Newspaper of The Washington Standard, April 5, 1873, Page 1

Newspaper of The Washington Standard dated April 5, 1873 Page 1
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Washington lii jftattfrarft* VOL. XIII-NO. 22. %F;isliint)lou jp'fanfatl M ISSUED KVKItY SATURDAY MORNING BY JOHN MILLER MURPHY, EOITOR AND PROPRIETOR. SubicrlptlAn Rated Tor annum *2 59 " six months ... 2 00 AinrtliMg Rates i One square, one Insortion <2 00 TCach additional insortion 1 00 •Business cards, per quarter 5 00 •• " annum »......15 00 try A literal deduction will be made in fa vor of tttttso Who advertise four squares,%r upwards, hy tl»0 year. KT Logai notices will be charged to the at torney or officer authorizing their insertion. Advertisements sent from a distance and transient notices, must be accompanied l)v the cash. liT Announcements of births, marriages and deaths, inserted free of charge. C.7"Obituary notices, or "poetry" append ed to marriages or deaths, will lie charged on.'-lmlf our regular advertising rotes. We will not hereafter deviate from this rule. Billheads. Cards, Catalogues, fireulars, Hills of Faro, Posters, Pamphlets Programmes, Ac., printed at reasonable rates OKricE—Coruer of Second and Washington St roots. Bachelor's Hall. "One, two, three —yellow; one, two, three, four—blue;" said Miss Penniman, counting the stitches on hor embroid ery pattern. *" Oh, Miss Penniman, guess what's cried Snkv Ann, the kitch en, putting her head in at the parlor «loor. " What is it ?" asked MissPenniinan, dropping her work; " has the pig bro ken through tliat floor again ? Well, I knew how 'twould l>e; I told Mr. What's-liis-name that he didn't half do the job, but he was so bent on having it his own way that he gave no iuoro heed to what I said than to the wind that blows. Now, put on your hut and go right down and tell him it's all got to be done over again. Next time may bo he'll hoed my advice." " But the pig hann't broke through the floor, mum," said Suky Ann. " For goodness' sake, what ha* hap pened, then ? Has the cow got into the corn? It's tli at stupid Malone; I never yet saw an Irishman that knew wliicli end his head was on. I asked Malone, not three days ago, al>out that place, and he said ' It's all right, mum.' He always says ' it's all right.' I suppose he'd say ' it's all right,' if the house was 011 fire.'' " But it ain't the cow, mum." " Not the cow ? Why didn't you tell me it so before, then ? It's the chick ens, I suppose;' liavo they got salt, or " Taint the chickens—'taint any thing that's happened to us." " What should I care, if it don't con cern us? Let other folks attend to their own affairs." " But it does kind o' concern us; there's folks moviug into the next house." '' My stars! That is news! A family with a dozen children, I'll warrant. I'll havo the garden gate nailed up, to begin with, or they'll be tramping over my flower-beds." " I guess there ain't no childreu, Miss Pennimau." " What makes you tliiuk so?" " 'Cause I heard um say he was an old bachelor." " Mercy on us! worse and worse. Of course he keeps a dog—they always do. I'd rather have u dozen children rouud than a dog." " Yes'in, thero w a dog; I see him myself—a nasty, snappin', yellin', little critter; I heard um say it was a sker rier." "A what ?" " A skerrier, mum." " Oh, a Skye terrier, I suppose you mead. Well' it's what I have long ex pected; an old bachelor, you say? Of course he brings a housekeeper with him—a great brazen-faced widow, I'll bo bound." " His housekeeper's a man, muui." " A man? of all things!" " I heard um say his name was Pop gun, or somethin.' " "A very singular name, truly. I knew a family named Guun, and one named Shute, but Popgun, never; I should think his master'd be afraid he'd 'J<> off. By the way, what's his name— the old bachelors ? It ought to be Can non, to match that of the servant." Oh, mistress, you're so funny," said Suky Ann, tittering. " I heard um say the old un s name is Merridew." , " Um ? Who's Um ? Whoever he is, he's told you a good deal of news." " Twas Tom told me, mum," said Suky Ann, the rose on her cheek deep ening to peony. Oh, the butcher h moon-faced boyj I surmised as much—but Suky Ann,' don t you know it is very improper to gossip with young men in this way ? I never did when I was a girl." " Lu Von t »ai<l Sukv. ."That's right—always take my ad vice and you'll never regret it. You juay go now—and Suky Ann, if you near anything mora about our new neighbors, let me know it," " Yes'in." DEVOTED TO NEWS, POLITICS, THE DISSEMINATION OF I'SEFIL INFORMATION AND THE PROMOTION OF THE BEST INTERESTS