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The Banner-Democrat. (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, January 23, 1897, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn88064237/1897-01-23/ed-1/seq-1/

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A Tale of English Life.
I3y Waltor Besant.
MSr saran--onl tT RBSTER
On a fine Saturday evening in July
there are never many readers in the Free
Library. The old men who come in 1
winter, because the place is warm and
light and quiet, are now walking up and 1
down the pavement, where the sunshine
warms them through and through Lcud
chases away their rheumatic pains. The I
younger men are all afield, playing I
cricket, boating, cycling, rambling afoot, Il
thinking of nothing but the delights of I
fresh air, and re o!cing in their youth.
What have the young to do with na
musty, dusty library on a summer even
ing? A library is a cemetery. Books
are mostly the tombs of dead men's 1
brains. Young folk are much Ietter.
occupied with reading each other's I
thoughts than with walking among the 1
tombs, so that the librari is almost e
It was about seven o'clo:k. At the
win low into which tt sun would have
poured its Wealth of . at and lipht- -
which it gives to the tombs of the dead
as well at ;o the fields and flowers of
the living-a browo blind wts hauled
down, leaving a long, narrow line. The i
sun, pertinacious in Its attempt to reac. I
everything, took advantage of the line ,
to make a thin plate or lamina of bright
sunshine, across which the merry motes
danced with their usual cheerfulness.
There was a smell of leather bindings; I
the tables were covered with magazines i
and paFers; a few readers sat at the ta
bles. But I think that knowledge was I
not greatly advance 1. One or two of
them slept; one or two looked as if their I
thoughts wero elsewhere-with the
brook babbling over the shallows, with
the village cronies gathered under the
lean-to beside the ale-house. One of 1
them, gaunt, hollow-eyed, hungry, sat 1
with an illustrated paper before him. 1
But he never turned over a leaf, and he
looked not at the pictures. The libra
rian watched that man suspicious'y. He I
did not like ths look in that man's eyes. 1
It meant rebellion; it meant a wicked a
spirit of discontent with the social order
which left him starv:ng while it made
his neighbor fat, and refused him work
while it suffered his neighbor to live in <
comfort on the work of other men. Only i
a year or two ago-or it might be ten.
because to one who is a librarian years ,
have no significance in connection with
numbers-a man had coms into the
place with Just such a look in his eyes. I
at man asked for a took, sat down,
and proceeded to tear away its bind:ngs i
and to wrench its sheets asunder. Then
he gave himse'f up to the librarian with
the greatest gentleness and politeness,
explain'ng that liberty without a crust e
was really a meckery, and that in future i
he meant to be maintained by his coun- I
try, and that when he had served his I
time for the destruction of the book, he
meant to smash a lamp, and, that
-atoned for. to steal a stretcher from a
police station, and so on, getting per- t
iaps longer Eentmnces, until he should
be called to his reward. They walked
off together to the nearest police station i
like two old friends, and Farted with a
bearty grasp after the sergeant had 1
notcd the case.
Another man there was whom tho
librarian regarded with eyes of compas- f
sion. He dragged himself slowly and
wearily up the stairs, threw himself 1
upon a seat next tht wall, and there- 1
fore provided with a back, took up a
paper, sighed, and instantly fell fast
asleep. This sort the librarian knew
very well-he was the clerk out of work. I
He fell asleep because he was exhausted t
with want of food, and with climbing t
the stairs in the city seeking for worc.
The librarian wondered how much long- I
er the weary quest would continue.
The man was clearly well on the down
ward slope; his next place would to
lower; his next lower still. With ad
versity arrives too often moral weaken- i
ing-it is one of the countless ills which i
follow in misfortune's train; perhaps l
this poor wretch would take to drInk
many of them do; in the end, a clean i
bed in the London Hospital, with pneu
mon a drawing him swiftly to an ignoble
grave. I
The librarian sat ia his corner, at
many pigeon-holed cab'nit against the I
Swall at his side, a great book before It
him-no librarian is complete withou: a
great took before him--and the auual
materials for cataloguing on his desk.
because to carry on the catalogue is as t
necessary a part of the daily work as to
open ih, day's letters is for a secretary.
