Evening capital., May 24, 1884, Image 1

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

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

                
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL—DEVOTED TO THE I*EST INTERES# 0% THE STATE, CITY AND COUNTY.
VOL. I. NO. 12. ANNAPOLIS. MD., SATURDAY EVENING. MAY 24, 1884. PRICE ONE CENT.
- -
the secrets of the spring.
Come out an 1 h*ur the rol,in* sing,
And hear th • bluebinls’ t-le of *pring,
And we the swallows on th- wing.
Come out an 1 lutmi, listen low
An<l hear the gr.is on as th y grow.
And liet the little win*ls that Mow,
And learn to rend their wn t well—
T he tecret that they softly tell
To bird and bee in drowsy dell,
< )f bloomy I auks that are apt to l#%
t tf fragrant Held and leafy tree,
And all the summer mystery
Of bud and blossom, flow# r and fruit
That quickens now in nap an l roo‘,
And now in tender springing shoot.
t ome out, come out, the days are long
But Nature sings her secret song
(n secret ways—the days ar.> long,
But swift as sweet from day to day,
From hour to hour, the tunful lay
Huns headlong on a changeful way.
Come out, then, in the early glow
Of early springtime's bud and blow,
Come out and hear the grasses grow',
And all the secrets of the spring
That melt and murmur, sjieak and sing,
To < ars attun-d to listening.
— Nora Perry, in the Manhattan .V
JUNt AS SHE TOLD IT.
What time is it? Lor-r-d! we’ll have
Jiulf an hour to wait, utid 1 do hate sitting
round in a hotel with nothing to do.
Ain’t New Orleans an uwfully funny
place < It can’t hold a candle to Chieaw
#o. Some one told us to visit the French
quarter; but, my goodness! it’s
shabby—just awfully shabby; aud ps fur
the French market, you get up at an u
earthly hour in the morning, and the cf.
fee they have's tit to poison you. 1 think
it's your duty to see everything that’s to
be seen ; so 1 said to the chambermaid,
the other day, / ‘ Where tire your
dwelling houses? 5 ' $
‘*Ah! out Prytania and St. ‘’Charlch
mum, there’s ilegant line mansions; I’’shjb 1 ’’shjb
said. ** **.**-*■ m
So we went, and—would you believe
it?—they’re all made of wood! Did you
ever! Yes; this is a dreadfully queer
place. I used to have sort of
notions about the South—thought it must
Im> just per-r-fect. I thought; don’t you
know,, you wore white dresses mi winter,
and sat on pia/./.us in hammocks, and that
the Southern men were all dark, and tall,
■and very fiery; and the colored people
were so funny, and sang, aud played on
banjos; but, gracious! they behave just
like everyone else; and as for white
dresses, I’ve never come so near freezing
to death in all mv life.
Fred would say that s because I never
read anything, nor listen to what anyone's
saying. But that ain’t it at all.
You’d just die if you knew Fred. He’s
the funniest boy. Awfully nice, don't
you know, only he will prose so about lit
erature and culture. On! he's too funny.
Why, w hen he likes one book by an author,
he unfst rush right off and read all the
rest of ’em. read “David Cop’field”
- did you ever read “David Cop’field?”
Well, 1 did, and I declare, I thought I'd
be old and gray before I got through;
but I'd promised Fred I'd read it. Well,
then he read all of Dickuns. Same way
•about Thack’ray. 11c began “Vanity
Fair,” and just went crazy about Thaek
’rav. Ever read “Vanity Fair?” Ain’t it
simply awful? I just struck. I told
Fred I just wouldn't read it if he never
spoke to me again.
Fred ain't a bit like me. Nowr when I
like one book by an author, I never read
another, because l think I'd be sure not
to like it half so well, and then I’d get to
hate the whole lot like poison.
But you mustn’t think Fred ain't nice,
lie's real handsome and fascinating; has
big brown eyes and the cutest mustache;
only he will be superior, and it's so
fatiguing. Now what's the use of being
superior? Why can't you just be happy
and sensible?
I've known Fred for per-r-fect ages.
Why, he used to walk to schooi with me.
and carry my books. But that was last
year, for I’ve been out ever so long.
We used to quarrel like cats. One day
he said to me: “Marie Cassidy, do you
over iutend to be anything but a frivo
lous butterfly?”
“Frivolous fiddlestick's end!” said I,
and I sjioke very severely, too. If you
want superiority, just visit mommer seven
evenings a week. ”
Mommer’s superior enough, gracious
knows. The way she goes iu for general
information is simply awful.
