Evening capital., May 14, 1884, Image 1

About Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910

Image provided by: University of Maryland, College Park, MD

                
EVENINGHiHBCAPITAL
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AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL—DKV<TEI> TO THE BEST INTEREST OF THE STATE, CITY AND COUNTY.
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VOL. L 50 ANNAPOLIS, MI)., WEDNESDAY EVENING, MAY 14, 1884. PRICE ONE CENT.
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feeling on the Downward Slope.
J wo tlmt wrecked each other’ll hope, 1
Putting coldly in their prime, ]
Met upon the downvr in! lop,
Taught by tears and calmed by time,
Under autumn’s perfect trees,
Dropping bright remembrances.
♦' 1
Tlickj they aprrud their stories out,
Face to lace and hand to bund,
Looking back with wistful doubt.
Into the lorgotten land.
Where the wheela ol life went fast,
llnrdiy seen till they were past.
Looking where the dawn liad been, I
Till <‘iich gray and pallid line 4
Shivers with a sun unseen,
Which muHt never rise and shine.
And the Moment, lout and vuiij
Comes before their s jnls again*
Saying softly, “Yes, I think
You were there—you came at ten/
“In your hair was something pink
flow I hate the tint since then!”
“Hate a harm less ribbon!” “Nay,
1 have paidoned it to-day.”
“I remember what you said.”
“Hut you laughed, and 1 despaired.”
“Did I lunch? I was afraid
You might think I enred.”
“Be content, your pride shall bo
V ' u•* >w heart top vie”
• t
“Something in jour voice assures
You have argry h-elings yet.”
1 “Something told ino then in yours
\ That you would not quite—forget;
\ Just one looiish moment lit
' Hope—that laugh extinguished it.”
** "Sntfl the flume was very weak! ’
\ o ’Twos your silence let it die.”
“If a man’s hope will not speak,
Can a woman’s heat t reply?”
“Had I spoken?” “Do I know?
It was very long ago.”
•
Face to lace and hand to hand,
Looking at those eastern skies.
Is the light along the land
Only borrowed trom tluir evek .
Y'an the song of birds be draj
'“’\r mmylYHJinuA i J.iwa
Lo, the hill, the sea, we plain
Flushing with fumilMr rosul
Look away, and look iqpun, \
But the color strays and grot a!
Whe relore stand amazed and dumb?
Knew you not that morn mini come?
WOMAN’S ADVENTURE.
\
BY KBBK'vE. REXFORD.
You've heard I had quite a little ad*
nture—hey? Well, 1 did. I don’t
re to have another like it, you may
sure. I’ve often heara ot moments
error, but I know nov how one
s when ho looks danger—if' not
th—sqm.re in the face,
hall 1 toil you about it? I’ve got
about time to, before John comes
.ie to supper.
#>hn, you know, tm* loremkn of the
|i| tt-hands in the factory—wks, I say.
|I he has given up thf |laee daw. lie
iit to the factory at s x o’efock at
iit, and came home ; six in the
lining. It was lonesu tie for me to
if at home alone, dr he same as
OU-. for the little one, though she’s
otif comj any, wasn't large enough
fe Eof any help in of need.
Inyer was afraid A bttrglara or
pices, because, you/ J, we h ain't
viytng I thought- hrglar wotld
an. so i ’.tic . e; and tnen
we didn’t hear as much about thieves
and tramps then as we do now. Not
being afraid, I was willing to stay
alone, though John used to coax me to
let him get a boy cr a big dog.
But I didn’t want to be bothered
dth either of ’em. * I told him I’d
ither run the risk of burglars, though
don’t suppose either of us ever really
g* *sjght there was any risk to run.
I didn't
a friend of John’s, who’d
lieen at work a good while in the fac
tory, and vvas a prudent, saving fellow,
[got tired of that kind of life, and said
be was going to quit it, and look about
! h> see if he couldn’t find a little farm
sfunewUere that he could buy with the
tjnev he had saved.
I knew what that meant There
was a smart girl in the factory that he
H ad taken a fancy to, and she liked
> and they were going to be mar*
r*d 3gjMpn as he had found a home to
lit, ' ' 1 ' .
