The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 22, Ed. 1 Thursday, March 29, 1888 Page: 3 of 8
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THE CANADIAN CRESCENT.
— « .
PBEBMAH B. KOLEB, Editor * Fnb'r.
published every thursday at
CANADIAN. - TEXAS,
MY VISION.
Up thro* the mists of childhood's tender mem-
ories
Floats a dear vision which I often see:
Morn, noon and night, with gentle benediction,
On sea or shore, it kindly visits me.
At morn, between the sleeping and the waking,
It comes, and hallows all the day for me,
Arms rne with high resolves, my strength re-
newing,
My father's face, then fondly do I see.
At noon, in all his rugged, manly vigor,
Wearing the marks of anxious toil for me,
Bearing the uheat and burden1' uncomplaining,
That loving face again I seem to see.
And in the twilight, when the day is fading.
The children's hour then brings him sweetly
near,
As at our fireside, toil and care forgotten,
I seem again to hear his words of cheer,
His tender counsel, wise, and true and loving,
His joy in our?, his grief at our pain;
Yes, in the twilight, at the children's hour,
'Neath father's roof-tree, I'm a child again!
And when the twilight deepens, ere the dark-
ness
Folds me and mine 'neath covering wings of
n i glit,
I see him bend before the old home altar,
And ail my soul is quickened with the sight
Of his bowed head, his locks of snowy white-
ness,
His folded palms, and reverent, solemn air,
As from the Book he loves he reads the mes-
sage,
Or leads us near to Heaven's gate in prayer!
And though the flowers have grown between
cur faces
For long, long years, all flowers can never be
As fragrant as the memory of my father,
Whose sainted face in vision oft I seel
—Ellen Knight Bradford, in Good Housekeeping,
A Brother's Keeper.
I WOMB'S WORK OF LOVE AND DUTY.
BY IIAEY EAETWELL CATHERY700D,
Author op "Cuaque o' Doom," "Stephen
Guthrie," '-The Lone Man'¡i
Cabin," and Other Stor.es.
£Copyrighted, 18S7, I y the A. X. Kcllojg Newspa-
per Company.}
CHAPTER II.—Continued.
"Now, Miss Phoebe, let us have that verb
conjugated before we blunt our minds with
eating."
Phoebo therefore plunged into German
conjunction and afterwards produced her
exercise from her pocket; he examined it
frowning.
"What's this? This is too ambitious. A
good student keeps his eye on the structure
of the language; he doesn't run after senti-
ment."
"It's the last part of Schiller's 4Diver,'
and is familiar enough to every body but
me," said Phoebe. "I did enjoy it. The
sense of much of it came to me without the
dictionary."
"Yes, I don't doubt it!" commented the
master, dissentingly snorting. "Let me
hear you pronounce now."
"It bears one along," pleaded Phoebe,
"even the foolhardiness which took him
under the water a second time after he had
brought up the cup in safety once."
The master listened to her reading, giving
vent to gutteral corrections, while she took
her momentary stand in his book alcove.
The sash there was not so deeply imbedded
in logs as were the other windows, and such
late light as still straggled across the clear-
ing illuminated her and her German text.
Mrs. Barker drew back her own chair from
the table and announced with housewifely
formality that supper was ready. Orcutt,
having suspended his ciphering to hear
Phoebe's exercise, now briskly laid aside
hi3 slate; and the master was willing to
postpone further drill until he had filled the
plates on the table.
"Come, Miss Phoebe," said he. "Some
day, with constant practice and the chance
of conversing with intelligent Germans,
you may get a fair grip of the language."
"What's the matter, child?" exclaimed
Mrs. Barker. "What do you see out there?"
" Oh, nothing, nothing," replied Phoebe,
■coming swiftly away from the window.
&
"what's the matter, child !"
4 May be I fancied one of the diver's mon-
sters had come up out of the whirlpool and
was grinning at me. I wish I could plunge
into some place and be hid and quiet for-
ever."
She put her hands over her face, but not
in time to stop a stray sob.
