San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-08-09
SINGLE SATURDAYS.

|
1.-THE Magazine of American His
tory" is before me, with its interest
ing accounts of what the world is do
ing now, in this August of 1890, and
what it has done since the Puritans
landed.
Prosper Bender tells of the French
Canadians, who still retain their old
costumes and the soft, queer patois
OF their native Gallic.
He describes TO us the one large
dish in the middle of the table, filled
with savory stew, and the family
method of eating, each member there
of soaking in it his bread, with the
pious exclamation "Deo Gratias!"
Another article gives US glimpse
of Ohio and it's early log cabins,
where we should be 80 thankful not
to have lived, although to such as ap-
preciate pioneer life, there is de-
| lightful suggestion of quilting par
ties, harvest homes, and the golden
moon of long ago."
OF the editor, Mrs. Martha J. Lamb,
the foremost woman historian of our
continent, a personal sketch will be
given later.
An old English novel was sent to
me this week, called "Guy Living
stone" 1t belonged to a member of
the great Schuyler family, and has
upon the fiy-leaf the autograph Of the
diplomat, who died recently in Con-
| stantinople.
1t abounds in racy things, full of
| genuine humor, and the rather exag-
gerated pathOs, which marked the
early part of our century.
The author is evidently under the
| impression that he is very bad in
deed, and when he makes the hero
| who is engaged, by the way kiss
another girl, he feels that he has re-
vealed the very extent of human
turpitude.
The tremendous fuss, which results
| from this, rather bears him out in his
conclusion.
One feels glad that the Innocent
composer of such plot probably died
| before our modern realists took from
| themselves and us the healthful
| property of being shocked at any
thing! An anecdote of the universe
ty struck me as particularly funny.
One of the tutors was disagreed BILE
man, much hated by all the students.
The porter, an old Irishman of wit
and tact, had long declined to give
his opinion, but one evening 1t was
beguiled from him.
"Why, you see, sir, I'm only SER
want, and as such. can't speak freely,
but wish he was dead, l do"
Another novel of the week deals
with the question of "Wild Oats" 1t
| is no longer the fashion to settle any,
thing, and the author does not try to
may out even a theory. There is a
leaking disposition to regard the
plant as indigenous, and some faint
advice as to having the crop in early,
and the ground we'll seeded after
ward.
Poison oak is also indigenous, but
it receives no mercy at our hands.
Who can give "raison d'etren for
either? Who among us has failed to
sit at some middle-aged, and peaceful
banquet where the bitterest dish at
the feast was made from the product
of that mad harvest
| Now that Robert Browning has
gone to his grave in Westminster
Abbey with the SHOWS and honors of
eighty winters upon him, shall we
not try to understand him.
Some message to the world of men
he must have had, for his work is
left upon his generation.
formed little plan in regard to
this author some months ago and it
has worked very well.
The "obscuren has no ultra attrac-
tions for me and it seemed preposter-
Gus that this should be held as the
leading trait of successful poet.
"RoDert Browning" L said to a
friend, my guide and counsellor as
well) is loved and praised for the
simple things he wrote"
Nonsense returned the friend
find them for metz
SO [ brought down my small blue
and gold copy from the shelf.
what are you going to do?" in
quired my friend.
"Read it aloud from cover to cover,
1 replied triumphantly, Just as if i
were prose, or cook book! What We
can understand we will mark, anC
appreciate, what we cannot, we will
throw out of the window"
Thus we started on the poetical pill
grimage, and many gem we pickec
up by the way.
One wonders where he gained hi:
knowledge of certain side of human
: nature.
He has "penchant, for the tender
clinging women, who suffer in silence