishe is always holding that heavy boy."
"She looks like a picture I once saw
in Rome," said Miss Perkins, "and I
want to speak to her. Shall we take her
with-us to see the Chinese?"
"Certainly, if you wish." And, step
ping up to her, the conductor took tne
baby and lifted him down from the
platform, and then smiled as the girl
. leaped lightly to the ground.
"Must you carry that big boy?" said
Miss Perkins to her, as she was about
to take up the baby again. "You look
tired. He can walk, can he not."
"Yes, Miss, but he does not like to."
Miss Perkins took the little fellow's
fat hand- in hers, saying: "Now
baby will you walk like a Big man,"
and the party soon joined Hal and Vesta,
who were already watching the industrious
foreigners, and calling to Aunt
Sue to "come quick." It was a curious
sight. Groups of Chinamen were
gathered around fires built upon the
ground, with various queer-looking
utensils lying about. Hal walked
around one man, trying in vain to count
his pockets, for every moment he
emptied a fresh one. Miss Perkins said
that the inmost recesses of his clothing
must be all pockets. Hal was anxious
to buy some chopsticks then and there,
but his auntie told him he would see
them frequently, for the servants in his
father's new home at Los Angelos were
all, Chinamen. The wearers of pigtails
would not answer any questions save
with the words: Nb talkee." The
childraci soon became tired, and were
glad to return to the car, taking the
strange giijl with them.
"What is your name,, dear?" asked
.Miss Perkins, when the- child was
seated by Yesta, with the baby between
them.
"Zintha Dierke, " she replied.
"Do you live near here?"
"Out on the prairie yonder."
"Who takes care of you?"
"Nobody but myself." "
"But you live with some one?'
"Yes, Miss, with Hans' mother," explained
Zintha. "I mind him for my
board, my father is away, and I look
for him every day."
"Where is your father?" said Miss
Perkins.
"I can not tell, Miss," was the reply.
"He has gone to work, and when he has
made plenty of money he will come and
take me. If I could know where he
was I should be so happy. If I ask
Mrs. Hansen, she says: iou will hear
in good time,; but the good time never
comes."
"I am very sorry, dear," said Miss
Perkins, "but I am sure your father will
come."
"I come alwavs to the cars." con-
tinued the girl. "I can not keep away.
iie Kissea me ana saia: e orave, my
Zintha, and I will come for you.' But
my eyes ache with looking, and he does
not come."
"Brave is a grand word, little Zintha,"
said Miss Perkins, as she kissed the sad
little face. ' 'So kind a father must have
written, and some time all will be well.
You should go to school, my dear, and
learn to read and write."
"I read now, Miss," replied Zintha.
"but I can not go to school. Mrs.
Hansen has a smaller baby, and she
keeps me to mind Hans. My father
wished me to 2:0 to school everv dav.
but I can not. IT
Miss Perkins looked sober for a few
moments, then she said: "Zintha, I
shall always remember you, and you
must not forget mec Here is a card
with my name upon it. I have two
homes, one in Los Angelos printed
here, as you see and one in New York.
Jb or one year I shall be with my brother
in Los Angelos, perhaps longer. Will
you keep trying to write, and by and
by send me a letter there?"
"I will, Miss I try every day," said
Zintha, eagerly.
"I take Hans to the big lumber-yard
over there, and make him a place between
the pile of boards, and then I
write. See this pencil; it was given me
by the nice man who measures the
lumber, and I do many lessons on the
boards. I write my father's name often.
I love to write that. Heinrich Dierke is
his name."
When the passengers came back into
the cars, Miss Perkins knew that she
must send her little friend away. Hal
and Vseta filled a box with bonbons for
her, and Miss Perkins gave her some
pictorial papers and a bag full of crackers
made in shapes like animals, and
then the conductor lifted Zintha and
the baby out upon the platform.
"I think she wanted your book, Aunt
Sue," said Hal; "she kept looking at it
so earnestly."
' 'Poor child!' ' said Miss Perkins. ' 'If
it were not my precious copy of Whit-tier's
poems, with his own handwriting
on the fly-leaf, I should certainly give it
to her."
A sudden thought came into her head.
