H I W J Hi r ' - -e-. . . ( fur ! ,u.i.i ! i.l NEW BLOOMtflEID, 1JA., TUISSDAY, rfHkY 23, 1878. , VOL. XII. ; N0f 30. tan ra t?t' v;- osn r itmn mw . i. .1 't:..i.'i" ' !' I .i;: .: ' .i ' ; '..:'.."..!. . . 4 THE TIMES. An Independent Family Newspaper, IS PUBLISIIBD IVItllT TBB81UT ST F. MQIITIMEU & CO. SUllSUKlri'LON l'ltlCK, "'. (WITHIN TUB COl'NTT. One Year ... $1 2 HI Months,.... 4 "5 (Oft or THi COUNTY. On Yflar, (PotHR8 Included) II M) Hlx Muiilhs, (l'oslnge Included) Sj Invariably lu Advance I 9" Advertising rate furmnhed upon Bppli- Fur Ttiellloomnuld Tliuei. A LAY TO SUMMER. JOIIN B. ECK. And tliou art here with thj sweet Bouth wludi, And thy glow of blushing flowers AVItU perfume ldcn on every breczo From thy amaranthine bowers. As thy balmy winds sweep over the hills, And over the limpid river I wish that the bright, sweet Summer time Might linger with us forever t Thou brlngeet the meadow's waving grass, And the scent of the new-mown hay, And the fragrance of the illy cups, As the rivulets round them play. Oh I give me the bright, swert Bummer time, And the grandeur of tbe trees, And the music of the babbling brook, And the softly sighing breeze. Thy breezes sigh through the leafy wood, And tbe sunlight glints between v And the birds are singing overhead In tbe beautiful forest green. I think of the Bummer woodland paths As memories round me throng, Of the many happy hours I've passed, With harp and lute and song. Oht I love the hours, tbe Joyous hours, Of summer's dearest pleasures, When the earth puts forth her gladsome smiles And yields her bounteous treasures. Then give me the bright, sweet Bummer time, The light of the Summer hours The soft low winds, and the wild-bird's song, And the greenwood, leaves and flowers I ' Philadelphia, June, 1373. BRINGING HIM TO TERMS. "W"o HAT I crying, little girl ?" said ried six months, and yet dissolving Into tears like an April snowdrift, or a July mist. This won't do, at all ; It will never do In the world!" All the gay world had cried out at Emily's White's "good luck" when Basil Bertrand asked her to bo his wife Basil Bertrand, who was the only son and heir of the rich old general, who had made such a fortune in the Mon tana silver mines. And, Indeed, Emily herself had scarcely credited the full amount of her own happiness. And, to the astonishment of nil her friends, the bride's first act was to strike up art affectionate alliance with her father-in-law, who, on bis part, caressed and petted her as he might have done a Maltese kitten, or a little white fawn. And so it came that on this April day the old general walked Into Emily's boudoir, and surprised ber in tears. " I'm very foolish papa," said Emily, trying to smile, but indee ,1 cannot help it'Ck 1 J I wJ V.,' y'i C " Then don't try, my dear," said the general seating himself in the big easy chair beside her,- and laying a kind hand on her brown braids. "Tell me all about it. ' An open confession is good for the soul,' you know. Has Basil been scolding you V" "No, papa." "" la he-Jealous ?" ' ;? T " 'Jealous1! My Basil J"' and Emily could not help laughing at the idea. , Then wbat Is it ' demanded the gen eral. " I I want a favor of him," faltered the little bride, " and he won't grant it to me." ' j: " '. , ' " ' : " Indeed !" said the genend frowning & little. What favor V " I should like him to gi.ve me a regu , !ar allowance,' said Emily, " and he -' thinks it silly of me. But, oh, papa, it is so mortifying for me to' be obliged to ;;o to him for every penny I want.. And indeed I wouldn't spend any more if the money were dealt out tome so, than I Jo now. Pear papa, continued she with her soft brown eyes uplifted to his face, do you think It so silly V" f " No, Emily, I don't think so," said the old gentleman, slightly contracting his frost white eyebrows. And did he refuse V" "Yes," confessed Emily, faintly. "And he said I was unreasonable and asked too niuoh." ' i i " Fudge V said Gen. Bertrnhd. : " Just wbat I thought papa," said Emily, with a laugh. " But never mind ; I feel better, now that I have told you all about it. Oh, pnpa, it is such a comfort to have you to : talk to!" "I'm not like the fathers-in-law in the sensational romances, ch W said the general. ' Not a lilt I" doclarcd Emily. The next morning, wheu Bnsil intulo his appearance at the Ninetieth National Bank, he learned, to his surprise, that the quarterly sum which was usually paid in so promptly to his account by his father's bankers wus not forthcom ing as usual. " What the deuce does this mean V" demanded the young man tugging per plexedly at his moustache. "I am sure I do not know, sir," re plied the gentlemanly clerk. And Mr. Bertrand went straight to his father's