Ho was a man of [0, or perhaps mere, I
h's Leard wh'te, anl his gray hair
scanty on the top. lie wore spectacles,
and his face slhowed the tc:car, unlined t
surface of one who has never been con- 1
corned with marikets, prices, or the c
stlate of trade,. He lived all day in the
library, and in the evening he walked
home to his so itary lodging, two miles
The librarian of a fre library 'is
famniliar with every kind of reader. He
classifies them all. 'hbre are [rat th c
unemployed, the mtst nu.merous patrons
of the free library. heo librarian gets
to know the trade of every man, if her
belongs to ons of the tommoner branch
a of work, by his appearance. There
are the quiet men who use the library in I
the evening, when the:r mates are in the
pubic-bouse drinking, or at the club a
wrangling or perhaps gamnbling. 'Ihey i
come here not to pursue a line o: stl:iy, t
but to amuse themsel'ee n p aze. 'Ihea
in any library there are one or twot
habitues of the day time. os.tly they a
are retired tradesmlu, cro'd pensioners, I
who continue to live in the locality
where they have friende. There is the
young fe'low wlo comes regularly to
consult all the papers on sporting mat
ters. He collects the prophetic tips, and
notes the odds in a book; he would fain
be a Sharp. but he, too often, remains a
Juegins. There is the boy who comes
here whenever he can get the chance to
sit in a corner and dream away the tkne
deliciously over a story. There is the
poor country lad who has more knowl
edge in his little finger than a London
artisan in his whole body, who under
stands how to plow and sow and reap,
and stack and thrash; who can cultivate
an allotment; who knows sheep and
beasts, and pigs and horses; who can
foretell the weatht r. Yet he has thrown
it all over and come up to London,where
he has nothing but his pair of hands and
his strong arms, and his gre at knowl
edge avails him nothing. 'Tie as if you
turned a professor of mathematics into
a draper's shop, where they would use
him for nothing but to tweep the floor
and carry out the arcels. He rolls in
to the lhtrary accidenta'ly, and not lik
int the place or the smell (which is not
in the least like the smell of the earth),
he goes out again.
The librarian knows them all. He
watches in the silent room as the c'ock
over his head t'eks loudly, and n:akes
up their little stories for them. Some
times they whisper a little with him.
He is a sympathetic creature, and they
will confide their case to him asking for
his advice. They do :ot seek it in the
search for a took to read, but in search
for work. And sometimes he knows,
or has h'ard things, which may help
them. Other librarians, you see, get a
Sast and intimate acquaintance with
looks. This librarian is more useful to
his readers if he knows the contents of
the trade journals.
Sometimes, however, as in the case
of Naomi Hellyer, he was altogether at
sea. Naomi t:rst appeared on th:s
faturday evening. She came in timidly,
and looked about her with hesitation.
There was no other woman in the place.
Perhaps women were not admitte 1.
Then the librarian stepped out of his
corner and invited her to take a seat
en I ask for anything she might want.
He saw a wo:Lan of thirty dressed in
the b'ack stuff frock of a workwoman,
with a cloth jacket, though it was so
warm an evening. Vler dress was per
fectly neat and well-fitting; her gloves
were worn; she had the appearance of
resolute respectability ciupled with
small pay. }ter face was thin and pale,
and her features delicate. She was not
beautiful, but she looked steady and
serious-what is called responsible. The
librarian noticed these things; he also
noticed, for he w.a an observant crea
ture, as well as sympathetic, that there
was trouble in the face-ab:ding trouble.
When she took off her worn glove the
librarian saw upon her forefinger the
usual sign of needlework, which a wo
man can no more disguite than a mulatto
can disguise the black streaks below his
finger-nails. She took a place at one of.
the tab.es and began to turn over the!
leaves of an illustrated paper, but lan- i
guidly, as it she took no interest in what
she read. The litrarian, watching her
from his corner, observed that she pres
ently put down the paper and began to
walk about, realing the titles on the
books on the shelves as if she was in
starch of something.
Being a conscientious librarian as
well as observant and sympathetic, he
left his place in the corner and asked
her if there were any work wh'ch she
wished to read. Site shook her head.
There was nothing, she said. The
librarian observed that she had an ex
tremely sweet voice. He also observed
that she went looking at the titles as if
she really did want something.
The librarian was experienced as
will as conscientious, observant, and
sympathetic. He discovered that there
was something behind this restless cur!
