Evening Star Newspaper, December 23, 1893, Page 12

= 12 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1898-TWENTY PAGES. AS IT IS TODAY. oene of the Massacre of Fort Gris- wold, INCIDENT OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR A Bloody Deed Under the Leader- ship of Benedict Arnold. CALM AND FAIR NEW LONDON Written tor The Evening Star. OWN THROUGH eastern Connecticut flows the beautiful Tham river to where it breake through the rolling hills and mingles its waters with Long Island sound, form- ing one of the most beautiful and con- venient harbors on our coast. The early settlers recognized this and founded here fm 1640 the city of New London, which grew end thrived tntil, at the beginning of the fevolutionary war, it was the center of an immense seafaring trade for this country @t that early day. In the harbor many privateers fitted out to prey upon the West Indian commerce of the British, and so suc- @essful were these voyages that the brave People of the little city became particularly e@bnoxious to the British commanders in America. In 1781 the climax was reached when Capt Saltonstall’s little privateer Mi- @Berva captured the rich British merchant- man Hannah, loaded with thousands of dollars worth of costly stores for New York merchants and stores of war for the Brit- {sh troops. The British commander de- termined to teach the daring people of New London a lesson, so he looked around for @ leader for an expedition against them. Whis leader was to be a man of vengeance and no heart, so he was soon found in the Person of Benedict Arnold, the traitor, who ‘had betrayed our cause in 1730. don, and nothing is dearer to them than the knowledge that such were their ances- ters. At the foot of the hill in Groton the house is still standing where the wounded were left by the British, and between New London and Norwich the house where Ar- nold was born and raised is still in a fair state of preservation. After the wer cloud scattered the city re- gained its prestige on the sea, and every year the whaling fleet started out with the tears and prayers of the “girls they left be- hind,” only to be welcomed back at the end of the whaling season with great rejoicing, except the few whose “ships never came in” mourned apart from the joyous crowd. The proceeds of a single successful voyage amounted to a good fortune, and often the hardy old whalers chose a “mate for life” from girls that wel them “whalin’ fleet come in” are still dear, and they, at least, would rather see the black hulls and square single topsai) of the whalers Rtn fe e pleas- yachts or the pon milit Miasts of the man-of-war. In 1650 Gov. Winthrop Where Arnold Landed. treasured bit of the “days of long right in the heart of g p@pulous city. Capt. Saltonstall’s descendants still live in Con- necticut, and have among their treasures many of the trophies'taptured by the daring captain from the British ships; while the Ledyard family holds as a precious treas- ure the leather waistcoat worn by the col- onel, with the hole where the traitor thrust him, and the dark stain of his life blood. Part of the original headstone over Col. Ledyard’s grave still stands, almost ruined by relic hunters, while near it a more modern and tmposing monument has been erected within late years. oe heen ——_ +e THE MAKING OF A VIOLIN. The Perfect Instrument a Rare Pro- daucti Indge Hiram L. Sibley in Yocate. To many it will seem strange that a good ew York Christian Ad- its purely mechanical construction appears to be quite simple, compared with such in- struments as the piano and organ, yet the highest success in making it is far more rare than with them. Most makers in con- The Old Town Mill. Arnold was born a few miles above New London and he knew every street and Bouse of the town and many of its good cit- izens were his erstwhile acquaintances, nd in his heart there lurked no love for ‘them or his former home. The first the in- habitants knew of the intended raid was ‘when the dawning light of September 6, 4781, showed the British fleet approaching ‘the harbor through the race passage. Near- ly every able-bodied man was away with the armies of Washington and Gates, so only the old men and boys and a few crip- pled soldiers were left to defend the town, but the alarm was spread and one hun- @red and twenty-five men gathered in the fort that crowned Groton hill on the oppo- aite side of the river from the city. The British landed about three miles belew the town on the New London side where the Present lighthouse now stands and march- ed up to the city, meeting only a feeble re- sistance. They set fire to stores, houses, @nd ships, and after this wanton destruc- tion, embarked and crossed the river to @ttack the fort. There were about twelve hundred of the British against the hun- @red and twenty loyal colonists in the fort, ‘whose guns were few and poorly mounted. it Col. Ledyard, who commanded the dful of Americans determined to make @ brave stand, and as the British approach- @4 they were met with a determined fire | that told in their ranks, but the force of mumbers was against the Americans and the British made a most determined as- sault on the fort, and secured an entrance. Col. Ledyard seeing that further resist @nce would be only folly determined to sur- wender; accordingly when the British com- mander demanded who commanded