oftlce, where sat the old general, as bland as a May morning. " Delighted to see you, my dear boy !" said the old general, "l'ray be seated." " I don't understand what you mean, sir, by stopping my income," began Basil, excitedly. "Stopping your Income, my boyV' repeated the general. " I never dreamed of such a thing." " Then why Isn't lt paid in as usual to my account at the ban kers ?"J ; " Oh, well, you see, I'm tired of that way of doing business,", mildly replied tho old gentleman, , " It is hardly exact enough. " But you'll find lt all the same, Basil rail, the same. What did you want money for to-day J"' " There's my cigar bill," hesitated the young man ; " and that fellow with tbe tailor's account has been waiting a day or two; and" i . i .. .t "How much are theyV" . i ; " I su ppose the cigars are about twen ty. five dollars," answered the young man ; " and Snipp'g account Is two hun dred and ten." "Ah," said the general, t' Indeed V Just have the goodness : to : wait half a minute while I write you a cheque for the amount.'' ; . , . ' l. " But, sir, this won't do 1" said Mr. Bertrand. i "Why won't lt do V" asked the gen eral, looking blandly up. ' ' . "I've not a cent of pocket-m oney. I can't even ride up town In a stage." The general put his right hand deep down in his trouBer pockets,' and pro duced a striall silver coin, saying, " Oh, that's nothing ! ' Here is a quarter for you. Dou'tfret, my dear boy don't fret. Whatever money you want, you have only to ask me .for, and" " My dear sir," burst out Basil, In an agony of vexation, "you are treating me exaotly like a sohool-boy !" . "Don't you like itV' said the gen eral; ' I' '' ' ' !! "Like it? Like to be degraded t To be treated as if one were not to be trusted with so much as a ten dollar bill 1"' cried the Impetuous young man. . " Father, you have always given me credit for be ing a rational human being until now. What has wrought this change? If my money is to ' be dealt out to me a penny at a time, like a school-boy's al lowance, I'll take a bricklayer's hod, or a mason's trowel, and go to work to earn my own Independent living." '" " Here's a great Commotion about nothing," said General Bertrand, arch ing his Bhoggy 1 white brows. " I am only following up your own idea." : " My own Idea, sir V What can pos Bibly have induced you to suppose that-" ... " Hold on a minute, my boy hold on a minute!" said the general. . " I went to see Emily yesterday, and found her in tears." ., . . . . . " Emily A my wife V" exclaimed the young man., , , , , ,(i , So, naturally , enough, I questioned ( ber as to the cause of her troubles," said the old gentleman, serenely; "and she .confessed to me that she was crying be pause she wasn't allowed any spending m6pey." . , Basil colored deeply. " I give her all that she can possibly want, sir," said he. .Mi.'..; ! . " Exactly,'! nodded the general, "and that Is precisely what I intend to do by you." ' . : , "A large amount of money given to her at once would encourage extrava gave," pleaded Basil. "Just what I was thinking of in your case," chuckled the general. " But you don't seem to like It any more than she did." " Tho cases are not parallel Blr I" orled Basil, indignantly. "Where's the difference V" shrewdly demanded Gen. Bertram!. " I tell you, my boy, it's a poor rule that won't work both ways. At all events, I mean to make the trial." "You are simply degrading me, sir!" " Did lt ever occur to you that you were degrading your wife, Basil V Use your own common sense, my son ask yourself if a wife has not as many priv ileges as a business partner and let me know to-night at what conclusion you have arrived." And the next day when General Bertrand stopped lu to see his daughter on IiIb way down town, Emily met him with a radiant face. " Papa," cried she, " I am so sorry I complained to you yesterday. Basil says ho has been thinking lt over, and he concludes to give me a regular allowance a hundred dollars a month, all of my own, to spend just as I pleuse ! Isn't he klndV" "Very kind," said the old gentleman, smiling. "Aud won't it be nice 5"' " Very nice, indeed," said General Bertrand." And when Mr. Basil Bertand visited the Ninetieth National Bank that same morning, he found the quarterly sum paid in to his account as usual. " I can't think why so prudent a per son as the general should have delayed his payment even by a day," remarked the cashier. - ; " Little things will sometimes derange a business man's plans and calcula tions," said Mr. Bertrand, with admira ble composure. "' ' ' A Lazy , Passenger. ' " SEVERAL years ago I was called upon by a party named Tom to allow him to work his passage on the schooner to Baltimore and return, (a very common request