She turned over the leaves quickly, and
wrote upon a scrap of paper four lines
from one of the poems:
"The dear God hears and. pities all;
He knoweth all our wants,
And what we blindly ask of Him,
His love withholds or grants,"
Aunt Sue hurried to the door with the
paper, just as the conductor cried: "All
aboard!"
"Do give this to that little girl," she
said.
"Wijbh pleasure," replied that polite
official; and he immediately reached
over the heads of those about, saying,
"Here, little girl, the lady sends you
this. May be it will prove a fortune."
Some of the by-standers smiled. How
could such a scrap of paper prove a
fortune, and if it should, what would
that sad-eyed child holding a fat German
baby do with it?
Again the train moved on its way, and
in due time reached California. There
General Perkins met his sister, and bore
her away with his children to his
orange groves near Los Angelos.
Aunt Sue enjoyed every- moment of the
restful, indolent life, and wondered if
she should ever care again for the noise
and bustle of her native city. Hal
gloried in his freedom. As for Vesta,
she was not too happy to think of
Zintha, and Aunt Sue was constantly
teased to tell her own fancies concerning
the little maid who carried baby
Hans.
How was it with Zintha?
Every day, when the weather was fair,
she carried Hans to the lumber yard
and wrote or figured upon the boards.
Sometimes she had a bit of paper before
her, held down by two bricks, to keep it
from being blown away.
"See here, little one," said the foreman
one day. "what are those verses
you are scribbling all over my matched
boards?"
"Something a kind, lady gave me,
sir," she answered, timidly. "I nope
it is not wrong, sir."
"No harm done," said the foreman,
"only some of the men spoke of it, and
the boss mightn't like it, you know."
The next day this kind friend brought
Zintha a large blank book.
"There, sis," said he, "when you've
written that full you will be ready to
.copy sermons for the minister."
Sometimes the foreman asked Zintha
to figure up a sale for him, in advance
of his own reckoning. Before long, he
gave her rules for measurement, and
told her the names and grades of the
lumber. She soon understood the difference
between flooring and sheathing,
joists and planks, and no one about the
yard knew the best.places for piling up,
or how high each pile was, better than
Zintha.
One day the foreman was cross. Mr.
Brown, the clerk, was sick with the
mumps, and the doctor said he would
not be out for a fortnight.
"If it had happened at any other
time I shouldn't have cared," exclaimed
the foreman; "but the boss is in
and he's very particular about
letters being answered promptly."
"Couldn't I write them?" asked
Zintha. "You have been so kind to me
I should like to do something for you,
and I write quite well now. ' '
The foreman looked at her keenly for
a moment, and then said: "You're a
trump, little one; perhaps you can.
Trot into the office, and I'll be in there
iXl (X XtW JXHJUUCXllO.
Zintha was already perched on Mr.
Brown's high stool when he entered,
and began looking over the letters.
"Tell this man," said he, putting a let-
r ter before her, "that we will fill his order
on the 10th inst., if we can get the cars.
Put your date up there so; the printed
heads will help you."
"I know how to do that," said Zintha,
simply. "I ,did it for Mr. Brown when
he wanted to go to a party. I know it
all the way down to 'Yours respectfully.'
"
"Upon my word, you, do!" said the
foreman, when the letter was finished;
"and if you can get rid of that baby of
Hansen's, I can give you plenty of work
until the boss comes back."
Zintha's eyes sparkled. At noon she
hurried home to Mrs. Hansen and told
her the good news. Hans was fast
asleep
"May I go again this afternoon?"
asked Zintha.
"I care not where you are," said the
tired woman, "while Hans is sleeping."
"I will earn some money for you,
Mrs. Hansen," said the girl, "and you
shall have a new dress to wear to the
church."
"I can not have a gown while my man
cares so much for his beer," returned
Mrs. Hansen, rather grimly. "With
plenty babies comes plenty trouble, and
all goes wrong. But you are a good
girl, Zintha, and I do wrong to speak
you a cross word." .
Zintha thanked Mrs. Hansen twice,
and hurried away to set the table.
When the dishes were washed and the
house made clean and tidy, she returned
to the office.