"I think you are looking for some
book." he said. "If you will tell me
what it is-"
"Have you got," she asked, coloring
deeply, "any book that tells about-"
She hesitated.
"About?" he repeated.
"Atout women"-here she looked
about to make sure that nobody else
could hear, and her voice d:opped to a
whisper--"about women in prison, how
they are treated, an I how they live?"
"We have a book c alled 'Five Years of
Penal Servitude,' " he replied, "but that
is about male convicts, not women.
"May I see hath."
lie lound and gave her the volume.
When the library closed she brought
him back the book, and went away.
But her eyees were red. She had been
During the week the librarian found
himself thinking a good deal about this
woman. She looked refined and de!i
cate, perhaps above the position she
now held, which seemed to be poorly
paid, juaging from her dress. By her
anuage and her manner she showed
herself what is called ladylike or what
ladies profer to call rather a superior
person He cou!ld not remember whether
shie wore a weidning r~n. IIe hoped
that she would co.e aga.in
On Saturday even!nc she did come
again. The librar!an greeted her with
the smi!e le served for habitual readers.
"L.et me find you another book," he said.
"Please let me have the same"-as if
the librarian shoull remember evtery
book taken up by every reader. But he
did remember her book and gave it to
She finished the book that evening.
But long after she closed the volume
she sat with it in her hand, think:ng.
She was in a corner where there were
no o'ther readers. But Ihe librarian
could see h r. And tron time to time
the tears rlose to her eyes and ran down
her cheeks. He wondered, what was
meant by this grief, what miserable
story lay behind.
She was the last to leave the library.
The other readers had all gone, half
en hour before the time for closing, but
she sat there motlon!ese, th nking, cry
ing si.eatly, and the librarian made pre
tente not to see her.
w hen the clock struck ten he locked
the rcom andi went out, a few minutes
after herc. HIs mind was quite flull ofi
her distress, as he walk6d along the
streets, now growing cool in the July
1'rescntly he saw loefore him, going
the same way, his reader. He overtook
her and ventured to speak.
"We are going the same way?" h)
"I am going to - ." She mentioned
a street not far off.
"It is the same way," he replied;
"tray I walk with you? I am the libra
rian, you know.'
She hes'tsted a little. But an official
such as a librarian is not a perfect
stranger. Besides, he was ole and
looked harmless, and his voice and
n, wanner woro friendly. "If you please,'
she said preheitly.
They walked together in silence, side
by side.
s 1 1 - f'', ; 1
Presently the librarian began to ask
a few leading qucs'lous, and learned
that his new fr:end was a workwoman
at a dressmaker's i: the neighborhood.
It is not a fashionable quarter, and the
pay given to the most superior person is
Lut meager-still it was enough, and
the work was regular.
"I do not belong to the place," she
said, "I come from the country. I have
no friends, and am fortunate in getting
any work at all."
"You must come a great deal to the
library," he replied. "There you can be
quiet and have the comnFanionship of
books, if you care for them. But you
must not always read sad books--"
"I have no heart," she sa:.d, "for any
thing but sad books. This is my street.
A week later she came again. Always
on a Saturday even:ng. The reason was
that she worked extra time in order to
get a little more money on other
"I have found you a bcok about fe
male convicts," the librarian told her.
"It is twenty years old, but I suppose
things are not changed much."
"Oh, give it to me-thank you!"
She snatched it from him and Fought
her corner, where she sat, her head on
her han 1, reading the book all the
They walked home together again.
'You are in great trouble," said the
librarian. "If it will be any help to you,
tell me what it is. A good many people
tell me their troubles. Sometimes it
help3 only to talk about things. Have
you no friends?"
"No. I hate lost all my old friends,
and I cannot make now ones. Oh! if I
could tell you--"
"You may tell me, if you will trust
"You will not give me any more books
if I do."
"Surely-sur ly--
"Well then-the reason why I want to
read about-about-you know-oh! I
must speak to som.eono-the reason
why-it is because my sister is in prison
-oh! my sister-oh! my poor, poor sis
ter! She is in prison."