the fort, the colonel stepped out and holding bis sword with the hilt toward the Brit- ish commander, saying: “I did command ft, but you do now.” structing a dozen violins will have a “hit” with one, which makes it worth all the rest, as to tone—the great point in the result. So tar as I can learn, after a good deal of in- tuiry and many trials, there is but one liv- ing master of the art and science of violin building who can assume uniform quality in the instrumenis he turns out. Their con- struction is a complicated work, having in it some very subtle elements. The first point is to select the woods of which a vio- lin is to be made. These are certajn kinds of fir and maple. Experiment shows that each has its specific pitch and kind of tone, and that they also differ in these respects simply as woods. Then there is every grade of quality in each of these woods, from the worthless in tone to the almost matchless specimens in the greatest violins, so that to get the best woods of both kinds is funda- mental to success. There also must be an exact relation of difference between the tone pitch of the fir and maple which are to join in making an instrument. More- over, whether the plates that constitute the top and back shall be worked thin or left comparatively thick in certain definite, fine- ly g-aded proportions in each case depends upon the woods being of their kiads hard or soft, and a fault here will be disastrous. In short, the more than fifty pieces which en- ter into the construction of a good violin must be put in such adjustment of each to the other, and to all, as nothing short of the finest skill in and genius for a fine art can accomplish. ‘The placing of the small stick, called the sound-post, which connects, for purposes of vibration, the front and back, is a delicate matter, as, if it be moved the thirty-second part of an inch from the right position, in @ good instrument, the tone will be im- paired. So important in fact is this little st, that it has been called “the soul of the violin.” ‘Then the bass-bar, a strip of wood near ten inches long, on the inside under and about in line with the G string, which 18 termed the “nervous system” of this king, is a most ditticult thing to adjust in size, shape, mode of contact ahd precise po- sition. Ole Bull experimented with makers for many years, trying to work out a rule for this. ‘The slightest deviation from the right thing here is fatal to the best tone re- sults. But this is not all. ‘Ihe positions of pest and bar are peculiar to each instru- ment. Moreover, the strain of the strings on the body of the violin—near 60 pounds pull, with 20 down pressure on the bridge— Fort Griswold. ‘The Englishman iook the sword and — it Into the heart of the gallant of- + who had surrendered it, and then @ave the order “no quarter,” and the En- gun soldiers kept up the carnage regard- of the cries for mercy until all but about eighteen of the little garrison lay @ead or wounded. Then a young English officer succeeded in stopping the savage Mame, as the well known rules o every civilized country prescribe death as the punishment for the soldier who shall kili a prisoner or an enemy who has sur- fendered. The English then buried their wn dead and sent their wounded to the ships, then decided to blow up the fort, but first. to remove the wounded Americans. In haste the victors piled the wounded ricans in a great farm wagon and Started it down the hill to a group of houses below, but the wagon escaped from the sol- @iers on the steep incline and went crash- ing to the foot of the overturning and ing its load of wounded soldiers out. Some of them were carried into a house f by and others were left where they felt from the wagon to be cared for by kind friends later. The British laid a pos der train to the magazine and embar: but one of the patriotic Americans disco: ered it and put it out. The British carried off a load of plunder from this vengeful expedition; a hundred homes had been made forsaken by the loss of husband or father, and half of the pretty city lay in ashes while nothing had been gained for the Brit. tah caus>, but the satisfaction to Arnold, e traitor, of burning his home an: a < his home and killing As It is Today. Today the beautiful river flows as of old, but no hostile fleet is near; nothing but fleet, trim yachts and white men-of-war or excursion tugs, flitting from the town to the summer hotels at the mouth of the fiver. On the hill where the old fort stood the memory of the heroes who fell there in 1781 is kept fresh by a granite monument, 140 feet high. from whose top the city and harbor and the stone-wailed farms beyond stretch out into 2 beautiful picture, and the Long Island Sound waters stretch to the im shores of the island as peacefully as if they had never been ruffied by a hostile Prow. The old fort is now only an outline of grass-grown mounds, and where Arnold landed is a pleasure beach,from whose white sands the harbor light house rises. The monument has a list of those who fought * onfair fieht. and among the names I noticed many that are still @emmon among the good folk of New Lon- is an element in the problem; as isthe po- sition of the neck, finger-board, the little blocks inside, and “linings” at the edges of the sides. All tell on the final result, and fault anywhere may cost the success one secks. Nor