Zintha had written letters for nearly
two weeks when the proprietor of the
yard returned. He frowned a little
when he saw a young girl seated on the
office stool, but the foreman whispered
a few words to him and gave him some
letters to read; then he smiled and said:
"Equal to Brown's, anyhow."
When Brown returned, Zintha was
told that she need not go away, for the
business was increasing, and the foreman
bought a little chair for her, which
he placed in the private, office. All day
long Zintha wrote and wrote, and when
night came she went back to the Hansen's
house to sleep on her hard bed
with little Hans. She often thought of
the kind lady in the Pullman car, whom
the children had called Aunt Sue, and
she said to herself, "Now I can write
her a fine long letter, if she ever writes
to me."
"One day, when the train came in
from California, the expressman left a
box in the station addressed to Zintha
Dierke, and a boy in the telegraph office
hurried away with it to the lumberyard.
Great was the joy of Zintha. Her
employer opened it himself, and seemed
greatly pleased when the young girl
took out two pretty dresses, made with
"tucks to let down as Zintha grew" (as
the accompanying letter stated), and
all manner of pretty presents from
Vesta, Hal, and the dear, kind lady.
"Now, Zintha," said her employer
that afternoon, "I have a little plan for
vou. Mv foreman has a spare room in
his cottage, and his wife, who is a good,
motherly soul, will board you until we
hear from your father. It is not a nice
place for you at Hansen's, since he
drinks so much, and is too far for you
to go to your evening lessons. Now
that your kind friends have sent you
these gifts, I think you had better send
them at once to your new room, and I
will see Mrs. Hansen for you.
'Ah, I can never thank you," said
Zintha, "and these kind friends, who do
so much for me."
"Never mind the thanks," he replied,
briskly. 'Tve a girl of my own, and I
mean to give you a chance to surprise
your father when he comes."
So the boxful of pretty presents went
to Mr. Gordon's house that night, and,
before Zintha slept, she wrote this letter
to her friends in California:
"Most Dear and Kind People : The
ul box came to me this day, and I could cry,
my heart is so happy. I am writing: now every
day in the office, and every week my kind
master pays me for it. I learned to write, as
you told me to do, and twice every week I say
lessons to a lady who teaches in one of
the schools. It is very beautiful and I thank
the dear God and you. The sweet words you
wrote me have made my fortune. I copied
them day after day on the boards, until my
kind friend gave mo a book. How pleased my
dear father would be ! I hear not a word from
him yet. And I am tired waiting-. My master
says he will 'come some day when I am not
thinking' of him.' Ah, dear lady, that is never I
1 always think of him and pray for his return.
I pray for you, too, dear lady, for I can not
thank you. The books, the dresses and all the
pretty clothing- made me too happy to sleep.
Some time we may meet again, and then I may
be wiser and better able to tell the beautiful
thoughts I have of you and the pretty children.
Zintha Dierke."
Why Aunt Sue cried over that little
letter no one could tell, and even General
Perkins, her brother, sat very still
for a long time after he had read it.
Six months after the box reached Zintha.
General Perkins himself walked into
the office at the and
there he found a tall, slender girl, bending
over some writing. He chatted
some time before he made himself
known, and then Zintha's happy face
made him ample return for "the bother
of stopping over to humor Sue's whim."
He tried in vain to persuade her to leave
her position and go with him to Los
Angelos, when he should return from
the East, but she only answered:
"I thank all your kind family, Gener-
I al, but my dear father must find me
here when he returns. Her reiusai
did not prevent the General from stopping
again on his way oack to the
orange groves, to leave a large bundle
of books and some presents from New
York friends to whom he had told Zintha's
story.
Thus two years passed, with frequent
letters between Los Angelos and Fremont,
and at each Christmas a box for
Zintha. Aunt Sue still lingered in California.
She had grown stronger, her
brother thought, and the children could
not spare her.
One bright May day, Aunt' Sue drove
up the avenue leading to Roselawn, as
General Perkins's place at Los Angelos
was called. She had been . out with
1 Vesta, and was just returning with the
man.
"It is strange that Zintha. does not
write," said she; "I positively find myself
worried if the child misses one
month."
"Perhaps she is illor very tired," said
Vesta. "But see, Aunt Sue, we have
company; Papa. is talking with a young
lady, and there is a gentleman in the
hammock."