“Well,” said he, “if you are content
to remain—”
“ Fred Delbert,” I said, “am I a grif
fla or a Cyclops?”
“ Why, of course not,” he said, open
ing those big eyes of his.
“Well, then, I ain't a Cyclops, that's
settled, and popper has tots of money—
just dead loads of it—so what do I want
with superiority? I’m sorry you find me
so unattractive. There's DeLancy With-
t
erton, he says my eyes are like bits of
heaven on earth, and— ’’
Fred got so mad he regularly stamped.
• “ Don’t quote to me the inane remarks
of an idiot,” he shouted.
“Anyhow,” I said, “he likes me just
as I am, and he isn’t always treading on
my poor little pug.”
“I hate pugs,” said Fred. “They
| always look as if they’re making faces.”
Well, somehow or other we made up
again, and I made him kiss Gigi, because
he’d said such horrid things about the
poor little jK*t. Gigi’s just killing—you
ought to see him.
Fred and I w ere sort of engaged. Not
quite, though, because popper said Fred
was young, and I was young, and he
didn't want to give up his little girl just
yet awhile. That made me cry, and feel
real badly, because I’ve never been any
thing but the bother of his life.
But Fred and I had a serious row once.
You see, there was a girl staying with
Mrs. Calvin, in our block; Pamela Stone
henge was her name, and she came from
somewhere East. Some people said she
was so elegant and charming, and talked
about her “classic outline,” but, Lor-r-d!
she was so tall and thin, and her nose
was miles too long. I don’t care what
anybody saysl it was long.
She was dreadfully profound and high
toned, and Frdd began to fly around her
little. ‘I didn’t let on I cared a bit
because I wasn’t going to set him up
butll- just flioted awfully with I)e Lancy.
It was at Mrs.* Jenifer’s ball, and I)e
Lancy and I were sitting on the stairs,
B when I saw Fred and the classic Pamela
r skipping off to the conservatory. Ain’t
men too lvcartless? I was sure he must
y have something important to say to her,
. so 1 told I)e Liocy I wanted to stroll
anil, look at the flowers; and of
1 <1 urse hebagreed, for he was mashed—
[ Angularly smashed. I passed as close to
. Pamela as I could. They were
talking in a low, earnest tone, and I
cy heard something about “a scheme of
cosmic philosophy.”
Now did you ever! The idea of drag
-2 ging a girl off into a conservatory to
whisper such jaw-breaking things in her
ear! I felt sort of relieved, for it's a
2 c unfort, after all, to have a lover who’s
too big a goose to flirt with other girls.
[/ But when I thought it over that night,
jJ while 1 was out my hair-pins, I
r began to think there might be more in
2 it than met the eye. I didn't know' but
t it wa** the ntfay of making
i love. ** f
, I was very cold to \hini when he
t brought me chocolate creams. I told him
. I abominated chocolate, tLd it was very
3 plain he found it too troublesome to re
i member my likes and dislikes.
1 Well, then, in the midst of this, he
3 had to go to St. Louis on business; and
? while hre wras aw*ay I re]>cnted, aud began
to feel sort of soft about him.
r ; He had written he was pretty sure to
s be home Tuesday evening. I was sitting
by the window, and ttie gas was turned
3 tow, and somehow’ I felt blue. I could see
t Mrs. Calvin’s house, where that horrid
Pamela Stonehenge was staying; and as
• ! I was looking, two men went up Mrs.
> Calvin’s steps. It w r as a hateful showery
2 night; but they were laughing and talk
’ ; lug, and they put down their um
brellas I £ rs fttl H*thing that made me
1 jump.
5 Fred has an umbrella with the funniest
> head, an ebony skull w’ith Rhine-stones
f eyes that flash in the most life-like way,
J and there that thing was winking at me
- in the gaslight across the street. I was
l so mail I just cried—regularly howled.
1 To think that Fred would go to see her
r first of all!
Well, who should w r alk in bright and
I early the next morning but Fred him-
I self! He looked pale—with remorse, I
t I thought. But icebergs and polar bears
> were nothing to me in the wav of cold
ness.
• He began, “I wanted to see you the
> first thing, Marie—”
; j “Indeed!” I interrupted. “I feel quite
> honored.”
> j He turned very red, and stared at me.
’ Then he said: “What do you mean?
| What are you talking about?”
• “Oh! of course you haven't an idea.”