Well, he brought his money to us, ]
and wanted we should keep it for ]
him till he was ready to use it. There
were over six hundred dollars. John ]
told him he’d better put it in the bank; 1
but he said he calculated to use it ’
right away, and he guessed it would J
be as safe with us as if he put it in the
bank. !
So he left it, and John put it in the ]
left-hand till of that old blue chest that
you see in the corner there. I shall
always think the man was looking in
at the window and saw John when he
put it there—But there! I’m getting
ahead of my story!
One night John went off to the fac
tory and loft me alone, as usual. It
was dark and stormy. The wind blew
in great gusts,and kept the lilac-hushes
tap, tap, Lipping against the window'
as if some one was trying to get in. It
made me nervous and fidgety to hear
them.
The little one was about two yeats !
* |
old, and such youngsters get asleep j
early, you know. About eight o’clock t
I undressed her and put her to bed. j
I sat up a couple of hours after that, i
to finish a pair of socks for John. By j
the time I’d got them done, I was
sleepy, too, and I went to bed, I went
to sleep, and must have slept about
two hours, for the clock was striking ;
twelve when I woke up.
I heard a step in the hall. At first i
I thought maybe there’dbeen a break
down at the factory, and John had
come home. But it sounded different
from John’s step as I listened—heavier
slower, and it roused me, and set
me to wondering about who it was,
and how he had got into the house.
But I can’t pavJthat I was frightened
any at first. Maybe I w'asn’t wide
enough to he scared.
At first I thought I’d call out and ask
-what was wanted, but I didn’t. I
don’t kno%v why, though. I just kept
still and waited to see what was going
to happen. *>
The step came to the door, and then !
i t heard a hand on the knob and it w’as
| turned as quietly as possible, and the
j door was pushed open very cautiously, j
As the door opened a light shone
! into the room, and I knew.it was some
| one who had a lantern with him.
I You can lie sure I was scared then.
1 was so scared that I couldn’t stir,
n<r scream. 1 just lay still and looked !
out of the least bit of a crack in my ;
evelids.
*
A great, burly feliow that reeog- j
ni/.ed, the moment he put his face into I
the room, as a man who had been at j
w ork in the mill, came in, and held \ip :
his lantern so the light could shine on i
me.
I shut my eyes tight then. lie came |
up close to the bed, and stood and
watched me for a little while to make
sure I was Asleep, I suppose.
I could feel the light on my face, j
Oh, it was terrible! I didn’t dare to
move a muscle. I was in agony for j
fear the child would wake up I’ve j
no doubt he would have killed us.
i
I tell you, you’ve no idea what a trial
it is to lie still and he in mortal fear.
I thinking every minute may be your
j last, and knowing that your only
| chance for life depends on keeping
! quiet. It seemed to me as if he stood
| there and watched me for an hour.
By-aml-by he seemed to be satisfied j
j that I was List asleep, for he lowered j
the lantern and went toward tfie old j
| blue chest. 1 breathed wisier when he j
j left the btxi.and opened im eyes just the !
least bit, to watch him.
i I saw him bend over the chest and
j try several keys in the lotjk before he j
j found one that would unlock it, and
j he opened the chest, and began, to look
through the till where I had put Ben j
Green’s money. Pretty seen he found
it under some pieces of cloth, and he
took it out and counted it over before j
he put it in his pocket.
You can’t imagine how I felt when
I saw what he was after, for I knew
what a terr&le loss it would be to poor j
/v. V'
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Ben, who’d worked long and hard
for it.
It was as much as I could do to
ke'*p from screaming, but I knew that
w< uldn*t help matters any, and it
would make them all th: worse for me.
So I kept still.
Well, after he had put the money in
his pocket, he shut the chest, and then
looked at me to see if I was still
asleep.
When he had satisfies himself that
I was, he turned away, and I supposed
he’d go directly out of the house, but
he went toward the cellar-door, and
opened it, and stood looking down the
stairs.