Outside the old wall, a little of which
still stands, runs, winding slowly
through the meadows, the river on
whose banks the ancient northern town
is Luilt. It is broad enough for to.t's,
and on summer evenings a few come
out, but not many, because it is a sleepy
old town, anJ all the young men who
have any go in them seek their fortunes
elsewhere when they come to the row
ing age. For half a mile or so below
the town a broad walk has begn (on
stiucted, having the river on cne side
and a row of trees on the other. Seats
are planted here and there. It is the
boulevard of the towns, eople, and, when
the weather and season allow, the place
is crowded and animated with the girls
-in this happy town there are thirty
girls to one young man-who go up and
down in pairs laughing and prattling as
merrily as If they wore not destined by
the rigor of fate to single blessedness,
because there are so many of them. I
have always thought that this special
application of the old law about the sins
of the fathers must be very hard for a
girl to accept with resignation. "You
suffer," says the law, "because there are
too many of you. I am very sorry, but
-it is the sin of the father-why were
you born?" Why, indeed?
In the summer the lillies lie upon the
waters; the r.ver sparkles and dances
in the light and sunsh:ne: there are
swans and ducks; under the branches
disport mill:one of mldg a; there is a
soft warm stell in the air, partly from
the river and partly from the low mead
ofws on the other side; the fields are full
of buttercup,; from the tower of the
cathedral float the melodious notes of a
car;llon; the river is lazy, and floweth
slowly, I uengetng teside its banks; now
and then a water-rat plun es on the op
poeiste side as a fish leaps out of the
T'2! L NE ALL," ua SAID.
water; thecows sitwat:hing the sky and
the sunset; the swallows and swifts are
the only really aitive things; it is a
plescant, peaceful place to which the
crowd of girls lends an illusive show of
youth. I say illuave because youth
ought not to 1e all of one sex, and when
there are not male and female in equal
Iroportion, youth loses its brightness.
When the evenings are cold and dark
the place is deserted. No one walke
there after sunset. This was the reason
why a certain couple chose the place on
one evening in October. It was a little
after seves; the night had fallen upon a
gloomy day. A fresh breeze blew up
the river, tearing the leaves off the
trees, whirling them aboutin the air and
making drifting heaps of them; the
branches overhead creaked; the mead
owe were dark; the river was black;
drops of rain fell upon the faces of the
pair who walked side by side, the young
Sman's arm around the girl's waist.
"Tell me all;" he said. "Let me know
the worst, and then we can face it. My
darling, is there anything that we can
nut face together-hand-in-hand?"
"Oh!" she murmured. "It puts new
strength in me-only to hear you speak
and to feel 3our presence. Naomi is
anxious and troubles herself about the
future, morning, noon and night. Harry,
7will it make no difference to you?"
"My darling, how would anything
make a difference to me? Do I not love
you once for all-for all this world and
all the next?"
He bent over her-he was a tall and
gallant young fellow-and she raised
her face to meet his lips.
"He fell down," she went on, "while
John was putting up the shutters. Hoe
was standing at his desk, and he fell
down on his fae. He never spoke again
or knew anybody or felt anything. And
next morning about noon he died."
"He died," echoed the lover. "Poor
dear Ruth! You told me of this in your
letter. It was a terrible blow to you."
"I wrote to you about it. But I said
nothing of what wa3 discovered after
"What was discovered?"
"We always thought he was so well
off. Everybody thought so. There was
never any want of money. When he
died the people said we must remember
how well off we should be left, and that
ought to console us."
"Well, dear?"
"There is nothing. The business had
been failing off for years. There is not
enough now to piy rent and taxes.
And as for what is left it must all go to
pay debts."
"Poor child! This is terrible. What
will you do?"
[20 BE CO5TINUEalk
The Work of Daubigny.
Iaubigny brought into landscape
art greater freshness and spontaneity
than had yet been seen, and his work
first seizes you by its force, and then
charms you. As poems of nature
thrown off in the heat of passion and
feeling, so his works affect you, and
continue to do so the more they are
studied. "He painted better than he
knew" when with palette-knife and
brush he dashed in effects instan
taneously, and one wonders how so
much can be expressed by such slight
He was among the first "impres
sionists," and "realism" was one of
his mottoes, but how different his art
from that too often called by these
names to-day. It was not the coarse
materiality, the surface qualities,
and the bare optical effect alone that
he sought to render. He penetrated
deeper, and the surface was always
the outgrowth and expression of a
spiritual center. The thing and the
thought, the spirit and the matter,
were equally balanced, and never did
he put a touch of color to canvas
that had not first passed, no matter
how rapidly, through his own spirit
ual self.