Mrs. Barker put her arm around Phoebe
and petted the girl's head against her shoul-
der. The master, with his fists clasped, the
thumbs pointing upwards, one at each side
oí the pile of plates, glared sternly at his
pupil.
" You've been worried out," he pro-
nounced. "The children of that whole dis-
trict need killing. I've said so repeatedly.
They're a noisy, scandalous set."
t40h, no," said Phoebe.
r "Yes, they do. Some of them ought tobe
skinned slowly and hung up in the sun to
.dry, Adam and Mose Guy, for instance."
"Adam and Mose Guy ain't children,"
piped Orcutt, "and they don't go to school
any more."
"They used to," maintained the master.
"I can't control myself very well," plead-
ed Phoebe, drying her face. "But nobody is
to blame."
"She has to carry too old a head." said
Mrs. Barker, putting her guest in the gilt-
backed chair and spreading her napkin.
"She ought to be thinking of young folks
and a good time, and here she is worrying
to save money, and studying Dutch between
whiles. Next time you come, Mr. Barker
shan't hold a school examination over you."
"Do let him! How little I shall ever know
if Mr. Barker does not train me. And I
have been seeing young people."
She began to tell about Psyche Fawcett,
and talked rapidly while the meal lasted.
After supper the master and his son went
into the twilight, chopped wood and
kindling, fed the pig, and carried fodder to
and milked the cow. In the midst of these
homely cares, and while the master's bass
reverberated among solemn trees with Old
Hundred, Phoebe's voice and presence
broke into his hymn. She was standing
wrapped in her scarlet shawl ready to go
home."
" Good-niglit, Mr. Barker. I must hurry
this evening."
" But you are not going home now. You
are going to spend the evening, and may be
stay all night."
"I must go," said Phoebe.
"Wait till I've milked the stripping3,
then," commanded the master. " You can't
go alone. It's dusk."
But repeating good-night, Phoebe was
already on the path through the woods when
Mrs. Barker ran out of the cabin after her.
However, the master had scarcely carried
his frothing pails into the house when Mrs.
Barker came back, drawing her shawl to
a focus over her nose.
"She wouldn't let me go a piece with
her," said the master's wife. " I don't
know what possesses that child to-night."
She looked anxious as she hung her wrap
on the deer-antler.
"I'll just step out and overtake her,"
said Mr. Barker.
"Don't."
" But she oughtn't to go alone through
the woods, ought she?"
" She isn't alone, Ogre, dear. A man met
her just out of the clearing. That's why I
turned back. I saw she wanted me to."
" May be it was her brother, or one of the
neighbors' boys."
"It was a stranger. I took a good look at
him, and enough worse looking he is than
her poor simple brother. I don't like it.
And her getting so excited before supper,
as if she saw something out of the window
—and all."
"I don't like it either," said the master,
rubbing his grizzly head.
CHAPTER III.
The man took several steps beside Phoebe
before either of them spoke. She drew her
shawl close around her and shrunk off from
him, but she did not look directly at him,
but glanced sidewise, puckering her face in
anguish.
He was a grotesque creature, with the
various pieces of his clothing shabby and
unmatched; but the most skillful of tailors
could scarcely have molded him in gar-
ments suitable to his face. It was emaciated
and withered, though neither by disease
nor age. One corner of his mouth twisted
downward as if in a continued jeer, and
nervous spasms came and went over every
atom of countenance which could be moved
and distorted. Wrhenever he became ex-
cited in talk, this singular infirmity played
faster and faster like evil lightning over his
face.
"Well?" said Phoebe, in a high, agitated
tone.
"All right," said her companion. "You
saw me beckon to you through the window."
"You know 1 saw you."
"You were a long time getting out. If
you hadn't come pretty soon I'd bolted in
and asked for vou."
"I knew you would. What do you want
now?" x
"What do I want now!" mimicked the
twisted mouth. "When you ain't seen me
for two years. Where's Thorney ?"
"He's near me, of course," replied the
shaking girl. "Why can't you let us alone?"
"What should I want to let you alone
for. Ain't I got my rights ?"