-
-
. .
Aunt Sue did look. There was no
mistaking those brown eyes, and, as 'tho
'ponies halted, 3he sprang out and
caught Zintha in her arms.
"Ah, dear, dear lady, I have come at
last, and here is my dear father with
me!" said the girl, holding the lady s
hand tightly 4n her own.
"Yes, madam, I am here," said a
fine-looking man, advancing, "and all
mv life I shall thank you for the love
you have given my little girl. ' '
What a happv partv Koselawn nela
that night! What a long, long story it
was which Zintha's father told how he
found work at once, and afterward went
into business for himself at Salt Lake
City; how he had often written to Hansen,
sending money and letters to his
darling little girl; how Hansen wrote
that the child was well, and learning fast
in school. Then he was ill, very ill, for a
long time. When he began to recover, his
first thought was for Zintha, but no
word came. One day, when he grew
stronger he went down the road to build
a new store-house. While the men
were at work one of them picked up a
board with a little verse on it. He carried
it to the "boss" (who was no other
than himself), who read it as a hungry
man eats bread. There was his darling's
name, With his own, beneath the
poet's words. He laughed aloud for joy,
and the men said: "Ah, his head is not
quite right since the fever." But his
head was right, and his heart, too. He
wrote at once to his child, and heard all
the long, sad story. "The words of the
poet, dear friends," said he, as he concluded
his long story, "proved better
than the telegraph; it was a message
from my own loved one when I was
anxious about her. Then I made haste
to get to her as soon as I could, and here
we are together at last, and trying to
thank you for all you have done. ' '
Here Zintha's hand rested lovingly on
his arm, and Zintha s voice, quavering
with love and joy, said: "When the
dear father builds his house, the words
which brought us together shall be
carved over the door, to commemorate
the happy fortune they have brought to
me."
"Brave little Zintha!" said the General.
"It was not the words alone, but
your patient, earnest work which won
the good fortune. But come, Sue, let
us have some music."
Then Aunt Sue took down her guitar
and they sang the evening hymn, which
floated on and through the fragrant air.
It chanced that the music fitted the verse
that brought Zintha's fortune; so Miss
Perkins added that stanza to the hymn.
And as she noted the fervor with which
they all joined in singing that verse,
she could not help wishing that it might
have been heard by the beloved and
venerable poet in his New England
home. Kate T. Woods, in St. Nicholas.
Acute Anglomania.
It is astonishing to observe with what
slavish exactness New York society
copies everything that is English. We
have long grown used to having our
fashionable men dressed by London
tailors and hearing our fashionabl girls
talk a Cockney lingo. We are also
used to the single eyeglass, the extraordinary
mannerisms and other physical
indications of acute Anglomania. But
now we have a new illustration in the
matter of photograps. For some years
it has been the craze in London for
women who have a distinct place in the
social world as beauties to allow the
photographers to expose their photographs
for sale in the shop windows.
Among these the most famous before
she became an actress was Mrs. Langtry.
After her came Miss Graham, Mrs.
Thompson, Lady Lonsdale, Lady Dudley,
and Baroness Rothschild. The
woman whose pictures had the largest
sale was conceded to be the most beautiful.
The rage extended throughout all
classes of English society, and the pictures
of the most refined and delicate
girls were exposed for sale at vendors'
stands and in cheap shops all over London.
For a long time New York girls
of what is known as the "English set"
have had an itching desire to follow the
English custom. They have good
reasons for it, as there are certainly
more beautiful women in New York society
than there are in London, judging
by the photographs. The first American
to give in to the craze was one ol
Mr. Frank Work's daughters. Some
time ago she married a man who called
himself Sir Burke-Roche, but had no inherent
right to the use of the title, as he
was the youngest of several sons of the
late Lord Fermoy, and is entitled to
nothing more than "Mr." before his
name. He and his handsome wife were
very popular in New York for a couple
of seasons. When Mrs. Roche went
back to England she was widely photographed,
and her pictures found their
way over to this side of the ocean. So
far as I know she was the first American
girl to adopt the English custom. It
is to be sincerely hoped that the craze
will spread no further. Brooklyn Eagle.
Down a Mountain on a Bicycle.