• I I said; and so it went on from bad to
l worse, until he just got up and remarked,
with the most dreadful dignity:
r I j “You seem to be accusing me of some
i thing; but as you will not do me the
■ justice to explain yourself, I will bid you
good morning and good-bye, Miss Oas-
1 sidy.”
Of course I never meant him to get on
i his dignity, and when I saw him going,
I had half a mind to run after him. only
5 I was too proud.
1 Two or three days passed, but still no
! sign nor symptom of Fred. Mommer was
t getting ready to go to Chautauqua, and
the house was turned upside down, and
■ I was fairly distracted. At last I just
wrote him a few lines, telling him I
• wished to explain something. I waited
all that day, and all the next, but no
• answer came.
Then II got desperate. I just decided
t life w'asn’fc worth living, and I’d be supe
-2 rior, and go in for sociology and demon -
• olgy. and all that sort of thing.
So I told me mnu a r I was going to(*hau- .
tauqua with her, and she said she was j
glad I had awakened at length to a sense
of rav own deficiencies; and we started
off.
It ain’t any fun to travel with mom
mer. She always declares she’s suffocat
ing in the Pullman, and she thinks the
train’s running off the tr&ck every few
minutes, and drives the conductors half
crazy asking questions. Then she’s always
dropping her eyeglnaso* TOd handbag j
and handkerchiefs—particntirly her j
handkerchief.
Chautauqua’s an awful bore, cmn’t you
know—a lot of old drones and mursmaies
going about, and preceding they
it so much. I believe they really hate it,
only they think it looks nice to be pro
found.
And then Palestine park! Oh, my!
how those Eastern people can make such
guys of ahemselves, and dress in bags
that have wany hang, or ijt, or anything,
I can’t imagine. Mommer would drag
me about everywhere, to improve* my
mind, she said. She has a inaftfa for
measurements and calculations, and one
day she was calculating the dimensions
of the Great Pyramid, and I said,
“Lor-r-d, mommer! you must have been
evolved from a measuring-worm.” She
didn’t like it one bit, but I think she
ought to have been g!ad I knew how to
apply my knowledge.
I was so broken-hearted I took up
Hebrew, and it ’most blinded me. How
people could ever have talked in such a
language!
Well, one day I was in the steamboat
on the lake, and I was looking over my
account-book. Popper always makes
such a point of my keeping accounts,
because he says it teaches me the value
of money, but no one ever knew' the
value of money better than I do. I had
Gigi with me, and it's awfully expensive
boarding with a dog; and then Hie
servants are always so grasping! I de
clare they’re just like those horrid
daughters of the horse-leech that said:
“Give! give!” though why the daughters
were a bit w-orse than the sons I never
could see, only people are always slander
ing women.
Somehow or other I never can get iby
accounts exactly right. There were fott# %
dollars I couldn’t account for, so I just'
put them down to “charity,” because
“sundries” had such an unbusincss look,
though, to tell the truth, I’d only given
ten cents to an organ-grinder. *
I was so hard at work I never noticed
that I’d been taken ever so far jipst
where I ought to have got out, so I jjist
stepped out at the next stopping place,
and waited for another boat to
back. It was quite a pretty spot, with*
trees and things, and a sort of cavd U6t '<
far off; and I sat and sat, and
the beauties of narijriv till I was
starved. All at once I heard a noistf jjflg ,
hind me, and I looked around, and tW&reV-S
was Fred coming out of the cave! jUI*
I thought for a moment maybe rerikArs'e ‘
had driven him to retire from the rP
and be a hermit. Wouldn't that h Npq..
been romantic?
I glanced at him very haughtily, but h
he began right away: “Miss
oh, Marie! don’t let us make oursclrarp
miserable by keeping this up!” e QjEft
“Who’s miserable?” I inquir<sH|
“Speak for yourself, Fred—l mean MMIb
Delbert.” I
A horrid, unfeeling twinkle came into
his eye, and he said, “Do you remember
Miss Stonehenge?”
“Oh, yes,” said I, icily. “She had
such a long nose!”
“ She has it still—”
“Don’t jest on such a subject, if you
please,” I said.
“Well,” said Fred, “I admit that it
is a serious one. The point is that she
was married last week to a professor of
Sanskrit.”
“I suppose she’s refused you,” I said;
* ‘ and you’ve come to me to be con
soled. ”
Then he said a lot of absurd things I
won’t repeat; and I told him how I
thought he’d gone to see Pamela that
evening. It turned out that the poor
boy had come back sick with malarial
fever, and wasn't able to leave the house ;
and Ned Parkinson had dropped in and
borrowed his umbrella.
“ But that doesn’t explain your not an
swering my note, ’’ I said.
