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THE FRANKLIN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING Co.
Gro. W. HARRISON (State Printer),’Manager.
1908.

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Copyrighted, 1903.

 
 

CONTENTS.

ILOGINDAJAND THE PREACHER oo a5 Re 7
Prucky BILL’s STRANGE ADVENTURES... . . II
PIO ME RTOAN vie 36 3 NTS nO
IC COMERS (BME AIORME (er ee I RRS
"LHR OTORY. LOLD BY BIRLACK ).. Bye tl. coe. 3 128
Colac Rye TS a SRR TENGE econo) aS RAST SE
RICHARD HOWARD’S WIFE HELENA. . .. . 40
LACROY AND: THE FISHERMAN i090 6008.03, Se AG
THE STORY OF THE JEWELER HUNSACK .. . SI
MEN OEEMeIny SUMPITARE 40 6¢4 V 0k. se ae ee Gi
OSs Sa LD) iy CORD a te a ae PURO BORN MNP tet
ThE MERCHANT AND THE @PIRTT 0°) 068) 80° SOE
AN aA Sy Benne i a AS a eM GG
OBSERVATIONS OF A TRAINED NURSE . . . . 69
PEROUNHRON GH. SND OUCCHSS eo Vo a Oe Le ae
THE STORY OF THE MAGIC BRICK-THROWING . . 77
(bE WERRCHANT'S BLACK) HORSE .°..00: 0 ..% °°. 82
Mle Oe ah F at RS aR PECTS 0
PUR een Me mM Chee A ee
CC RRON INMORO ee WO ei Be
 

 

INTRODUCTORY.

“AOR the appearance of this little volume I feel that
i only a general apology need be made. Its faults,
I know, are many, and its merits, ifit has any, will
speak for themselves. But for expression of reason and
good sense you will agree with me that it contains
some. Its literary style, and finish will not especially
appeal to you, but without regard to this you can well
afford to read its pages through for the actual facts they
contain.

I have for several years been amusing the children
who would occasionally come in my office by telling
them all kinds of stories. Some of the more practical
ones I have sought to preserve for their future reference
by having them printed and bound in book form.

You can well imagine how hard it is to tell a good story
when interruptions are frequent; thus it has been with
me. But time is passing on, and I still find myself
following the same old route.

. However, the children continue to come in, and occa-
sionally I relate to them a new story.

 
 

=

 

 

THE PASSING CLOUDS.

 

LUCINDA AND THE PREACHER.

ANY years ago there lived a young preacher who
was both handsome and fascinating toa remark-

able degree. He was married, and lived very
happily with his young and beautiful wife Lucinda.
Lucinda was of a very sympathetic though imperious
nature. She loved her home life, and spent most of her
time in amiably discharging the many duties that fell to
her share.

She dressed with the daintiest care, and with a wealth
of soft brown hair playing about her temples, it seemed
as if she would for many years to come retain in its
original freshness and exuberance the beauty of early
youth.

The preacher showed her every possible courtesy and
was considerate of her toa remarkable degree. He never
tired or hesitated to make any sacrifices that he might
the better grant her every wish. Finally one day he
said to her in a gentle and very affectionate manner,
‘“My dearest Lucinda, Lucinda,’ he repeated, for he
loved to call her name, “I am obliged to leave you for a
short while ;it almost kills me to think that I must leave
you for even a short while; but while I am absent, try
in every possible way to pass the time pleasantly. I
know you will never forget me for one moment; and

(7)
 

 

8 The Passing Clouds.

rest assured, dearest Lucinda, that my thoughts will ever
be of ‘you.”’

As the preacher drove away, Lucinda stood in the
doorway looking after him ; and with his parting words
she waived a melancholy farewell, though she well knew
he would be gone only a short while. “How fortunate
Iam,” she said to herself on going back to her room,
“that I, with no more charms than I possess, should have
won the heart of such a noble man. There is no woman
in this wide world with whom I would exchange places.
We are so happy, there is nothing to trouble us. The
sky is always clear with me.”

Lucinda remembered her good resolution some little
time, two or three hours or more perhaps, during which
she wandered about the house, walked through the gar-
dens and played on the musical instruments.

At last growing weary of this monotonous solitude, and
finding the afternoon well on, she resolved to go to the
seminary to return with the preacher, for she well knew
he had gone there.

On entering the hallway she was informed that the
preacher had some time before walked out in the garden
and was by now probably among the evergreens.

After securing the key to the iron gate on the side,
noiselessly she walked along the side way to the gate,
and quietly turning the bolt the door flew open, and to
her bewildered amazement, there was the preacher sit-
ting on a rustic seat, and at either side of him there sat
a pretty girl, each one resting a dainty arm on | his
shoulder. ‘They seemed to be extremely happy and con-
tented, he reading to them from a book.

ae a

Lucinda and the Preacher. 9

No sooner had the gates opened than they closed again.
‘The woman returned the way she had come. But she

‘did not go to her home.

Toa vacant brick mansion left her by her father she
retired. Here she lived ever after; absolutely secluded
from the rest of the world.

Two faithful servants lived with her, and when any-
thing was needed one of them went for it. The other
kept guard at the door. Never a word came or went
except through these loyal servants. Old friends and
relatives, calling, would be received and dismissed at the
-door.

The sheriff, calling to collect taxes, was received at
the stair-steps; and the servants who paid the charges
‘took care of the receipts.

As the years passed on outside interest in the strange
mistress of the lonely home increased ; but no word came
from within, nor ever a glimpse of the features once so
much admired.

Finally as the town grew, and new and strange peo-
ple came into replace others having died or moved
away, and the old interest was dying out or being for-
gotten by the rising generation, some thought the
strange woman would emerge from her hiding and again
share with the worldthe charms of her lovely personality.
But, as events proved, she had already grown old though
‘still young in years.

The brown hair was now snowy white, her back in-
clined forward, a profound melancholy had possession of
her soul. : “a4

Finally the underté received through the mail a
 

Io The Passing Clouds.

note directing him to call at the mansion and arrange

for the burial. He did so, and found no living person
about the house. The servants were gone.

The woman was neatly clad, and lying in an iron
casket with the glass cover sealed: down. On this lay
a note in her original handwriting, stating that she had
been prepared for burial by her faithful servants, who
now, byher request, had left the place to return no more.

The note also requested that she be given a quiet
burial in the old cemetery by the side of the friends of
her childhood. Also her property she wished to be dis-
tributed among the poor of her native town. But there
was no explanation of the strange transformation that
had come over her, by which she chose to retire from
the world and pass her best days alone in absolute:
seclusion,

The story of Lucinda and the preacher shows only too.

vividly how human nature in its depravity, and woman

in her rivalry, can wreck the very foundations of the
home.

 

 

 

PLUCKY BILL’S STRANGE ADVENTURES.

THE STORY TOLD BY PLUCKY BILL.

W “te I was a small boy, my parents used to say

that I was the most curious, headstrong, and
impatient little rascal they had ever seen. I
was always prying into something and asking questions
about things which should neither concern nor interest
me. i
But with all of this I was easily satisfied, and always:
good-natured, never complaining, or even calling for
things I could not have.. With these good qualities,
they also gave me credit for an industrious disposition,
and a rather remarkable ingenuity for constructing out
of the roughest pieces of timber and the very crudest
elements small buildings and other things that re-
sembled quite distinctly the original pattern. They
would not, therefore, have despaired of my ever being
able to look out for myself had it not been for a kind
of mad aversion which I every day exhibited for books
or any kind of printed matter. I would not study or
even try to spell the simplest words, and a disposition
to rove about caused them much annoyance. ‘Thus
engaged I was in my happiest mood. ‘The woods were
never too thick and briery for me, nor a bird’s nest too
high for my reach, for in one way or another it was
surely mine. You can well imagine the many unhappy
hours I caused my good parents by my complete disre-
(11)
 

 

 

12 The Passing Clouds.

gard for their efforts to have me attend school and learn
something. But I usually had my way, and in the end
could generally win them over on my side.

My disposition for roving was steadily fastening its
grasp on me, when one night by the moonlight I left
home for an indefinite jaunt.

I gained my exit from a second story window by a
rope fastened to the bedpost. Down this I noiselessly
escaped in the dead of night.

I had not gone a mile from home when I came toa
country store where, in a shed at one side, I found some
old balloons which apparently some workmen had. just
set aside while they took a nap, for here were their glue
pots and their tools. ©

One of these strange things I noticed to be in good
order, all but the parachute, which I tinkered on for a
few minutes, hoping to repair its disabilities. Now I
had heard people talk about going up in balloons so
high that all the world could be seen at a single glance,
and it occurred to me if this was so, which I had no
reason to doubt, here was my opportunity. The moon
was shining bright as I dragged. this old time-worn
thing out in an open space and securing myself to it by
a rope, touched off the fuse.

Steadily the thing puffed out and finally arose, tilting
me to one side, from which I dangled in a sad and hope-
less repentance ; for it seemed to me that every moment
would be my last.

If I didn’t strangle to death, I was liable at any mo-
ment to be dropped from an enarmous height.

 

 

 

Plucky Bill’s Strange Adventures. Ls

The wind had risen to a gale, and higher and higher
we went, the balloon and I.

It swayed and rocked and I followed it, the stars
seemed nearer and larger than before, and the air was.
filled with dampness.

I will soon be up to the heavens, I thought, and nat-
urally enough, in that hour of peril, in my vain conceit,
I hoped for the long-cherished ease and rest, that they
used to tell me in the Sunday-school was in store for all
good children.

All of a sudden I felt something give way, and in the
short space of time that followed I faintly felt myself
falling from an unknown height.

How or when I reached the earth again I can give no.
definite account, but when I came to my senses I was
alone on the shore of a tremenduous body of water.

I raised up on my elbows, which, to be sure, were sore
and almost disjointed. My head felt heavy, and I
thought my brains, if I had any, were all run together.

There was a great bruise on my shoulder, and the side

of my neck was lame. There was a hole in the coarse
white sand beside me, and on rubbing my eyes a little
and looking about, it occurred to me all in a flash that
I had fallen there, and in an instant the experience of
the night before came back to me.

It’s the Atlantic coast, sure enough, I thought. How
lucky that I was not dumped down in mid ocean to be
devoured by the merciless sharks, or swallowed alive
by a water snake. There were the dead bodies of a
countless number of porpoises in all stages of disinte—
gration, and the sea-birds dove about here and there.

Bice neers nerve
‘ us ” ee
 

 

The Passing Clouds.

. I shook the sand from my clothes and wandered about

the beach sad and alone.

Several hours must have passed when presently I
‘came upon some young people in bathing, but their cos-
tumes frightened me and I took. to my heels in the
greatest haste.

I felt encouraged, however, to think that the place was
inhabited in other ways than by the slowly disintegrat-
ing bodies of the inhabitants of the sea.

Ihad not gone very far before I came upon asmall
black horse, with a white star in her forehead. She was
hitched to a light-running buggy and tied to a tree, for
Ihad now wandered off to the edge of a wooded space,
through which there was a good solid road. Here I
stopped to collect my thoughts: I could just barely
perceive the sound of bells ringing and a faint hum-
ming and puffing of steam. \ Q

High, Joe! I thought, I am near to some town from
which somebody has driven this horse, and tied her here
while they are walking across the sand.

Without a moment’s reflection,.I untied the animal
and took my seat with as much composure as if the
whole world was mine. The animal Swayed around to

‘one. side and moved off at a rapid gait, which pleased
me very much, for I was from childhood fond of horses,
and from the earliest age could tell a peart one. I was
enjoying my ride more than anybody could tell, when
in a flash, the animal dashed off on a side-track in the
‘direction from which I had just come.

- Down the road she flew, every minute getting faster,

 

Plucky Bill’s Strange Adventures. 15

until everything seemed to be on the go; trees, stumps,
and everything dashed by me.

My strength was-about exhausted, but I held to my
grip. From one side of the road to the other, then up
and then down, the animal charged, and switched her
tail and snorted with terrific fury. I now began to wish
I had been killed the night before when the balloon
struck the sand, for any kind of death would be better
than to be dashed to pieces against a tree.

I had lost my reins and hat and was thinking of try-
ing to jump to the ground when suddenly we came to a
steep hill which, in descending, the buggy turned over
and dropped me in a gully, with no serious injury ex-
cept a broken nose, which pained me terribly.

I had now about recovered my usual senses and was
rubbing my sores, and congratulating myself over my
good fortune in escaping such a horrible death, when
presently I'saw two men approaching, carrying sticks,
and shouting tome ‘‘ You miserable tramp! You out-
lawed horse-thief! You old son of a gun! I will kill
you in one more minute.”’

They snapped their teeth together and frightened me
so outrageously that I rushed off as fast as I could goin
the direction of the ocean, hoping that since they were
already exhausted and out of breath, I could gain the
shore and dive inward, for it seemed to me that I would
tather be devoured by the sharks than to fall into their
hands. Ireached the shore and pushed off in a small
tug which, fortunately for me, lay there a tanchor, just
in time to escape a terrible blow from the sticks they

‘hurled at me, finding they could not get hold of me. But

 
16 The Passing Clouds.

I kept at a good distance and nibbled away at a luncheom
which a boating party had left there, for I had been
some thirty-six hours without food.

I now set sail and drifted smoothly in a new field of
adventure, and congratulated myself on my good fortune
in escaping from so many perils. The afternoon was
quiet, and being completely fagged out, I stretched out
for a short repose. When I awoke night had come on,
a tremendous gale had arisen ; and before I had time to
collect my remaining senses my boat was hurled against
something which to me seemed to be a tremenduous log
in mid ocean, which. seemed only to tremble a little
from the blow. The boat was dashed to pieces but I
had gained a seat on the log and clung to it with what
little strength remained.

I now began to experience more horrors than I had
ever before dreamed. All the perils of the night and day
previous were as pleasant reverie compared to my pres-
ent situation.

Here I was in darkness on a log in mid ocean! I

could see in the starlight the faint outline of sharks
diving about me; every moment I expected to be
squirming in their jaws. My clothes were wringing wet,
and I had about resigned myself to die at sea and fall a
victim to the merciless sharks and sea-serpents, when
suddenly I heard the rustle of wings, and in an instant
a tremendous body swooped down on me which almost
caused me to lose my hold. It proved to be an immense
sea-bird of some kind, drifted here by the gale.