OF WASHINGTON TERRITORY. OLTMPIA, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 5, 1873. Miss Pfmiiman was an independent spinster; she not only owned tlie house ttlie lived in, with several acres of land attached, but she had money in the bank. Her age might havo been thirty-five, and I will not undertake to say that it was not forty-five; there was nothing in her appearance to afford any certain indication on this point. Her complex ion had neither the bloom of youth nor the faded hue to which that bloom too often gives place; her Btrong white teeth bade defiance to the dentist, and her black hair, somewhat coarse of fibre, Bhowed not a silver thread. She wore it coiled at the back of her head—a style which is never in fashion and never out of fashion—and her dress, though des titute of flowers, ruffle and panier, was always of fino material and fitted well her not ungraceful figure. For the rest, she lived alone with her serving-maid, Suky Ann, content to fill up her time in looking ufter her house and farm, weeding her flower-garden and plying her needle. The work in hand was one of a set of chair-coverings, intended, she said, as " an heir-loom for future generations;" which, under the circumstance, was certainly very disinterested on her part. " I might have known how it would be," said she to herself, when Suky Ann had left the room; " 'twasn't rea sonable to expect that house would re main vacant forever; the more fool I was for buying this one; nothing but a fence between me and that old bach elor! I've the greatest mind to sell out and move away; but 'twould be a pity, too, when I've just got, everything to my mind; besides, I guess I can make it us uncomfortable for him as he can for me;" and she thrust her needle through and through the canvas, as if the parrot she was embroidering had been Mr. Merridew himself. The next morning as Miss Penniman with a handkerchief over her head, and a feather duster in her hand, was putting the parlor to rights, she thought she preceived a strange and indefinable odor stealing in through the open win dow. " Sukv Ann." called she. " Here, mum!" " Don't you perceive a queer smell ? there isn't anything burning, is there?" '• Nothing but old Merridew's pipe," saiil Suky, laughing. "A pipe? Phew!" cried Miss Pen niman, shutting the window with an energy which made the glass rattlo in tho frame. " Well. I give it up now; if there's anything I hate it's tobacco." " He must be a lazy loon," said Suky, " there he's got a great kind of a net, with tossels to it, hitched up in the pi azza. I've heard utu say it was a hum muck. "A hammock," corrected her mis tress. " A hammock—there ain't much odds though; and there he's sprawled out in it full length, swingin' himself to and fro and readin' the newspaper—or pre tendin' to—l don't believe anybody can road much, with their head bobbin' about from one side to t' other." There was a trellis at the end of the piazza which had prevented Miss Pen niuian from seeing all this. " Did you notice what kind of furni ture thoy brought?'" asked she. •'No'in; 'twas all done up in tow cloth when they carried it in, 'cept a black box, that looked like a babv's cof fin." "But it could n't be," said Miss Pen niman; " what should he want with a baby's coffin ?" '• I heard um say they guessed t was a fiddle in it," said Suky. " A fiddle! My stars! So our noses are to be tilled with tobacco smoke, and our ears with the screeching of a fiddle! Heaven knows what will turn up next!" " How do you s'pose they gets their victuals?" asked Suky, pleased to bo the bearer of so much intelligence. " That servant man, Popgun, cooks them, doesn't he ?" " They has um all brought from the tavern—every identical thing," said Suky. "Suky Ann, you may go!" said Miss Penniman, in a deep sepulchral voice, as if her endurance has been tried to its utmost limit. " A pipe—it is a nuisance," mused she; but I don't suppose I could have it abated by law— men make laws!'' After some moments of profouud re flection she summoned Suky again. " We're to have corned beef for din ner to-day aren't we f" " So you said, mum." " And cabbage,of course; we always have boiled cabbage with corned beef. Well, mind you leave open the kitchen window toward Mr. Merridew's; the wind's that way, I believe." " I'll be sure to give the kitchen a good airin'," said Suky, demurely, and with only a sly twinkle in her eye; but when she reached her own dominions she broke into a series of giggles, and gave utterance to the remarkable excla mation— " Cabbage is trumps!" If Miss Penniman expected to drive her neighbor