Connecticut western news., 1872-08-16
THE CONQUERED ENEMY.

Fiddle was pretty little mulatto girl who lived with her grandmother in al obscure court. Fiddle had no name but Baby until she was two years old, but af ter that time her father called her Fiddle because she was always humming or mak ing some sort of a noise.
 Fiddle's father was sailor, and went on voyage from which he never returned His wife died soon afterward, and thus lit. tie Fiddle was an orphan, left in charge o her good old grandmother, whom the child always called "Mammy"
 One Sunday morning, Fiddle sat in hel place in Sunday school, when her teacher said quite suddenly, "Love your enemies ? She then told the children the meaning of the word enemy.
 Fiddle replied, "Then Pomp Jones is my enemy, and I can't do muffin bout lovin' him, Cause hate him.''
 Her teacher repeated the words "Bles; them that curse you, and pray for them which despitelully use you and persecute you."
 Fiddle listened attentively, but soor forgot her teachers words. In the eve. ming, however, when the old fashioned lamp was lighted, and Nanny placed her huge spectacles on her nose to spell out chapter of the Bible, Fiddle remembered her teachers morning lesson.
 "Mammy," said Fiddle, do yer allu; bless people that cuss yer ?"
 "No, chile," said her Nanny sadly "not alluz; sometimes 1 forgit and sass back, again, cause my memory is fallin like, but young 'un like you, Fiddle kir remember"
 "My memory is fallin' like, too,s saiG Fiddle, "so when Pomp cusses me I GUS, back, and hit him when I kin. Why, couldn't never git along with Pomp witt no such doin's as blessin'."
 Nanny looked at her reprovingly oyer her spectacles for a moment, then mutter ed to herself, "I had just such temper when l was young," and began ts reac her chapter.
 Fiddle began teasing the cat, and forgot all about Pomp until she was in bed. Ther she thought again of what her teacher hac said, and murmured drowsily, "Pll try a speriment on Pomp ter-morrer."
 The next morning Fiddle stood in tho court in the bright October sunshine gravely watching Pomp, who was balanc ing himself on his head. The boy rightet himself, and, catching sight of Fiddle, gleam of mischief shot across his blacl face as he exclaimed, "The fiddle is here the fiddle is here," beginning at the sam, time to dance breakdown. Fiddle, who hated to be leased about he name, looked at Pomp without replying whichrso aston;shed him that he forgot tt repeat his joke.
 Fiddle was quite pleased with the resul of her experiment, and ran up stairs be fore Pomp had recovered from his aston ishment.
 Fiddle took hold of the cat very gently when she reached Mammy's room, but tn cat was not in good temper, and erecte, her back, and began to spit at Fiddle, wh, said very calmy, "Bless you cat, bles youw
 What on arth are you doin', Fiddle 2 asked Nanny.
 "Mammy's old fat sides shook witt laughter when Fiddle answered. "Th cats cussin' me, Nanny, and I am bless in her."
 "Why, chile," said Nanny, "cats can cuss."
 Fiddle replied very earnestly, "Yes Nanny, they kin; they don't cuss lik Pomp, but they can do cat cussin', know 'cause I've heard 'em."
 Fiddle sometimes forgot her teacher precepts. One day she was playing il the court, and slipping on an orange peel ing that some one had carelessly throwl down, fell striking the back of her head Pomp, who saw the accident, was delight ed, and snickered and giggled, and at las roared with laughter. While Fiddle wa slowly getting off the ground, Pomp ob served, "The Fiddle has done gone go broke, and now we can't dance no more.
 This was too much for Fiddle's temper She flew at Pomp, but she was only eigh and he was twelve, so he had the advant age.
 Overcome with rage Fiddle went to he old grandmother, who took the child in he capacious arms, until Fiddle became quiet
 "Oh, Nanny, Nanny" said Fiddle "I wish Pomp was dead"
 Now, chile," replied Nanny, "that' wicked; Pomp to be sure ain't muc good; ah he knows is standin' on hls head or some suckus trick or 'nuther, but tn good Lord made him, and it's my 'pinio He knew what he was about. To be sur he made the flies, and they're wuss tha Pomp, but it's right ter wish the flles dea cause they can't bent, but Pomp kir Come now, honey, Nanny will sing fo ysu," and she sang:
 | Let me se Fly bosem Sy."