His interpretation of nature was
direct, and he sought to obtain scien
titic truth; but art, too, for him was
expression, never mere reasonless
imitation alone. A presiding intelli
gence, and still farther back an im
pulse of soul, directed the production
of all his works. Ile found ideal in
the real, and set to work to record it.
Thus each work was the re ult of a
fresh emotion, expressed in its own
way; and if you see fifty pictures by
Daubigny you will find each different
in conception, color, and execution.
as the motive itielf differs.-Century.
Making the ITeas Hear.
The vibrometer is a newly invented
instrument for the cure of deafness.
The principle of its operation is the
message of the sound conducting ap
paratus of the ear by means of vibra
tory forces. The phonograph has
been used for this purpose, and the
resultsattained justified the belief
that an instrument embodying special
improvements on the same lines
would be of the utmost value. The
vibrometer was accordingly invented
and its success has been remarkable.
Many persons whose deafness was
from five to fifteen years' standing
can now, through its use, hear ordi
nary conversation from ten to twenty
feet away with their backs turned to
the speaker, and others, with never
ceasing noises in their ears, have been
completely relieved.
Stub ends of Thought.
The liar catches fish with his
The man who is perfectly satisfied
with himself finds no one of like
A dowdy woman is one of nature's
Good victuals are the greatest good
to the fewest number.
A receipted bill is an evidence of
Age turns its back to the future,
youth to the past.
There is n't one dog in a thousand
that will wag hil tail and not
mean it.
No man is a Letter husband than
he is a lover.
A young man hypnotized at an en
tertainment in Paris remained sense
less for two days, and was with diffi
culty brought back to consciousness.
HLere and There.
The new high school of Japan is
unique. "High" in this case refers
not to the degree of education, but to
the social itatus of its students.
Good ThLtg.
Delivery wagons, the motive power
of which is electricity, are the newest
vehicles in London. A green grocer
had the first.
Thande rstorms.
Thunderstorms occur most fro
qaently at Panset.
A new species of giraffe has been
discovered in Africa.
Seventy-two races inhabit the earth
and use 3004 different tongues. There
are about 1000 religions.
The annual number of births is
about 36,792,000-an average of 100,
S00 a day, 4200 an hour and seventy a
While the death rate of the Austrian
cities averages twenty-five per thou
sand, the rate of thirty-three great
towns in England and Wales is
only 15.8.
Professor Villard, of the Paris Ecole
Normale, has at last succeeded in com
bining argon and water. It required
a pressure of 200 atmospheres to do it.
Henry Van Nostrand, a New York
retired merchant, who died recently,
was one of the most noted concholog
i-ts in the world, and leaves a collec
tion of shells of great value.
Kites were'recently sent up at Blue
Hill Observatory, New Jersey, to the
height of 9335 feet. The instruments
sent up registered a fall of tempera
,ture equal to twenty-six degrees at an
altitude of 8750 feet.
Ben Davies, of University College,
Liverpool, has been able to dispense
altogether with the glass globe, making
the sphere partly of copper and partly
of aluminum. By means of his pro
cess, he is able to see small objects
through three feet of solid timber, and
the bones of the hand at a distanco of
thirty feet from the source.
In use on the electric street railway
at Biddeford, Me., is a peculiar track
tester, based upon an adaptation of
the telephone. A man sits in a car
and talks continuously into a month
piece, which is connected electrically
with a receiver held by a man in the
powerhouse. A break in the conversa
tion shows where the track connec
tions are faulty.
The sensation of temperature ex
perienced by the human body and
ordinarily attributed to the condition
of the atmosphere depends not merely
on the temperature of the air, but
also on its dryness, on the velocity of
the wind and on the suddenness of
atmospheric changes, all combined
with the physiological condition of
the observer. A complete expression
for the relation between atmospheric
conditions and nervous sensations has
not yet been obtained.
618,000 Full Moons.
Many people suppose that moon'ight
possesses great potency and has a won
derful influence on or over animate
and inanimate things on our planet.
Such persons should remember that
moonlight is only reflected eunlight,
and that the quality ani quantity of
the light thus reflected is not what is
generally imagined. In fact, it is a
truth which has often been demon
strated by the speculative astronomers
that it would take 618,000 full moons
to afford an amount of light equal to
that emitted by the sun; and further
more, there is only sky space for 75,
000 such discs.