can the varnish be overlooked. ‘The object of thi to adorn and protect No spirit varnish, however, . It must te of a nature to cover the body of the instrument somewhat as the skin does the flesh, attached closely, but in a degree ficxible to what is under it, not absolutely rigid, as that would prevent perfect vibration of the wood, and so mar the tone, A Lupot violin 1 once owned had varnish put on by the maker seventy years before which indented when pressed, but did not fracture. From this I think it will be seen that for a carpenter to work out a rough approximation to the violin, in form and feature, upon which simple jigs may be sawed in painful monotony, is quite a dif- ferent thing from producing those splendid violins given us by the great Cremona mak- ers, or the no less valuable works of a few or the moderns. “To perfect that wonder of travel—the locomotive,” says Sir W. E. Gladstone, “has perhaps not required the expenditure of more mental strength and application than to perfect that wonder of music, the violin.” ——+oo-______ About Lady Brooke. | From Harper's Bazar. Massacre, for it could be called by no other | Lady Brooke, whom the death of the Earl * war of of Warwick has made the Countess of War- | wick, and mistress of the great castle that jhas been visited and admired by many American travelers, has @ better claim to esteem than the beauty for which she is | noted, the skill and dash with which she | drives @ four-in-hand, or even her intimate friendship with the Prince and Princess of | Wales. At her country seat Lady Brooke | organized and supports a school for the edu- | cation of girls in such profitable trades as dressmaking, millinery, embroidery, lace | making and the like, and there are more |than a hundred girls now learning these | Ways of making a good living. The new {countess has the reputation of being a | charming hostess, despite her well-known | abhorrence of bores and her indifference to public opinion, She plays and sings well, is | a clever artist, an excellent linguist and a | writer of no mean ability. She is just | thirty-three years of age. ——— coo Coming Down With the Dust. From Life. violin should not easily be made. But while | | THE APPLEBY PUMPKIN. From the New York Evening Post. OOKS,LIKE POETS, are born, not made. I do not assert that experience, training, culture, if you please, count for nothing, nor ‘that the most delicate perception, |], the deftest manipu- lations and the most impeccable instincts can dispense with suitable material, and the same is true of the poet. But, given these conditions, and ninety-nine persons out of a hundred can produce nothing be- yond the conventionally good dinner which the hungry may eat with satisfaction, and, with reasonable prudence, escape harm. The hundredth does something more. The dishes need not be numerous nor very ex- d | pensive, but there is about them that subtle, intangible and altogether delightful quality which in literature and art we call genius, A poem is but an aggregation and arrange- ment of entirely arbitrary signs, standing for equally arbitrary and unmeaning sounds, which in turn are symbols of crude and ill-defined ideas; and yet how charming is the possible result. Mrs. Appleby was that hundredth. Her opportunities were, indeed, not very wide | 7 nor her fame extended. To her table came only such things as are within the reach of people of moderate means. But whether in the cooking of a steak, the baking of bread, the preparation of cakes and pastry, the bric-a-brac, so to speak, of cookery, she touched nothing that she did not adorn. Nevertheless, like other artists, she had her specialties. Although everything was excellent, not everything was superlative. The loftiest mountain range does not main- tain a uniform height throughout its extent, but here and there pushes up above its fel- lows some sublime peak, clothed in spot- less purity and lighted with the splendors of the sky. In some such way rose conspic- uous above the high level—shall I say table- land?—of “culinary success her pumpkin pies. Into their perfectness there entered not merely good country milk, but actual cream without stint, eggs of absolute fresh- ness, rich, smooth, delicious pumpkin in a felicitous union, all étherealized by the most consummate blending of spicy aromas. It was held in a worthy setting. For its be- ginning there was, of course, the finest of the wneat. 1 am told that w was lard in it, but one not in the secrets of cookery would not have suspected anything 80 gross in so fine a creation. Light, ieathery, tiaky, it seemed rather @ sea-toam, arrested and semi-solidified by some spell, just tangible enough to be molded into a fairy cup, ull, fixed by the alchemy of fire, with its am- brosial mixture it should emerge a thing of beauty and desire. As for, the color—oh, call them not ples, but pletures. Where could you match the golden brown, wavy, finely wrinkled skins save in some old Flemish inting. s But ‘ase, preliminary td the masterpiece of high culinary art, this kitchen lyric, it you please, it was necessary first to catch the pumpkin, This had always, to be sure, been very easy for Mrs. Appleby. The prob- lem had been what disposition to make of the very surfeit of good things which her own orchards, garden and field furnished for her table. For her great creation noth- ing