from his stronghold by a weapon so intangible, she was disap pointed; for he not only continued to swing in his hammock and smoke his pipe every pleasant day after dinner, but on moonlight nights ho brought thither his violin and played till the very cats on the surrounding fences joined in from sympathy. Indeed, Miss Penniman declared that she could not tell which was which; and that, more than onc6, when she had risen from her bed to drive away the many feline intruders, she found, too late, she had been flinging her brush and slippers at Mr. Merridew. Por several week&the only intercourse between the two household? was of the distant kind; but at last, one bright morning, the serving-man was seen coming through the garden to Miss Penniman's back door. "What can he want?" said Suky Ann. " To boiTow something, you may be sure," answered her mistress; " but I'll soon put a stop to all that!'' A tall and not ill-looking youth was the man-servant, whose most prom inent points, as he now presented him self, were: a pair of plaid pantaloons, a short sacque (which, like the tadjKjle, seemed yet undecided whether or not to develop a tail), a red necktie and a cap set jauntily on one side. Beneath the cap was a growth of short, dark curls and a pair of shrewd brown eyes. As the kitchen door stood open, he crossed the threshold without the cere mony of knocking; and glancing from Suky Ann to her mistress, said: " Miss Penniman, I presume?" " That is my name; and you, I sup pose, are Popgun?" " Popkins," said he, smiling, " My master, Mr. Merridow, sends his com pliments, and requests you'll be kind enough to shut up your fowls for a few weeks." "Shut up my fowls!" gasped Miss Penniman. "Only till planting is past, madam; they're so exceeding troublesome about scratching up the seeds." "Tell your master I'll accommodate him with pleasure, if he'll hive the good ness to shut up that dog of his." " What, Waggle, ma'am ?" " He may be Waggle, for anything I know. I mean an ill-favored little cur, that comes nosing about my back door, frightening the cat out of her seven senses!" " I'll deliver your message, ma'am," said Popkins, bowing a good morning. " Shut up m.v fowls!" cried Miss Penniman, watching his retreating fig ure. " Was there ever such impudence! However, I guess I've given the old gentleman his quietus. Look there, Suky Ann! That Popkins has left a track on the floor; get the mop and wipe it up, I wonder what men were made for, anyhow, unless it was to track round and make work for women! I'm sure they never did me any good!" "That long lout's at the door again, askin' for you," announced Suky, a few days afterward. " "What long lout ?" " Popkins, mum." " Show him in," said Miss Penniman, grimly. " Wall, sir ?" as ho appeared at the parlor door. " Mr. Merridew is sorry to trouble you again, madam; but he says if you don't shut up those fowls he really shall be obliged to take measures " "Ask your master if it's any worse for my hens to scratch up a few seeds than for that dog to steal the meat from my pantry and the griddle-cakes from my table? However, he's welcome to take measures if he wants to. I've no sort of objection. I can take measures, too!" " Yes, ma'am." So the fowls were allowed to roam in freedom, as before; and several times each day they might have been seen skurrying over the fence from Mr. Mer ridew s garden, followed by a shower of stones and brickbats, while just as often a small dog might have been seen leaping the fence iu an opposite direc tion, pursued by an incensed female with a broom or a pan of hot dishwa ter. " Go tell that infernal woman,*' said Mr. Merridew, one day, when this had happened an unusual number of times, '' go tell that infernal woman that if she doesn't shut up those fowls, I'll wring their cursed necks! Heavens! if I d known that house was occupied by a cantankerous old maid, I never would have taken this one!" It is not probable the polite Popkins would have delivered this message ver batim, or that his master intended he should; but he was saved the trouble modifying it, for when he opened the gate he was confronted by Miss Penni man herself, with a sun-bonnet on her head and a trowel in her hand. She stood before him, an embodiment cf of indignant virtue, and before he could open his mouth said, waving her trowel with a gesture of defiance: " Tell your master I've lived on these premises ten years and am satis fied to remain here. Those that don't like can leave! But no—wait a min ute, ' said she, impelled by an after thought; " tell him that I will shut up my fowls; I'll have a carpenter