It has been noted that some heat
comes from moonlight. However, it
is in quantities so small that it cannot
be measured by ordinary instruments.
Flammarion says that the amount of
heat emitted by a full moon while at
the zenith cannot be one eighty-thou
sandth of the amount that the sun
supplies when standing on the meridan
on a favorable day in July. such be
ing the case it is really surprising
that intelligent people should consider
that the moon has such a wonderful
"influence" over terrestrial affairs.
Lost-A Finger Tip.
A peculiar case is reported in one
of the medical journals of the union
of a severed finger tip thirty-six hours
after the amputation. The story comes
from McCook, Neb. A bicycle rider
there, while applying a lubricant to
the chain of his bicycle caught the in
dex finger of the right hand between
the chain and therear sprocket. The
pressure of the opposing surfaces com
pletely severed the finger at the root
of the nail, cutting through the mid
die of the last;phalanx.
The bicyclist went to a physician and
had the wound dressed. The tip of
the finger was picked up by a by
stander and was passed to several peo
ple as a curious memento of the soot
dent. Eventually it reached a friend
of the physician who had dressed the
wound, and he took it to the doctor
more as a medical curiosity than any
thing else. The patient was sent for,
and thirty-six hours after the accident
the tip was joined to the stump of the
finger. Strange to say, the union was
effected allright, and the finger is now
almost as good as it was before the
accident.--New York Journal.
I cut the following advertisement
from the columns of a London daily
"Old Artificial Teeth Bought.-
Persons wishing to receive full value
should apply to the Manufacturing
Dentists, Messrs. Browning, instead
of to wardrobe buyers. If forwarded
by post, value.per return.--Chief Of
fice, 133 Oxford street (opposiie
Berners street), London. Est. 100
Do you know what strikes me as to
the most terrible statement in this
advertisement? "Eat. 103 years."
To think that for one hundred years
a firm of dentists has been selling s*c
ondhand false teeth to a confiding
public, and that such an offense to de
cedcy is carried on by a firm bearing
the name of one of England's greatest
-'oots I-Critic.
Hall-a Century Ton Boon.
Sir J. Anderson, of Buttervnt, Cork,
freland, spent $150,200 in 1837 in
t-ying to perfect "a steam drag or
carriage for common roads"
A Heavy Mail Attests the Philoso
pher's Popularity.
Now if there is any old soldier liv
ing who was in the Indian war in Ore
gon during the years 1859 and 1863,
under command of General Joe Lane,
and knew Captain George W. Rey.
nolds, in that service, let him please
write to his widow, at Mars Hill, Mad
ison county, North Carolina. The
poor woman is entitled to a pension
for her husband's service, if she can
prove it. It is a long shoot and a nar
row chance, but maybe some comrade
will see this. It would rej ico my
heart to see a little of that pension
fund coming down this way.
I am not a bureau of information,
but receive many letters of inquiry
about antebellum days and families
and events, and am always pleased to
answer them and give the information
if I can. Many of them are from old
Georgia soldiers who removed west
soon after the war, and they or their
widows have heard that Georgia is
paying all her invalid soldiers or their
widows a pension. Please let me say
to all concerned that there is no pro
vision for non-residents in our state
pension laws. This seems hard upon
those who felt constrained to emigrate,
but it is the law, and that settles it.
Then there are many letters from
aged men who look back to old Geor
gia with longing hearts and wish to
trace up their kindred. It is a sure
sign of gray hairs when a man or wo
man begins to hunt up their
dvstant kindred or the cnmpanions of
their youth. Here is a Mr. John A:
Harris, of Pass Christian, Miss., who
wants to know about his father's re!a
tives-the Harris family, of Appling
and Macon-and also about h'se moth
er's kindred-the Bledsoes, of Athens
and Augusta. And here is Mr. Red
wine, of Retaine, La., who wants to
know of his kin of that name in Geor
gia. Alas, my old venerable friend-,
Judge Clark is dead and so is C. C.
Jones, the only two men who knew all
the old families of Georgia. It would
perplex even them to identify any
branch of the Harris family, for their
name is legion, but the Bledsoes and
Redwines could no doubt be traced by
some of the octogenarians still living.