“You see, when it came JLjras veflL
sick at my rooms, and there wasn't a soH
to do anything for me but an old mafl
with a wig— ’’ V
“ We'l, did his wig prevent you froiV
writiiyrto me?” I asked; for I can bP
when I feel like it. X
cour.-e not; but I was too siefl
evejPto raise my head. As soon as
could stand. I rushed around to see you;!
bat you had gone. Dellie Jones told mej
you had gone to Chautauqua; so f iqlA
lowed you. and here I am.” J
“Well,” I said, very sternly, “I’ll for- 1
give you this time, Fred; but you’ve
treated on® very badly. And, Fred, she
hay got a long nose—hasn’t she?”
“ Shookfngly,” he said.
So we were married, and came South
for a wedding journey; and— Oh!
there’s Fred. It’s time to start. Ain’t
'he a darling? Do me—is my bang
all right? ’{’hanks, ever so much. By
by.—Harper Bazar.
Modes of Salutation.
A French traveler reports thjit every
race among whom he has sojourned has
its own mode of salutation, not except
i ing the great Yankee nation. He in
forms his readers that, however a few
polite aqd Europeanized Americans may
salute one another, the characteristic
national salutation is “Hello!”
The Arabs sav, on meeting, “A fine
moroimy to you
*.The
His idessing!”
The Persian salutation is familiar to
all the world from its comic quaint
ness, “May your diadow never grow
less!” * \
' The EgyptJMi is a practical man. He
has to earn his taxes -by toil under a
burning sun, and accoNiiygly when he
meets his fellow, he asks, “llow do you
sweat?”
The reader is probably aware that
in those low latitudes all is well with a
laborer ys long as he perspires freely.
The Chinaman loves his dinner.
“How- digesting?” ho kindly in
quires, oh meeting a friend.
The who are keen men of
busiuesy 4 .Vclqlt' bargainers, ask one
anothciras>How are you getting on?”
The n&ihpal of Naples was
formerly, row in grace!” At pres
ent. in
phrase equivalentto saying, “How are
you?”
The Spaniards say, “How are you pass
ing it?”
The French, “How do you carry your
self?”
The Germans, “How does it go?”
The Dutch, -‘llowdo you travel?”
The Swedes, “How can you?” mean
ing, “Are you in good vigor?”
The Russians, “Be well!”
The English-speaking races, in addi
tion to the juvenile and telephonic
“Hello!” say, “How are you?” and
“How do you do?”
We also, take off the hat, shake hands,
embrace, bow and kiss,as,in other climes,
people rffb noses, touch foreheads, and
Qtffihfcir shoes.
’nieTvmerican in Italy is surprised to
see men embrace and kiss each other, as
in Bible lands.
The Italians in turn look upon our
’hand-shaking as cold and ridiculous, the
blKhiung up and down of the arm having
noj%aning whatever in their view.
T1& touching of the tips of gloved
t if more graceful than hand
shaking,, must also seem to people of
the Eaift as professional and expression
less. *• '■%
dwS%, as a mark of respect, is a
WKqm r n|fed by nearly all nations and
tluit its origin in ancient times,
m? ■‘J&lt njHin ion.
* ,
Ald-tw/uring Alcoholism.
,j W<2j^believe *ie best authorities are
skcqxlfipl'as to there being any
-sure cure for omKrmed habits of inebriety
Htfiless tKe Cffdff in that direction be
wvsd bv a strong exercise of the will of
#iq f unfp&unate subject of the bad habit,
ttfcere are, however, many remedies rec-
Iftomcnded as aids in diverting or in a
minor degree satisfying the appetites for
dkong liquors, which are undoubtedly
orweat advantage in some coses, and
oneaof these is thus recommended by a
self-styled “rescued man:” “I was one
of those unfortunates given to strong
drink. When I left it off I felt a horrid
w-ant of something I must have or go
distracted. I could neither eat, work
nor sleep. Explaining my affliction to a
man of much education and experience,
he advised me to make a decoction of
ground quassia, a half ounce steeped in
a pint of vinegar, and to put a small tea
spoonful of it in a little water, and to drink
it down every time the liquor thirst came
on me violent. I found it satisfied the
cravings, and it suffused a feeling of
stimulus and strength. I continued this
cure, and persevered till the thirst was
conquered. For two years I have not
tasted liquor, and I have no desire for it.
Lately, to try my strength, I have
handled and smelt whisky, but I have no
temptation to take it, I give this for the
consideration of the unfortunate, several
whom I know have recovered by
paeans which I no longer require.”—
|S cientiHc American.