"Your rights," said Phoebe, fiercely. "O,
you wicked millstone; you want to drag us
undei forever. You know when I was
sorry for you and tried to help you. But
you can't impose on me any more. And I'll
defend Thorney against you."
"Oh, you will!"
Plioebe began to sob aloud, swallowing
piteouslv, and using her hands against
her throat to press back the explosive
sounds.
"You look like defending any thing!"
laughed the man. "Don't do that, now.
Yi/u never made any thing bellowing at
me. Didn't you know I'd drop around some
day?"
"Oh,yes, I knew it—you always do—there's
no help—and no escape?"
"Well, then, shut up your doleful racket.
I ain't going to hurt you."
"No; I'm past being struck with your
fist now - but never past being robbed and
shamed."
The man broke off a bit of bark and chewed
it, as he kept pace with her.
"How much money have you?" he in-
quired.
"You'll dog Thorney and me just the
same if I give it to you. I've bought you off
for the last time."
"You'll give me what money you have.
I'm clear down. If you don't I'll make a
stake the way you despise, and I'll take
Thorney."
Phoebe faced about, and they stood still,
with the path between them.
"There's a hundred other things lean do,"
added the man, grinning. "You know you
don't want to own me around here."
"Not a drop of my blood owns a drop of
yours," burst out Phoebe. "I have lived a
blameless life. You do your worst. I won't
give you my earnings, and you will leave my
brother Thorney alone, too."
She walked rapidly ahead into the dusky
woods. He was at no pains to overtake her
but let the space widen between them,
thrusting his hands into his pockets and
breathing a crook-mouthed whistle on bis
chin.
Phoebe, feeling frozen in her last mood,
and carrying her defiant head erect, en-
tered the familiar sitting-room where Mrs.
Holmes was rocking the baby to sleep. She
entered as one who heard the cry of wolves
behind her, and knew the wolves might yet
> burst in and claim her, notwithstanding an
able-bodied man like Gurley wa3 at hand to
defend her.
"Mr. Gurley has called to see you," said
Mrs. Holmes.
Phoebe had stopped at the sight of Tod-
dles going to sleep. It hurt her to remem-
ber how lately she had rocked him herself,
feeling almost as safe and happy as if well
through with the world.
She turned and met Mr. Gurley with a
dignity he could not add to her sincere and
credulous image, and while she spoke she
wondered how soon her pursuer would enter
that room.
Mrs. Holmes silently thouglit her too
scarlet in cheeks, too dazzling in her eyes—
altogether too powerful and pretty.
"I was just about to trace you," said
Gurley. "Miss Fawcett has changed her
programme. Instead of having u s later in the
week she wants us this evening, and as the
little party's so informal I hope you'll be will-
ing to substitute my escort for the other
arrangement which was made for you."
"I should like to go to Miss Fawcett's,"
said Phoebe, choosing for herself like a
princess. She thought she heard new step
in the kitchen.
"My horse and phaeton are ready," said
Gurley. "I came early to make up for the
lack of notice by giving you plenty of time
to get ready in."
"Oh, I am always ready for any thing. I
might wash my hands and beg Mrs.
Holmes for a bit of geranium. I have just
one dress," explained Phoebe. "And that
makes it so easy to be ready."
Gurley laughed out with approval, but
Mrs. Holmes secretly shuddered at such
flinging of one's poverty at a man's sympa-
thies. She had kindiy planned decking
Phoebe for this party in some of her own
finery, and felt indignant at being robbed
of such feminine pleasure and the self-ap-
\
" tn:s is my brother."
proval which would have been consequent
on it. At the very least her lace bertha or
a sash might have relieved the girl's som-
berness, but now she felt too outraged to
add even the bit of geranium.
"You are, in fact, an Ascensionist," com-
mented Gurley, "and go about all the time
becomingly robed for the day of judgment."
"You have said it exactly," Phoebe told
him, smiling, holding her tears sternly in
their cisterns. "And you haven't any idea
what a feeling of companionship you can
have towards a gown that is like yourself
alone in the world." .