These are very unusual names and
their kinship is not so remote.
I was ruminating about the erigit
(f names, Anglo-Saxon names, and
find it to he a curious and interesting
s'udy. For ins'anea, is it possible
that the original BIdsoe was wounded
in a fizht or by accident and iled so'
much that it gave him a name? Is it
probable the Redwine ancestor had a
vineyard and made wine of that color,
or maybe did not have a vineyard, but
was much given to lookn:g upon the
wino when it was red? It seems that
the common people didn't need but
one name until long after the Chris
tian era. The Romans, however, be
gan a system to honor and distinguish
distinguished people. They adopted
a pre-ncmen-a nomen and a cogno
men-as Publius Cornelius Scipio
Publins was his Christian name, as we
call it, and no doubt the boys called
him Pub. Cornelius, his family name,
and Scipio was his most notable char
aoteristic, for he was good to his blind
old father and led him about with a
staff, and Scipio means a staff I
have great respect for 8cpio. Horaee
was ealled Horatius Flacens bocause
he had very large cars, and Flaeens
means flop-cared. It was not till the
eleventh century that family names
were handed down to succeeding gen
erations, and this custom was adopted
because of a law reqiring births and
marriages and deaths to be registered
in the parish books. As late as the
eighteenth century many families in
England had no surnames, and the
children were given nicknames, as
Nosy, Soaker, Sucker, Snsggletooth,
Coekeye, Jumper, Bowlegs, Bedtop,
As Fpopie multiplie', new melh-ds
had to be devised to distinguish them.
Prefixes and aflxes were resorted to.
The word son was added to diktingnish
the father from the children, as J,,h
Johnson, Waill, Wilson, Tom, Tomson.
The word Fits was a prefix to N ,rman
names and came from fi's or fl'm, a
son. Vitch in the Russian langoago
has the same m'aning, amd so has von
or van in German, and Msoe in Soetoh
and Irish, as lMaoDonald, the son of
Donald. O is an Irish prefix and
means grandson,as O'Connor, O'l3 irr,
O'Hsllaran, etc. Da or Due is the
French prefix for son and Ap means
the same in W. lch. These affixs anmd
prefixes will classify a great number of
rnames, for from John came Jonson,
J,hnson, Jhnston an I Johnstone.
The Smith family name hnad a pecnliar
origin. The old Anlo Sextns were
evcr on the lokont for invasions of the
island, and hence they kept a large
force of men on the hilla near the eoast
to look out for the invaders ani to
smite them when they came. These
men had hut a single nemr, ha John or
Jack or Will, but tlhey were known as
J .hn the Smiter or Jack the Smiter,or
Will the Smiter, which was soon
abridged to John Smiter and then to
John Smither, and finally to John
Smith. A smith is a smiter--a gold.
smith smites gohll, a blacksmith smites
iron. And so all th'a soo!dier on the
highlands became -miths Iby name,and
were good patriotic fiGhting stook.
IHurrah for the Smiths-ice!n:ling
John. The J'ues family are of Welch
extraction, and no d.nbt had asimiler
origsin for the original name was Jone,
and the 8 was added for a plural.
But names wire still seareer than
people, and so they had to resort to
conpations to distinguish them; hene
came the honest names of Farmer,
Carpenter, Mson, Baker, Gardner.
Tanner, Weaver, Taylor, Draper,
Cooper, Miller, Porter, Joiner, Sadler,
Brewer, Barber, Turner, Plumber,
Thrasber, Carter, Currier, Granger,
Cook, Bridgman, Bowman, etc. Scores
of others could be added that indicate
trades and oocupations.
Not long after, as the people multi
plied, they were named for the places
where they lived or some natural ob
ject near by, as Hill, Dale, Forest,
We od, Grove, Fountain, Lake, Pool,
Rivers, Brooks, Branch, Bush, Grubb,
Tree, Stone, Banks, Shore, Beach,
Birch, Waters, Wall, Cliff, Peak,B"eay,
Rain, Rainwater, Timberlake, Rice,
Wht a,, Corn, Allecorn, eto.
They even appropriated the names
of animals, birds, etc., as Lion Lamb,
Hog, Cult, Fowl, Bull, Bullock,
Beaver, Bear, Duck, Deer, Swan,
Hawks, Dove, Crane, Bird, Herring,
Base, Trcut, Salmon.
