Evening capital., May 14, 1884, Image 2

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

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

                
HM&lwßapital
VOL. I. NO 3.
leeting on the Downward Slope.
1 wo that wrwkcd -ach other’* hope,
Putting coldly in their prime,
| Wet ujkui the downward *lope,
laught by tears and calmed by time,
Under autumn’* perfect trees,
r, 4 Dropping bright reme<ntranccs.
Tliee they spread their stories out,
I'u( to face and hand to hand,
.Looking back with wistful doubt.
Into the lorgotteu land.
Where the wheels of life went fast.
Hardly seen till they were jwast.
Looking where the dawn had been.
Till eucdi gray and pallid line *
Shiver* with a sun unseen,
Which must never rise and shine.
And the Moment, lo*tnud vuip,
Comes before their s nils again*
Baying softly, “Yes, I think
You were there—you came at ten/
“In your hair was something pink—
How I hate the tint since then!” .
“Hate a harmless ribbon!” “Nay,
1 have paidoned it to-day.”
“1 remember what you said.”
•'Hut you laughed, and 1 despaired.”
“Did I lunch?. I was afraid
You might think I eared.”
“He content, your pride shall bo
r T, ’ ‘ Hunt hies* ntt youv heart top me ”
Y „ \
“Something in your voice us-nirns
You have angry feelings yet.”
“Something told mo then in yours
„ That you would not quite—forget;
Just one foolish moment lit
Hope—that laugh extinguished it.”
4 * Sine the flume was very,weak! *
\ “ Two* your silence let it die.”
“If a man’s hope will not speak,
Can a woman** hem t reply?”
“Had I spoken?” “Do I know?
It was very long ago.”
Face to lace and hand to hand, I
Looking at those eastern skies,
is the light along the land
Only borrowed Iroin tluir eyet
Can the song of birds lie dral
' v “
< *• the ha, ** tile plsi\
Flushing witl|iX \
c * ( \,
Hut the color I
In ?elore ■4 i a, azet j a ™,i dumf?
n( you ,1( m\ist come?
WOMAN'S A vEirpUKE.
BV MB K- Vrofto.
Von've heard 1 lia,l\ ite litoe
oturo hey ? Well, kid.. I , llin . t
re to have another liC vou Inay
tsute. Ire often /te/k 0 j moments
error, but I know A how „ ne
is when ho looks dl e r_H< not
jth—Squr.re in the facA
pall 1 tell you about 1 j ve
about time to, before comes
ae to supper. I
| y° know, w c f the
iiit-hands in the factor-4 I say,
ujhe lias given up ths |lar& my, He
4t to the factory at lx otAck at
|tt, and came home i six the
I tiling. It was lonestme. for he to
;a|at home alone, the san\ as
for the little ofeithough she’s
com].any, wasltjarge etyugh
f° T‘f any* help in tjie of need. °
Ih er was afraid / burglars or
hl V' because, you , , We hadn’t
1 ?ir glar would
ai\ to so a■* J/‘ and then
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 car a big dog.
But I didn’t want to be bothered j
*’ith either of ’em. * I told him I’d j
ither run the risk of burglars, though I
don't suppose either of us ever really i
there Was any risk to run.
I didn’t,
:>* MW a friend of John’s, who’d
jeen at work a good while in the fae- j
f°ry. and was a prudent, saving fellow, j
tired of that kind of life, and said j
|e was going to quit it, and look about
L see if he couldn’t find a little farm
tmewhere that be could buy with the
ioney he had saved,
f I knew what that meant There
vas a smart girl in the factory that he
taken a fancy to, and she liked
and they were jfoing to be mar
qjjjaipn as he l&d four d a home to
|£y ■*' .. ■ v
AN INDLI’hNDhNT FAMILI JO URN Air—DKVOTEI) TO THE BEST INTEREST OF THE STATE, CITY AND COUNTY
ANNAPOLIS, MD., WEDNESDAY EVENING, MAY 14, 1884.
Well, he brought his money to us,
and wanted vVe should keep it for
him till lie was ready to use it There
were over six hundred dollars. John
told him he’d better put it in the bank;
but he said he calculated to use it
right away, and he guessed it would
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-bushes
tap, tap, tapping 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 yeacs !
old, and such youngsters get asleep j
early, you know. About eight o’clock .