Quick as a cat, and about as still, I
spring out out of bed, and before you
could have counted ten, I had crossed
the room and sprang against him with
a push that sent him tumbling down
the cellar stairs, and then swung the
great thick door together and slipped
in the bolts. I knew l liad him safe
then, for a while anyway, for there
was no wav to get out of the cellar
except through that doer.
My! but how r that nan did curse
and rave! It made my blood run cold
to hear him. But I didn’t stop to
listen. I hurried on my clothes and
took the baby, and wrapped her up
well, and started for the factory.
1 found John and tohf him my story
and half-a-dozen men started for the
house at once. And they’d got the
man tied up with a ropq by the time I
got here.
He looked at me as if he wished he’d
killed me. I’m sure he did.
So you see I saved po >r Ben's money,
after all. But you may be sure we
didn't in the house another
*
j night. ‘John tboK it civ Lite oamc nex,
morning, then he resigned his position
| on*the night squad, and I haven’t staid
alone a night since. Hark! ,J hear a
j step, lie’s coming now.
i
.
Mormon Converts in England.
A party of Mormon missionaries
j from Utah have been working actively
j for the last six months in the w estern
! counties, smd I regret to hear that they
have induced quite a large number of
. persons in the rural districts to join
their egregious body. Many “con
verts” have already gome out to Utah,
j and a still more numerous contingent
j have been baptized pending the time
w’hen they will be ready to start for
! “the promised land.” It is lamentable
j to think that after the repeated ex
j posures of the Mormonite creed, there
still remain in thi3 country people ca.
; pable of being ensnared by the outrage-
I ous fictions of the plausible vagabonds
| who are regularly despatched to Europe
' from Utah in search of recruits. In
| America the humbug of Mormonism
! has long been so thoroughly exposed
j that converts are ranlly forthcoming'
j except in the person* of individuals
i w'hose room would usually be consid
| ered to be preferable tj their company
; —London Truth.
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j
Parisiai.
The London Truth says' that the
rag-pickers of Paris aife to be banished
from the city, and the work of remor
ing the dust heaps wifi be done more
quickly and thoroughly by regular
■ street cleaners. The class known as
j ragpickers with s are called in France
j “chiffoniers.” Men, women, and boys
| are engaged in wwk. They go out
! at night with and hooked
sticks with * which tel explore the rub*
j bish. In Paris nothing seems v
Bones, broken gTixq'
: east-off clothes, and;
and vegetables hall
lected and used by the.
] men. Instances of su ,
among these degrada
j not rare. In 1853 tj
i genie lost a diamond!
| was found by Gelastii
; the ragpickers. Tt**,*
i the bracelet
! it was soonj
Breeding Geese lor Feathers.
It is not generally known that this
p an important business in West Vir
ginia, but such is the fact. In that
State, especially in the western part
die watercourses are numerous, but
iot navigable, and railroads are unde
veloped. Often fifty or sixty miles
must be traveled to reach a railroad
station, and on such localities breeding
jeese for feathers is found to be very
profitable. Several pickings are made
14 a season and the crop of feathers
is duly baled and sent to market by
wagon, which is usually at some sta
tion, where agents are ready to receive
it. We allude to the feather crop of
West Virginia in order to state that
?eese may be made to prove equally as
profitable in other localities as well t
ispecially at points possessing limited
railroad facilties, as feathers are not
neavy enough to interfere with easy
muling, even when there are full loads
>nthe wagons. Geese* are partially
self-supporting and w r ork on a pasture
Dr on a pond. They come up regular
ly at night, protect their young vigor-
Dusly and subsist where other fOWhs
would starve, having no competitors
?xcept ducks, which they exceeddn
size. The carcase of the goose
salable, the only objection to it being
the dark color of the flesh, but a goose
.s juicy and not dry like a turkey.—
American Farm and Home .
A Great Thought Almost Lost.
It is said that M. Ilenan once attend
ed a dinner, and, being in excellent
vein, talked without break during the
whole repast. Toward the end of
dinner a guest was heard to commence
a but he instantly si
v* * 4 • * - l t
1 ienu % uy tut> nuSbttrtt. iiittf vuc)
1
-1 formed the extinguished individua
1 that, as M. lienan had now finished
his conversation, she would gladly
1 hear what he had to say. The guest
• modestly declined; the hostess insist,
ed. “I am certain it was something
1 1 of consequence,” she said. Alas,
madam,/ he answered, “it was indeed,
1 but now it is too late. I should have
liked a little more of that ice pud
| 1 ding.”