And next the fruits and flowers, as
Apple, Orange, Lemon, Plum, Cherry,
Berry, Haws, ColvLe, Turnip and Tar
nipseed. Colonel Turnipseed was col
onel of the Ninth Georgia regiment.
Of flowers and treer, there is Bose,
Violet, Primrces, Chestnut and Holly.
Then they had to encroach on the
nobility and clergy, and so we have
King, Queen, Prince, Earl, Lord,
Duke, Knight, Page, Stewart, CObam
berlain, Pope, Bishop, Priest, Abbot,
Prior, Doec.n and Bailey.
And on the heavenly bodies and
heavenly things and precious stones,
as Sun, Moon, Star, Cloud, Wind,
Gale, Sky, Angel, Diamond, Pearl,
Gold, Glas-, Jewell, etc.
And on parts of the body, as Head,
Heart, Beard, Hair, Arms, Legg, Foot,
Shinn, Back, Hipp, Hand, etc.
And on colors, as White, Black,
Brown, Green, ledd, Blue, Gray,
Hoar and Violet.
Some were named on account of per
sonal peculiarities--as Long, Long
fellow, Stringfellow, Short, Sma!l,
Strong, Meck, Lightfoot, Good, Best,
Bliss, Wise, Witt, Wisdam, Fite and
But there are enough for the young
folks to build onto and make a very
good cstaslguo of name;. Charles
Lamb says that the original name of
Bacon was Ho-flesh, who was a very
wealthy and clever gentleman, but his
girl wouldn't marry Lim because she
couldn't baar to be called Mrs. Hog
flefh. It wou!d be awful. And so be
applied to parliament and had his
name changed to Bacon. He couldn't
give up the whole hog, but took it
cured. Many names were abridged or
changed from circumstaeces. John at
the Moor was changed to Atmore, and
At the Wood to Atwood and Peter at
the Seven Oaks to Peter Snooks.
Will, the taylor, had a sign of a
peacock over his shop, and got to be
called Will Peacock. Anaslem, the
pawnbroker, had a sign of a red shield,
which in the Jewish langutge was
Rothschild, and s- he and his brothers
were called Rotbsehild., and becatne
the richest men in the world. The
old story of the firm of I. Katehum
and U. Cheatham may have never ex
isted, but before the war there was a
firm in Rome of Wise & Goodman. and
close by was a Wit and a Wisdom.
There is a F,,ute, and a Fite in Car
teraville, and some years ago there was
a Fitten. The poet asks what's in a
name? There is a good deal, sad if I
was a pretty girl, and had a pretty
name, I wouldn't change it for a Hogg
or a Sheepshanks.-BILL AaP is At
lanta Constitution.
There are now 140 cooking-rooms
connected with London schools, and
80,000 girls are receiving thereat in
strnetion in culinary and domestic
G3eorge R. tims,the London writer,
is at the head of an anti-bald crusadea.
It is stated that he has caused hair to
grow on 60,000 bald heads. His ro
eipe is paraffin oil.
The Cuban Junta, located in New
York city, has spent $2,000,000
against $200,000,000 speat by Spain.
The money has been supplied goner
ally by patriots in this country, who
asacriflee their comfort to help their
According to the New York Sun,
"Mr. Winters of Nutley, N. J., who
out down his quincee trees to frustrate
the thieves who had looted his or
chard several times in the past, is in
the curious position of the man who
out off his noseto spite his fue."
To put down a handful ofoppressea
islanders Spain has sent out three
times as many troops as Eugland did
in 1857 to snppress her Indian mutiny
and restore the loyalty of 800,000,062
subjects, declares the New York Tribe
one. The number of fully eqnipped
troopi so far sent to Cnba is 210,000,
and the couquest of the island is as
a-r off as ever. The country lost the
-rt of victory and rule long ago. and
shouli abdicate pretensions to either
of them.
The socio'oglod canvass recently
made in the Fifteenth Assembly Dise
triot of New York City by the Feders
tion of Churches and Christian Work
ers revealed the fact that there was
only one bath tab to every 7.9 familiee
in the district. Does this ai the P]f
tesenth Distriot as the residential por
tion of the "ggeat awuhed" of

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