"Your brother wants to see you, Miss
White," said Randy, speaking at the kitch-
en door, a shade of patronage coloring her
tone to the sister of such a brother.
Phoebe expanded, standing quite erect
and high.
"Oh, does he! Bring him to me then.
Bring him directly in here."
Randy withdrew her one-eyed counte-
nance, and Mrs. Holmes carried Toddles in-
to his nursery.
Instead of the figure which the girl had
braced herself to meet, however, Thorney
White came in, sniffling, and downcast, too
timid to lift his eyes as high as a stranger's
face, yet too doggedly indignant at the
world in general to avoid all encounter with
it. He seemed ready to fall apart, so slight
a hold had his garments oil each other's
support; and his hay-coio?ed hair hung over
a silly face which expressed nothing but an
appeal to his sister. His sprawling boots
were heavy with such moist earth as he
had been able to collect fcpon them during
his tramp across the Hollow; but barnyard
odors rather thau breath of the spring
woods saturated his presence and spread
around him. The black wool hat, which had
gathered dust undisturbed since Phcebe
brushed it last, was worried down to his
ears and propped by them; and his hands
appeared well along on their journey to-
ward his knees in yawning trowser pockets.
Thorney's chin, evidently put on as an after-
thought and scarcely belonging to his face,
hung in moments of vacancy toward his
breast; but just now, feeling the presence
of unexpected society, he made successive
efforts to hold it up and swallowed audibly
in the struggle.
Gurley thought he had never seen a more
repulsive creature. But if Thorney had
been a shining and firm angel, Phoebe could
not have run to him with swifter change of
countenance and manner. She turned him
towards Gurley maternally, as both vouch-
ing for him and challenging his opponents.
"This is my brother, Mr. Gurley," she
said. "My good little brother, though he is
older than I am anu looks so tall."
Gurley advanced his hand and greeted
this good little brother.
"Shake hands, Thorney," prompted his
sister, in a quick, low tone, "and say 'how
do you do.'?"
Thorney shuffled forward a step and
thrust his moist and dirty hand into Gur-
ley's palm with a mumble, but without tak-
ing his eyes off the floor.
"He's so bashful," explained Phcebe, in
the tone a mother uses when she says "he's
cutting hi3 teeth." And she added a swift
admonition to Thorney to keep his hands
out of his pockets and stand straighter.
"He's worse than McArdle," inwardly re-
marked the young gentleman. "Poor little
mother hen! What unnatural chicks she
has to scratch for!"
" And what was it, Thorney?" inquired
Phoebe, " I'm going out this evening to
stay until after our bed-time. You won't
mind coming to the school-house to-mor-
row after school, will you? We can talk it
over there."
Thorney, perhaps, had his attention oc-
cupied by the disposal of his hands; or he
was too dull to see how she hastened to bar
his telling what it was. Thrusting one fist
under his chin, to support it, and sliding
the other behind him, whence it soon wan-
dered to the familiar pocket, he complained
that Thane was around ag'in.
"Never mind!" exclaimed Phoebe.
Thorney muttered that he did care
though.
"Come after school," repeated his sister.
"I have very much to say to you, Thorney.
And you can tell me all about it then. But
go home now, won't you? And don't stop
to speak anybody in the woods; don't linger
around where anybody can get hold of you
—waylay you."
k*As if she were admonishing Red Riding-
hood," thought Gurley. "What prowler
would want this beautiful object ?"
Thorney, however, absorbed all the solici-
tude his sister could pour over him, and de-
parted then as if his injuries were but half
salved. Phoebe leaned forward in the phae-
ton as it turned from Holmes' gate to watch
his slovenly figure plodding into the woods.
"But Mr. McArdle," said Phoebe, retur-
ing to Gurley.
'•Her mind reverts to her other dependent
chick," thought he.
"Miss Fawcett said ho was to bring me
and take me back."
"There's many a slip betwixt the cup and
McArdle's lip."
"I don't believe you like him," she ob-
served. "I have noticed you taking him up
short."
"Taking him up short only! Consider
how virtuous that is of me when I suffer to
beat and kick him."