I had presence of mind enough to immediately throw
my arms about his neck and fasten my legs around his

 

Plucky Bill’s Strange Adventures. Pe

body. ‘The bird soon recovered himself, and being
frightened by my movements and audacity now took to
his wings. However, he was seriously burdened by my

‘weight, the force of my grip interfering with his mus-

cular movements.

But he flopped away at a greater speed than I had
ever traveled before, even excelling the balloon in force
of velocity.

I have no idea how far he carried me for I soon lost
consciousness, but held to my grip with a turtle-like
tenacity.

How or when I lost my companion I cannot begin to

tell, nor is there any record of sucha bird having been
seen on land.
- Some pile-drivers working on a bridge found me ly-
ing ina ravine, and bya badge I wore on my vest they
learned where I lived, which, to tell the truth, was no
great distance away.

After recovering my senses again, the only regret I
felt grew out of my inability to make a proper apology
to the men whose horse I stole, and my failure to thank
the generous sea-bird for coming to my rescue in such
a dreadful place.

 
 

A UNIQUE AMERICAN.

A es I was a medical student I had for my
roommate during the third and fourth year,

and during the hospital régime, a young
Westerner, who in many ways was the strangest and
most peculiar character with whom I have ever come in
contact. Except that he was about my age we were
different in every way.

He was neither tall nor short, but about medium.
Nor was he large or small, but was a little above me-
dium in this respect. His countenance, though not
beautiful, was exceedingly interesting, and waving
brown hair played about his forehead. His bearing
was easy, firm and graceful. He did not study very
much, but when he did study he learned something he
did not know before, and, having once learned ths te
was not forgotten. He kept well up with me in his
studies, but did it with half the labor, and got more
fun out of a blunder made by an associate than I could
get out of an afternoon at a popular matinée.

He had plenty of leisure time, much of which he
spent in reading and whist-playing until the habit be-
gan to fasten on him; then suddenly he would give up
the cards saying: ‘They are doing too much for me.”’

On religious subjects his ideas were original, and* he
never hesitated to differ with other people. He did
not believe in the immortality of the soul, or that a

person even had a soul; but with these ideas strongly
(18)

 

‘i

A Unique American. 19

stamped on his mind, strange as it may seem, he was
a devoted friend and a most companionable person.
We used frequently to have our discussions over the
matter, and once, in reply, he said to me: “As much
as I think of you, if I were to die to-day and be buried
to-morrow, I would never expect to see you again.
With me, when I leave here, it is all over with; the
grave ends it all. There is nosuch thing as a soul; it
is unreasonable, impossible, illogical and absolutely
impracticable. The human body is simply a complex
and intricate combination of machinery, which, during
life, works along with harmonious accuracy; the
breathing, the circulation, the digestion, the muscular
movements, the slow oxidation by which waste and re-
pair go on hand in hand, and the peaceful state of
sleep, all go to prove that for our life we are depend-
ent, not on divine dispensation, but on the accuracy of
nature in constructing the machinery and on our care
of an inheritance for which we are in no way re-
sponsible. The breath of a person is not his life, any
more than the circulation of the blood or the secretion
of the salivary glands; but the combined functions
of the body, working in harmonious order, are life;
and when that life ends, and the body is buried, all is
buried ; there is nothing left to take wings and’ soar
upward ; there is nothing to burn in after years; there
is nothing to haunt our. paths at night; it is impos-
sible, impracticable—all that ever was of him is buried
in an iron casing from which there is no escaping.
The grave ends all. Howcan you ever expect to meet
your friends and relatives in Paradise, you say?
 

Be eco

 

 

 

 

20 The Passing Clouds.

“In what form do you expect to find them? Surely-
they have not two bodies—one for the grave and one
for Paradise? Could you recognize one spirit from
another? The soul, you say, is invisible; then how
could you caress or salute an invisible being? Surely
you are not a pagan. You must be to believe in such.
imaginary objects.

‘““How could you be happy and feel united with a
spirit, when you know the body of your friend is.
lying over there in the cemetery—there the slab that
tells when he was born and when he died? Of course-
you may have for your authority the scriptural teach-
ing, for whose authorship there is no authority, nor is
there a definite record to tell how we came by it; so it:
remains with us as a unique relic of the olden time.

“But if there is an after-life, and it is any better than ©

this one here, which, to tell the truth, is good enough:
for me, I would gladly follow you there. And if you
believe there are two, a good one and a bad one, then
surely I can only praise you for choosing to lead a life-
here in this world which ought to insure you more
comfort hereafter. Not only do I believe in living a
quiet, orderly life for my own sake, but for the example.
it sets.

‘¢ And how can you wash away a baby’s sins by sprink-.
ling water over him? sins which it has not. A baby
is not responsible for its origin, or its birth, or anything
it inherits, whether disease, or sins, or what-not, and
the simple form of sprinkling water on his head cannot.
keep him from colliding with the many snares that be-
set the walks of life. This semi-barbaric form must:

Fi

 

A Unique American. aI

necessarily have only an effect to induce cold, and
probably endanger life.’’

Who would think that a man with such erratic ideas
could be a favorite among men, and even idolized by
his friends? Strange though it may seem, he had the
strongest influence over his personal friends and a
bewildering fascination for all womankind. They
would all stop to look at him. Many of them admired
him, and not a few even loved him. But his fondness
for them was equally strange. When he cared for a
woman at all, which, to tell the truth, was not often,
his affection seemed genuine; he would throw himself
at her feet. He could not do too much for her, and
any one not familiar with his disposition, would believe
it to be an enduring affection. But presently, after a
few months of intense devotion, the blaze on the altar
would smoulder away, and then the coals would
blacken.

He would suddenly become indifferent, and then no
force could be brought to bear on him sufficient to
induce a continuation of his friendly relations. Very
often nothing would occur to cause any disturbance
or turn him against his friend; but when once turned,
whether for just cause or no cause, there was no recon-
ciliation.

When he did show a woman any preference, it was
with a free and lavish hand; with all the ease and
grace with which his passionate heart was capable. He
would show her every courtesy. Nor did he confine
his admiration to the young girls of his acquaintance,
for the married ladies were just as often his victims,
 

 

 

22 The Passing Clouds.

and over their hearts he seemed to exert a withering
power; but no one expected anything better from him,
so with tantalizing audacity he would fan the flame of
love to fervent glow, and then, without any warning,
leave them in bewildered uncertainty.

He always argued against the popular state of matri-
mony, declaring this to be nothing but fool’s play. In
fact, he seemed to imagine the average married life to
be nothing more than a kindergarten of troubles, a
cyclopedia of disappointment, and a cemetery of hopes.

But whether he still adheres to these ideas, or
whether time in its slow working has wrought other
changes in his magnetic yet serene nature, I cannot
say; for years have passed since we were young to-
gether, and with the passing clouds the imprint of
many storms are marked upon our hearts; and maybe
he now looks to a higher and more worthy source for
the consolation he then found in the gratification of
his ruling passion.

 

THE ODIAN THEATRE.

ELL, gentlemen, I think we had all better go
down to the Odian to-night. We have now been

here long enough to see all sides of life but
this place, which we have been slighting all the time.”

It was on a Thanksgiving evening; and here I must
stop to make apology for the manner in which the time
was being.occupied. We had been several months with-
out any real amusement, and we had taken advantage
of the first respite in our daily curriculum for a little
genuine fun.

Four of us were sitting around a table in my room
playing whist, when my roommate interrupted us with
this exclamation.

‘What is the Odian?” I inquired.

“Why, boy! you damn little fool! it is an up-to-date
theatre, down on Light street. Where have you been
all this time, that you have not heard of the Odian?”’

He laughingly took a cigarette from his pocket, and
rolling it several times between his hands, touched it to
the gas jet and commenced to puff away with great com-
posure. ‘ They say it is easy to get in,” he continued,
“ but risky getting out, if you are alone; but three or
four always get along well, and they tell me that a per-
son who goes there once never cares to return.”

So he talked away, telling of strange occurrences con-
nected with the place until we all had our curiosity

strongly aroused, and at last we all decided to go. And
(23)

 
 

 

 

ee

 

24 The Passing Clouds.

we left in such a hurry that no one stopped to arrange
matters, as we would wish our administrators to find
them in case we did not return. I did, however, take
what money I had in my vest pocket to a more secure
hiding-place, and substituted a soft hat for a stiff one.
We started off with merry hearts and the happiest
anticipations for Light street, which, at the very outset,
is a grave misnomer, for it is a dark street in every sense
of the word, situated right down on the docks at Curtis
Bay, where all the dampness from the distant ocean and
neighboring bodies of water seems to settle for the night,
and the nauseating emanations from the old ware-
rooms and musty storage apartments seem to mingle

with the escaping gases of the neighborhood with.

stifling intensity. Here also the sticky mud and slip-
pery cobblestones keep the pedestrian in constant appre-
hension for his life. Every corner and every alley-way
was beset by wharf tramps, ready to emerge and scatter
through the neighborhood as night came on.

The far-off electric lights shone faintly through the
alley-ways until the damp vapor arising subdued every
ray. Complete darkness now spread over the narrow
path to the Odian.

Every now and then the musty, fishy body of a tramp
would brush against us. They were the wharf “ bur-
rowers,’’ a name given toa low gang of tramps who,
when tired of plundering about, seek rest in burrows
under the rubbish and old platforms about the wharves
of south Baltimore.

These fellows keep pretty close in daylight, but as

~~ ——

The Odian Theatre. 25

night comes on they emerge like vermin, from their
hiding-place, and then plunder about in the slums.

At last we came to a place that gave out strongly the
smell of liquor. Some racket was going on inside, and
on striking a match against my trousers, we read over
a dilapidated door, in large letters, ‘‘ The Odian
Theatre. Come in.’’

Here I hesitated and drew backward. ‘The impulse
was revolting. I was afraid to go forward, and afraid
toreturn to my room. But I had not long to hesitate,
for suddenly a rough looking “ cop” carrying a smoking
lantern appeared, and bawled out, “Go up if you are
going ; there are the stairs!’

The boys led the way, I followed. Presently we came
to a winding stair, which was wet from top to bottom,
and apparently saturated in something smelling like
beer.

As we passed upward, the top step, it seemed to me,
we would never reach.

Strange looking people beset the stairs at places, at
the end of narrow halls, into which a person could
barely squeeze, leading off into some unknown region.

These creatures would beg for money and ask us to
treat them.

At last we reached a box, and we four took possession,
as we thought. The box cost us $1.50 and was almost
in reach of the stage. Cheap enough for a whole box at
a theatre, wasn’t it?

It was almost impossible to tell when the play began,
for it seemed that one-half the audience was drunk, and

 
 

 

26 The Passing Clouds.

the frequent brawls were constantly interfering with the
fake performance.

Presently a bar waiter came in, bringing six glasses
of beer on a tray, some fellow near the aisle jarred his
arm, the beer turned over on the heads of those nearest
by, and a free fight ensued.

Three shabby looking policemen stalked in, and grab-

bing three of the boisterous ones hustled them down in
a cellar.

Such disturbances’ as this were frequent.

The drinking continued, while the room was becom-
ing saturated with smoke and all kinds of nauseating
odors; so unbearable was this combination that it soon
became intolerable, even to a person accustomed to the
dissecting-room.

Presently a little girl about twelve years old came out
on the stage and sang the ‘‘ Bowery.”

This was a pathetic scene ; here was a harmless little

child, good looking, and neatly clad, connected with

this outrageous gang. She sang very sweetly, and with
perfect ease, apparently absolutely indifferent to her
vile surroundings.

Her sweet voice and gentle appearance was all there
was of the play to remember.

All the rest was simply a conglomeration of the low-
est form of villainy.

Before we had been in the box many minutes two

_ wild-looking fellows scrambled into our compartment,

which we considered a gross imposition and promptly
shoved them out.

Later on another fellow appeared with a ticket, and

The Odian Theatre. 27

he, being less repulsive than the others, was allowed to:
remain. He soon began to give us his impressions of
the Odian, saying among other things that he had been
coming there occasionally for about two years, and it
was called the worst place in Baltimore.

There was a bar on the first floor, and a cellar below,.
where the victims of the rows were immediately thrown
to await the mercy of the officer on duty. The seats.
were scarred and splintered by flying missiles, and blood-
stains marked the floor here and there. At last a big
carousal closed the entertainment for the night; and.
then began our homeward journey—a distance of two
niles, dark, damp and dismal. I had already some time
before made up my mind that if I ever got out of there
alive I would never be found in the vicinity again; and
finally, after descending the dreadful stairs, around
which there was the same vague outline of moving
characters begging to be given a little assistance, and
retracing our steps up Light street, we reached decent
territory again, and I, for one, was not sorry for my
experience at the Odian Theatre.

I have never cared to go there again.

 

 
 

 

 

 

THE STORY TOLD BY BIDLACK,

¥ father, who was an honest farmer, never tired
\ | in exerting every possible effort to have me at-

tend school, and improve my time; but for all
that might seem to be of any real benefit to me I had
an intense aversion. Headstrong and unreliable at all
times, I passed the best part of each day in lounging
about and running after the sheep and cows, hunting
after hen-nests and raising disturbance among the aia:
ens. I rigged up all kinds of wagons and carts, and had
all the dogs broken to pull them. The teams moved off
ina hurry at the snap of my whip, or even the tone of
my voice.

No wonder I grew upa worthless, unreasonable young-
ster, little to be depended on and still less to be trusted,
for I would not do any one kind of work long enough
to make a beginning of success with it; but with wan-
ton indecision I would go from one thing to another, ex-
pecting in each to find a hidden fortune. Nor would
one failure have any force to make me the more careful
in my projects, for it seemed that there was no teachine
for me. Nor did I ever have sense enough to distinguish
failure from success, or at least if I did, I surely had no
conscience; if I was just living that seemed to be enough
for me. The how and wherefore did not trouble me.

At last, having failed at everything, I entered a coun-

try store to work for my board, lodging and clothes,
(28)

The Story Told by Bidlack. 2

though I was now nineteen years old and fairly well
grown.

The store was a miserable one-story, smoky-looking
affair, which carried a very common stock of goods,.
many of which were second-hand.

I now felt that I had an easy place and expected to
enjoy life.

As night came on the owner set out for his home a
short distance away, and left me there to keep open until
nine o’clock; it was then a little past seven o’clock..
But no sooner had he gotten out of my sight than I
locked up the store and retired for the night, in the gar-
ret. Soon after putting out the light a tremendous
quantity of rats and mice began to skip about the room,,
and some of them were so bold as to hop right over me.
This state of affairs frightened me outrageously. Such
dangerous quarters were unendurable, sol went down

and got in a box under the counter and left the lamp:

burning low. Here I rested quietly until morning, when,
I was aroused by the proprietor banging on the door
and scolding me for not having the store open and every-
thing in order.