I undressed her and put her to bed.
I sat up a couple of hours after that,
to finish a pair of socks for John. By
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 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
•and 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 savithat I was frightened
any at first. Maybe iMvasn’t wide
enough to be scared.
At lirst I thought I’d call out and ask
j\vhat was wanted, but 1 didn’t. I
don’t know why, though. I just kept
still and waited to see what was going
to happen. -
The step came to the door, and then
f heard a hand on the knob and it was
turned as quietly as possible, and the
door was pushed open very cautiously.
As the door opened a light shone
into the room, and I knewit was some
one who had a lantern with him.
j \ou can be sure I was scared then.
I was so scared that I couldn’t stir,
imr scream. 1 just lay still and looked
out of the least bit of a crack in my
eyelids.
A great, burly fellow that l ft recog
nized, the moment he put his face into
the room, as a man who had been at
work in the mill, came in, and held up
his lantern so the light could shine on
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 itkleep, 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
fear the child would wake up I’ve
no doubt he would have killed us.
I tell you, you’ve no idea what a trial
it is to lie still and be in mortal fear,
thinking every minute may be your
last, and knowing that your only
chance for life depends on keeping
j quiet. It seemed to me as if he stood
there and watched me for an hour.
I>y-and-by he seemed to be satisfied 1
that I was fast asleep, for he lowered j
the lantern and went toward tfie old j
blue chest. 1 breathed wisier when he j
left tlie bed.and opened im eyes just the I
least bit, to watch him.
I saw him bend over the chest and
try several keys in the lock before he J
found one that would unlock it, and i
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 doth, and he I
took it out and counted it over before !
he put it in his pocket.
You can’t imagine how I felt when j
I saw what he was after, for I knew
what a terrible loss it would be to poor
f /
• l g/K
Ben, who’d worked long and hard
for it.
It wa as much as I could do to
keep frurn screaming, but I knew that
wouldn’t help matters any, and it
would make them all ths worse for me.
So I kept still.
Well, after he had put the money in
his pocket, he shut the e lest, and then
looked at me to see If I was still
asleep.
When he had satisfied 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
iin the bolts. I knew l had him safe
! then, for a while anyway, for there
I was no way to get out of the cellar
j except through that door.
I My! but how that nan did curse
! and rave! It made my blood run cold
to hear him. But 1 didn’t stop to
listen. I hurried on my clothes and
took the baby, and wrapped her up
well, and started for th& factory.
i I found John and told him my story
| and half-a-dozen men started for the
house at once. And they’d got the
man tied up w T ith a ropo 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 n. ly be sure we
j didn’t keeqjWt in the house another
e | night. John tooK it to me uaun next
morning, then he resigned his position
v | on the night squad, and I haven’t staid
I ! alone a night since. Hark! J hear a
t j step. He’s coming now.
r 1 .
! • ■ 7 ‘
Mormon Converts in England.
5 A party of Mormon missionaries
, : from l tali have been working actively
i for the last six months in the w estern
, 1 counties, and I regret to hear that they
' have induced quite a large number of
persons in the rural districts to join
i fbeir egregious body. Many “con
! verts” have already gone out to Utah,
j and a still more numerous contingent
, have been baptized pending the time
when they will be ready to start for
“the promised land.” It is lamentable
to think that after the repeated ex- j
posures of the Mormonite creed, there
still eemain in this country people ca. j
pable of being ensnared by the outrage
| ous fictions of the plausible vagabonds ,
| who are regularly despatched to Europe ■
! from Utah in search of recruits. In
| America the humbug of Monnonism
has long been so thoioughly exposed
| that converts are rardly forthcoming,'
except in the persons of individuals
whose room would usually be consid- !.
ered to be preferable tj their company
London Truth.
Pari s ia *.
i •. ■ r f
The London Truth says that, the
rag-pickers of Paris ate to be banished j
from the city, and the work of remov
ing the dust heaps will be done more
j quickly and thoroughly by regular
street cleaners. The class known as !