to-mor row." 1 " Thank you, ma'am," said Popkins; and to himself, "I wonder what's in the wind now;" for, though the words were conciliatory, there was no relenting in the eye. The next day the mystery was made Elain; the carpenter came and put up a en-house of rough pine boards, close by the fence which divided the two es tates, almost beneath the window of Mr. Merridew's sleeping apartment. " Now he'll know when it's time to get up in the morning," said Miss Pen niman. If the unsightliness of the structure and the sounds of crowing and cack ling which proceeded from it sometimes proved annoying to her own eyes and ears, she rejoiced in the fact as an evi dence of tue still greater annoyance they were causing her neighlior. There was an end to to the inter change of messages, and ostensibly of all communication between the two households; for if Popkins occasionally helped Suky drive her cows from pas ture, or flung his tender compliments over the garden gate, or escorted her home from evening meeting, neither party felt called upon to report the same to their superiors. As for Waggle, he so resented the treatment he had received that he stayed at home of his own accord, as might have been expected of a dog of any spirit. A November storm was raging. Tho The fierce blast howled round the cor ners of the house, roared in the chim neys, and drove the sleet against the window-panes. " It's an awful night," said Miss Pen niman, shuddering, and drawing her worsted shawl more closely about her. " An awful night." " That it is," said Suky Ann, who had come to the parlor for the sake of companionship, and was crouching on a rug before the fire. "My granny I used to say there was witches abroad I on such a ni<'lit as this." I ° " Witches, child! I hope you're not so silly as to believe in witches? Good Lord! What was that?" And Miss : Penniuinn started to her feet, for a heavy blow on the front door had sent it flying back on its hinges, while a blast swept through the halls and up the staircase with a sound as of a thous and wind-harps, bassons and drums, all mingled in one mighty chorus. It was a relief to distinguish, amid the din, the stamping of boots, suggestive as it was of human agency; then the parlor door was flung open, and a man stood before thein. " Popkins!" exclaimed both women in one breath, as he threw back the cloak in which he was enveloped. "Excuse my unceremonious en trance," said he, addressing Miss Pen niman; "the cause is an urgent one. I've come to ask your help." " In what way ?" " By going with me on an errand of mercy." " To whom ?" " My master." " And why should I leave my comfort able home on this stormy nisht to oblige one who has never shown any kindness to me ?" " Because, madam, he's dying." " Dying!" There was somethiug in the simplicity of the answer, as contrasted with Pop kins' usual grandiloquence, that touched Miss Penniman in spite of herself. " Suky Ann, bring my Polish boots and waterproof," said she. Suky obeyed without a word, and having helped to put them on, throw a shawl over her own hood. " What! are vou going, too?" "I can't bo left here alone," said Sukv. "Silly girl! Well, come; we may need your help." A few moments of buffeting the storm, and the trio gained the shelter of Mr. Merridew's roof. As they entered tho parlor, Waggle, recognizing his former enemies, sprang toward them, gnash ing his teeth with rage; but quickly discerning by some subtle instinct that they had come to help, not harm, he quietly retreated to his old position by the fireside. It was a large, dimly lighted room in which Miss Penniman now found her self, chiefly redolent, as she did not even then fail to observe, of stale tabacco smoke. On a sofa, in a remote corner of the room, lay a middle-aged gentleman, wrapped up in a crimson dressing-gown. His iron-grav hair fell loosely over the pillow, his face was ghastly pale, his eyes closed, and his hands folded on his breast. White, shapely hands they were, with a large seal ring on the little finger of one of them. " Dead!" whispered Popkins, with a look of horor. " Fainted," said Miss Penniman, her fingers on his wrists. " Brandy. A teaspoon. Comphor. Bathe his fore head." With a brevity and conciseness which would have delighted the heart of Dr. Abernethy. Miss Penniman issued these orders, and soon had the satisfac tion of seeing her patient restored to conciousness. " How long has he been sick?" asked she. " Well, he'a been kind of ailing a number of weeks, ma'am—-a low fever, like; he consulted she doctor once, and he told him he wanted nursing more than medicine; but master wouldn't bear to having a woman in the house." "Had to come to it, though,", ob served Miss Penniman. " What havo you given him to eat?" "Hisappetite seems to have failed him pretty much. I've made gruel for him, but I couldn't get him to touch it." " Let me see some of your gruel.