"And he so inoffensive," laughed Phoebe.
"He never injured you any way, did he?"
"No," replied Gurley, "I wish he would."
CHAPTER IV.
McArdle, in dress-coat and pumps, was
the second person Phoebe greeted on enter-
ing Miss Fawcett's parlors. He stood talk-
ing with a young girl,one hand resting on a
chair-back, the other hanging gracefully by
his side, and self-consciousness radiating
from him. No other member of the class
was in evening attire.
Gurley saw with satisfaction that Phoebe
was instantly admired. She moved daunt-
lessly into this little social sea, feeling that,
like an iceberg, she carried sevenfold of her
bulk of cold misery below the surface. Not
for her were the timid vanity and erratic
carriage of young girlhood.
"How alluring your Miss White is, Cu-
pid," said Psycho, hooking her finger on
his arm in the library. "I wish I had black
eyes and a racy color—that moist, peach-like
richness of the skin. They aro so easily
and simply dressed to. She looks as dis-
tinguished as a queen."
"I accept your approval as a personal com-
pliment," said Gurley. "Now cast your eye
on McArdle."
"Why should I cast my eye on Mr. Mc-
Ardle? You know he sets my teeth on
edge."
"Psyche," said Gurley, with gravity,
"hadn't I better bring our old engagement
ring back to you? There are some subjects
on which our harmony is utter."
"Right there our harmony would break in-
to discords. I never felt as kindly toward
you in my life as I do to-night, and it's ail
because the annoying engaged feeling is off.
I can't see why girls take pride in such dis-
comfort. And if an almost endurable creat-
ure like yourself hampered me, Oh, con-
sider what it might have been with that
wraith of manhood yonder as the party of
the second parti"
"I shall always remember gratefully,
Swansdown, that you rate me a little above
McArdle. McArdle denied before the,fellows
to-day that he had the slightest acquaint-
ance with this young girl—when I had seen
him take money from her hand which she
had earned by hard days' work. He didn't
want to identify himself with her or bring
her out at all; he only wanted to make use
of her good-will."
"Jack, why do you set me to despising
people in my own house! It is so inhospi-
table. I didn't pull you in here to have my
temper excited, but to ask you how to break
that stiffness. Oh, do all the girls and
young men in Greensburg stand up like that
and freeze each other's marrow for polite-
ness' sake when they meet at an easy
social?"
"I am afraid they do," responded Gurley.
"They never used to do it," mourned
Psvehe.
"We're trying to be polished," said Gur-
ley. "And when we don't dance we pose
and drop an occasional word to each
other."
"Dance! If they only would. But you
told me half the men are divinity students
and not dancing men at all."
"Besides," added Gurley, "we are in
some awe of our present hostess. We be-
lieve she conies straight from courts, and
occupies herself comparing us common
clods to duchesses and counts and so on."
"What shall I do? I would actually get
upon a table and cut a caper if that would
make them comfortable."
"Try it."
"Is this the way you help me!" exclaimed
Psyche, flashing her rings as if through
them she discharged her surplus electricity.
"I would just love to bite you like I used to
when we first fought each other.'
"Yes, I carry the engravingof your lovely
fingernail under my right ear yet," observed
Gurley, with enjoyment. "But I was going
to say that when we Greensburgers want
to relax and limber ourselves thoroughly
we take to charades and tableaux."
"Oh, how easy," said Psyche.^ "Why
didn't you say so before?"
" And then we end with college songs and
go home blessing our entertainer."
The company was accordingly soon divided
in twain, one section chatting expectantly
on rows of chairs, the other wrangling and
eager in a green-room to which the house
wardrobes were made tributary. Psyche's
aunt, a quiet lady who scarcely impressed
one's memory, was made manager of stage
properties.
Miss Fawcett and Phoebe, who were to
appear as the captive Queen of Scots and
one of her Marys, remained together, while
the rest of their company went forth to
open the act.
When they had completed their own fan-
tastic adornment they set down to wait, and
Psyche smiled at Phoebe.
[to be continued.]