J ragpickers with us are called in France
' “chiffoniers.'' Men, Women, and boys *
j ar e engaged in wcik. They go out '
at night with lanteras/bags, and hooked ! ;
sticks with which tq explore the rub*, 1
! bish. In Paris nothing seems v
Bones, broken gfaA ' 5"
cast-off clothes, and
and vegetables hall
lected and used by the
men. Instances of si
among these degrade
not rare. In 1853 t
genie lost a diamond
was found by Gelasti
the ragpickers The
the bracelet \
it was sooni 1
.iV; * I-'.., ..... ~
Breeding Geese lor Feathers.
It is not generally known that this
js an important business in West Vir
ginia, but such is the fact. In that
State, especially in the western part
‘he watercourses are numerous, but
aot navigable, and railroads are unde
veloped. Often fifty or sixty miles
must be traveled to reach a railroad
itation, and on such localities breeding
geese for feathers is found to be very
profitable. Several pickings are made
in 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
may be made to prove equally as
profitable in other localities as well t
especially at points possessing limited
'abroad faeilties, as feathers are not
leavy enough to interftre with easy
aauling, even when there are full leads
>n the wagons. Geese* are partially
ielf-supporting and work on a pasture
Dr on a pond. They come up regular
ly at night, protect their young vigor-
Dusly and subsist W’here other fowls
would starve, having no competitoii*
?xcept ducks, which they exceed, in
iize. The carcase of the goose is'also
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. ltenan 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 wag^,instantly si- I
'* •" *'■ 4 • • < J. J
leiiu uy tut nosteoa. j tutu
i table, however, she at once in
formed the extinguished j&dividua
that, as M. ltenan had now finished
his conversation, she would gladly
i hear w'hat he had to say. The guest
’ modestly declined; the hostess insist
ed. “I ain certain it was something
of consequence,” she said. Alas,
madam,/ he answered, “it was indeed,
hut now it is too late. I should have
liked a little more of that ice pud
i ding.”
Persians and Tekkc Turcomans.
The terror which the very name of
Tekk’e Turcoman strikes in the bosoms
!of the subjects of the Shah is well il
lustrated in the following anecdote: A
I Persian, celebrated for his strength
j and courage, w'as attacked one night
j thy a Tekke Turcoman. The Persian
j threw dow n his opponent, and, puffing
j out a knife, prepared to cut his throat,
j “What are you doing?” his captive
, shouted. “Can’t you see that lam a
| Tekke?” Instantly the Persian drop
ped his knife and fainted, whereupon
j 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
i hillings.
A Medical View.
Jones—“l hear your recreant son j
has returned.”
Doctor—“ Yes, hecaine back like the
prodigal of old.”
“And you killed the fatted calf, I
suppose?”
Doctor—“ Well, we hal veal for din- j
ner that day?”
Jones—“ And you for
course?” _
Doctor—*so*l '
is weak
be pui
PRICE ONE CENT.
Electric Light for Locomotive Head
lights.
The appl lotion of electric light if
ono of theJtftost wonderful. Ever
since its draco very railroad men and
inventors have been trying to adapt it
to'Vise as a locomotive headlight. The
trouhle was in the oscillation of the
gre.it engine frame, which 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 Pan Handle
railroad, between Bradford Junction
and Indianapolis, and has been a 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. TRe
electric light will show an obstruction
a mile away. Collisions mostly occur
on curves, but the cone of light sent
out from one of these headlights would
pierce ths darkness so far in a straight
line as to be seen from any part of the
W lam told that the Pennsylva
llroad purposes to put it on all
their engines. It is the moat import
ant invention for railroads since the
Westinghouse air brake.— John A .
Long ,
Hand and Head.
It has beegi the fashion to separate
harul-w<J*k from head-work, as if the
two were incompatible. One was for
laborers and mechanics, the other for
professional and literary people; one
-I* ~.4,r >ts ~V. 4 .♦.** ♦hA
I • .
. V v 1
1 ncu. But we are gradually learning
! that their harmonious union is thd
j only means of the perfection of either.
I 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;
i whereas the workman ought often to
be thinking and the thinker often to be
working, and both should be gentlemen
in the best sense, The mass of society
is made up of morbid thinkers an tnii.
erable workers. 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.”
A Son’s Devotion to His Mother.
:
Next 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 failing 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. Bqt the big boy who’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 jgf
ness!” quoted Mr. Splatterly, the ot£/W
’!**' wjc- he was feeling ina