The talk of the White Hills to-day is
all about the wonderfuld ride down
Mount Washington, from the Summit
House to the Glen, by E. H. Carson, of
East Rochester, N. H. The feat, which
is without parallel, was accomplished
yesterday afternoon, and the daring
rider, who is a brown, hearty fellow of
twenty-five or so, was given quite a reception
at the Glen on his arrival. He
made the journey from this point to the
Summit on his bycicle, which is of the
make which has for specialty a small
wheel in front of the larger. Young
Carson was entreated to relinquish his
purpose by the company at the Summit
House, but he started at what seemed a
perilous speed, racing down the incline
and going around the curves" which
bound the "great gulf" at lightning
speed. Apparently the small wheel
acted as a guard against "headers,"
however, and the rider used the brakes
with rare judgment, never losing his
head for a moment in the dangerous
trip, although whizzing at a mile-a-minute
pace. When the glen level was
reached, Carson's machine was readily
stopped. The "time" from Summit
was, of course, unparalleled, as his undertaking
seems likely to be. Oorham
(N. E.) Special to Chicago Herald.
The worst blow-out an inebriated
countryman ever had was when he
blew out the gas in his room. It saved
him the trouble of blowing out hAs brains
later in life.-J Q.. Pjcajwnfc.
The Capital City.
The Washington correspondent of
The Cleveland Leader writes: I came
across the original plan of Washington
in a little stuffy back room of the basement
of the capitol to-day. I do not
mean the plan of Andrew Ellicott, engraved
in 1792, and the one from which
all copies have been made since then,
but the original paper,
drawn up by Maj, L'Enfant in 1790, at
the instance of George Washington.
Ellicott was an employe of L'Enfant,
and he took L Enfant-s place after he
left. His plan was that of L'Enfant's,
with a few immaterial alterations, and
it is that of Washington to-day. In
1792 thousands of copies of Ellicott's
plan were engraved similar to the copy
here, and these were sent over the
country and to the various capitals of
Europe for the purpose of selling lots.
This was, I suppose, the origin of the
paper city speculation of the frontier.
Washington was a wilderness of swamp
and trees at the time, but to look at the
plan of Ellicott's you would suppose it
rivaled Paris in its magnificence. The
President's house is engraved upon the
street, the capitol and other public
buildings are represented, and the parks,
squares, reservations, m gardens, and
statues represent a city of 500,000 people.
It is all laid out in lots, and this plot
was put by the commissioners into the
hands of agents all over the world to
sell lots seven or eight years before the
capital was moved from Philadelphia.
L'Enfanls plan, which was never engraved,
is yellow with age and worn
with use. The lines marking the lots
have paled until they are almost invisible.
In half a dozen places it has been
torn and certain colors of ink maintained
on the margin have disappeared entirely.
It has lately been put under glass in a
closed walnut case, and the old architect
who has charge of it rarely shows it except
when absolutely necessary. I
don't suppose a dozen men in the country
know of its existence. The plot itself
is elegantly gotten up, the writing
is like copper-plate, and the whole work
is as beautiful as that of a counterfeiter.
From the marginial notes one sees that
certain ideas were neid in ryu as to
the national capital which were never
carried into effect.
One was for a national church, and
the reference to the point, and where
the patent office now is, says: "This
church is intended to be for national
purposes, such as public prayer, thanksgiving,
funeral orations, etc. It is not
to be assigned to the use of any particular
set or denomination, but is to be
equally open to all. It will be likewise
a proper shelter for such monuments as
were voted by the last Continental
Congress for those heroes who fell in
the cause of liberty, and for such others
as may hereafter be decreed by the voice
of a gratelul nation.
A nistoric column was to be located
on point B, which should be one mile
from the federal house or capitol, and
should form the measure of distances
for the continent of America. On point
C a naval column was to be erected to
celebrate the founding of the American
navy, and it stands there as a monument
of its rise and its achievements.
At another point on the plot a great
cascade was to be made out of Tiber
Creek, and this was to be one of the
sights of the city.
An avenue was to run from the capitol
east to the Potomac branch, 165 feet
wide and a mile in length. On each
side of this arcades were to be erected,
and these were to be filled with shops
and fancy stores, going, as it was then
supposed, through the main part of the
city.