There is nothing in the composition of
lead pencils to warrant the nam¿. Red lead
is an oxide of lead, and white lead is a car-
bonate of lead, but the black lead used in
pencils is neither a metal nor a compound
of metaL It is plumbago or graphite, one
of the forms of carbon.
There must be at least sixty thousand
inhabitants in a State in order to be ad*
mitted into the Union.
Food and Morality.
Prof. F. T. Mile?, of the faculty of
the University of Maryland, delivered
a lecture to a large audience of young
raeu recently, on 4'Food and Diges-
tion.7 ' In the course of his lecture
Prof. Miles, in speaking of the effects
of an insufficient quantity of food,
said: 44The fat disappears first, then
the muscles waste away, and finally
the bones come through the skin. The
brain, the spiual cord and the nerve
are nourished to the last Like a king
in a beleaguered city to whom his loyal
subjects give up their food, the nobler
organs are longest nourished. In
starvation there is not simple hunger
of the stomach, but hunger of the
whole body. It is not strange that
w
when hunger presses on people they
will do strange things. It produces
insanity, and they have been driven to
eating what lias been called 4 strange
flesh;1 that is to cannibalism. There
are millions of people who have not
enough to eat. It is at the bottom of
anarchy. The police may give them a
loaf of bread, but the whole body is ill-
nourished, and a restless feeling re-
suits. Not much can be done with the
grown-up people of the criminal
classes, but the child criminal comes
first The crimiual classes are called
dirty, lazy and ugly. Of course they
are. They are dirty because they have
no spare heat to let go; lazy, because
the muscles are weak and nature tells
them to keep still when hungry.
You would be astonished to know how
much of the beauty of the fairest
women is made up of fat. The crim-
inal classes are ugly becauge they have
no fat. How could a child whoso mus-
cles and nervous system have been
partly starved be expected to have all
the sympathies and instincts of a high-
er class of society? An every-day Sab-
bath-school with a breakfast before the
lesson would% be a capital thing for
poor children. Some say the poor
themselves are to blame for their con-
dition by living too luxuriously. One
of the most intense cravings of the
Greely Arctic party was for sweet-
meats. Tea and cortee do more «rood
than harm. They stimulate not only the
brain, but the activities of the whole
body. There will be a great mission
to the poor some day to see that they
get enough good food. —Baltimore Sun.
A Famous Indian, and a Still More
Famous Indian Fighter.
We give below a picture of Kit Car-
son, the famous scout and Indian
lighter, whose thrilling exploits sur-
passed in interest and adventure those
of all other frontier heroes. Kit's
portrait shows that he was a very lion
in courage and stern determination,
and also a man of fine intellect He
was, in truth, the ideal American hero
of the wild Western border.
colonel kit carson.
Kit's last great contest with the
Indians occurred in 1867. the year be-
fore his death, when Red Knife, a
perfect Indian fiend, suddenly attacked
the defenseless settlers of the remote
frontiers. A most graphic, spirited
and thrilling account of that most des-
perate struggle is now being published
in the New York Ledger. under the
title of 44Red Knife; ok Kit Carson's
Last Trail." Red Knife, as will be
seen by the picture of him which we
give below.
<C
■o
m
m
8
red knife
was a typical Indian warr or and cut-
throat The history of his raid, and
of Kit Carson's skill and heroism in
meeting the perils of the occasion, is
begun in Ne. 7 of the New York
Ledger. Robert Bonner's Sons have
issued millions of sample copies oJ
this number of the Ledger, but there
are, probably, persons who have not
yet had a copy, and we are informed
that any one who has not had one ol
these sample copies can get one free
of expense by simply sending his
name and address to the Lcdcter office,
at the corner of William and Spruce
streets, New York. This is certainly
an easy and cheap way to get a speci-
men number of the greatest Indian
storv ever published.
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Miller, Freeman E. The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 22, Ed. 1 Thursday, March 29, 1888, newspaper, March 29, 1888; Canadian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth183554/m1/3/?q=Lamar+University: accessed June 6, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hemphill County Library.