Each day I seemed more of a burden than a boon to:

my new employer, until finally, at the end of five days,
he told me if I would leave the place and keep out
of his sight and never come about the store again, that
he would not charge me anything for the amount I had
damaged him.

I promptly accepted his proposition.

I now tramped about for several days, but finally,
realizing that [ would soon become exhausted from lack

 
 

 

 

 

30 The Passing Clouds.

of food, I hired out to work on a farm. -I secured a square
meal to begin with, the first I had had since leaving
home, and commenced work in my new field much en—
‘couraged ; for it seemed to me at last as if I had struck

my calling.

Here I wotked away: with a merry heart until my

‘employer, coming in the part of the field where I was,
‘observed that, by my clumsy movements I was either
trampling with my feet or cutting up the very plants
he wanted to save. So without a moment’s delay or a
word of explanation, except a savage look, he ordered
me from the field in the greatest haste, which he facili-
‘tated by several vigorous kicks and a number of fright-
ful oaths. ¢
Though somewhat disheartened by these repeated
failures, I was not discouraged, for I still had in my
pocket an old mouth-harp on which I could blow no
semblance of a tune. However, I sat down on a log by
a woods-path and commenced blowing away on the
harp in a furious manner. Soon a flock of crows began
to gather, and collecting on the limbs of a dead tree stand-
ing near me, they returned my salute with their monoton-
ous cawing, until the air was rent with horror, and I, -
being frightened out of my wits, soon took to my heels.
For several days I plundered about, living on green
corn, berries or anything I could get, until at last, being
tired out with this, I decided to try hunting. a
I borrowed an old musket froma boy who did not know
me, and set out with the expectation of many possibili-
ties lying before me.

But after tramping several hours, and no game com-

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

The Story Told by Bidlack. 31

ing in my reach, and being tired out, I sat down beside
a stump, and leaning backward soon fell asleep. When
I awoke night was coming on. I raised up, looked about,
and felt for the gun, but it was gone. “Hello,” I ex-
claimed, “some scamp has come along and stolen my
gun, and here I am in the woods alone.”’

The deep hideous notes of the owl were sounding
through the forest, and mingled with the shrill cry of
the night-hawk and the shivering species of mouse-
catcher, sent cold chills running over me from head to
foot. There was ro moon, and the darkness, I noticed
from the dense foliage, would soon be complete.

I got up and walked along through the underbrush
hoping to find a hollow log into which I could crawl to
pass the night in safety. But soon the distant barking
of dogs startled me. At first this inspired me with hope,
for I thought I was near some farmhouse. But presently,
on realizing it was a pack of wild dogs, you can well
imagine the horror of my position and the melody of
my outcry. ©

Noticing that they were drawing nearer I took toa
tree, and had just gotten fixed astride ahigh fork when
they rushed up to the trunk and began sniffing and
howling in the most violent and savage manner. Witli
no further explanation, you can see at a glance how
desperate my situation was.

At last, finding they could not reach me, they quieted
off and seemed to lie down about the tree, for I could
see in the darkness their shining eyes and a faint
glimpse of their long teeth.

Being completely exhausted and frightened to death,
 

 

 

iis

 

32 The Passing Clouds.

and realizing that I might suddenly fall asleep or faint
and fall from the fork, to be torn to pieces in a moment,
I took from my pocket a rope, which I usually car-
tied, and bound myself securely to the limb.

I must have soon lost consciousness, for I knew noth-
ing more till about day, when I heard a buzzing and felt
something like fine red-hot needles sticking in me all
over. Icried out for mercy and rubbed my eyes, only
to realize that the tree in which I had taken refuge was.
a bee-tree; and as day came on the bees were coming
out, and finding me intruding my presence on them,
they had thus proceeded to greet me in this enthusiastic
but most frightful manner.

You can never, good friend, begin to imagine the ex-
tent of my suffering ; for my face and limbs soon puffed
up to an enormous size. ‘The rope broke and the fork
split out, but the dogs had left me, going deeper into the
forest I presume.

In the utmost despair, I cried out for help.

Presently two men appeared, carrying guns on their
shoulders. My first impression was that they intended
helping me; but in a moment they began to shout,
‘‘Ah! you miserable rascal, come down from there! You
thought you would steal our honey, did you? Come
down from there!”

They proceeded to build up a dense smoke, which
soon scattered the bees. They now came upto the trunk
and again ordered me down.

But my limbs were swollen so I could not move, nor
could I use my tongue.

Thinking that I wished to treat them with contempt

ree

The Story Told by Bidlack. 33

by not coming down, or answering, or paying them any
attention, they laid hands on their axes and proceeded
to bring the tree to the ground.

The jar in falling was terrific, but not so horrible as
the pain caused by my leg striking a stump which shat-
tered a bone.

The men were unmerciful, and asI was not able to
walk to them to explain matters, they simply ordered
me to get out of their sight if I valued my life. This
I did, dragging the broken limb as best I could, with all
the pain and suffering a human being could endure. I
dared not look back to see when out of their sight; in
fact, the smoke they made filled the air completely.

Finally, when quite sure I was out of their reach I sat
down on a log, desperate from pain and exhaustion.

Here I must have fallen asleep, for on realizing my
situation again the sun was shining high ; the birds were
hopping about me and some were crying out as if some
strange creature was about to attack them.

Feeling somewhat strengthened by this lapse into un-
consciousness, I proceeded to examine my wounds and
began to form the brightest kind of plans for suing my
enemies for damages. By this device, it seemed to me
that I could easily collect several thousand dollars, which
would enable me to live as becomes a gentleman of leis-
ure the rest of my life.

While thus feasting on such wild fancies, a filthy
looking tramp came along ; andafter relating to him, as
well as I could, my strange experience and my present
plans, he said I was nothing buta fool. “For you have,”

he said, ‘‘in the first place, no money to carry on a law-
8pe
 

 

34 The Passing Clouds.

  

suit. In the second place, you had no business being
on'posted land. If you had any money, they could get
it away from you for that alone. In the third place
you have no sense anyhow. You are nothing but a fool,
and deserve the treatment you have just received. It
will be of more service to you than money. ‘The best
thing for you to do,” he continued, “is to tie up that
broken leg.’’

This we proceeded to do by taking two flat sticks and
wrapping them with soft moss, held in place by strong
spider web, and then binding these on securely with long
thin strips of columbine.

The tramp then told me since I had nowhere to go
and no friend to whom I could appeal for help, I might
go along with him and share the misery of his burrow
in an old unused shed.

This proposition I gratefully accepted.

Here we lived, or I had better say, stayed in peace, at
least, except for the multitude of vermin that infested
the miserable hovel.

Finally my injuries healed fairly well, and being tired
of this style of living I set out one morning and joined
with a gang of cattle-drivers bound for the west. ‘They
offered me twenty-five cents a day and board to go along
with them and help keep the’ cattle together; for there
were about two hundred of them, many of which were
rebellious and sullen. ; '

The constant activity made my broken limb pain me
any amount.

After several weeks of steady travel, during which I
experienced all kinds of hardships and suffered priva-

 

     
  
    
   
   
  
    
    
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
 

  

 

   
   
   
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
    
  
  

   
   
   
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
     
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
    
  
  

    
  
  
 

  

     

The Story Told by Bidlack. 35

tions of every description and lived on half ration’ for
the manager said I was of no account and did not de-
serve anything at all, we reached our journey’s end.

The manager paid me seventy-five cents for |my ser-
vices to him, which, though small as it may seem, was the
largest sum of money I had ever earned, though going
in my twentieth year.

Thoroughly disgusted with cattle-driving, I next
called at a hotel, hoping to get a place as clerk, but the
proprietor told me that he did not need such a slovenly
looking fellow as I about the house, for I would soon
ruin his patronage.

Not knowing what else to do, I next applied toa
dairy-man, whom I told of my experience in handling
cattle. He told me he would board, lodge and clothe
me, and furnish soap and water, if I would attend to his
cows, and would reward me according to the extent
and value of my services.

His proposition I promptly accepted. ‘The work soon

‘ became interesting to me, and my employer said one day

that he expected soon to advance my wages. He treated

me better than any of the others. In fact, I began to

feel at home again and my employer was so agreeable to
me, that one evening I related to him thestory of my

Singular experiences since leaving my father’s home

to carve out my own fortune.

7 ok

The story told by Bidlack is an object-lesson to that

type of the young American who imagines he knows
. y\
more than his parents; yet few they are who would ex- —

     
    
    
 

 

 

an ich i AN i Sh A i cc a A

Re ee ee

36 The Passing Clouds.

hibit Bidlack’s fortitude in keeping from his parents the-
knowledge of his miserable condition, after he had so.
grossly disregarded their wishes.. How readily they-
would have come to his assistance.

 

 

ESTHER LEE.

HE poet Shelley never felt a more divine inspira-
tion than while walking in a field a skylark

arose from the grass, and drifting away in the
clear open sky, the poet sang these lines :

-

‘Hail to thee, blithe spirit !
* Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven or near it
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse streams of unpremeditated art.”

“T never will forget one Sunday morning in May,
some twenty or more years ago,’’ said a companion to
me one day; “for on that day Esther Lee went out driv-
ing with me, and as we drove along that familiar old
road, and over the bridge and rough cobbled places, it
seemed to me that nature had never been so generous
or endowed our path with a more liberal hand. For
the trees and grass were fresh in their luxuriant green-
ness, and the early spring flowers sprinkling the road-
side yielded up their fragrance in one continuous ex-
halation. Here and there a turtle-dove or some other
kind of bird was seen picking up straw or little sticks,
and flying away to its nest; in fact, the birds seemed to
be out in full force.

“T noticed in the distance a tulip poplar bough that
waved to and fro in the gentle breeze, and from its sum-
mit a mocking-bird poured forth his song in the most

exquisite and superb manner.

(37)

 

 

gene
ld cl acini — Te

 

 

 

  

38 The Passing Clouds. 9,

toga

‘Bush wrens dove about the underbrush, and arotind,

the fénce corners, jabbering away in their monotgndus* :

fashion. Occasionally in the distaice the deep melodi-
ous notes of the brown-thrush were heard, and this
voice, mingled with the sad, crushed tones of the poor
little phebe, presented an amusing contrast.

‘‘As the sun rose higher, and its penetrating rays.

came glimmering over the slumbering hills and through
the loftiest tree-tops, the dewdrops, before silent and in-

active, now commenced moving about with genuine

activity—first sparkling, then dripping, and now fall-
ing, they would spatter about and lose themselves in
the leaves below. .

“T had thus finished my journey to Esther Leg’s home
without realizing that I was there, and when she came
forth to greet me in her usual angelic loveliness, attired
in purest white with flowing ribbons, with glossy black
curls waving about her neck and a sweet sympathetic
smile on her face, she seemed to me the very incarna-
tion of all that is gentle, modest and lovable. Al-
ways companionable and possessed of beauty of a rare
and artistic type, she moved about and entertained her
callers with the tenderest grace, and captivated all
comers by her many good qualities. For nature had
been more than generous to Esther Lee, endowing her
with so many of those better qualities in which most
of us are deficient. I pinned a bunch of white and red
rosebuds on her dress, fresh from the heavy, dew-laden
bushes, and their silvery, sparkling drops mingled with
the light from her soft brown eyes. We drove along
through the country a distance of eight or ten

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

ahs e

-~

or
BS

 

 

ies: Esther Lee.

39

iniles 6r more, and passed by some very interesting

A ‘places’. and through some very artistic scenery. I remem-

ber a rivulet, or creek, whose banks were a solid mass

». of roots growing out over the water and covered by a
* thick carpet of green grass. -Some rabbits were frisking

about the place, and the coristant, monotonous song of
the locust gave out a humdrum impression. ‘The. tall
trees on the banks leaned together and almost excluded
the sunlight from above. A soft, cool breeze played about
the bridge, and once or twice a red fin came to the sur-
face of the water.

“A log extending “over the water supported seven
happy terrapins, seemingly oblivious toall about. Still
we traveled on without regard to time or tide, and pres-
ently came to a great outstretching farm with meadow
banks on one side.

“Here there was a herd of short-horned, spotted cows;
some were drinking from a brook that flowed by, while
others were lying under the trees.

“Away out to the right, as far as the eye could reach,
a smoky haze appeared, and in this the sky and earth
commingled, for the afternoon was well on; and so we
hurried home.”

 

    
 

 
 

 

’

RICHARD HOWARD'S WIFE HELENA.

GOOD many years ago there lived in the moun-
A tainous portion of Virginia a young and very
wealthy farmer, who had married in his early
twenties a handsome little woman of his neighborhood.
Soon after his marriage he bought an old colonial man-
sion, with fine and extensive farming lands extending
out in all directions.

Now they had, in the course of a few months, spent
large sums of money in an effort to preserve, in this
ancient structure, its original outlines, with modern
improvements to add to their comfort.

So they had built at one end an artistic pavilion,
connected with fine side porches and dormer-windows
to the sides. So grand was the appearance of the struc-
ture that it was commonly called ‘‘the castle.”

Now the “castle,” you may well imagine, was finished
up in the finest kind of style, and furnished through-
out in the daintiest taste, with rare costly drapery and
tapestry in profusion, and furniture and carpets in
keeping with the rest. Nor was this all, for the attend-
ance was equally good.

Here it was that Richard Howard took his young
wife to live. What more could the human mind desire?
It would seem that here was centered all that could
prosper mankind or enliven the soul.

To either side of the castle thick evergreens were grow-

ing, and to the west a mighty row of Lombardy poplars
(40)

 

 

    
 

Richard Howard’s Wife Helena. 4!

‘waved to and fro. Like pyramids, they seemed to ex-
tend upward to the sky. .Through this wealth of
foliage the sun, in setting, cast its last melancholy rays,
like departing friends.

Often had Helena sat and watched the last emblems
of day sink over those distant hilltops into the valleys
below, and wondered if the people beyond were wait-
ing and watching for its coming.

Who would think that Helena, thus enthroned in her
happy home, with so much to please and still more to
amuse, would ever grow weary or chafe over the free
indulgence her good fortune allowed?

But when we stop to consider the slow workings of
nature and the strange partiality of fate, we are brought
face to face with that which seems inevitable. And so
it was with Helena.