The fifteen squares colored yellow
were divided among each of the fifteen
States of the Union, either to improve or
to furnish a sum of money equal to the
value of the land to be used for their
improvements. Each square will admit
of statues, obelisks, or any other
ornaments, such as the State may select
to perpetuate the memory and honor of
such individuals as were conspicuous in
giving this country liberty and independence,
and also noted heroes of other
ages and countries.
Here in this same little back room are
kept a number of autograph letters of
the early Presidents in reference to the
building of the capitol. These include
writings of Washington, Madison, Jefferson,
Monroe, and Adams. They are
pasted in a book and are under care of
an old Scotchman, who is employed as
an architect for the capitol. The following
is one of Washington's letters:
(private.)
Philadelphia, Jan. 3, 1793. Gentlemen:
I have under consideration Mr. Hallctt's plans
for the capitol, which undoubtedly have a
great deal of merit. Dr. Thornton has also
given me a view of his. These last came forward
under somo very advantageous circumstances.
The grandeur, simplicity, and beauty
of the exterior, the propriety with which
the departments are distributed, and the
economy in the mass of the whole structure
will, I doubt not, give it a preference in your
eyes, as it has done in mine and of several
others whom I have consulted, and who are
deemed men of skill and taste in architecture.
I have therefore thought it best to give the
doctor time to finish his plan, and and for this
purpose to delay a decision until the next
meeting. Some difficulty arises in respect to
Mr. Haliet, who was, you know, led into his
plan by ideas expressed to him. This ought
not induce us to prefer it to a better, but,
while he is liberally rewarded for the time
and labor he has expended on it, his feelings
should be saved and soothed as much as possible.
I leave it to yourselves how best to
prepare him for the possibility that the doctor's
plan may be preferred to his. Some
grounds for this will be furnished you by the
occasion you probably will have for recourse
to him as to the interior apartments, and the
taking him into service at a fixed allowance,
and I understand that his necessities render
it natural that he should know what his allowance
is.
With great esteem, I am gentleman, your
most obedient servant. G. Washington.
Sam is Dead.
There died yesterday at the home of
Mrs. George T. Pitkin, jtfo. 2328 Wabash
avenue, one of Chicago's oldest residents
a venerable Brazilian parrot. Sam
for such was the flame by which he was
known to many friends in this city had
reached the ripe old age of seventy-five
years, and his career was a varied and
eventful one. At the time of the great
Chicago fire Mrs. Pitkin was living on
Indiana street, on the North Side, and
when the flames swentnti tnlioriimiio
cient ana loquacious pet. "Take the
family Bible," said her husband, who
had overlooked the parrot in his efforts
to -save his infant son, but Mrs. Pitkin,
according to the veracious reports of
those days, dropped the book of books,
and triumphantly carried her parrot to
jt.i.v,a ui oiuebv. j,ne Dira tnat nao.
I
himself famous by this incident, and
during the remainder of his life was the
recipient of well earned honors.
About three weeks ago there was
a
fire in Mrs. Pitkins' residence on Wahasi
avenue, and the department was called
out to quench the ilames. Mrs. Pitkin
with the remarkable solicitude slnn i,.J
a
I
shown on a former occasion, carried out
Sam, and when the latter beheld his old
friends the firemen he irreverenth ,
ejaculated: "O Lord! look at Tem."
But although Sam stood his first ex.
penence as well as the celebrated Kino
of Troy, the second was too much of a
shock, and he began to fail. It wa3
noticed that he dozed on his perch, that
his head shook like
that of an old man
and that he dropped often into deep
slumber at unseemly hours. Frequently
in the midst of his snooze he would
tumble from his perch, and then he
would pick himself up, exclaiming
weariedly, "Oh, Lord?" Yesterday
Mrs. Pitkin noticed that he was feebler
than ever, and she took him from his
cage, saying at the same time, "Poor
Sam, are you going to die?" "Oh,
dear, yes," said Sam dejectedly. These
were his last words, and shortly afterward
he died.