would answer but the good, old-fashion- ed Connecticut field-pumpkin. As to those substitutes to which people of lower ideals sometimes resort, squashes, however excel- lent for other uses, sweet pumpkins, cao- haws, sweet potatoes, and—heaven help us!. even Irish potatoes, she held them in utter contempt. But there came a time when these condi- tions were greatly changed. It was the ex- quisite irony of fate that Mr. A. should be “rewarded” for some partisan service by a small appointment at the seat of govern- ment. in comparison with the income on which they had lived with great comfort, the salary seemed quite muniticent. They had always classed themselves with “poor people,” but their views of wealth and pov- erty were destined to a speedy change. So their roomy, comfortable old house, with its lawns, its great shade trees and its flowers, gave place to the narrow city house, whose very breath seemed squeezed out of it by larger and taller neighbors. It was “cozy,” convenient, with all modern im- provements; a “beautiful house,” the agent declared, but it seemed a little queer. The city of ‘magnificent distances is, in fact, built up in blocks like other cities, There are a few, very few, exceptions, where the older citizens have retained lawns and even small gardens; but for the most part even the wealthy must content themselves with a little strip of grass between their houses and the street, euphemistically called ‘‘park- ing.” The Applebys had in front a morsel of ground about as big as a large news- paper of the fashion of some years ago. At the back was a similar bit, over which an_ ambitious asphalt walk had attempted to spread itself. The little remnant lent itself passively to a few turfs of downtrodden and dejected grass. What with the neichboring houses and the high board fence, the sun, which does not shine every day in Wash- ington, made only occasional and brief visits in the middle of the day. There are few ills that cannot be cured. The satisfactions of life pretty much all come from a harmonious adjustment of peo- ple to their surroundings. There were, indeed, many compensations for their losses. Washington is a beautiful city, and no one lives in it long without feeling the subtle fascination of its life. If the Applebys did not realize all their ex- pectaiions, they appreciated their advant- ages and made no complaints. It was only on festal occasions that remembered joys awakened an active regret. The first Thanksgiving was something of a trial. Although the city markets would furnish an abundance of good things, a pumpkin—explain it as you will—at which a well-bred northern caw would give a sec- ond glance is not to be had for love or money. Mrs. A. could not debase her art and could not wholly ignore the character of the day. Like most things at the capital, her dinner was a sort of a compromise. Most excellent it was, truly, and wholly satisfactory if they could have forgotten the past; but for the first time in her mar- ried life, upon such an occasion, the crown- ing glory and attraction of her table was wanting. They ate with gratitude, but un- wonted solemnity. It was almost like, the pathetic bravery of Christmas games and songs and the weeping that followed, de- scribed by the Laureate. No one volced the thought that haunted them all, but Mr. A. dropped the apparently casual remark: “I think, my dear, that next fall I will have some fruits and vegetables sent from our old place.” Ip the following spring, moved by an in- eradicable instinct, Mrs. Appleby insisted on having a little ribbon of ground next the fence dug up,and here she placed a few such flowers as held out a faint promise of sur- viving the shade. How it happened will never be known, as she is perfectly certain that she did not plant it; but among the pallid, consuimptive-looking flowers there appeared on* day the cheerful, famillar face of an old friend. There were the two cotyledons and the seed balanced aloft in the well-remembered way. The particular | variety of the Melo pepo to which it be- longed was uncertain, but if there had been a doubt as to the species, the prompt ad- vent of that vexatious little pest, the Gal- eruca Vittatii, better known as the cucum- | ber bug, would have settled it. His coming was as mysterious as that of the pumpkin. I suppose that if this had been germinated in a flower pot on shipboard in mid-ocean, he would have been on hand as usual when the tiny leaflet first lifted the soll. He succumbed, however, to an thumb and finger, and in spite of all draw- backs the plant grew until in its turn it became a threat to its sickly neighbors. Still Mrs. A. hesitated, and we all know what that means. “John,” she said one day, “don’t you be- eve we could raise it?” “Raise it? You can't help raising it un- less you pull it up by the roots. It will cover the whole yard.” “But we might train it on the wall.” “Well! what do you want of the ugly thing?” “Ugly! Why, the flowers are beautiful, and you would say so too if they were not so common.” “I'm sure Washington.” “And we might raise—a few for—for Thanksgiving.” “O, nonsense; they would drop off before they were as big as goose eggs."" “But we might some way fasten them to the fence." John was not convinced, but the plant was not disturbed. Fastened by cords, it soon reached the top of the woodshed and began recklessly to