before steam; boating was established on the liver he hulled from). . , I agreed, and he took his place In the cabin, and seemed more at home there than anywhere else. He couldn't (or wouldn't) neither " steer," " stow," (excepting grub) nor "reef." I tried him at everything, though raised In the salt water region, he failed at all. On our way back,, we arrived off the mouth of the river (a very wide one) about midnight, and , as tbe wind was very light, and a strong " ebb tide," I anchored with my sails up. ' A large schooner was lying ahead of me at anchor, and was the only thing visible. - . Now, thinks I, is ' the time to settle with my "green" (?) passenger. He was in the cabin " dead" (asleep). The crew " went below" and " turned in." I waited till everything was quiet, then, standing by the wheel I called Tom. After' a good deal of yawning, he " turned out" and wanted to know what was wanting. ' I told him to " take her awhile," (i. e., to take the' wheel). He said: ' - .' " You know, Cap, I can't steer by the compass." ' ; " Now, Tom, I've got you all fixed up nicely. You see that large schooner ahead?" ' ' "Yes, sir," he replied. " Well, ' steady her' right for her. She is a steady craft, and as the wind is llght,we ought to overhaul ber ; that ts,lf you can keep our craft steady." And telling him to call me when he came up ' with her, I laid down. ' The strong tide made our vessel 'sheer about' whenever Tom moved the helm, ana the water passing us gave the ap pearance of the vessel going , ahead. After half an hour I sang out : "Tom!'. '' , "Blr!" '.. , ' ' ,, " How are you making it ?" "Pretty well, sir," (moving Ills wheel a little). . . "How is she making lt with the schooner ahead V" " Well, sir, it is about what-what,' " (a groat expression with him In compar ing fates of speed). ' After an hour, perhaps, I sung out agal n : ' " Tom V" "Sir!" : ' ' " ' ' "' Have you come out with that chop "No, sir." "How are you making it?" " About 'what-what,' sir." Towards day break I awoke. The wind was better and the tide about done. I roused ohe of the men, sent him on deck, and sang out : ' "Tom?" " Aye! aye! sir," says he. " Lay forward, with Jim, and 'get' up anchor. "Get what?" " The anchor." " The anchor?" ' " Yes, got the anchor up." He stood still, started a little, and the way he breezed would have put to shame a Black Hills' miner. "Just to think," ho soliloquised, " I straddled that wheel half the night, steadying this 'old hulk!' Itaclng with another vessel, and both of them an chored, and to brag about it too." It was too much for lilm, and to-day the question, " How docs she head?" will put him on his mettle. DANGEROUS HAIR. THE name of the lady who a few weeks since dropped her back hair on the Blde-walk of a street in Clinton, Illinois, has now been ascertained. The hair In question was of a bright red color, and few persons would have im. aglned that lt was dangerous when un Connected with Its owner. Neverthe less, that seemingly innocent back hair led to a tragedy that nearly ruined the peace of two happy and respectable families. ' ' Messrs. Smith and Brown are tho leading citizens engaged in the grocery business in Clinton. They are men of great worth of character, and have leached middle age without incurring the breath pf slander. One evening Mr. Smith returned from the store and sit ting down at the tea-table, produced a Chicago paper from his pocket and re marked with much indignation. "That revolting Beecher scandal has been re vlved, ana Us loathsome details are again polluting the press and corrupting the minds of the public." , Mrs. Smith replied that " It was a shameful outrage that the papers were allowed to publish such disgusting things," and asked her husband "which paper had the fullest account of the mat tor." . ; ' ' That excellent man said that he be lieved the Gazette contained more about it than any other paper, and that after tea he would send one of the boys to get a copy of lt. . . , His wife thanked him, and was in the act of remarking that he was always thoughtful and. considerate, when the oldest boy exclaimed i "ra, you've got a longrea nair on your coat collar!" A prompt investigation made by Mrs, Smith confirmed the boy's accusation. There was an unmistakable female hair on the collar of Mr. Smith's coat, and It was obtrusively red. . Mr. Smith re marked it was a very extraordinary thing, and Mrs. Smith also remarking " very extraordinary indeed," In a dry, sarcastic voice, expressed deep disgust at red hair,and a profound contempt for the " nasty creatures" who wore lt. About the same hour Mr. Brown was also Beated at his tea table, and was en deavoring to excuse himself to Mrs, Brown for having forgotten