The record-union., 1893-02-04

! pass away GOWN there IN the SHADOWS De-
| meath your window.
Scores of little, long barges, loaded with
vegetables from the tlat, outlying islands,
are on their way to the market at the Ri
| alto. The sails are red. with blue tips
and yellow center pieces, and most gro
| tesque figures of Madonnas are painted
somewhere on their gaudily-colored
! sterns. These barges are propelled by
/ poles in the hands of men in purple, pink,
/ blue and orange garments, and very often
I a bareheaded peasant woman IS piled IN
/ with the vegetables. Here and there a
I sandalo, lighter and more graceful bark
( than the CANDIDA, darts by. 1t is rowed
/ by two men, with tassled caps, like the
( Blscayan fishermen. 4 half-dozen goats
are tied head and tail to the gunwale, and
women and children are milking these on
| their way TO the next customer.
Barcas, with soldiers, speeding to or from
| guard-changing, I'LL the shadowy way
with din OF chattering profanity. Here
are four nuns with bowed heads being
! rowed on some errand OF mercy. Again,
/ whole families Ofthe lowlier classes, espe-
cially pious through some common be-
reaNement, are setting out to be present
/ at some very cheap and early mass. Here
come crowd of boats with villagers, veg
etabIes, fowls, hagons OF milk bestowed in
oeWy WlSpS OF grass, rolls OF butter IN last
| year S sweet, white cOrnhusks, and num-
cato. They are from the mainland ham,
lets, and must have been astir at mid
night. Following these is a curious pro-
cesslon of gondolas piled higher than the
gondoller's heads with household goods,
ana the people owning them who are thus
! moving" follow in their own gondolas,
! suggesting funeral of household gods
/ cut short in its cortege.
There are triars, with huge baskets in
/ their gondOlas, setting out 10 the marke cts
/ TO buy and beg for their brethren and
| the poor; tired fishermen with boat loads
OF cleaning fruit of the sea; sailors sub
dued and sullen after an alI-nights roys-
terlng on their way back to :heir dogs
life and the ships; messengers with the
nights collection of telegrams; bakers in
White linen caps and shirts, with boat
loads of black, brown and white bread;
water carriers with huge casks and flag
onS of drinking water; butchers, icemen,
grocerymen, ali in boats making their
hrst morning rounds, and all OF them
down there upon the water III the shad-
! ows seeming like some weird and silent
maskers IN dream.
Scotland has never been more thrilled
IN expectancy or disappointed in outcome
than IN the career, so far, of her at one
Tune most promising Of poets, Alexander
Anderson, There is penny-home paper
called the Peoples Friend, published at
Dundee. 1t encourages contributions
from country home folk and the lowly
strlVers III towns. About twelve years
ago some tender heart rhymes, ragged
and rough, but with masterful pathos in
them, among which were "CuddIe Doom"
and Jennie WI the Airn (crooked)
Ieeth," were noticed in this sheet over
the name OF Alexander Anderson, widely
copied and commented on.
Then came poem which electrified the
Land O. Cakes, and W hich will ever remain
as much heart-song of the entire Scot
tlsh people as any verse ever penned by
Robert Burns. 1t was called Castles i
the Air." and here is the first stanza as
recall ii from memory:
The bonnie, bonnie bairn wha sits pokin' a the
ace ashes,
Glowerin i the fire wi his wee round face.
Laughin at the pufhn' lowe flame darts. what
sees ne there,
Ha, the young dreauner's biggIn' castles i the
air!
The Rev. George Giltillan, pastor of the
U. 2. Church at Dundee, one of the many
editors of Burns, hunted up the un-
known genius and first brought his per-
sonality to public notice. He found the
poet to be what we call in America a
''sectiou hand" that is, one OF a gang
keeping railway tracks in repair. Surf
acemen" they are called in Britain; and
this strapping young fellow, who had
a half century, was earning but three
shillings siXpence day.
The discovery caused immense excite
ment in Scottish literary circles, and Sir
Noel Patton, her majesty's Limner for
Scotland, painter of "Oberon and Tita-
MIA, Light of the World, - Christ i'll
the Garden" etc.. at once took the surf
aceman bard under his powerful patron
age. 1t resulted in securing for the poet
! the appointment OF Assistant Librarian
in the Edinburgh University Library
That seemed to end the mans genuine
poetical career. His rhyme, appearing at
long intervals, is stilted and scholastic.
This is held in the deepest resentment
by those still fondly grooming "Cuddle
Doom" and Castles i the Air" | tell
my Scottish literary friends they must
let the man sup at learning's fount, for
the terrible ''drooth" that was on him.
that then he will nod and doze and hiber-
nate, and that by and by he will sing
like prlSOned bird across the years in
memory Of his lOwly hours. But they
will not believe me, and insist that the
next poet, who is given life position in
Scotland, will be 'bro't DER the heckle-
pins sairly!"
The minstrels of Ireland are not all
gone from the highways and byways of
Erin. The mournful harp and plaintive
pipe may have given way to the breezy
banjo and grooming violin, but the songs
which cheese accompany are the songs of
Ireland still. Down by the rotten Clad
dagh wharveS Of old Galway town, | re-
Gently came upon a rapt audience en-
thralled by the dulcet notes of Tim Bren-
nan, the wandering MINSTREL of Tippe-
rary"-one of the sweetest singers | ever
heard, and one who would have been
great were it not for the love of ''the Gin
der in it," as they aptly term the West of
! Ireland mountain dew.
l had seen Tim many, many times be-
/ fore in Ireland. Our trampings had
brought us into the same relations of
artist and responsive auditor so many
times that, as he tipped me a comforting
wink of recognition, and | noticed that
his violin had been replaced by the tenn
! porary, though ample musical makeshi1t.
of a banjo wrought from the head of an
ancient Irish churn, in the pause follow
ing his ballad, l felt emboldened to toss
him back his wink with the query:
And, Tim, why didn't you bring the
churn with lis head?"
Faith yer honor" he replied in a
/ flash and with q Winsome smile, holding
the churnhead banjo aloft so all could
see, faith, niyer argue wild lady. am
yer honor, 4 bould Irish woman stud at
! it's other indt'
[ had got q taste of his sprightlv and
never vicious wit, and he as quickly got
my shilling for that sanle-more power to
the quick hinges of the nmble tongue of
the wandering minstrel of Tipperary!
EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN.
The Mexican Consulate at st. Iouis
which John +. Cahill has occupied for
several years without salary and with very
small fees, is about to be closed. Mr.. Ca
hill, however, refuses to send the archives
of his Office to the Consul-GeneraI in