Persians and Tekke Turcomans.
, The terror which the very name of
; Tekke Turcoman strikes in the bosoms
; Sof the subjects of the Shah is well U
• dustrated in the following anecdote: A
> IPersian, celebrated for his strength
• [ and courage, was attacked one night
i jby a Tekke Turcoman. The Persian
. j threw down his opponent, and, pulfing
>'j out a knife, prepared to cut his throat.
\ ; “What are you doing?” his captive
1 j 3houted. “Can’t you see that lam a
1 jTekke?” Instantly the Persian drop
-1 ped his knife and fainted, whereupon
1 ( the Turcoman killed him. It seems
, that the Turcomans do not set a very
[ high value on Persians. The market
value of a Persian slave is about 15
' thiliings.
A Medical View.
Jones—“l hear your recreant son
has returned.”
| j Doctor—“ Yes, he came back like the
. prodigal of old.”
, I “And you killed the fatted calf, I
4
. suppose?”
j 1 Doctor—“ Well, we had veal for din
; ner that day?”
} f Jones—“ And you f<r
, course?”
J f Doctor—' *
_ is weak
Ibe pui.
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, j|%£ ferj Jiff,
Electric Light for Locomotive Head
lights.
The apj)liyion of electric light i#
one of wonderful Eve*
since its diScovery railroad men and
inventors have been trying to adapt it
to\ise as a locomotive headlight. The
trouble was in the oscillation of the
great engine frame, w hich shook the
carbons together. Some Ohio and In
diana men have invented a perfectly
balanced lamp to hold the carbons. It
has been running on the Tan Handle
railroad, between Bradford Junction
and Indianapolis, and has been * suc
cess. John F. Miller, superintendent
of that division, told me it was per
fect. It is run by a little engine and
dynamo placed on the side of the loco
motive back of the Westinghouse
brake. The engine is, of course, in,,
constant motion, and fed direct from
the boiler by an eighth of an inch tap.
This invention will make traveling at
night safer than in the daytime. Tile
electric light w ill show an obstruction
a mile away. Collisions mostly occur
on curves, but the cone of light sent
out from one of these headlights wouldU
pierce ths darkness so far in a straight
line as to be seen from any part of the
He. lam told that the Pennsylva
Stilroad purposes to put it on all
their engines. It is the most import
ant invention for railroads since the
Westinghouse air brake. —John A.
Long,
Hand and Head. /
It has heeij the fashion to separate
hand-w< rk from head-work, as if the
two were incompatible. One was for
laborers and mechanics, the other for
! professional and literary people; one
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ricu. But w T e are gradually learning
that their harmonious union is thd 1
only means of the perfection of either.
Buskin )ays truly: “We want one man
to. be always thinking, and another to’
be always working, and we call one a
gentleman and the other an operator;
whereas the workman ought often to
be thinking and the thinker often tobe
working, and both should be gentlemen
in the best sense. The mass of society
is made up of morbid thinkers an tnis.
erable w orkers. It is only by labor that
thought can be made healthy, and only
: by thought that labor can be made hap.
. py, and the two cannot be separate^
; with impunity.”
r A Son’s Devotion to His Mother. '
Xext to the love of her husband t
nothing so crowns a woman’s life with
honor as the devotion of a son to her.
We never knew a boy tq turnout badly
who began by falling in love with his
mother. Any man may fall in love
with a fresh-faced girl and the man
who is gallant to the girl may cruelly
neglect the poor, weary wife in after
years. But the big boy w ho'is a lover
of his mother, at middle age is a true
knight, who will love his wife in the
sere leaf of Autumn as he did in the
daisied Spring. There is nothing so
beautifully chivalrous as the love of a
big boy for his mother. Cottage.
Hearth.
Too Many Lodges.
“Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilder
ness!” quoted Mr. Splatterly, the otl
vvlo- he was feeling inar
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