to bring home a paper. That lady, after having expressed the utmost indignation at the revival of the Beecher scandal, had asked for the paper In order to see who was dead and married, and was, of course, Indignant because her husband had not brought lt home. In the heat of discussion she noticed a long red hair on Mr. Brown's coat collar,and, holding it before him, she demanded an explana tion. In vain did Mr. Brown allege that he had not the least idea how the hair became attached to his collar. Ills Wife replied that what he said was very ridiculous,. " lied halrdon'tblowaround like thistle-down, and at your time of lira, Mr. Brown, you ought to be asham ed of yourself. The less you say the better, but I can tell you that you can't deceive me. I'm not a member of Ply mouth Church, and you can't make me believe that black Is white." Now both Mr. Brown and Mr. Smith were perfectly innocent. Of course they were annoyed by the remarks of their respective wives, but like sensible men, they avoided any unnecessary discussion of the painful topic. The next day they each brought home all the Chlcugo papers that contained any reference to the Beecher matter, and, as the papers were received by Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Smith with many protestations of the disgust which they felt at hearing even the name of Beecher mentioned, they naturally supposed that they had made their peace. But marital suspicion once awakened is not easily put to sleep. While Mr. Brown was handing his wife the bundles of newspaper, she was closely scrutinizing his cout collar, and, after she had laid the papers on ber plate and told the children not to touch them, she quietly took, two long red hairs from her unfortunate husband's coat, and held them solemnly before his face. " Mury, I give you my solemn word," began tbe alarmed Mr. Brown ; but he was not permitted to finish his sentence. " Don't say one word," exclaimed Mrs. Brown. " Falsehoods won't help you ; I am a fulthful and loving wife, and I'll have you exposed and punished If there Is any law in Illinois." Thus saying she gathered up her newspapers and rushing to her room, locked herself in. It was not until later in the evening that Mrs. Smith, as she was about to turn down her husband's lamp, which was smok ing, perceived that two red Lairs were attached to his shoulders. She said nothing, but after laying them on tbe table before him, burst into tears and re fused to be comforted until Mr. Smith swore that he had not Been a red haired girl for months and years, and offered to buy a new parlor carpet the very next day. 1 Of the two ladles, Mrs. .Brown was much the strongor and the more deter mined. The next evening, when Mr. Brown brought back from the store no less than five red hairs on his coat collar, she broke a pie plate over his head, and leaving him weltering in dried apples, put on her bonnet and left the house. Mrs. Smith, on the same evening, found four of the mysterious red hairs on her husband's coat, but she refrained from vlolence,and merely telling him that she would not believe in his lnnocene If he was to swear till he was black In the fuce,called loudly for her sainted mother and was about to faint when Mrs. Brown burst Into the room. Mr. Smith like a wise man fled from tbe scene, and the two ladles soon confided their wrongs to one another. When Mr. Brown and Mr. Smith met the next day, tbe former confessed to the latter that he was in a terrible scrape. Confidence begat confidence, and they soon became convinced that they were tbe victims of a frightful conspiracy to which some unknown wearer of red black-hair was a party. Their distress was increased early in the afternoon by the appearance of their respective wives, who walked up and down the opposite side of the street for hours,each carrying a conspicuous rawhide, and evidently lying in wait for the Imaginary red haired woman. Messrs. Smith and Brown felt that they were ruined men, and that a tremendous scandal was about to over whelm them. They even wished that they were dead. At 4 o'clock P. M., Mrs. Smith clutch ed her companion's arm and bade her listen to a small boy who was relating one of his recent crimes to a youthful companion. "I just picked up that there hair," re marked tbe wicked youth, " and put some of it on old Smith's and old Brown's coats ; I kep' a puttin' of it on every daynd you just bet they ketcbed it from their old women when they went home. Smith, he is as solemn as an old owl, and old Brown looks as if he was "a goln' to be hung." . The remains of the boy were removed by tbe constable, and Smith and Brown's families are once more united and happy.
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