*To Prerent Scratching Matches on
Paint.
A correspondent in Florida, of Neve
Re medic*, Speaking of the defacement of
paint by the inadvertent or heedless
scratching of matches, says that he has
when one mark has been
follow rapidly. To cffe< t-
this, rub the spot with
with any liquid vase
line. “After that people may try to
strike their matches there as much as
they like, they w ill neither get a light
nor injure the paint,” and most singular,
the petroleum causes the existing mark
to soon disappear, at least when it occurs
on dark paint.
Whittling*.
Some men are l>orn fools but most fools
are made to order.
Everyone praises a success, and most
j>eoplc think they can plan one.
If the greatest man who has ever lived,
i should tell the truth, he would tell you,
that how he came to be so great is a
wonder great to him.
It is oftener the case, that what a man
forgets educates him more than what ho
remembers.
It does not require great tact to write
a long letter, but to write a good (Hst
seript to it, does.
Patience is half-brother to laziness.
Whenever a man is anxious to confide
a secret to you, you can rest assured that
he has confided it to a dozen other people
before.
The inan who has a good deal to say,
always says it in a lew words.
There is no flattery so pure, and so
powerful, as to listen attentively to
others.
How are you to find out what kind of
a man your neighbor is, when he cannot
even tell you himself.
Critics and authors are a distinct class.
There is a dozen good authors to one good
critic.
A man is poor, just in proportion as lie
wants what ne not got, and cannot get.
This world was not made for any one
in particular, and I feel sorry for those
who think so. ' -They will discover their
mistake some cloudy day.
My friend, when your relations all
think you are g, fool, your success is al
most assured.
Destroy the looking-glass and you
would put civilization back at least tw*<
thousand years.
Don’t forget, my snobbish friend, that
you have got to die judHßie same as the
rest of us, and you cannot bury yourself
either.
Next to a snow-storm, for a decided
nuisance, comes a holiday, in a great
city.
When a man does drop out of sight in
a great city, you not only never hear from
him again, but you cannot even find the
hole lie fell through.
It is the strongest possible argument
for our immortality that nine out of
every ten human beings believe in it.
Politeness has no creed.
About half we know, w r c guess at, and
the other half, somebody has guessed at
for us.
A man of a great, deal of character
cannot hide it. lie will betray it even,
when he sneezes.
Every ladder has a top round to it.
Oui* characters we make, our reputa
tions are often made for us.
It is no disgrace to be bit by a dog tho
first time, but the second time it is.
Very intelligent people carry a largo
share of their brains in their faces.
There is no slavery like idleness ; them
isjpo ike it. Every pound of it
4 'weighs twenty ounces.
A man is young just in .proportion as
he feels so; a woman, just in proportion
as she looks so. ;
There is not to-day a score of first-rato
critics living.— Zchx Fairchild*in the Man
hattan.
Elephants for Farm Work.
The following extracts are from a private
letter written by a native of Hartford now
in the “British Straiti Settlements,”
India: I am pulling along ( here very well;
managed to secure several hundred bush
els of coffee more than I had estimated,
and this is always pleasant. Value of
our crop, about $3,000. Never bad the
pleasure before of working with ele
phants. Sent away our crop with them
this season. I did not intrude myself toe
much upon their attention. You see I
did not feel entitled to the honor of an
intimate acquaintance. I treated them
with great resjject and deference, much
the same as a street Arab does a police
man. I can't get over my antipathy to
that “trunk.” The Malay style of feed
ing elephants has certainly the merit of
simplicity. When the day’s work i
done they are turned out into the jungle
to find their own food; and so they go
rambling about, all night, pulling am!
tearing away at any tree or shrub they
fancy. When morning comes the drivers,
tracing them by their own apparent
marks, put the driving hook over their
ears and lead them off to work. Ele
phants seem to graze in a forest quite **
contentedly as cattle in a pasture. Their
ability to scramble up and down apjwr
ently impassable places is wonderful. I
never saw any animal before show the in
telligence to break a branch off a tree to
fan away the flies. They helped them
selves to our coffee trees for this purpose..
Although a man's family rightly claim*
the first and highest place in his regard,
his nearest friend the next, then those to
whom he is drawn by some coiumwv !*-
terest, then his town or city, t>jea his na
tion, and finally all the hum A n race, liko
ever widening but more aijd more dis
tant circles, yet the sentiment of affec
: tion should "animate him and the prinei
\ pie of justice should actuate him through,
them all.