The Banner Weekly: 'The Captain's Enemy' — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

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Subscriptions can start with any late number, Take Notice. In sending money for eee ey yn remit by Am, Express Money Order, Draft, P. QO, Order, or Registered Letter, these being the best forms of remittance. Losses will almost surely be avoidedi ‘these directions are followed. Foreign subs+riptions may be sent to our My ig en agents. the InreRNATIONAL News Company, 11 Bou verie street (Fleet street), London. England, te All communications, subscriptions, and let- ters on business should be addressed to BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, 98 WiLLIAM St.. New YORK tae" The stories appearing in THE BANNER WEEKLY can not be had in Library form, ES ES Ee tas New readers will please notify their news- dealer of their purpose to take THE BANNER WEEKLY regularly, so as to be sure of secur- ing it, Back numbers always.on hand, OUR NEXT SERIAL! A Grand Sea Romance— A Powerful Story of Ocean Rivals— A Strange Tale— By Col. Prentiss Ingraham! Reintroducing some of the most prominent characters of ‘** Zulita,” bunt something more than a mere sequel to that fine work. Itisofa class of stories rare to get but always eagerly read—such stories as made Maryatt famous. Col. Ingraham may be pronounced the Ameri- can Maryatt. He is every inch a sailor, and most certainly a versatile and spirited racon- teur—hence his great popularity. In this new romance— The Rival Monte Cristos, we have, as said above, a very strange tale and one sure to command a delighted and eager audience, Itis unnecessary to add, Col, Ingra- ham writes exclusively for the publishers of the BANNER WEEKLY, and is now producing the best work of his life. How Bloomer Caught Them. BY WILL 8. GIDLEY, ** Tr happened while I was at college,” ‘* What happened?” ‘* The adventure I am about to relate.” ‘““Oh, allright. Didn't know you had primed yourself to tella story, but if you have, 1 sup- pose I might as well be resi . Goon,” And I leaned back in my patent easy-chair with an air of self-commuseration and patient resignation while Bob Bloomer (for he it was who made the remark with which this sketch is inaugurated) reeled off the following: ‘‘It was the first year I was attending the Modern Stroke-Oar College for the training of physical and mental athletes. The boys didn’t haze me; they knew better than that; but every night after | got to bed some of them used to spend the greater part of the balance of the night knocking and pounding on my door.” ‘*That was pleasant,” | Yes, very but I can’t say that I appreciated the joke. hey kept it up for three or four weeks, and then I made up my mind that it had gone on just about long enough. ‘‘T’m a walleyed snipe from Cattaraugus county, but [ don’t allow no set of stugents in no common, one-horse caravansary of knowledge to club my room-door off the hinges without hearing my gentle toot of remonstrance. They will also be pretty apt to hear from me person- ally myself about the time they become aware of my toot. ‘*That’s the kind of a hippodrome match I am! So I quietly slid out one night and laid in a supply of stuffed clubs, brick-bats, slungshots and other weapons of offense and defense, and smuggled them to my room, and then I was ready for anything in the shape of man, ghost or demon that came along. ‘*T calculated the knocking would begin about the time the lights were out, as usual,and I also calculated I would sail out in the hall with my arsenal, like an avalanche traveling down a side-hill, and knock the mischief-makers sixteen ways for Saturday—I forgot to mention on the start that it was Saturday, along about 10 P. M., that all this happened. ‘* Well, I put out my light at the regular hour, then I pulled off my boots, and hauling my collection of clubs, etc., up near the door, where I could get hold of them ata seconds no- tice, I crouched there in the darkness waiting for the signal to combat. ‘* An hour or more passed, and no sign from the Knockists. I was beginning to think they must have discovered that I was ready for them, and decided that it would be a good night to stay away. ‘*Finally I struck a match to see what time it was getting to be, and just then I heard a light footstep in the hall outside of my door and some one gave a loud thump on the panels. Now was my golden copa astily dropping the half-burn match, I firml grasped the stuffed club in my right han yanked the door open with the other, an struck out, flooring the misguided joker the first clip. Vphen I jumped on him and banged his head on the floor and said,‘ ve got you at last, have 1? (thump.) ‘Come around pounding on m door again, will you? (anotherthump,) ‘ Thi you'll know enough to keep away after this?’ (several successive thumps.) ‘ Hey? (thump.) ‘Got anything to say? (thump.) ‘If you have spit it out! (final thump.) ‘* Just then the janitor came up with a light to see what the rumpus was about, and the next instant I came near fainting away.” ‘Why: what was the trouble?” Well, you see, it wasn’t one of the boys 1 had caught after all; it was the head professor; and I was banging his intellectual department on the floor so fast that he didn’t have a chance to explain who he was.” ‘That was sad,” '& ‘‘ Yes it was: sad for the professor; but he ac- cused me of having a light in my rvom (it seems he saw the flare from the match when | struck it, and that is the reason he knocked) and came near having me expelled. I lained and apologized in six or eight different styles, and be finally let me off with a reprimand, but it was a close sbave, . ‘« However, [ wasn’t troubled with any more knocking at my door, either by professor or students after that. The boys heard of my matinee with the professor, and they concluded if | was that sort of a customer it would be a good plan to keep away. And they did,” Happy-Go-Lucky Papers. A Modern Tennyson, DEAR BANNER:— Why is it that all the newly-fledged Byrons and Tennysons come to me with the products of their sad-eyed and morbid muse, and cast them like a pal! of gloom in my pathway? Give it up? So do I. 1 wish I knew, and then I would try vo lead a different life in future. But for the present I suppose | must suffer on, but not in silence, Oh, no; when I suffer | gen- erally take man and womankind into my con- fidence and let them suffer also. In case you feel that you were not born to suffer 1t would be a good time now to go out and see a man and forget to come back, With this warning prelude,! will now pro- ceed to turn on the ply agony. He is a young man—about nineteen I should judge at an off-hand guess—and he sends me the following pathetic effusion: ‘‘Mup FLats, Muskrat County, Ia,, ‘* January 18, 1858, ‘Mr, Noan Nurr, E SQ. :-— ‘‘ DEAR Srr:—I1 am thinking of going into the poeting business for a living, and I am anxious to secure your co-operation and advice. Now for instance, if 1 write a first-class poem, like some of the samples inclosed, would you he willing to take 1t and pass it off as your own, allowing me say sixty per cent, of the price it fetches? You can put it in the Century or Seritbner’s, whichever you think best, though of course L would want you to letthe one have it that would pay the most for it, because | think a poet should be well recompensed for poeting as it is more or less of a strain on his mind. ‘‘If you think favorably of this proposition please let me know, also what price you think such a poem ought to bring if it is copied out plain so the printer will have no trouble setting it into type. ‘* The like to have you read is my Bumblebee Ode, which L com stung of last verses in this way. by a wild bumblebee, the twenty-fourth a I am good at getting up impromptu ly an effort on my part. You will find the poem in question marked ‘ Exhibit A’ among thesam- ples herewith inclosed, ‘‘T am also good on obituary poetry, though I don’t suppose that kind will bring as much as some of the other poetry I write. You will finda sample of my obituary verse in the envelope, la- heled ‘Exhibit B,’ which | got up to commem- orate the untimely decease of my sister’s pug- dog, in the spring of 1884. He was a present from the Mayor of Mud Flats, and my sister thought the world of him—of the dog, | mean— so I hope you will kindly overlook any trifling metrical defect you may notice in the verses, as I was very much affected when I wrote them, and my muse naturally didn't have a chance un- der the circumstances to do her level best. ‘‘ However, you can look it over and see what ou think of it, and if you see any place where it can be improved you are at liberty to do so. I inclose a postage-stamp to pay you for your trouble, and I would also like your advice as to whether I had better stay right here in Mud Flats and send my poetry to the popes by mail or come on myself and see the publishers about it personally. If they could have me there on the spot to explain the poetry to them. I suppose they would do better by me, but I will do just as you say about 16. ‘* You will also find in the envelope several other ‘ Exinbits’ of my poetry, with a string tied around them. Ido not pause to describe them, as you will readily understand what they are about, and recognize the true spiritof poesy that breathes through them, After looking them over if you think there is an opening for me in the metropolis, please write me in care of Jim ’s grocery store, where I do considerable of my poeting. and oblige, ‘- Yours respectfully, etc., “J. Henry