One fine bright day Richard Howard went out with
a boating party, to return late in the afternoon. He
took with him dinner and refreshments for the entire
party, and left his good wife with the housekeeper
and her favorite pet, a St. Bernard named Roland.
Little did Richard think that in this brief absence so
great a calamity could befall him, for he had oftentimes
left her for a few hours and always returned to find her
happy, with her pet Roland by her side.

Far along in the day the boating party came home,
and Richard Howard, instead of meeting Helena at the
gate, asit had always been before, saw only the shadow
of the leaves waving over the arched parapet.

Roland whined piteously around the yard and ran to
and fro about the house, looking in first one room

 
 

 

ela A a a a a a kt
r wn a da il a Rl i CR ll le sl

42 The Passing Clouds.

and then in another, and occasionally he would look up:

and bay as if at the moon.

The cats were all out on the front steps asleep, and
the housekeeper, too, was gone. The crickets kept up
a monotonous grating as the shadows of the afternoon
were descending over the deserted castle.

The horns were blown, and the hands rushed in from
the fields.
strange happening about the place; no carriage had
been seen to drive that way, and no one had gone out
so far as they had seen. The workmen were immedi-
ately given orders to search the place high and low, far
and wide, and to leave no stone unturned that would
give any clue as to what had become of the lady of the
mansion ; for it was thought she might be in a trance,
away in some secluded corner or in the garret. But
news had already come that the gypsies had been seen
to pass that way, and knowing where the rich people
lived, it was imagined she might have been spirited
away by them and held for ransom.

So the roads leading from the castle were filled with
searching parties, and the neighboring woods and moun-
tains thoroughly scoured; but no such woman was.
found; not even a fragment of wearing apparel or a
handkerchief, which so often follows in the tracks of a
woman.

In the meantime poor old Roland whined about the
castle sad and alone, occasionally breaking out with an
unearthly howl and looking upward as if some strange
objects were abiding there.

The housekeeper had now come in from a neighbor’s

Each one in turn declared he had seen no:

 

 

    
 

Richard Howard’s Wife Helena. 43

house, and said she had been out in the garden feeding
the goldfish, and on returning she had found the house
vacant. Helena had been reading one of Scott’s novels
when she left her to feed the goldfish, and there was
the book open just as she had placed it, with her ring
for a book-mark—that wedding ring that buries many
a human heart. But where had she gone? Helena!
Helena! she cried out in despair; but only the echoes
came back to her. Roland was lying asleep on the rug
just as she had left him a few minutes before.

Now the housekeeper had made a brief search;
and not finding her mistress, and being of a super-
stitious nature and a profound believer in ghosts
and spiritualism, she had suddenly taken fright,
womanlike, and rushed from the premises, but did
not take the pains to tell her neighbor with whom
she found lodgment of her strange experience; prob-
ably because she thought later on that all would come
out well, and she would be victimized for her excess of
timidity. All night long and the following day the
search was continued. ‘The rivers and lakes for miles
around were dragged, and canteens of powder exploded
from their depths, but all in vain.

Bloodhounds were brought in and placed in-her chair,
where she was last to be seen happily reading; but they
only sniffed about the room and yard, but failed to
strike a trail. ‘The stations were watched and detec-

tives on the alert.
The searching parties continued their work, but no

word came from the missing woman.
Meanwhile the days came and went, but Richard
 

whole soul.

 

44 The Passing Clouds.

Howard could never resign himself to his fate. His
voice was growing weak; his eyes were sinking back-
ward, and their merry light was gone; his pale thin
face wore a melancholy expression, and the thin black
hair tousled about his ears. His clothes, too, were
overlarge and hung about the joints in wrinkles; in
fact he was not the same man—it was somebody else.
He wandered about the premises, still hoping for a
brigliter day, thinking that yet some word would come
from sweet Helena. Through all this trying period he
would every day go into Helena’s room and kneel by
her chair. Here he would spend hours in sad, embit-
tered, musing, where before they had read together
and looked through,old albums and laughed over old
love-letters.

Poor old Roland had grown old and died, a neglected
and sad spectacle. He had always stayed near Helena
and ran along by her side; he seemed to always mourn
her loss.

As the years passed by Richard Howard grieved more
and more over his strange misfortune, and a profound
gloom and stifling depressiori seemed to pervade his
He would sit for hours in a stupor, appar-
ently oblivious to all about him. He had long ago lost
all interest in life, probably from the moment of
Helena’s disappearance; but the thought that he
would yet find her had kept body and.soul together,
and stimulated him to carry on the most energetic
search ever instituted to find a missing person.

The farm equipment was running to decay; the fer-
tile lands were barren; the meadows had grown up in

|
+
|
|
|

 

 

Richard Howard’s Wife Helena. 45.
wire-grass and ground briers; the pastures were worth-
less; the cows, once the pride of the farm, had dwin--
dled away to nothing; the fine horses had. all died or
been carried off by the mountaineers, and only a few
old sheep roved about the place where years before
there were hundreds. The fences had all fallen down,
and, in fact, all the old symbols that told of a rich
and happy home were gone—lost forever.

Richard Howard now began to rove about and often:
spent the night in the fields. He was adjudged insane,
though harmless ; and to avoid the publicity of a legal
committal he was taken away to be cared for by a
relative. -

Many years have passed since then, and travelers to
the springs of Virginia and the historic old city of
Richmond still find a kind of awe-inspiring interest in
visiting the scene of a mystery which time seems only
to deepen.

But what had become of Helena? ‘There were those
who believed that the gypsies had taken her away ; but
while they were known to have been in the community,
that of itself conveyed no evidence of harm against
them.

There were those who believed she had never existed
as a substantial woman, made of real flesh and blood,.
in which the breath of human life had murmured.
They believed she had existed only as a spirit, and
when the time came she had vanished.

    

 

 
> aid ea a as anc rh terme seinen nto

ne re

LA ROY AND THE FISHERMAN.
ae were only two of us, myself and a friend

whose name was La Roy.

We had been from childhood kept pretty
close at home, and finally, having tired of its restraining
influence, we decided to leave and try traveling.

After a very trying experience lasting several days,
during which we suffered greatly and went hungry
most of the time, we reached the seashore and, being
completely exhausted, sat down for a short repose.

Neither of us had ever seen so grand a body of water,
for the blue waves dashing by us was all there was to
break the stillness of the day.

The descending rays of the afternoon sun lit up the
horizon for miles around, and sent, now and then, an
electric-like flash deep into the body of the sea. As far
out as we could perceive the waves gradually dimin-
ished in size, and finally faded away, to be enveloped
in a hazy mist beyond an area of boundless extent.

Presently a ship approached us, and I beckoned to
the captain to come toward me, which signal he
promptly obeyed. It proved to be the boat of a fisher-.

man, who plied the sea in search of large fish. Being
anxious to explore the sea, or even the mysteries of
eternity, we immediately made a contract with him to
take us on board, which he willingly did, for we paid
him five dollars at the start—a good fee for so small a

service. After resting a while the captain set sail, and
(46)

8
La Roy and the Fisherman. 47

the wind rising, we soon found ourselves beyond the

sight of land.
I could see in the blue water dashing about us the

outline of many sharks and frightful sea monsters lash-
ing inthe deep current as if driven by some mighty
force. ‘They reminded me of the tremendous’ sea-lions
I had observed in the lakes of our city parks at home.

The dashing of the waves caused a constant rocking

of our ship, so much so, in fact, that I expected every

moment to be capsized, but you may well imagine I did
not let the rest of our crew know of my fear.

Presently I began to get dizzy, and in a moment more
was deathly sick and blind. I wished for the sight of
land once more, and envied my neighbors at home. I
soon became unconscious. ‘Several weeks must have
passed before I fully regained my equilibrium. .

For on realizing my situation again La Roy was
sitting on the side of the bunk on which I was lying.
He was telling me of the frightful experiences they had

had since we embarked.
‘We would all have been drowned,’’ he continued,

“had it no: been for the sagacity of our captain. He
alone has stood up through it all. We have been lost
for a number of days, and there is no telling where we

are. Soon after you were taken ill there arose a tre-

mendous gale, which tore the sails and dashed the ship °

about at a terrible rate. The waves splashed clear over

us, and sharks and sea-serpents of a tremendous size

~were washed on deck.

“Their weight at times seemed enough to’ overturn

our boat. On one occasion, a sea-bird of enormous size,

 
 

48 The Passing Clouds.

driven by the storms, swooped in among us. His legs.
were as large as a fence-rail, and he must have weighed
several hundred pounds.

“No words can describe the horror of our situation.
And I doubt if any brush could draw the outline of a
picture more distressing. Here we are—lost at sea, to
die alone and feed the sharks. We had given you up
for dead, and now you are coming to.”

I will not stop to describe my feelings at this infor-
mation. You can imagine that for yourself. ‘The rest
isa blank space in the history of time, from which my
memory shrinks. Nor doI care to recall my impres-
sions of the next few days, which, however, were sud-
denly changed by our ship coming in sight of land. We
had struck a small island to the east of Borneo, and as
the captain cast anchor the natives rushed forward to
greet us.

You can never imagine my delight on seeing land
again, and though it was a foreign country and inhab-
ited by frightful looking little brown savages, those
who came on board were disposed to treat us kindly
and made arrangements for us to land in safety.

We spent some time in this country and were well
treated by the natives, who seemed to regard us as great
giants capable of doing wonders.

The fine fruits in which the island abounded, the
green meadow lands and the immense number of sing-
ing birds, richly plumaged, pleased me any amount. It
reminded me of my early years at home.

Strangest of all were their customs, some of which
were foolish, while the good of others was far-reaching

La Roy and the Fisherman. 49

and widely felt. They baptized their babies, for ex-
ample, by taking them by the heels and dipping them
in the stream nearest to where they were born. The
water must be deep enough to come entirely over the
innocent little victim ; no portion of the heels could go
unbathed.

Another peculiar custom related to their preparation
and forethought previous to marriage. On the island
we found that a couple were never married according
to the statute law until a pre-speculative period took
place. This was simply an original custom of theirs.
If a couple thought they toved each other well enough
to spend their best days together they proceeded to

make the necessary investigation by securing a sepa-~

rate home or apartments of their own in the parental
mansion, and there living as if their contract had been
practically sealed.

This preparatory measure lasted for one year only,
at the end of which, if the contracting parties were
satisfied with each other and felt that they could with
mutual harmony share the burden of responsibility and
willingly divide what measure of happiness came to
them, they were publicly married, received the bless-
ing of their family and assumed the obligations ac-
cording to the customs of the island.

But if, on the other hand, they find themselves
not suited, with no spirit of congeniality to bind their
union, they separate, and in a year’s time may select
another mate for trial. During this waiting period
they are obliged to wear mourning to punish them for

having made a bad selection, and to steer others safely
4pe

>

 
 

 

50 The Passing Clouds.

by. And, if a third failure is made to find a suitable
companion, the parties become offenders. They are
brought before a court of justice, declared criminals
and cast into prison for life. Naturally enough every
couple tries to be sure they are well matched before
entering into the contract. Divorce is unknown on
the island. If either husband or wife leaves the other,
the offending party is brought before the court of jus-
tice, which reigns supreme. ‘The offender is thrown
into prison for life. ‘This hardly ever happens on the
island.

The native’s sense of obligation to his fellow-man is
very strict and far-reaching; he will not, for any in-
ducement, betray the confidence of his neighbor. My
friend La Roy was much impressed by this custom.
He seemed to imply that if this was the custom in our
country, where civilization runs so high, great reform
measures could be instituted.

In fact, we became so much attached to the island,
and our ship having to undergo some repairs, we de-
cided to hold over on the spot until the stormy season
had passed, after which we again reached home safely.

 

THE STORY OF THE JEWELER HUNSACK.

HERE was once a jeweler whose name was Hun-
sack ; and in the same town there lived a pros-

perous merchant who lived very happily with
his charming wife and two sprightly children, a little

girl of about seven years and a boy some older who was

away at school.

Hunsack was a very peculiar man, strange in his
habits, erratic in his ideas and dramatic in his ways.

He lived alone in his own apartments, cared very lit-
tle for society, nothing for religion, and usually seemed
good-natured and cheerful. He evinced a great fond-
ness for music, and when an entertainment of any kind
was going on near him he would go out and walk up
and down the street to feast his hungering soul on the
enchanting musical strains, but never daring to go in.

The visitors participating in the festivities, finding
Hunsack in the vicinity, would go out and entreat him
to come in and share with them the company of his
strange personality. But ‘‘ No! I guess not,” he would
say, ‘I have only a few minutes to stop, and just came
by to hear the violin, or possibly a few notes from the
piano. Iam ina hurry and must get along back.”

Now, Hunsack could not strike a tune himself, and
he had a decided aversion to vocal music, but over the
notes of almost any good instrument he was easily car-
ried away.

He would always avoid a crowd, in which he was ex-

(51)

as

SE
 

52 The Passing Clouds.

tremely cold and reserved, but in the company of one
or two friends he would brighten up to an amazing de-
gree, and would often prove a most charming companion.

Now the merchant’s wife was a gifted musician, and
possessed also many other charming qualities, among:
which was a very tender and winning disposition.

She enjoyed the society of her special friends, whom
she entertained in the gentlest manner. Hunsack was.
a close observer. He soon took note of these good qual-
ities, and having been with other guests frequently re-
ceived and entertained by her hearthstone, he decided.
to call more frequently.

Being a bachelor, there was nothing in his way to in-
terfere. This good woman could, without changing
her entire disposition, nature and habits, receive hii.
only most graciously, which she did, and which pleased
and flattered the jeweler exceedingly.

He exercised his wits to appear to the best advantage,
and conversed with as much energy and ease as he could
bring to bear. :

Oue visit only provoked another; one unconscious.
smile would melt his sympathetic heart. She played so
sweetly, was so cheerful and was always so glad to.
see him!

The jeweler’s sensitive nature could not resist the.
winning charms of that woman.

“Oh! that woman! that woman!” he would say,.
over and over again to himself.

He would stand all day in his apartments at the win-
dow, hoping to see her come down the street ; and then,
his hopes disappointing him, he would retire, sad, mel-.-

  

The Story of the Jeweler Hunsack. 53

ancholy and alone. The good woman thought the

jeweler to be a simple, easy-going, good-natured
fellow, who loved quietude better than the street rabble,
but who had had such good advantages as to make him
appear like a gentleman of the old school. She did not
discourage him from his frequent visits until finally
presents of every description began to pour in on her,
and she could trace their origin to the jeweler’s tender
sympathies. Hunsack came and played with the little
girl, told her long fairy stories and gave little descrip-
tions of his experience in different places, which amused
her greatly ; so much so that she became much attached
to him and looked forward to his visits with delight.