** Popkins handed her a dipper contain ing a thick, soggy substance. " You call that gruel, do you ? No wonder you couldn't get him to eat it; it's my believe you've starved the poor gentleman to death. Suky Ann, you sit here while I go and make him some gruel. You've a kitchen, I suppose ?" " Certainly, I do all my own cooking there now," said Popkins, leading the way thither. "A clean porringer," said Miss Pen niman. " This has had gruel in it, and this I used about my dinner," said Popkins, taking up one porringer after another; " but here's one that's had nothing in but shaving water." " And soap," said Miss Penniman, sniffing at it with an expression of in effable disgust. "I can wash it how ever, a towel please. That a towel?" surveying the article Popkins held out to her. "It looks to me like the half of a torn pillow-case-or worse. Rut never mind; it's is almost daybreak, I'll go homo and make the gruel." And as Miss Penniman walked across the yard to her own house, there flitted through her mind the words of a cer tain old ballad, beginning ".Bachelor's hall, what a queer looking place it is." The invalid not only drained Miss Penniman's gruel to the last drop, but his eyes seemed to linger lovingly on the delicate napkin, the transparent china, and the brightly burnished spoon, with whicn it wa3 served. "Poor man! I suppose he hasn't seen anything clean before for a good while," said Miss Pennimau aside to Sukv Ann, " Just.'see that pairof-of-mi/rfnV men tion 'ems hanging up over old Merridew's likeness," said Suky Ann. " And the boots on the center-table," responded her mistress. " And the chimbly of the lamp; they'd bettor keep it to look at the next eclipse with," said Suky Ann. That Mr. Merridew needed care rath er than medicine was evident, for un der Miss Penniman's excellent nursing he grew rapidly better, and as he noted the firmness and the gentleness, the judgment and tenderness with which she ministered to his wants, he more than once found himself repeating Scott's lines—he had always thought them ra ther " spooney "-concerning " woman in our hour of ease," as contrasted with that same being " when pain aud an guish wrings the brow." "You have been very kind to, madam; very," said he, one day when she had brought him a piece of cold chicken and a tumbler of jelly. " For a cantankerous old maid, yes," said she. " Good heavens, madam! Did Pop "No, Popkins didn't. I heard it myself." "You heard it, and yet you camo to me, Miss Penniman you are an angel of goodness." " O no;'for I should not have come, only that Popkins told me you were dying." " And but for you, I believe I would have died. Miss Penniman, I have been a woman-hater; I have even told Popkins a few weeks ago that I would not have a woman in the house as long as I had mv senses " "And you didn't,'' observed Miss Penniman. "True," said he, smiling; but one canio to mo in my extremity, and now I cannot bear to let her go again. Through her I've learned the folly of setting myself against God's ordinances. In Eden "ho placed the first married pair, and in marriage has man ever since found his Eden." For one moment Miss Penniman fal tered under the gaze of those find gray eyes; but quickly recovering herself, she said: "lf you had despised my sex; I've detested yours; and if I've detested one class of meu more than another, it's the old bachelors. Why, Mr. Merridew when I heard that you had moved into this house I was well nigh tempted to move out of mine; only I concluded it would be wiser to stay and drive out instead. I believed it would be the happiest day of my life when I should see you quit these premises, never to return; but, Mr. Merridew " " Go on, Miss Penniman." •* I've changed mv mind." When Miss Penniman announced her approaching marriage to her serv ing maid, that young woman exclaimed: " Well now, if that ain't cur'ous!" "You may well say so, Suky Ann; but if you had heard what beautiful WHOLE NO. 647. things he had said about the first pair in the garden of Eden, and all that—" •' O, I always knew 'twas beautiful." interrupted Siiky Ann; "but ain't it cur'ous that I should have made up my mind to be married, just at this time, too!" " You, Suky Ann?" " Yes. I. Miss Penniman." '• To whom, pray ? O, the butcher's moon-faced boy, I suppose. Not but that Thomas is a likely lad enough—" "Lordy, 'tain't that greenhorn.