Mueers, ** Poet and Litterateur,” In reply | beg to say that Iam going to be too busy this winter to copy the poems of J. Henry Muggins of Mud Flats, Ia., and palm them off on the monthly magazines as my own high-priced productions, even at the liberal terms he proposes; and besides, I don’t believe the magazines are hankering for the Mud Flats variety of poe just now. Tennyson and Walt Whitman are still writing, and they ought to be able to ef the demand for everything except the regu brands of poetry. This, of course, is discouraging to amateurs like J. Henry Muggins, but it can’t be helped —not at present, so long as so many of our old-time poets keep on writing poetry right along after ener bave forgotten how. ake Muggins’s ‘‘ Bumble-bee Ode,” for in- stance, and see how much worse it is than even Tennyson’s latest. When Lord Alfred, etc., de- scends from his spavined Pegasus and lends his titled name to throw the glamour of poesy over such a production as the following, in the lan- guage of the late J. Brutus, ‘‘ stand ready, ye gods, with all your thunderbolts, dash him to pieces!” This may seem rough on Tennyson, but you won't think so after you rea ** ode,” as Muggins fondly calls it: *“*(Exutpir A.) ‘* RUMBLE-BEE ODE. **ComMPoOsED BY J. HENRY MUGGINS, * How s&s r than a serpent’s tooth Is thy infernal sting. When pauseth thou to ‘light on man To rest thy tireless wing! ** Oh, bee! thou lifteth us About a yard or more, And causeth us to shout aloud Or with the pain to roar.’’ There are seventeen verses in this beautiful ode, but probably the above are all the reader will care about seeing. But there is one ques- tion I would like toask Muggins before I gO an further, and that is: If the bumble-bee he al- ludes to possesses a ‘‘tireless” wing, as he al- ] what is the necessity of its alighting on a fellow to rest it? Seems to mesuch a basa ing would be more or less needless, besides being a piece of carelessness on the part of the bee. here isn’t much poetry in the second verse of res ins’s ode, but no doubt there isa pile of u to the next specimen: (‘‘Exuterr B). ‘Osrr Ban Butter, APRIL 1, 1884. **Oh! Benny, thou hast left us For the other shore; he genial phiz and cheerful bark e shall see no more! ‘* Gone. gone is Ben! And hence we weep; But tears alas, are vain, We ne’er shall see poor Ben n n waking or in sleep!" It is sad to reflect that <a ge << see he pathetically puts it, but such is life, first of my works which I would with a piece of chalk on the smooth side of a board fence, just after being Whenever anything occurs to stir me up the poetry oozes forth with scarce- the. ,80 we will let it go at that, and pass along will never r Benny’s cheerful bark no more,” as To-day our favorite pug is jumping about full of frolic and fleas, and to-morrow its little bark is wrap- din an old flannel petticoat and tucked away in the cold damp ground. Still that is no excuse for writing such poetry as the above; and | would advise J, Henry Muggins to try and control his emotions the next time, and bury the dog in a plain pine soap-box, without any poetical trimmings. The other *‘ Exhibits” mentioned in Muggins’s letter 1 have filed away in the of my winter palace, out in Montgomery sory f to await his order. Life is too short to read them, About sending in his poetry by mail, I should advise him to do so by all means—unless he bas his life insured in some reliable company and is anxious that his friends should realize on the policy. He can’t be too careful about calling on an editor personally with such productions as the above, Trusting that J. Henry Muggins will profit by the few casual hunks of advice above given, I remain, Yours (and his) truly, NoaH NUFF, Notes and Notices. As to the number of words in our every-day vocabulary the average person has a t mis- conception. The fact that Webster's t un- abridged dictionary, with recent additions, con- tains upward of 100,000 defined words leads one to suppose that many thousand different words are essential -to ordinary converse and corres- pondence. But, the truth is, our every-day pa runs in a uae narrow range. ery few writers or speakers demand more than 3,500 to 4,000 words, Milton, for instance, with his wide reach of imagination and reason uses less than 8,000, while a good authority makes this surprising statement: ‘““The average man,a graduate from one of the great universities, rarely has a vocabulary of more than 3,000 or 4,000 words. There are Americans born and bred who contrive to ex- press all their wants and opinions in 500 words, and in the rural districts the knowledge of 150 or 200 words ts sufficient to carry a man through "those facte ought’ to greatly sltbptity: to, th ese ought greatly s y e general apprehension, the pte ewe difficulties