He watched the gold fish, fed the canary and seemed
to be as much at home as if on his own threshold.

In the meantime this good woman was running over
in her mind and figuring on a plan to rid herself of the
attention of the adoring jeweler. Knowing that she
could in the end courteously dismiss him without injur-
ing his pride, she finally arrived at a conclusion which
swiftly proved entirely satisfactory and afforded the
home circle considerable amusement.

Hunsack’s presents continued to pour in, fine fruits
and confectioneries, hot-house flowers and rare oil-
paintings.

At last, being determined to bring the jeweler’s affec-
tion to grief, the good woman, on receiving a painting
representing an actor on the stage about to embrace his
love, wrote to him in accepting it the following lines:

‘« My Goop FRIEND : — Our little girl seems delight-

ed with the present you sent her to-day. She claims it

  
 

| 54 The Passing Clouds.

| all for her own, saying that you knew she loved dra-
matic scenery, and that you remembered her fancy in
securing this beautiful painting. In fact, I believe she
| considers you now one of her best friends, and never
tires of talking about you. But remember, good friend,
that you must not let her approval of your disposition
; and habits cause you to lay out too lavishly for her.
She is only a child but appears advanced for her
years. Again thanking you for your kindness to the
little girl and consideration of us all, I am as ever,

your friend, MARGUERITTA,”

In the same envelope with the note was a fifty-dollar

bill, with a note pinned on it containing these impress-
ive words :

 

‘The little girl’s papa thinks that you are spending
too lavishly for her amusement, and desires to reimburse
you to some extent without letting our little treasure

know it. Hoping you are still well and happy, I am
your friend, M.”

Hunsack read the note over very carefully. He then
sat down and thought deliberately ; he took up the note
on the bill and read it over again and again, his tem-
perature lowered, his pulse weakened.

Presently he rolled the bill up and placed it in his.
vest pocket. The two notes he carefully destroyed, and
his strange affection was cured forever.

JOHN HUSKY’S EPITAPH.

“~EVERAL years ago, while spending some time in a
neighboring State, I stopped over in a flourishing
little town, and the following day being anxious

to see the country walked about in the suburbs and
finally visited the cemetery.

I was immediately impressed with the good condition
| of the walks and the care manifestly used in keeping
the place in order. No vegetation or foreign matter of
an unsuitable character was seen encroaching on the
graves or the vacant plots. The tombs had all been re-
cently polished, and fresh cut flowers placed over many
of the graves showed that loved ones at home still held
in tender remembrance their departed relatives.

{ lingered about the place for several hours, for the
day was unusually pleasant, and I enjoyed the quiet se-
clusion and solemn impressions about me. Presently I
came to a small stream whose banks were dotted here
and there by clumps of wild flowers, or a vine twining
about a slender stem till burdened to the bending point
they would lose themselves in the verdant carpet of the
bank. I hada strong desire to follow up this stream,
but as I proceeded the sight of many newly closed
graves made cold chills run over me.

I first thought that bodies from other burying-grounds
were being brought there for permanent rest, but on fur-
| ther reflection the idea came to me that surely the phy-
sicians of the community were on a strike, and that

4 (55) ape

ve

 

 
 

i

56 The Passing Clouds.

some serious malady, unmolested by medical inter-
ference, Had thus mercilessly proceeded to slay its vic-
tims without cause or contract.

I had therefore seated myself on a rock, and was
pleasantly musing on this original idea and running over
in my mind a possible plan to mellow the views of the
medical fraternity should I find on investigation this
condition to be the cause of sucha terrible mortality,
when suddenly my eyes fell on a newly erected slab
at the head of a grave a short distance away.

The inscription impressed me forcibly, for there were
five lines that told the whole story. The slab was a
smooth piece of plank about two feet high and one foot
wide. It was painted white, and on it painted in black
was this impressive epitaph :

“John Husky.
He was born,
He lived,
He died; and
He was buried.”

The impression conveyed to my mind by this simple
yet strange inscription was so strong that I could not
tid myself of its burden, but walked about repeating
over and over again those striking words.

I was determined to investigate further, for it seemed
to me possible that some enemy had placed this slab at
the grave of an envied rival.

The following morning while passing up the street
I came upon an old gentleman with long white hair and
gold spectacles mounted over a Roman nose.

li i ale

 

 

 

John Husky’s Epitaph. 57

I stopped by him a moment, for he was sitting on the
shady side of the street and held a newspaper in his
hand, over which at short intervals he sent tremendous
clouds of white smoke from a long-stemmed pipe. I soon
scraped an acquaintance with him, and promptly asked
for an explanation of the strange inscription on a certain

slab in the cemetery, and also the cause of so many re- ,

cently closed graves.
He said: ‘‘So far as the graves are concerned,”’ look-

ing over his glasses a few moments and emitting another
volley of smoke, ‘‘there has been in the community re-
cently an epidemic of Asiatic itch, which in the course
of time has destroyed many lives. But the victims,”’
he added, ‘‘do not die from the primary disease ; death
results from blood-poisoning induced from the terrible
rubbing and scratching of the body. The raw surfaces
become infected from the finger-nails, and there being
no specific death is almost invariably the result.

“As for the peculiar epitaph,” he proceeded delib-
erately, after putting aside his paper and inviting me to
share with him the narrow bench in the shade, where
undoubtedly he had spent many happy hours.

He still clung to his pipe, and occasionally held his
glasses in one hand, as he sent forth furious clouds of
white smoke.

‘‘ John Husky came here about the same time I did.
We were regarded as old settlers. Nobody knew where
he came from, and he never told. He did not seem to
to have any relatives. He struck town without any
money and immediately commenced to beg.

‘‘ His forsaken, pitiable looking appearance at once

RE TTT Ree ee
 

 

58 The Passing Clouds.

excited sympathy, and for some months he was enabled
to maintain himself in this way. Finally we all began
to realize how we were being victimized ; we saw what
a disreputable scamp the fellow was. We saw that the
more you gave him the greater was his demand, and we
grew tired of his conduct. One night he was taken
from the cabin where he stayed when run away from
everywhere else, a blindfold was carefully adjusted, his.
clothes removed, and with a rag-mop soft, warm tar was.
applied in generous quantity. He was then rolled in
chicken feathers and left aione on the edge of town to
find his way back in darkness.

‘‘ He was not seen again for several days, but when
he did at last appear he looked better than he had ever
looked before. He was never known to beg any more,
nor was he ever known to volunteer his services for any
kind of work; but if a person came by him and told him
to come on and do a certain piece of work he would
move on, and when the service was completed he would
quietly sit and wait for the next call—he would never
exert himself.

“He lived in this way for a good many years, and
finally died a few months since. In his pocket was
found a note and a silver dollar. The note requested
that his body be given decent burial in the cemetery
near the river, where he could, though dead, still im-
agine he heard the murmur of the waves breaking on
the rocks about which he had spent his happier days.

“ He also requested that with the dollar a plain slab
with an appropriate epitaph be placed at his grave. Of

  

John Husky’s Epitaph. 5>

course he made no allowance for his funeral expenses.

The town had this to bear.
“ So at last, after he was buried, the town commis-

sioners decided the epitaph which interested you so
much to be the most appropriate for him.”

  

|
i
:
|

—
 

 

ne dee

ee ee eee ee

THE SONG OF LIFE.

HE birds that sing their songs so sweet
In spite of summer’s withering heat
Are like the thoughts of youthful lore,
Which, being once, are then no more.

A bud when nipped in early morn
Retains no more its blooming dawn,
But withers and goes to rest

And leaves the world as it sees best.

The day that dawns in summer clouds
May sink to rest in dusky shrouds,
And all that’s pleasant in the land
Soon may vanish from our hand.

(60)

THE MERCHANT AND THE SPIRIT.

HERE was once a merchant who lived very hap~
pily with his devoted wife, for she was hand-
some, good-natured, generous and affectionate ;.

possessing you see the very qualities a chivalrous man
inost admires in a woman. No wonder the merchant,.
who was neither handsome nor genteel looking, though
he was kindly disposed and indulgent, idolized his lovely
companion. ‘

For several years the merchant prosperedeven beyond!
his most sanguine expectations; each year his income
doubled. It gave him much pleasure to be able to sup-
ply his wife with her every want.

Their home was furnished in the most sumptuous
style, ornamented with the most artistic hangings and
rich drapery, servants ready at a moment’s call, and a
carriage and horses of the finest style. Now these good.
people were very charitable, contributing liberally to-
all in need, and lending assistance to many struggling
for a footing. But with these good and reasonable qual-
ities, strange as such a mixture may seem, they were
superstitious and wildly erratic in their ideas. They
were often melancholy, religiously inclined, and were
strong believers in the doctrine of spiritualism.

They spent some time each day in forlorn meditation,.
and in communicating with the spirits of departed
friends and relatives. They believed that by a certain.

number of calls made by a divinely inspired leader, a.
(61)

 
 

=

‘62 The Passing Clouds.

certain spirit, though invisible, could be brought into
‘communtcation with their living presence and the usual
greetings exchanged. But a friend or relative could not
speak directly with the spirit of one departed, but the
interchange of greeting must be conveyed through the
presence of a third person who must be a medium.
A medium, in the minds of spiritualists, is a divinely en-
dowed prophet incapable of anything but the truth.
Each year these people became the more enthused in
their religious belief, and each year beheld them the
more victims to their religious folly.

They grieved over their many shortcomings, and
‘sighed in contemplating the world’s strange misgoing.

Finally the good wife was taken seriously ill, she suf-
fered several days, and then died ; and the merchant, sad
and alone, spent most of his time by her grave. Here
he would frequently lapse into a state of unconscious-
ness and be carried away by the neighbors.

However, as the days and weeks and months passed,
and the chasm between the living and the dead length-
‘ened, time in its slow working, and nature in its mighty
healing power, had wrought other changes in the mer-
chant’s crushed spirit and partly healed the lacerated
and bleeding heart. He no longer frequented the cem-
etery, there to linger, like a lost sheep, nor was he often
seen weeping over the grave of his lost wife; he only
went and came, carried flowers, and with his own hand

plucked away what little vegetation dared to encroach

on her resting-place.
K * *

The merchant had begun to appear young and happy

 

The Merchant and the Spirit. 63

again, a pleasant surprise to many of his friends, for
they were sorry for him at so early an age thus buried
alive; many thought he would soon be himself again.

He was finally married, and as often happens in such
cases, sorrow and disaster came thick and fast; for in-
stead of finding in his second wife the good-natured
helpful companion he expected, he found her an ill-tem-
pered shrew, who possessed no good qualities, nor any
characteristic he really admired. She was incapable of
a tender sentiment, and had neither heart nor soul. She
took no interest in her household affairs, which went to
ruin through neglect and bad management. She fre-
quented the stores, spent much time on the street, and
was all the time on the go.

Now the spirit of the departed wife, still vigilant and
envious, though for several years the woman was sleep-
ing under the sod, observed all these changes, and the
unhappy state of the merchant in his helpless misfor-
tune. The spirit sought therefore through the medium
to communicate with him, and if possible to soothe and
console his broken heart; though a cold indifference
had for -some time existed between them on account of
the merchants ruthless disregard for her wishes in bring-
ing to his heart another companion. For they had
often promised each other, in the event of either’s death,
the other should ever remain true to the departed one,
and that no human force, divine dispensation or un-
earthly upheaval could ever change this sacred pledge
or cause either to break it.

But the merchant, in his loneliness, had forgotten this

promise, and the spirit after seeing him for so long ill-

 
 

 

=—

 

 

64 The Passing Clouds.

treated and his life made miserable in the hands of his.
second companion, thinking that misery enough had
been already endured to punish him for his disregard
for his promise, softened her views toward him.

The medium being ready, held the merchant by the
hand ; in a moment they both began to quiver as though
an electric shock was passing over them.

Then the spirit spoke as follows: ‘‘I have for sev-
eral years been a witness of his wanton infidelity to me ;
his disregard for our promises and my wishes has caused
me much suffering. There is no injury so painful as
that of the wounded heart; and while I have sworn
eternal vengeance against him, I have also pitied him,
and the ill treatment he has endured since forgetting
me must be sufficient to compensate for any crime; and
though I am grieved, Iam not unmerciful ; and through
your mighty power I want him to know that I now for-
give him everything.’’ Here the power of the spirit, in
its desperate emotion, shook the medium and the mer-
chant terribly, and frightened them almost out of their
wits. “ Just tell him,” the spirit continued, ‘‘that Mad-
eline, the wife of his youth, who stood by him in every
storm and shared with him his every sorrow and mis-
fortune, who for never a moment has forgotten him,
still hopes he may soon share with her the lonely
solitude of the cold damp clay, and abide together,
though only as spirits.”

The merchant received this information in abject
silence, but soon manifested signs of intense suffering.

He was apparently glad to communicate with his
wife's spirit, but it seemed that all in an instant the cir-

on

The Merchant and the Spirit. 65

cumstances connected with his disregard of her wishes
had so overpowered him, and reflection on the matter
had so distressed him, that for a long time he remained
practically insensible to his surroundings.

He passed most of the time in melancholy apprehen-
sion for his future welfare.

In the meantime the second wife lost no time in giv-
ing him frequent beatings about his growing neglect of
his affairs and general indifference, and increasing fond-
ness for lounging around in idleness.

The truth was he did not feel like going about as he
had before and mingling with his former associates, for
he was now completely crushed, a mere wreck of his
former self. He never appeared like himself again, and
finally after a few weeks of lingering illness, during
which he gradually wasted away and received no con-
solation or comforting words at home, death relieved
him of all further responsibility here below.

And his spirit, it is hoped, went to abide with that of

Madeline, the companion of his earlier years.
 

 

 

 

THE DEAD-BEAT.

F all classes of people I believe the dead-beat,
() more than any other, deserves less sympathy. He
is simply a monster at large, and whether of the
type that stays in our locality or goes from place to place
to bleed the innocent and sympathetic public, the effect
is the same. In either case he deserves only the severest
condemnation, and in reality he should be dealt with as
we would with an outlaw. One of these miserable crea-
tures will go to a town, put up at the hotel, profess to
be engaged in some kind of business, about which he
does not fail to discourse until all about him are tired
out of their wits.