crawl cut on the iron roof. Evidently, when the hot weather came it would be burned to a crisp, Mean- time it was full of blossoms, with some incipient fruits. ve Finally, to humor his wife’s whim, Mr. Appleby sent for a carpenter and had a trellis put across the yard from the shed to a dead wall of an adjoining building. hey are not very common in application of | Upon this the vine, with considerable per- suasion and string, was diverted from its suicidal course. It now began to develop numerous side shoots, which hung graceful- ly trailing in the air. It soon filled the en- tire trellis, and whatever doubt still linger- ed as to its utility it was the unanimous verdict of the family that as an ornamental plant it was a great success. For a long time it seemed destined to be nothing more. When the fruits reached the length of two or three inches they would wither, shrivel and drop off. Several eventually passed be- yond this stage, seeming to have escaped the maladies peculiar to the infant pump- kin. Some grew to the size of a cocoanut. In the strenuous application of that law to which all things are subject, however, but one specimen was destined to survive. There were accidents, ut probably even without them it was impossible that the plant could bring to maturity at so great a distance from its roots more than a single fruit. This one presently filled the Appleby household with anxiety. With a healthy in- stinct the vine had crept in and out among the slats, thus securing a firm hold. Per- versely enough, this had formed on @ loop on the under side. It was impossible to raise it up so that the trellis would support it, and hopeless to leave it where it was. Its weight dragged it lower and lower each day. Each morning they dreaded to find its scattered fragments on the asphalt. Mrs. Appleby finally solved the problem by crocheting @ sort of coarse net in which it was suspended. Thus secured against its own improvidence, it gave itself up to the seductions of a ly vegetable life, Its roots were, int in the earth, but, alone among its fellows, it was a child of the air. The winds rocked its cradle; it drank the dew and the rain; the sunshine fed and nourished it. Never was babe watched with much greater interest and solicitude. had peered into the bright chalice where it lay when little more than e dream. The Applebys had watched it from the time it was a knob and a flower, singly or in groups; many times every day they stood about observing every phase of its de- velopment. Neighbors had looked with as- tonishment and envy upon this magnificent flowering and foliage plant. Workmen upon neighboring roofs, recognizing its species, had been overheard quaintly discussing this novel agricultural experiment. At every stage of its growth it was a thing of beauty. Its pale creamy tint grew into a vivid green, which deepened and darkened until it seem- ed almost black. Finally the cream tint re- appeared in a little spot at the blossom end, which spread day by day. Through this an undertone of bright yellow could presently be seen, shining through the outer wrap- pings of color like a smoldering fire. Along the channels between the ribs it pushed it- self lige the stripes in the golden-banded lily and spread latterally in a delicate and in- tricate lace work. These lines broadened and med in color day by day, finally covering the entire surface. It had reached its perfect development. It was perfect in symmetry, in color and texture. Its shell was almost as hard as that of a squash, with a few little warts,always found on the finest specimens. Mrs. Appleby'’s critical judgment was satisfied. She could have found a larger but no more perfect specimen in her garden at home. It was left on its trellis, not without con- siderable anxiety lest some daring burglar should break into the back yard at night, until the growing chill of the autumn nights and some slight frosts suggested other dangers, when, with much ceremony and @ step-ladder, the whole family stand- ing about with anxious countenances and uplifted hands lest it should be dropped, all proffering advice and aid, the pumpkin crop was, for a wonder, safely harvested. But so long had it been an object not merely of admiration, but of tender solici- tude, that its disposition now was a matter of considerable difficulty. To shut it up in a dark stcre room with barrels, boxes, jugs, jars and bottles, potatoes, canned goods and the miscellany of unused kitchen utensils, seemed @ desecration. Who knew whether its tender sensibilities would be wounded or to what extent it might suffer for lack of human companionship? The final result was that it was placed on a stand in the bay window, where, with its shining, but not very expressive face, it gazed out upon the street and naturally attracted much attention, The comments were curious, often amusing, and some- times annoying. Whether it was a real pumpkin, whet»er the Applebys had raised it, and if so, what for, were questions much discussed, especially by gamins and colored “Oh, I've seen lots bigger,” and Law’ sakes! ‘Foh i'd have such a thing in my window, ful remarks sometimes overheard. Many people insited that it was wax, and a8 an artificial object cheerfully prais- ed its realism. An arust had sketched it and students modeiéd it in clay. For blocks around the Appievys were bo! clas- sined