of mastering the English language. Tella man that he has not got to commit to memory, and learn tne definitions and the pronunciation of many tbousand words in order to speak and write with correctness and fluency and you at once disarm ‘‘education” of half its terrors: and when, further, you inform him that only a few hundred are required for every-day talk and association, he will be guick to catch the idea that he is not such an ignoramus after all, as he has always supposed himself to be. That is a good point gained, for it makes him both self-respecting and ready to learn—inspires to read and tu converse—gives him an interest. in schools and scholars, and so quite changes his hopes and ambitions for his children, this be the case, thef? why do educators so persistent- ly magnity the amount of work or study essen- tial to a good practical knowledge of reading, writing and speaking English? Is it because they wish to at the same time magnify their own importance? It looks like if. Personalities. BARON VON PUTKAMMER, said to be a nephew of the present German Minister of the Interior, is employed in an Omaha restaurant. The cause of his expatriation is unknown. CAPTAIN JAMES BAILEY, of Pittston, Me., is 92 years old and hearty. Hews a drummer- boy in the war of 1812. He lives with three other James Baileys—his son, his grandson, and his great-grandson, A Sr. PAUL man sued a railroad company for damages for causing bis house to be flooded with water, One of the exhibits in the plaintiff's evidence was a gees le representing bim seated on a huge cake of ice in his dining- room, THE greatest long distance ride on record is now to the credit of Colonel Gatacre. He went from Simla to Umballah, 96 miles, in 84¢ hours, with three-quarters of an hour allowed for ey nk and returned, making 194 miles under urs, - THE most youthful prisoner in the peniten- tiary at Chesver, Ill... is a little child who was born there about two months ago, her parents being behind the bars forarson, When their sentence expires she will be nearly a full grown woman. MJ ) An old couple of 92 years, Mr. and Mrs, Hira Bates, of Hanover, Mass., were born in the same town, on the same day and same hour, brought up together, and have now been mar- ried sixty-two years. The old man wants to bet $100 that he can *“‘ rassle * and beat any man of his own years, A DEEPLY religious old fellow in Whiting Me,, has built a saw and grist mill on the top of a lofty hill. He says he built there to convince the world that God answers prayer. He has constructed a large tank on the roof of the mill and he declares t whenever he prey for it God will send enough rain to run his ; SUPERINTENDENT ELMER E. Woop, of the Canandaigua Electric Light Works, while walk-. ing home with a friend the other night noticed that one of the street lights was out. Supposing the current to be off be took hold of the wires and fell to the ground dead. The current was not off, and passing through his body had killed him instantly. THE son of a king is about to become a stn- dent of the Medical College of Indiana. His name is Alfred M. Thompson, and he is a full- blooded Vey negro. known woe his people as ‘* Momora,” a son of Dowanna, King of the Up- 3a Peron country, and Sandymanda, Queen of arbacca. He is about 20 years old, very well educated, having studied for some years past in the mission schools at Cape Mount, Africa. HALF a century ago Captain Jonathan Greene was the most skillful gambler in the United States, He is now a resident of Phila- delphia, and claims to be the only man living who was in the battle of San Jacinto in 1836. Captain Greene renounced gambling forty-five years ago, wrote four books against that vice, and now he asks for alms in consideration of his eo refrained from winning a fortune at cards, WHEN I, C. Libby was 18 years old he lived on his father’s farm near Troy, Me., and was sick and lame. One day a sheep-buyer bought lambs of his father at $5 apiece. The boy thought that if the buyer could make money at that he could do better, for he could buy lambs for $2.50. So he borrowed $100 of his father and lim off on foot buying lambs. In five months he cleared $500 and laid the foun- dations of the big cattle business that has given him the title of the ‘‘ Maine Cattle King.” His four sons are learning the same business, but they have a better start than their father had, The other day he handed his a, gaa son, aged 14, $1,000 and sent him to buy stock. W. H. Benson, of Philadelphia, announces that he is about to found a Socialist Church, the members of which will believe in God and a life hereafter. All members will be requested to take the following oath: I hereby solemnly swear that I will not rob, cheat, strike, tell lies about, communicate disease