He soon explains that he is for a few hours out of
money, but expects a check with the next mail, on the
arrival of which he will promptly settle. Of course his
bill is never paid, nor does he receive the expected check.

Before being turned off, he attempts to borrow small
sums from all the guests about the place.

He finds another stopping place, and sets up the same
plea. He is often sober and fairly good looking, but
frequently he is the reverse of this.

Thus he goes from one town to another, staying in
each as long as he is tolerated—they keep this up year
in and year out. He gets all his smoking materials and
most of his liquor out of the people about the place
where he is loafing. With them he is ever ready to

make friends on the shortest notice. While down town
(66)

a a a my rn eres PE See Ss ee ee OEE ae eT Oe Ee

tae

The Dead-beat. 67

he plies his tongue as usual, begging from everybody
he can. ‘The strange thing to me is, what they do with
the money they get; they never have anything—and
still they never pay for anything. It seems as if money

would accumulate in their pockets.
But there is a reason, and here it is: ‘There is a

' power irresistible, at the head of all things, which pre-

vents, in a large measure, money unworthily received,
from benefiting the holder.
These contemptible thieves are a disgrace to our civ-
ilization, they would even contaminate the Devil’s
region.
The practice of so-called professional dead-beating
for a living is increasing at an alarming rate. Every city
and town has its burden of them, and the rural districts
too are being infested at a terrible rate. Bi
Here, from inexperience, they find a ready victim,
who frequently treats the intruder as he would a
favored guest; for he is usually well-dressed and
often of pleasing appearance. All this readily ap-
peals to the uninitiated farmer. A fellow of this type
will go toa country home, put up for the night, and
exhibit a sample of some kind of drug or other stuff,
with which he can interest the innocent family,
saying that as soon as he returns to his supply de-
partment the goods purchased will be immediately for-
warded.
In this way he secures a dollar or two from the fam-
ily, with a night’s lodging, and goes on to the next

home.

.
oa ee

si er
SS

i ern
 

68 The Passing Clouds.

Of course the family receive nothing for their money,
and in matiy cases several experiences along this line
are necessary to put them on their guard. In the mean~
time the dead-beat plies his trade.

OBSERVATIONS OF A TRAINED NURSE.
N vx to the refined courtesies that go with good

breeding and careful observation, there is hardly

an accomplishment that goes further towards
making a person’s presence in a home desirable than
the simple qualities usually found associated with a
good nurse, many of which can be readily acquired by
careful observation.

You cannot go very far, or live very long, without
coming in contact with people at home who are at a
complete loss from the lack of that sensible, firm advice
that any well-informed, intelligent person ought to be
able to give.

The baby will be sick, or a little out of temper, or
Aunt Sal will have a pain in her side, or she will im-
agine she has; here the advice of some strong friend,
with possibly the application of some harmless house-
hold remedy, with absolutely no medicinal virtue, will
relieve her. he influence of the friend’s presence, with
the consoling confidence it carries, relieves the patient’s
mind of its burden, and the pain vanishes simply
through the visitor’s tact. Who has not been in a room
where there was a sick person, with some one coming
in and making various foolish, nauseating remarks about
so-called ‘‘sun-cures,” which no intelligent person
syould hear but to forget. On the other hand, who

hhas ever been long around sick people without observ-

ing the conduct and movements of a sensible person.
(69)
 

 

 

70 The Passing Clouds.

Such, for, instance, would know that if a baby is ap-

parently choking or suffocating with croup that the

proper thing to do in the absence of a physician would
be to produce emesis, which empties the bronchial

tubes of the abundant secretion causing the trouble

and allows a peaceful sleep to follow. Any intelligent
observing person, whether a nurse or not, sitting by the
cradle of a baby suffering with intestinal indigestion,
with a tense, feverish abdomen and distorted anxious.
expression, with frequent outcries, would naturally sug-
gest that a pint of warm water, judiciously used by
means of a fountain syringe, would quickly give relief.

Suppose Johnnie has been out playing hard all the af-
ternoon, right after a big dinner, and comes in at night
and lies down on the couch with cold feet and hands.
and a hot aching head, what would you suggest? You
might say a red-oak poultice to the left foot, & collard
leaf to the stomach, or a blister over the right ear. An-
other might give absolute assurance that relief would
follow the application of three drops of spirits of tur-
pentine to the back of the neck. But if there was a
nurse present, or any person who had cultivated the
natural power of judgment, the suggestion would be, in
the physician’s absence, that the stomach be emptied by
warm salt water, and that the feet be given a hot steam
bath to equalize the circulation, hitherto directed to
the scene of activity, the overloaded and tortured stom-
ach and the sympathetic and excited brain.

These more reasonable suggestions are not the result
of long training or hard study, or a more fortunate in-
heritance, but are simply the result of careful observa-

 

 

Observations of a Trained Nurse. 71

tion, intelligent reflection, and enough presence of mind
to prevent one from being frightened at his own shadow.
Thoughtfulness of this character and many desirable
qualities associated therewith, can be easily acquired by
any person of ordinary intelligence, though he may not
give sufficient attention to small matters to prevent his
being lost in his own empty thoughts.

Who would not agree that as the rain falls the earth
moistens, and as the torrent rages the streams overflow ?

SE
 

 

e

PERSEVERANCE AND SUCCESS.

3 | BEGAN life,” continued Leona, “ endowed with

an abiding intention to cultivate a fondness for

industry, economy and patience, for when

we were married, ten years ago, our prospects were

gloomy and our possibilities exceedingly few. I was

only seventeen years of age, just a mere child; and
Adelbert, my husband, was twenty-two.

Our parents objected somewhat to the marriage on
account of our youth and lack of means to earn a liy-
ing. But I told Adelbert we were well and able to
work, and he was strong and willing to make an effort.
So we settled down near where we were raised and
commenced farming in the suburbs of a small town.
We rented a little farm of about thirty acres that had
a shabby looking three-roomed house on it. This was
about one quarter of a mile from the post-office, so it
was but little trouble for me to go to town when 1 had
anything to sell.

We bought a horse and farming implements on credit
by paying twenty-five dollars in advance, which sum
Adelbert had saved up. And a kind neighbor, “who
owned several cows, allowed me to take one to silk.
When spring opened up and the fresh grass came along,
the cow’s milk-giving capacity increased greatly, and
by milking twice a day and feeding her in addition
from the garden, I soon found myself selling two slice

(72)

 

 

Perseverance and Success. 73

-of butter a week, at thirty-five cents a pound. This

made $2.80 a month. I kept this up all summer, and

-also sold quite a little bit of milk at ten cents a quart.
“This after saving what was necessary for our own use.

I had brought with me from home ten Plymouth Rock
hens and a rooster, and Adelbert had about a dozen

‘white Brahmas. We divided our yard by a slat board

fence and kept them separate. We fed them well and

‘they paid us in return. We sold from twelve to sixteen
-eggs a day the summer through, at an average of fifteen

-cents a dozen.

Later in the year we allowed some of the hens to set,

-and we sold quite a number of chickens at fifteen cents

apiece. But I think egg-selling paid better, for it was
more certain and required less expense and trouble.
I raised cabbages, cuéumbers and other vegetables, and

_ supplied them to the hotel regularly, and they brought

me in a good profit.
But right here I had*so much getting about to do

that we hired a little colored boy to carry the things to
market. His people were poor too, and I paid him
largely in vegetables and milk.

I used to take in sewing occasionally, but this I had
to do at night ; and I always made it a rule to never
sew later than ten o’clock, for I valued my eyesight.

By the middle of October of the first year I had saved
up and had in small change eighty-seven dollars. I
had twenty-three turkeys ready for market, worth about
one dollar apiece.

I now bought the cow for twenty dollars, my good
neighbor refusing pay for my keeping her during the
 

 

74 The Passing Clouds.

summer; and as they would not take the calf either, I
sold it for seven dollars and a half.

I was well pleased with my first year’s work so far,
and Adelbert had been equally successful with his farm-
ing. He paid for the horse and farming implements,
settled the little store account, and had corn and hay
enough to last the next year, and potatoes, rice, peanuts,.
and hogs still to sell.

About Christmas we counted out our money on hand
after the debts were all paid, and we had $283.75. We
were happy, felt very much encouraged, and I was eager
to begin the next year’s work.

We now subscribed for several newspapers, and I took
a magazine. I spent all my leisure time reading, and
when Adelbert came in at night too tired for anything,
I would read aloud for his benefit. Reading was a great
comfort to me when Adelbert was out at work, and I
often wished that we had a house up in town where I
would not be so lonely, and could see people getting
about.

I was afraid to put the money in bank or lend it out ;
so Adelbert told me to put it in an iron safe we had and
put it in a box of clothes under the bed; adding that no
one would ever think we had any money. I did this
and it proved to be all right.

The next year we worked along as we did before, but
I read a good deal more, and Adelbert did not want me
to work so hard. We hired a white woman to work
with me and live in the house ; she was a good compan-

ion and a great help tome. I rejoiced that we were

 

Perseverance and Success. 75

able to hire this woman, she was so nice about the house
and so much help to us.

Each year now found us working along in about the
same old way, but I could not save as much from my
work because our expenses almost doubled, and we had
to hire more work done as our family increased. But.
Adelbert was successful with his farming, and all went
well. We lived happily and time passed away rapidly. |

About the close of the sixth year Adelbert said one
day he believed we were about strong enough to build
a cottage up in town, where I could have more neigh-
bors and less work; he said he could carry on the farm
just the same. But I told Him not yet, for I was get-
ting along well enough. But I did long to get up in
town where I could have some social advantages ; for I
had gotten to be a great reader, and took several maga-
zines and read all the books I could get.

Early in our eighth year on the farm my husband told
me one night that he was going to build a house in
town, and I, to tell the truth, did not oppose it; but
rather encouraged him by saying that I would do all in
my power to make it a happy home. We soon bought
a lot and commenced to build a four-room cottage. We
had it all completed and were living in it at Christmas.

We could have built amore expensive house that would
have shown to better advantage, but we simply wanted. a
something new, complete and comfortable, and well i
finished on the exterior. Adelbert had decided to buy
the farm, and I told him this would be house a plenty
for us, certainly better than either of us had been used
to, and we were happy before. I think we have a very

 

SaaS
 

 

76 The Passing Clouds.

nice little cottage ; you would say so yourself, I am sure.
The plan is. convenient and simple. We have a wide
hall, eleven feet, with two rooms on the right, each six-
teen feet Square. The front room with a bay window,
we use for the parlor, in the rear of this is a bedroom,
on the left is my bedroom, in the rear of this the din.
ing-room, each sixteen feet square, and the dining-room
is connected with the kitchen by a porch, closed on the

west side, and built with reference to converting this

space into a dining-room should we ever need more room.
The kitchen is sixteen feet square, with a pantry at the
farther end. From the kitchen around to and includ-
ing the hall the back piazza extends, and the parlor
and the room in the rear of it are connected by a piazza
on the east side. The front porch extends along my room
and the hall. Outside the house is painted salmon and
trimmed with white and red, with green blinds. On
the inside it is painted throughout in imitation antique
oak. ‘The parlor paper has a green background figured
with growing wheat and daisies, the room on the right
~ has its walls covered with blue paper figured with wild
geese, and hunters with dogs. The paper in my room
is gray with red roses scattered at intervals, and the car-
pets and furnishings in the same coloring. The dining-
room is in pale green with a design of fruit and flowers.

. ee een oe

 

THE STORY OF THE MAGIC BRICK-THROWING:

OME years ago there lived on a farm near me a
S superstitious family of negroes who, having had
some trouble with a neighbor of their own na-
tionality, had become strongly convinced, in their
own imagination, that the house in which they lived
had been tricked by their enemies.
Now, if you understand the negro race, you will
know what they mean by being tricked, for this is a
common expression with them.
They believe that people; especially their enemies,

have the strange power to send evil spirits in various.

forms, and appearing in various disguises, to beset their
pathway and dog their very existence. So at night, if
these ignorant creatures heard a rat scratching about in

the ceiling, or any snapping of the timbers, or an un-.

usual rustle in the wind, they believed an evil spirit
was awaiting them to commit some serious depreda-
tion should they venture to close their eyes in sleep.
Those people sometimes have their superstitious craze
developed to such an extent as to become demented, and

sometimes raving, from the continued excitation of their:

wild fancies. Soit was with this family. ‘To avoid

such a catastrophe they left home, moved away, in, »

search of that blessed state of mental quietude of which.

the hideous spirits had robbed their home. No sooner

had they moved than the report went about that strange:
upheavals of nature were going on about the place.
(77)

 

paciepeeneetilitemaaating et ticipsapinmrentsamn

en

ety

EES ene:

Fann herr
ba The Passing Clouds. The Story of the Magic Brick-Throwing. 79

One honest and reliable old negro related that in
passing the premises he saw a tremendous quantity of
brick arising, apparently from three or four feet above

These organized invasions they would make over and
over again, at a few days, or at most, a few weeks in-
terval, during which an occasional negro, visiting the

 

a en net,

 

 

‘ground, and steadily ascending until well above the
roof, then suddenly they would fall and shower down
through the roof, and then become invisible. Nor
would the continuity of the roof be disturbed. The
brick seemed to arise from simply nowhere, and having
reached their destination, their mission being fulfilled,
they disappeared just as they had come. The excite-
ment among the common people and negroes, created
by the brick-throwing, was of a wild order, and the
interest they had taken in it, naturally enough, amused
the intelligent people, who, .of course, knew that
the negroes were simply victimized by their ignorant
and superstitious imagination. So the negroes, to make
themselves secure against any hostile demonstration
from the brick-throwing element, collected themselves
together and formed companies. Then they organized
brigades, armed with all kinds of weapons of defense,
and marched against their peculiar foe.

But on these occasions they always met with disap-
pointment. They would march up to the suspected
place, throw their men in position for a central and

decisive attack ; then, on finding everything quiet, the

air serene, they would gradually begin to investigate,

to find all at ease and nothing out of the ordinary go-

ing on. Et ey
Some peanut vines left on the floor were undisturbed,

save for a few mice that played among them and nibbled
away at the scattering fruit.

ening aia littl Ml ith tant

o> |

place alone, would observe all the horror and the

strange demonstrations already described.
These single visits, repeated by a number of influ-

ential negroes, would simply renew the excitement ;

which provoked another armed invasion, which, of

‘course, discovered nothing but possibly a stray rat

fishing about the dark corners; or perhaps a pair. of

hhouse-wrens who had taken possession of a gable cor-

nice and disputed the invader’s right to molest them in

their retired home. y

Frequently the army of invasion would attempt to

sseclude itself in the immediate vicinity, hoping that by

its apparent withdrawal the attack upon the unfortu-
nate house would be renewed, and they would then in
a mass attack the offending element. But on these
occasions their hopes would all go astray. No demon-
stration of any kind would.take place, and the army,

after withdrawing from the expected field of combat,
and being advised and charged by the leader, would

temporarily stack arms, subject to immediate or future
orders.