as the “pumpkin famuy.” Mr. A., who, 43 a young man, had imagined him- seit @ poet—a stretch of fancy not equaled in any of his verse—had prepared a metri- cal Uibute, anucipaung tne mnai scene, Tull Of allusions to sacreu piants aud legen- dary lore, and mystical nonsense aovut “wruid priests” ana “sacrinciai ures,” trans- formauon and organic union of tne lower nature With Lhe aigner, and the conver- sion of matter into te very substance of thought. ut as Thanksgiving drew near the idea of cutung up, cookmg and devouring tus beautiful creature became to Sirs. Appleby more and more repuisive. She began to oiler various excuses. Her oven was in bad order, Sne hadn't this and she hadn't that. | She had lost her old sKill and she knew the pies would be a completé failure. Finally she said flatly she couldn't and she | wouldn't. She would almost as soon cut up one of the children for mince meat. Of | course the family all laughed, but they djd | not tease her so much as she had expected. In truth, they more than half shared her feeling and quite respected it. ‘Thanksgiving had come and gone, but the pumpkin maintained its place of honor. It could not stay there forever, of course, but | they need not yet decide its ultimate fate. | But one morning, as they gathered in the sitting room, they were all impressed with a sense that something was wanting, though | for a time the feeling did not take definite shape. Finally some one asked what had | become .of the Pumpkin, Mrs. Appleby looked with a sudden sinking of the heart. Some one had carried it to the kitchen or |store room, but inquiry failed to confirm the hypothesis. An examination showed | that the window had not been fastened the | night before, a piece of negligence not in- | frequent in this family. But Mrs. A. would | not admit the possibility of theft until she | had examined every possible and impossible \place several times. Then she.sat down a heplcion fell certain uspicion fell at once upon a of the neighborhood who a day or wots: fore had tried to negotiate a trade with one of the Appleby boys. He had made the tempting offer of an old broken-bladed knife, three. glass alleys and a dozen “coneys” and had been rather rudely re- ulsed. Meaning to use it for a Jack-o'- ntern he could not very well conceal his booty, but reasoning that all pumpkins were pretty much alike and that {dentifi- cation would be very difficult he boldly ex- hibited it, claiming that he had got it at the market. Market indeed! This was an ebectle almost more exasperating than the eft. Naturally the boy's parents believed him. | They had never known him to steal or lie, they said, with some indignation. The Ap- | plebys retorted, truthfully, but unwisely, | that everybody else in the neighborhood had. The result was bad blood, hasty epi- thets, the intervention of a policeman, who | marched the boy to the police court, follow- ed by the corpus delicti, the angry parents and a miscellaneous and expectant crowd. | Lawyers were summoned and there was a | great disnlay of forensic ability. ‘The defense made a tremendous effort to | show that this was a case of inistaken {den- | tity, but all in vain. Mrs. Appleby knew | every wart, spot and wrinkle as well as the | birth marks on her children, and the other members of the family were equally post- tive. No cross examination could shake them in the smallest particular. The whole history of the plant was narrated, and it ts from the court record that T have taken many of the details of this story. Of course there could be but one conclu- sion, A small fine was imposed on the bad | boy, which his father, inveighing against the injustice of the law, gloomily paid. The Applebys meant’ to be modest, but they could not repress some signs of ela- tion. They were about to take their proper- ty and retire when the justice stopped them. He dearly loved a joke, and besides he saw here a chance to moderate the transports of the victors and temper the chagrin of the vanquished. The pumpkin, he said, had t= | of fact he meant to put it in his buggy and | drive round to the Applebys with it in the evening. He lived in the neighborhood and knew both parties to the controversy slight- ly, and meant to lecture them a little on their folly. This was his intention, but be- ing an absent-minded man, he entirely for- got it, and the subject of the dispute was left on the office table. “Fo’ Gawd!” cried the janitor a little later as he was clearing the room, ‘wat cu'u’s folkses dem white folkses is.’ De’ is been qualin’ and qualin’ all de afternoon "bout | dis yer punkin and dess gone an’ luf em | sho’ nu! Well, I des kyar "im home, ‘deed Tis. Yas, sah.” And Aunt Chloe, who {s something of a | ecck, according to her lights, though she ts not very light in complexion or avoirdupois, | made it into pies which were much relished |-by Jonah and Micajah and Ananias and | Judas, and Mirandy and Flory Bell, and several other children whose uames have ‘escaped my memory. PRIMITIVE LYRICS. Some of the Songs in Use in the Mountains. SUNG AT EVERY CAMP MEETING. Also Those That Were Used at Merry Makings NOW RARELY HEARD. Written for The Evening Star. Queer and interesting would be a tion of the songs that were a few years in general use among the backwoods a F g 5 é ‘ 1 ‘Whence came these were their authors, or whether H Hi by such as are in use