*' " Who then ?" " I'opkins, mum." THE DOME3TIO TELEGBAPH. Not many evenings ago an intelligent, gentlemanly looking individual pre sented himself at our door and asked " if we didn't want the district telegraph Eut into our house." At the same time e handed over for our examination a very pretty little instrument composed of cog-wheels, and somewhat resem bling a clock. "We attach the instru ment to the wall," he said, "in some convenient position in your house, and to it we connect a wire leading to your roof, where it unites with another wire that extends to one of our district offi ces on Broadway." Pointing to a small knob he continued: "If a lire breaks out in your house, you just push that lever, and in three minutes the firemen will be here. If thieves break in, you move that other lever, and in tliree minutes the policeman will make his appearance. If you want a special messenger to go upon any sort of busi ness, night or day, you just turn this little button and in three minutes the man will be at your door ready for ser vice. The signals jou thus make aro all received and recorded at our Broad way office, where we keep a force of at tendants, in readiness at all hours, to execute the requirements of our cus tomers. Your wife or any other intel-. ligent person can make the signals. We make no charge for putting the instrument into your house, or for keep ing it in order; but you pay us $2,50 a month for its use, and fifteen cents an hour for the time occupied by our mes sengers in doing your business. When you go away to the couutiy in summer, you can have an attachment put on, so fixed that if burglars attempt to break in, an alarm will be sounded at our of fice, when our policemen will quickly surround the house, and catch the thief in the act." We rather liked tlio idea of having such a telegraph in our hoxise, gave tho order, and it was promptly put in. In the course of a week or so after ward, thinks we to ourselves, that is our wife and wo, " let's try our tele graph just for fun, and see whether the telegraph folks are as wide awake as they pretend, or whether they are nap ping." This was early in the morning, just between getting up time and break fast—before business begins—the hour when night hands go home and day hands have not yet come—the time when the manager is probably not on hand. Now let's sec what this new fangled telegraph is good for. So wo pressed the knob, and there followod a slight click and a buzz. We looked at our watch, wont down stairs, took seats at the breakfast table-, when we were startled by a ring at the door-bell. " Messenger from the District Telegraph Office. Got your signal. Wants to know what is wanted," was the report that caaio to us. Ijooking at our watch, we found that just two and a half min utes had elapsed since we gave the sig nal. We felt a little bit sheepish in being obliged to tell the messenger that we had sent for him «« just for fun,; to see whether he was awake," etc., and as we wero entirely satisfied on that point, he retired, sorry that we had nor real business for him him to do. After breakfast we went to the com pany's office, where we found a Morse paper recording apparatus, with which the various dwelling houses in the dis trict are connected. Whenever a signal is given from any of the houses in the circuit, a gong sounds in the office, which notifies the attendent, and at the same time the telegraph clock-work is set in motion; the paper moves, and upon it a signal is stamped and re stamped or repeated. Each house in strument gives a different signal, and the various signals, with the names of the occupants and the numbers of the respective dwelling houses are regis tered or tabulated on the wall, like a hotel indicator. By glancing at the register, the attendant sees at once from what home the signal has come, as also its nature, whether a fire has occurred, a robbery going on, or a messenger needed. The office is in connection with tho city fire telegraph and police offices, and instaut signals are sent thither if required. Taken altogether, the district or do mestic telegraph is a most useful and valuable institution, promotive of com fort, convenience and safety of fami lies, That it. will root* come into gen eral use can not be doubted. The wires are BO arranged that in ease they are severed, either by design or accident, an alarm is instantly sounded at the district office and the repairs are quickly made.— Scumtific American, . ■A.'swf

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