Prayer-meetings were frequently held, and all. kinds
of supplications made and sacrifices offered, if only the
Lord would descend in his glory and destroy the offend-
ing element.

I remember on one occasion, while passing.a colored
‘church, I was so impressed by the ‘intensity of the
‘sspeaker’s exhortation that I went up to the door for a
 

 

 

80 The Passing Clouds.

few minutes’ edification. The speaker had just con-
cluded a portion of his sermon, of which the whole con-
gregation seemed to heartily approve. The excitement
subsiding, he then continued : ‘‘My good brudders and
sisters, an’ friends in general, we learn from de Scrip-
tural teachin’ dat blessed is he what specteth little, for-
he shall not be ’ceived. Again we larn, an’ is frequently
reminded, that it is better fer ter give than ter receive,
Furthermore, dear friends, in general, we are ’vised ter
entertain strangers with no circumspection, for thereby
you may be wid angels unbeknown. These, my good
friends, are plain fac’s laid down in de Scripters, an’
finally handed down ter us by de Almighty, through his.
followers, de prophets. Now if we is ter foller de
teachin’ er de Lord, an’ am to live up to der divine
standard as set forth by de prophets, we must each an’
every one of us bind ourselves tergedder in a mighty
effort to upset de devilish workin’ er de gang, who, to.
spite an’ torment our ’zistence, have run our neighbor
and brudder frum his home, an’ set up on his premises.
a kind er strange upheaval in de form of a mighty in-
fernal brick-throwing. I, fer one, don know what de.
brick-throwing is, but I has seed the brick rise an’ fall,.
an’ I don’t blame my brudder fur leavin’ a place so in-
fected, an’ holdin’ out for him nothing but de prospect
of a certain and horrible death.

“T, fer one, inspired wid de hope an’ ’zire to find an’
pertect my neighbor, and to pint out to him and dem
de way dey should go, do b’l’eve dat de only hope fur
our safety lays in er mighty organized ’tack on de place,
wid well ’quipped guards held in ’zerve. I b’l’eve, dere-.

The Story of the Magic Brick-Throwing. 81

fore, we mus’ arm ourselves, march ter de — ter-
ror, erect a camp dere, an’ wait fer de nex’ "tack.

Right here I was so overcome with laughter that I
had to rush away from the sanctuary; for the congre-
gation, by their enlivened expressions, seemed to ac-
quiesce in his desperate plan. From the front door-
step I called to the preacher and told him to bring out
his deacons and members, for I wanted to explain the
folly of his discourse and the absolute fallacy of the
brick-throwing idea. They soon gathered about me,
expecting to hear a new revelation, or of some depre-
dation more atrocious than any already committed, per-
haps. But by quiet reasoning, I soon pacified them,
and, after explaining the utter folly of their supersti-
tion and absolute fallacy of their assertions, and the
utter impossibility of such occurrences, they took a
more reasonable view of the situation and agreed to
await patiently further developments. Longs

Soon after this the farmers in the vicinity, having
been disturbed a great deal by their hands stopping
work and being so demoralized by the colored agita-
tors, caught several of the leaders and with whatever
instruments of flagellation were most convenient ad-
ministered sound thrashings, which were speedily
efficient in settling the brick-throwing business.

 
 

 

 

THE MERCHANT’S BLACK HORSE.

KNEW a merchant who owned a black horse that
if seemed in many ways to be a very remarkable

beast. The merchant valued the animal more than
anything else in his possession, and always took great
pleasure in taking his friends out driving behind her;
who in turn were equally carried away with the rapid
and delightful manner in which she whirled them over
the road. Now, to tell the truth, this black horse was
very intelligent. She carried a high head, and stepped
up and moved off in the grandest kind of style. Most
any person would envy the one who held the ribbons
over her back.

One day some important business took the merchant
away for a few hours, and as _ he set off to return the
horse suddenly became unmanageable. She dashed away
down the road at an unearthly speed, snorting and puff-
ing like a steam engine, and foaming like waves on the
sea. Away the animal flew, every minute getting fas-
ter, until at last the merchant's strength became ex-
hausted. ‘No words can describe the horror of my sit-
uation,’’ said he, a few days later. “There I was sitting
helpless in the buggy, with the reins lying at my feet.
On each side of me there was a deep ditch, around
which huge trees were growing. The animal did not
take a straight course, but waived from one side to the
other, then up and then down. She switched her tail

(82)

eee
SAAT nat wt ee

 

The Merchant’s Black Horse. 83

furiously, and made me think that each minute she
would kick me into eternity.

I tried to crawl out the back of the buggy, but the
curtain was down, which prevented me from even lean-
ing backward.

For three miles I was carried under these horrible cir-
cumstances ; it seemed like a long time, but really it
could not have been more than a few minutes.

But six minutes, short as it may seem when one is
pleasantly entertained, is a different matter when every
minute you think the next will be your last ; or that the
tree next iu sight will be the one with which your head
will collide.

There is no telling how far I would have traveled, or
where we would have stopped, had it not been that the
road forked some ways ahead of me, and from the side
road, a horse, buggy and driver suddenly appeared in
front of me. I was on them in a moment, and shouted
with what little strength I had remaining, ‘Turn out!
‘Turn out!’ But either I was too slow or the black horse
too fast, I know not which, nor did I then have time
and composure enough to stop to consider the matter ;
for in a moment my team was all over his. Both horses,
buggies, drivers and all rolled over ina ditch. The
buggy of the other man had a closed top too. This was
broken off and turned bottom upward, with its occu-
pant quietly lodged inside.

As for myself the black horse did not stop a moment,
and in dragging my buggy over sideways, it passed over
a ditch, into which I rolled like a watermelon. The
horse kept on, but soon collided with a stump, which
 

 

 

 

84 The Passing Clouds.

strange to say, though neverthless the truth, set the
buggy straight on its wheels again, which in a moment
was out of sight. All this required but a few seconds.
I had gotten up from the ditch and assisted my good
friend in turning his buggy around on its all fours again,
and gracefully exchanged congratulations that neither
of us received even the slightest injury.

My friend’s horse had stood still, and seemed only to
look on and smile, as all the commotion was going on.
Fortunate it was for me, for there is no knowing what
we owe him for his dignified conduct during these ex-
citing moments. The black horse after running about a
mile further, turned into a large farm, where in jump-
ing a large canal, the buggy fell in it. This stopped the
horse, and she was soon found uninjured, by a party of
workmen who had collected and followed on after her.

The strangest feature of this peculiar episode is, that
there was absolutely no injury received, and no repairs
to be made except my: friend had to have his buggy top,
put back on the vehicle.

 

VISITING THE SICK.

HE practice of visiting the sick is one which is
a: most unmercifully abused; and the weight of
abuse falls on the unfortunate victim—the sick
person visited. Take, for example, a person in the sec-
ond week of typhoid fever. By this time all the neigh-
bors, and, in fact, all the people about town, have heard
of the unfortunate one; so each one resolves in a self-
sacrificing, religious kind of way to pay his respects to
the sick one. e
On entering the sick-room the visitor sees the atten-
tive mother sitting by the bedside, who motions to her
guest to take a seat but says not a word.

In a few moments another good woman enters the room
in the same manner. Of course they make some noise.
The patient has now roused up a little, turns over rest-
lessly, and sees some strange objects in the room, but
knows them not, neither does he care; he wants abso-
lute rest. His temperature is 104 degrees. The
mother gets a bowl of water and begins to bathe the
sick one.

The first woman who came in gets up from her chair,
and in doing so snags one foot against the rug, but, still
undismayed, makes her way to the bedside and, with
increased exuberance, asks the patient if he does not
feel a little bit better.

The patient, not knowing night from day, but, how-

ever, conscious of being annoyed, turns restlessly on
(85)
 

 

86 : The Passing Clouds.

e

the other side, throws his arms about in wild delusion,
picks at some imaginary object about him, and gives
expression to bodily suffering.

His temperature now begins to rise. The second wo-
man had gone out for a drink of water, but has returned
and, making her way to the bedside, assures the pa-
tient that he will be well in a few days and extends an
invitation to spend a day with her as soon as he has.
gained strength enough to eat.

The good mother, afraid that she might offend her
neighbor, but all the time realizing the harm being
done, has worked steadily at her bathing. But the con-
dition of things causing the rise of temperature was
more powerful than her means to reduce it, so her
efforts are in vain. But, with renewed energy, she
continues her work, while the visitors take part in a
spirited conversation, each side being reinforced from
time to time by the arrival of another visitor coming in
to help the tired mother. And so the afternoon wanes
and the conversation waxes warin. The good mother
realizes that against this deplorable condition her efforts
are futile, breaks down and begitis to cry. What won-
der, when “man’s inhumanity to man makes countless.
thousands mourn.”’

The afternoon is now well-nigh spent ; the attending
physician calls around as usual. He enters the room,
says not a word, but goes on to the patient and, at
a glance, takes in the situation. He finds the pulse
130, temperature 1043 degrees. He had left him at
2 o'clock with a pulse at 98 and temperature of ror

 

 

Visiting the Sick. 87

degrees, and the patient resting quietly, manifesting no
sign of suffering.

The patient turns over and seems to recognize a friend
—a friend who has seen him two or three times a day
for ten days, but has not asked him how he felt but once
in all that time. A person who knows anything of hu-
man nature and human expression can tell how a per-
son feels without asking. The countenance speaks for
itse lf, not only in the human family but down among
the lower animals. The courteous inquiry for a per-
son’s health is simply a matter of form, and a misera-
ble form too, when applied to the sick.

But the physician, recognizing the situation, inter-
feres with the conversation, and invites the callers into
another room (a distant room most desirable), and closes
the door. He now begins with a quiet tongue, and the
free use of cold water to repair to some extent the dam-
age done, which after a time is fairly successful, and
after taking his nourishment and a little cracked ice,
his patient peacefully turns again and now is asleep.

The room is quiet and there is no one present save
patient, mother and doctor, ‘The clock is out in the
hall, and in its place there hangs a watch. The room
is quiet—the patient apparently comfortable.

Put yourself in the patient’s position. People in
general make a great mistake in their method of ex-
pressing their solicitude for their fellow-beings, and
most frequently great harm is done unintentionally.
What person is so base that he would, from mere wan-
tonness, add to his neighbor’s distress ? Yet, through
ignorance or misguided judgment, we often do it. Ig-
 

 

 

88 The Passing Clouds.

norance for which we alone are responsible, for we cul-
tivate it.

Have you lived twenty years and not been sick with
a fever or had a raging headache? Well, then, did you
want the whole town to come in and inquire for your
health? No; most certainly, no! You wanted to be
let peacefully alofie, after the proper remedies were ad-
ministered, with the soothing influence of some soft,
gentle hand. Why make undue disturbance? When
you come in the sick-room make your advent as soft and
gentle as possible; simply bow to those present; take a
seat, if there is a vacant one, whether invited to or not, if
you are in the habit of calling or are a friend to the
family. And when you leave it is not necessary to
even say farewell. You went simply as a matter of
. form, to show the family that you remember them, and
not to make an afternoon call, or to work as a servant.

Be quiet in the sick-room. For humanity’s sake,
don’t talk in the sick-room! I mean, of course, when
the patient is very sick, or is nervous,

When the patient is getting better, and is clear of
fever, then he can appreciate a pleasant caller, and fre-
quently asks that they come in to see him.

One of the hardest things in all this world for two
women to do, whether sitting or standing, riding or
swimming, is to remain many minutes together without
talking. They are generally absolutely invulnerable
to any situation, and as a rule, when two or more are
together their tongues, though apparently riveted in
the center, but with free margin, yield an incessant

 

Visiting the Sick. 89

melody from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof,
nor do they stop then.

Be quiet in the sick-room, or don’t enter at all ; never
there attempt to lead in conversation ; leave this for
the mother or nurse to do. And if there seems to be
a superabundance of company in the room, get up
‘quietly and leave. Don’t wait for somebody else to
‘start.

And don’t select a public gathering—the hotel table
or a crowded store—to inquire the nature of the sick-
ness of those latest stricken down, and oftentimes it is

better not to inquire at all.

e
 

 

 

A STORM AT SEA.

] LAY on my pillow at night

And heard the ocean roar;
When presently the tempest

Rose higher than before.

I thought of my dear old mother

And my sister jolly and gay.

And wished for just one moment.

I could see the light of day.

The horror of those moments
No words ean ever tell;

I raised up from my pillow
And felt the ocean swell.

‘Just a few more seconds,
Let’s be resigned to die,”
The captain raised his voice,
Then lowered with a sigh.

The words he said were true—
We felt the lathered foam,
And a boy’s wandering spirit
Sends this message home.

(90)

|

THE SOUTHERN NEGRO,

ginia became involved in a discussion about the
American Negro with a Massachusetts lawyer,
and in reply to the lawyer the physician spoke, accord-
ing to reports, with decided firmness and in a very con-
vincing manner. He thus proceeded in his characteris-
tic style, after relating an amusing anecdote: And

Ay as months ago a physician living in Vir-

while I am aware of the fact that in many places there

exists such a conglomeration of ideas and such a neg-
lected ignorance of the actual existing conditions that

a true and unbiased consideration of this matter is quite

improbable; and, furthermore, knowing well enough
how the idea exists in some parts of the country that
the Southern people are prone to abuse, discredit, de-
ceive and defraud the Negro of his common rights and
privileges, and of a true, just and rightful recognition
of him away from home. But, granting if you please,
that in this special case these accusations are not appli-
cable, and that no such evil motives actuate the speaker
of the few facts here set forth, and, furthermore, if the
dispassionate, unprejudiced hearer could imagine him-
self once for all giving to the Southern people a proper
recognition of their superior wisdom in dealing with a
mighty yet trying problem, they would be willing to
admit that the Southern people are seeking with tire-
less energy and a never waning courage to elevate the
Negro, and by improving him mentally and morally,
(91)

x
 

 

 

92 The Passing Clouds.

‘develop in him a degree of reliability and stableness of
character as to make him a helpful neighbor. Asa
friend of the Negro, as one who will not discredit
‘or turn from him in-need, I want to sa
can discuss the Negro intelligently, y
him. You must live among them; y
and work for them.
really is.

night.

him
y that before you
ou must first know

ou must work them
You must know the Negro as he
You must know him in the daylight and at
You must know him on the street and on the

farm ; on the country highways and lounging about the
street corners laughing and bawlin

that appeals to his humorous nature
in his sorrow and know his sy
You must see him rally
wife only to take another
before her tracks have be
his door. You must kno

g out at everything
- You must see him
mpathy for his sick ones.
from his grief for a deceased
ina few months’ time—often
en erased from the sand about

w that his weak and vacillating
will-power are in perfect submission to a stronger mind,

and it is the Negro characteristic to crave a vicious
leader. You must know something of his anatomy and
his histological make-up ; of the effect of heat and ex-
ercise on the minute glandular structure of his skin,
You must have been for at least one hour ina tight
Toom, on a hot summer day, where at least one hundred
Negroes were confined. ‘Then you would get the sweet
aroma that exhales from his skin, and the gentle winds
blowing through the South would waft it along to the
sea,

“As a feather is wafted downward from an eagle in its flight.”