Sunday schools of the vi! generally. This was not done without vig- orous protests from the old-time preachers, who unhesitatingly expressed their disap- Probation of the “‘new-fangled,” “thousand- legged” songs that nobody but the ‘singin’ masters” could understand, that were tak- ligious and the rowdies. They all believed in @ personal God, a personal Son, a per- sonal Holy Ghost; likewise in a personal devil and a “lake that burns with fire and brimstone.” The religious were those who had experienced a change of heart, who had been “born again;” the rowdies were the drinking, gambling, dancing, fighting class. Likewise the songs represented the two classes of people, sacred and rowdyish. At the annual campmeetings this song was frequently sung: “Twelve months have passed and gone round, Pees ~ a ane - ae ground, ice we met ere on ‘Oh, Bo, ho, Oh, ho, ho, hos “The devil’s mad and I am glad, Ped ho, ho, Oh, ve} = ho, ae le’s missed one 601 thought had, Oh, ho, ho, Oh, ho, ho, ho, "OM De be One ee my I’m happy, I'm happy, Oh, may the Lord continue with me! “Tl piteh tent on this campground, Tim happy, tm app ‘m , I'm ry, Oh, may the Lord continue with me!” There were many other his iren & Oh, Moses smote the water And the sea gave way. Chorus— “Oh, fathers, ain't you glad that you left the sinful army? Oh, pea ain’t you glad that the sea give ay?" wi This song just goes on in the same way, except that it changes by bringing in all the family, according to consanguinity, and other people. It ended only when the sing- ers were tired or when they could think of no one in the way of mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, &c., who were glad that they had “left sinful army” and “that the sea give way.’ This is another that was sung at bap- tisms: “Come down, fathers, and be baptised, A mighty purty meetin’ by the water side, To the Dying Lamb. orus— “We'll pray a little here, And we'll pray a little there, And we'll pray a little almost everywhere, To the Dying Lamb.” This had the same changes in the stanzas as to fathers, mothers and on through the family as had the other. In fact, most of their songs consisted of one stanza and a chorus, which were lenghtened out ad_lib- {tum by repeating for each one of the fam- iuy relation. ‘s 2 ior hata? tee tee et | LOSts of Gifts. shall stand by Him at the last day,” which S 0 he Guoted tm hia ermon. | ovat 25c. Aj ‘Was a great num! suaay eee on ‘ eo India Linon Hemstitehed orm, fiddlers and the Dango pickers at trotion” WEY of eatin stripes, "eal Oh, do shake that little f Sally Ann— Sift the meal and wwepeend s At their “frolics” they always played on u le — —— = > the sas ‘Traveler, * sie.” the “Devil's Dream,” “Billy ‘Tr the Low- to themselves if not after the most ap- proved style of more cultivated people. ML. ————_ NEW PUBLICATIONS. THE THIRD ALARM. A st x RS a ee ts New York and Washington. Bresisss'e A boys’ book, and a good one. All the etails of the working of a great fire de- partment are made plain in a romantic story that on no page is ever less than in- teresting. York thor NOVEL NOTES. By Jerome K. J - ed by J. Gulich A'S Boyd Hal erat, Ncw Yorn: teary tott aco Wesineten: Wm. Ballantyne & Sons. ° Worthy of the author’s international repu- tation. Lovers of the odd, the picturesque mee tS goon “Macaroni, ’ * py W. S. Goleman. THE DAYS OF LAMB AND COLERIDGE. A See ars Gee ae tyne & Sons. ; three and “Goldfish, AN OLD AND MIDDLE ENGLISH READER. On the basis of Professor Julius Zupitza’s Alt-und ion notes and glowary. “By ‘Gerrge Bown 5 Edwin MacLean, Ph.D professor of the English language and literature in the University of Minnesota. New York: MacMillan & Co. Washington: Brentano's. IN THE LAND OF CAVE AND CLIFF ERS, By Lieut. Fredert = ‘This song was usually sung amid intense a. tae) ie rejoicing and shouting after one or more Sy by Mary had been gop “ a ae eed York: The International Oh, fathers, ain’t you happy, happy, happ’ Oh, fathers, ain't you happy, happy, happy, BV Aten bloesapey kg age cae, With glory in your soul? explanatory notes. "No. 125-120 of Mavuanis Cho.—I — to live rejoicing, rejoicing, re- ‘classic ‘Maynard. joicing, I want to live rejoicing with glory | REPORT ON in my soul. Another, usually sung under like cireum- stances: Praise Him, fathers, praise Him truly, Praise Him fathers, and don’t you love the Oh, go and tell them I'm @ comin’ new rn again; ia or Fi pS about servin’ of the Cone et glory, glory, new born ag Long time been talkin’ about servin’ of the Lord. Another: His track I see and I'll pursue, A narrow way to heaven I view, Go on, go on, we will soon meet On the bright frontiers of glory. Cho.—Oh, come my loving fathers, and don’t you want to go To die in the arms of Jesus? “If you get there before I do, Tell all my friends I'm coming, too— Go on, go on, we will soon meet On the bright frontiers of glory.” Cho.