Sam' was formerly the -property of
Mr. Samuel Myers, who obtained him
from Mr. Glassner, and the worthy old
bird.may be said to have witnessed tht
birth and progress of the cities, with
whose destinies his own life was so
strangely interwoven. Many strangf
stories are told of him, but, in view of
his death, it is hardly proper to recall
his old-time levity. One of his failings
was a peremptory manner of saying
"good-by" to visitors before the time of
saying "good-by" arrived. Again, he
never failed to arouse his beloved mistress
whenever her husband had occasion
to use the night latch-key. For
this reason, Sam and Mr. Pitkin were
never on the best of terms. On one oc
casion Mrs. Pitkin's mother was mending
socks, and whenever she dropped
one into the basket at her side Sam
would snake it 6ut and pensively chew
the toe off. Finally the old lady began
to sing, but this was more than the garrulous
bird could stand. "Oh, cork
up!" he exclaimed with every appearance
of disgust, and it is said that the
old lady never sang in his presence
again.
But Sam is dead, and it is to be hoped
that he has reached the bird-world
where alarms of fire are unknown. Al
any rate he will not be forgotten, foi
they are going to have him stuffed.
Chicago Tribune.
A Yentriloquist's Tricks.
For some time past there have been
strange doings at the jail, which have
given the impression that the place
hniust be haunted. Every few nights
some prisoner would hear his name
called by some one outside of the jail
and, going to the nearest window,
would in the darkness carry on a conversation
with some friend or relative,
who failed to materialize, however. A
short time ago a man who was put in
jail for assulting his brother-in-law with
a razor and cutting his throat badly,
heard some, one calling him at the
window. He got out of his bunk and,
feeling his way to the window, asked
the name of the visitor. The name was
given and. proved to be that of an Irish
friend who had taken this way of holding
a little chat with him. The voice
could not be mistaken and the prisoner
had no suspicion of there being anything
mysterious about the matter or
anything wrong. The visitor in bidding
him good-bye told him that he had
left some tobacco for him with the
jailer. In the meantime Jailer Schontz,
hearing the voices, staid outside to see
who was there, and though he could
hear the talk could discover no one-.
The next day the prisoner insisted on
the jailer giving him the tobacco which
his friend had left for him, and was
quite indignant when told that his
friend had left none. The same sort of
an occurrence was repeated with other
prisoners. The colored boy who was
lately imprisoned for stealing a watch
was called for the other night by some
one outside, and on going to the window
held quite a conversation with a colored
friend of his, in which he talked over
his case quite freely, but Jailer Schontz
could not discover any one. The colored
boy the next day was equally earnest in
demanding the packages of smoking
tobacco his friend had left with the jailer,
but of course the jailer had no such
package. In none of these cases could
Jailer Schontz discover that any one
had been round the outside of the jail.
The puzzling matter has now been
straightened out and its mystery solved.
The young man, Fred Hill, confined in
jail on the charge of bein a confidence
man, seems to be at the bottom of the
whole affair and the cause of the manifestations.
He is a remarkable mimic
and needs only to hear a man's voice
once to be able to duplicate it. He is
also a good deal of a ventriloquist, and
these two features of his own vocal ability,
aided by the peculiar construction
01 tne jail and the location of his cell,
have enabled him at night to throw his
voice outside, so that it appears
on the south side of the jail as if
there "was some one atthe window calling
them. He has used his ventriloquism
for much amusement, and by learning a
prisoner's name and something of his
history by the prisoners mingling during
the davtime has been well informed
for a midnight chat with them, im-
personating some friend or relative. To
add to his enjoyment, he has invariably
added the "tobacco" postscript at tho
close of the conversation, thus causing
the prisoners to bother Jailer Schonta
by insisting on having what their
friends have left for them. Omaha..
Bee.
-
Keepers of carrier-pigeons ia Germany
have learned from the Chinese an
ingenious method of protecting their
messengers from birds of prey. They
fasten to their tail feather a compact
arrange of small reeds, eight or ten m
number, weighing only a fraction of an
ounce, which in the pigeon's swift flight
emits a whistling sound shrill enough to
scare pursuers.
The plaintiff in a St Louis suit for
the recovery of money paid for a sealskin
sacque avers, in her formal complaint,
that the garment "hung upor
her person in a most ungainly manner
destroying her peace 01 mina wni.
wearing it."-. Louis Globe.