The Negro of forty years ago was a striking contrast
to the Negro of to-day. For in those days he was raised

 

The Southern Negro. 93:

<new his.
up to work; he was taught to work, and he kne

work. He went about it with a merry heart and sang,

as he worked up and down the rows, his native lulla-.
bies. ‘The Negro was happy then; he had no care, no-

thought. He worked during the day and at night had
his food already prepared for him, so there was nothing

to do after supper but lie down and sleep, and this is the:
most glorious state for the Negro; let him lie down for

: rah
a nap and he is happy; but attempt to arouse him fo

any cause and you will have to raise your voice. The-
Negro sleeps heavily. In those days there was nothing to:

disturb him ; he was used to it and trained that way. It
suited him and he flourished under it. After waking
in the morning they had their breakfast and went their
usual paths to work. The old Negroes in those days

were generally reliable and had a higher appreciation:

of character than they ever exhibit in the present day.
This was because they were kept more constantly in con-

tact with the white people and their absorption there-.

from was in excess of theinjury wrought by evil asso-

ciation. While nowall the good you could infuse into.

a Negro in a week’s time would be completely displaced
and eradicated by the evil influence of one rowdy party,

or a drunken carousal, or the explosion of one plot to.

ievish exploit.
Pe ae a he neat had his parties and other
social festivities just as they do to-day, only now the
natural humor of their nature is subdued by the bois-
terous revelry of liquor-drinking.

The young Negro of to-day does not consider himself
fixed at all for a social gathering unless he has a bottle-
 

 

 

 

ES . aes,

94 The Passing Clouds.

provide themselves, and thus rend

musical strains. But the Negro of to-day is of a differ-
‘ent breed altogether. Collectively, I mean most cer-
tainly, for surely there are some exceptions to most an
general type of a thing, and I would not doa single dia
the slightest injustice. But [ mean, you understand
the great and surging bulk of the Negroelement. The
are raised up on the streets, or country roads, just as it
may happen. They begin to walk about, many of
them, by the time they are seven or eight months old

f this many of them are rachitic. I

Negroes down in Georgia wh
not walk down the middle of a thr : eer:

‘without jabbing into the stalks with t
was the deformity. But the

‘want their meat and bread and liquor.

As the little Negroes grow up nowadays, they are sent
to school, many of them, and the white people pay all

the expenses—schoolhouse buildj i
e building, paying th
and everything. co ee

the air with their

ee-foot cotton row
heir knees, so great
y care nothing for this; they

The Negro tax amounts to nothing
managed to depart from the ways a
fellow-beings enough to accumulate a
manages to deceive the tax lister.
‘South it is so hard to make a Negro
1s a well-known fact that it costs almo
lect the tax as it is worth.
‘puted fact, it must be plain t
pay all the costs,

for he who has

little property
And here in the
pay a debt that it
st as much to co]-
So in view of this undis-
o all that the white people

The Southern Negro. 95

After a time the little Negroes learn to read, write

cand spell a little, have become very proficient in swear-

ing and general vulgarity, and begin to smoke cigarettes,
dip snuff and wear their hats on one side, or rather,
hung on one ear—a great fashion with the African race.

They now begin to pin large, showy flowers on their
clothes, tie white handkerchiefs around their necks and
walk about in a sporty fashion,spending their time drum-
ming away on old musical instruments but making
very little progress in their books.

The average Negro has not sense enough to acquire
an education ; he is not intended for that. His head is
too flat and thick, his lips teo clumsy; he is too indo-
lent and unworthy ; he is too ungrateful.

The little Negroes grow up rapidly. They are grown

at fifteen or sixteen years in most cases, and they now

have all the knowledge a human Leing can possess.
They call themselves educated. They are Negro gen-
tlemen and ladies, you understand, and they despise
work, they lounge about, drink whisky, smoke cigarettes
and try by every possible means to avoid work. ‘They
are expert in this capacity. They apply for schools,
start little stores, skip their rent, eat up the profits, and
finally wind up and skip at night. They organize sere-
nading clubs, try to be various kinds of agents, ped-
dlers, and in fact do anything to avoid manual labor, for
which they were intended and so peculiarly fitted by their
natural power of endurance and indifference to their sur-
roundings.

The educated Negro enjoys walking about town with
the handle of a walking-cane stuck in his mouth, and
96

   
   
  
   
   
   

The Passing Clouds.

a red silk handkerchief around his neck
one of these he is indifferent about vieldin
! sidewalk to you, and it is not uncommon

four walking together to attempt to force children off

into the street. They feel that they are of some impor-

tural, inherent, vulgar ignorance,

If you meet
g any of the
for three or

 

parents did not believe in any
at home at work, he knows the

of the old mule, he enj i
; joys his
three meals a day, but looks enviously on his enlight-

ened neighbor who has gone to town and with whom he
comes in contact Saturday and Sunday,

have to go to town on Saturda
lounge around. They all like
cent. of them will drink all th
inveterate gamblers,

earnings in one Saturda
towards morning
the house to eat.

education. He was kept
cornfields and the tread

For all negroes
y to drink whisky and
liquor. Ninety-five per
fy can get, and they are
They will throw away a week’s
tday night’s game, and then go home
» Without a penny and with nothing in

 

ness, I told the Negro man to li

ht the lamp. -
sponded ‘ The oil is all out.” r oid bie a

I then told him to build.

7 ; wana 2 : ar ENE tate

se

The Southern Negro. 97

up a fire, and to this suggestion he replied that he had
gotten in so late that he could not see to get any wood.

But I was fortunate enough to have some matches in
my vest pocket and by striking one after another I se-
cured the advantage of sufficient light to prepare the
woman some medicine which in a few minutes gave her
ease.

But this man had found time and money a few hours
before this experience to get a bottle of whisky to last
him through Sunday which stood ona table near the
bed. But the oil and the wood he lost sight of.

Oh! that liquor, that liquor, that is the one thing
nearest the Negro’s heart. “We meet with such cases
as this almost every day, and I only mention this one be-
cause it is so fresh in my mind and illustrates so clearly
the low and common ideals of the Negro race. ‘The
Negro as an independent workman, or farmer, is a hope-
less failure.

He cannot lead, he must follow, he must work as a
hand or under an overseer; You cannot trust him. Nor
can he trust himself—he is even treacherous to himself
from mere wantonness.

He is sullen, shirking and absolutely unreliable. There
is no reason about him and he is devoid of judgment.
Give him a horse and buggy and he will drive it to ruin;
he will not distinguish between animal endurance and
the power of steam or water.

But give him an old mule or an ox and put him on
the farm and he is at home; this is the best place for
him ; he gets in less trouble at this, and then again, this

Tpe

—
   
     
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

98 The Passing Clouds.

is as high a calling as the genuine full-blooded Negto

need aspire to, for he cannot maintain his equilibrium
on a higher plane.

‘

THE ANGLO-SAXON ELEMENT.

Whenever and wherever you find a Negro success-
fully engaged in advanced educational work, or a
thriving mercantile business, or a flourishing busi-
ness of any kind, or one who has a good under-
standing of the ordinary comforts of civilization and
the obligations and responsibilities of life, you find
the Anglo-Saxon element asserting itself, and its supe-

rior instincts overpowering and suspending the groveling
Negro proclivities.

This is why so many negroes have succeeded over
their fellows. ‘They are half breeds.

It is the white element that tells. Take this from
them and they would all be common vulgar Negroes
with the rest—with no regard for right or wrong, truth
or not, except in those cases where the Negro in work-
ing with his white neighbors, absorbs from them refin-
ing elements, which in time often work a complete
change in the Negro conduct and manner.

Keep the Negro at home on the farm at work, and
there it is that the best that he is capable of will be
realized. Any attempt on the part of public officers,
threugh policy or otherwise, to show favoritism to the
Negro race by honoring half breeds at social or political

festivities has a blighting influence on the whole Negro
persuasion. It makes them impudent, arrogant and some-
times discontented. It makes them all think they should

 

The Southern Negro. 99

share the same honor, and as the final result of these,
many Negroes receive chastisement which always does
ag siicieiabs not that the Negro leaders thus honored
are worthy citizens. ‘The common Negro does not dis-
tinguish one from the other, nor does he care, it is sim-
ply a morbid instinct with him. He wants to be doing
as others are.

The Negro at home does fairly good work if you watch
him, but you must not leave him alone or your work
will go to ruin, for he will shirk allhe can. But we ex-
pect that of most any common laborer, and so ak forgive
him each month enough to hang him in a year’s time.

The Negro as acriminal is widely known. This is
his most famous characteristic—a lover of crimes. But
his crimes are generally on the petty order, with the ex-
ception of his love for murder. ;

He does not plan and execute a daring train robbery ;
he is not bold enough for that. He has not mechanical
instinct enough to formulate and execute the necessary
plans. He rarely enters a bank or post-office with plans
laid to engineer a robbing exploit. But for the theft of
small sums about his employer’s house, barn or farm, he
isan expert. He can carry a grown chicken or a ham
where the average person could hardly carry a purse.

I would not be surprised if there are not Negroes
drawing pensions from the government to-day for alleged
disabilities received in the civil war, which, if the facts
were known, were caused by a steel trap in his neigh-
bor’s barn or smokehouse. an

A few years ago there was a negro preacher living
100 The Passing Clouds. The Southern Negro. iid

near me who was drawing a pension and was making
application for an increase, though he had been a marl-
digger and ditcher all his life and still followed this
work. *Of course he never heard a gun fire during the

war, and I doubt if he ever assisted in throwing up the
breastworks.

holds the negro in the hollow of his hand. He controls

his vote absolutely. He does only as his political idol

instructs him. ‘The politicians of this type are the "
most depraved and vicious characters imaginable. They

have only to tighten their grasp and the negro squeals. my
They use the negro simply as a means to gain an ists Sy, ;
—the object is a political appointment, or patronage ) ow a
some kind. ‘These crafty fellows who manipulate the

The penitentiary seems to have a great attraction for
the negro, and the State prisons throughout the South

are full of them, and probably these do not make up
more than fifty per cent. of those that should be there.

 

a
mig

 

The rest are going at large, so far having escaped the

.. arm of law, or have been pardoned or allowed to escape

prison or guards.

Recently, while the East Carolina Railroad was being
constructed, ninety-five convicts were engaged in doing
the rough work, and of this number three were white-
The rest were the genuine negro. This shows fairly
well the proportion of white and black criminals, though
the white population in the South exceeds the black.

The negro is worked to better advantage this way
than any other. They hardly ever attempt to escape
the guards, and the strict discipline seems to be a good
thing for them. In fact there have a few miserable
wretches served out their sentence and later on turned
out to be of some service to the community. So it may
be safely said that this kind of training school is a good

thing for at least twenty per cent. of the negro popula-
tion.

IN POLITICS.

As a political factor, the negro is simply a tool in the
hands of his intellectual superiors. The astute politician

 

negro vote do more to debauch politics and Pai,
the negro against his white friends than all the other

kinds of evil combined.

. . : tae
As the result of the negro in politics he is given quite

aliberal allowance of Federal patronage. The Treasury de-
partment alone employs about 210 negroes, and the In-
terior department about 200, paying them $271,000 annu-
ally. The Government printing department employs about
168. ‘The State department gives employment to quite
a number, and the Consular service and post-office de-
partment employ quite a few, and in addition to this
they are given places in the Army and Navy. The ae
offices throughout the South smell with the negroes
characteristic odor. ae

But here, as in other places, he isa menace to civiliza-
tion, owing to his thievish practices and natural impru-
dence.

It might seem at a glance, without deliberating, that
the negro, holding so many important positions of trust,
must be of some merit and importance, but this is simply
the easiest, and possibly the most legitimate, way, to re-
ward him for his services. And except from the stand-
point of commercialism, the negro would be unknown
 

 

 

 

102 , cn The Passing Clouds.

in political uf offi , as well as in many other vocations
into which he has gained extrance.

But whether You seek to praise the negro or malign
him, or take a fair unbiased view of him as he exists in
the multitude, several things must be acknowledged by
all, and due credit given him for all that is deserving.

We all know the negro is happy and contented in the
South. He loves the warm sunshine and has a catlike
domesticity about him. He becomes attached to the
surroundings connected with his early associations, and
often becomes strongly attached to his old plantation
home: Rut ;

The negroes of the South give less trouble to their
employers than any other class of laborers. Think of
the immense army at work in the fields, and yet a strike
among them is unknown. ‘They never offer any armed
resistance as the rebellious laborers of the North and
West do. All the trouble that has ever come from the
negro in the South was due to malicious publications by
political office-seekers, and speeches made by them in
the back-woods. This has been a great menace to the —

South. wae:

I refer to that type of politician whose business it is
to collect the negroes at woods churches and other
isolated places and stuff them with corn whisky while
they pour forth in deceitful words the fruit of enduring
evil.

 

oe ep lad
 

 

 

 
(“See seb ia S ae Sik 98

i ‘
oe

 

 

 

 

 

ne

 
Dhow Sum - G-F- i

Dr. and Mrs. Soh id wae
zelle attended the funeral today
of their uncle, Dr. David S. Mor-
rill of Farmville. A well-known
physician in Eastern Carolina,
Dr. Morrill died in the Pitt Me-
morial Hospital in Greenville on
Wednesday night from a stroke,

 

 
RMN Ne me EE ee eee ae