—Oh, come my loving fathers, and don’t you want to go To die in the arms of Jesus? There is yet another, which for conglom- erate nonsense has never been sur; by anything of negro invention. It is meant to be expressive of the sinner’s great joy when he feels himself saved from the awful wrath to be visited on the wicked at the day of judgment, when the sun shall be darkened and the moon and the stars shall turn to blood. “I do believe without a doubt Poor sinner has a night to shout, Oh, where shall I fly when the sun And the moon goes down in blood? Who? when? Come to Jesus. ie wine hallelujah, there's glory in my soul.” There were a number of similar stanzas which the writer fails to remember. Some of the better songs in hose days were written by a Baptist preacher, com- monly remembered as “Old Uncle Levi Dewees.” He wrote a song, the inspiration of which was one of the most atrocious murders ever known in the mountains. A woman by the name of Drew killed her husband, and to prevent detection, chopped his body up with an ax and then burned been offered in evidence and must be filed|it. She was hanged for the crime. The with the papers in the case. As a matter | good old preacher preserved the incident in a melancholy song, in which he recount- ed everything, from the inception of the crime to its expiation on the gallows. It ee: “It was on a dark and gloomy I took my husband's life awa Then follows a full description of how he was sleeping when she took the ax and chopped his head open and proceeded to dispose of him, as above related, also of her arrest, trial, the verdict, sentence by the judge, imprisonment, coming to the scaffold and the minutia of an execution Lin general. But “Old Uncle Levi Dewees” was a man of unusual ability, with strong poetic and dramatic talent, though he probably never read anything but the Bible in his life. A gentleman of culture, who heard Lyman Beecher and other preachers of national and world-wide reputation heard “Old Uncle Levi” preach on one occasion. He pronounced it the best sermon he had ever heard, and said he could make his oF Se Woodward & Lothrop. "Reena ‘TRAVEL. ITALY. New York: G. P. jashington: Brentano's. Wasb- Pitana's doos, Boat. edition, ington: “Around the World” is a now magazine, the first number of which was issued during this month. It is and is to be a magazine of tours, travels and explorations, devote to a knowledge of the earth and its inhabitants, Many of the articles are illustrated in the highest style of magazine art. Prof. Angelo Heilprin, a scientist and explorer of ex- tensive repute and a clever writer, is editor; the publisher is the Contemporary Publish- oe of New York and Philadel- True literary gems are the half-dozen min- iature volumes recently issued by G. P. Put- nam’s Sons, and for sale in this city at Brentano's. They make excellent Christmas gifts, either in allopathic or homeopathic doses. They are “The Eve of St. Agnes by John Keats; “She Stoops to Conquer,” by Oliver Goldsmith; “The study of Poetry,” by Matthew Arnold; “The House of Life,” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti; “Ideas of Truth,” by John Ruskin, and “Conversation,” by Thomas De Quincey. In_ his New High School Match, Mr. Geo. J. Becker offers the public a bright and catchy bit of piano music, which has both the vivacious spirit and the simplicity which characterize the most successful compositions in this field. The small boy who sighs for something new to whistle should find strains to his liking in it. “Columbia is My Home” is the title of a | new martial composition by Louis Orten- | Stein, The patriotic mood which evidently | animated the composer for this undertaking | is very well expressed in the music. Mr. | Ortenstein has also written two other songs, | “On the Midway,” or the “Jolly Bum-| Bum,” a comic description of sights at the world’s fair, set to a pleasing waltz move- ment, and “Open the Kingdom of Love to All,” @ work of much musical excellence. The 8. Brainard’s Sons Co. of Chicago pub- lish “On the Midway,” and the Chicago Music Co. the others. | ns | NEW _ PUBLICATIONS. STATES’ PHILOSOPNY, STATES ECONOMY AND FINANCES, in ons volume of 100 pages, I Kenatinn Batorr of Daltimore, for ‘asic’ at | | BRENTANO'S, 1ith and Po. ave. d4-més,3m_ SY. An account of the only rational mode of trent- | Address ment. Pamphlet edition, 10c, Dr. WILL- TAMSON, New Loudon, Coun, iis 928 7th St. & 706 K |Not “Toy” Tool Chests pound © maui. DLL SO sole it eto ok $2.35 Barber & Ross, Cor. uth & G Sts, N.W. Tiffany’s Diamonds World's Fair — canes fa ageeaise, » aera . LAMLLUVTATHILL UIIIUUAIIN Jacobs Bros., ce 1229 Pexrxa Ave oo EVERYBODY SHOULD SAVE THEM MONEY FOR Selling Out Below Cost To Retire Business. From a these sacrifice prices: perb ‘Upright Pianos thet were $300, going —for Xmas gifts following: rine CouSanes, " . M. Parina’s. ¥ 1. Caswell BANDKERCHIEP trntcnas. Roger Galet's. tk ineoe Pinaud's. Wr MISCE NEcUS. oer aah ‘Tair Brushes, ing ibe, Ses Bachet o., Powder, in packages or You are always welcome to louk—bay if w. SS Thompson's Pharmacy, 703 15th St. Life’s Comfort @epends on a visit to Prot. Georges & Son's, 1115 Penn. ave. a.w., and get acquaisted with his methods tc prevent and cure the most painful bunions, corns, iugrowing and club nails without pain. aie “DR. HEPBURN 1s THE ONLY PHYSICIAN IN THE CITE Practicing Dermatology exelusi Evcaema. ter, -. Bess of the Nose Buperiinous Hait and all diseases of the Hair and Scalp ot wored. "e Datiding, cor. F and 1 be i "4 A Present. fo you, or for you to Jot of FINE BLACK Ox sell fr $150, $1.23 an 62. amd ore y for te, 5 are Rew priced @t that, will eell tomorrow 1g. r $ 1s practically making the ayer a eat of trom 23 to 00 conta, f wie > well to take advantage. Paysicat, Cunrore Corser Co., 1193, ST. GL C Whelan, late of F ST., Med fora