The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-02-05


4 center pieces, and most grotesque figures OF
/ Madopnas are painted somewhere on their
/ Raudily-colnred ste rs. These barees are
propelled Oy poles il the ha1ds of men IN
/ purple, pnE. blue aad orange garments. and
very often bar eheaded peasant woman ia
piled in with the vegetables. Here and
there a sandaio, q Iuucu lighter and mora
graceful bark tnan tie g ndola. darts bv
{ IL is rowed by two men, with tassled cans
! like the Biscayan fishermen. 4 half dozaI
| goats are tied head aud tail to the gunwals
and women and children are milking these
! on their way TO the next customer
Barcas with sol tiers speeding to or from,
guard-changIng, fiji the snadowy way with
| din Of chattering profanity Here are
four nuns with bowed heads being rowed
| on some eyrand Of mercy. Again gaola
! families Of the lower classes, especially
| piOus through some common bereavement
are setting OUT TO be present at some very
cheap and carly mass. Here come a
crowd OF beats with villagers, yege ablas
/ fowls, fagons of milk Lestow ed IN dewv
wisps of grass, rolls of butter in last years
sweet, white corn husks, and numGerIess
( and nameless stutfs for the mercato. Tnev
are from the mainland hamlets, and must
have been astir at midnight. FOLLOWING
these is curious procession of gondolas
| piled higher than the gondolers' heads
with household goods; and the people own
ing them who are thus moving" follow in
| their own gondolRs, suggesting funeral OF
| household gods cut short in It's corteZe.
! There are friars with huge baskets In their
! gondolas setting out to the mar kets to buv
and beg for their brethren and the Door.
| tired fishermen with boatIoads of glean,ine,
! fruit of the sea; sailors subdued and sullea
after an all-night's registering on their wav
back TO their dogs life and tile ships; mes
| sengers with the nights collection of tele-
! grams; bakers IN white linen capI and
shirts, with boatlOads of black, brown and
white bread; water-carriers with huge casks
and fagons of drinking water: butchers.
| icemen, grocerymen, all in boats making
their first morning rounds; and all Of them
down there upon the water in the shadows
seeming like some weird and silent maskers
in dream.
Scotland has never been more thrilled in
| expectancy or disappointed in the outcome
than in the career, 80 far, Of her at one
time most promising poet, Alexander An
derson, There Is penny home paper
called the Peoples Friend, published at
Dundee. 1t encourages contributions from
| country home folk and the lowly strivers
in towns. About twelve years ago some
tender heart rhymes, rugged and rough.
but with masterful psthos in them, among
which were "Cuddle Doom" and jennie
VII the Airn (crookedl Teeth" were
noticed in this sheet over the name Of Alex-
ander Anderson, widely copied and COM
mented on.
Then came poem which electrified tho
Land o Cakes, aud which will ever remain
as much heart song of the entire Scottish
people as any verse ever penned by Robert
Burns. It was called Castles i the Air.n
and here is the first stanza, as 1 recall it from
memory;
The bonnie, bonnie BARN wha sits pokln' tina
ace (ashes),
Glowerln' the fire wi his wes round face.
Laughn' at the puffn-lowe (flame-darts)-Wh
sees he there?
Ha, the young dresmer's biggin castles + the
air!
The Rev. George Gillian, pastor of the
U. P. church at Dundee, one of the MANY
editors of Burns, hunted up the unknown
genius and first brought his personality to
public notice. He found the poet to be
what we call in America "section-hand, -
that is one Of a gang keeping railway tracks
in repair; ''fursacemen" they are called in
Britain and this strappirg young fellow who
had given Scotland its first fireside poem
for half century was earning but 3 shl-
Hngs pence per day.
The discovery caused immense excitement
in Scottish literary circles, and Sir Noel
Patton. her majesty's thinner for Scotland,
painter OF "Oberon and Titania, Light of
the World, Christ in the Garden" etc, at
once took the surfaceman bard under his
powerful patronage. 1t resulted in seour-
ing for the poet the appointment of assist
ant librarian in the Edinburgh University
library. That seemed to end the mau's
genuine poetical career. His Rhyme, ap-
pearing 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" l tell my Scottish literary
friends they must let the man cup at learn
ings fount for the terrible 'drooth" rhes
was on him; that then he will nod and dozs
and hibernate; and that by and by he will
sing like a prisoned 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 a life position in Scotland
will be "bro't DER the heckle-Dins sairlyw
The miustrels 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 these
accompany are the songs OF Ireland still
Down by the rotten Claddagh wharves OF
old Galway town, | recently came upon q
rapt audience enthrailed by the dulcet notes
of Tim Brennan, the wandering minstrel
Of Tipperary"-one Of the sweetest singers
l ever heard, and one who would have been
great were it not for his love OF ''the cindeT
in 1t p as they aptly term the West of Ire-
land mountain dew.
had seen Inn many, many times before
| in Ireland. Our trampings had brought us
into the same relations Of artist and respon-
sive auditor 80 many times that, as he
tipped me comforting wink of recognition,
| and / noticed that his violin had been re-
placed by the temporary though ample
musical makeshift of banjo wrought from
| the head of an ancient Irish churn, in the
pause following his ballad, felt embold-
| ened to toss him back his wink with the
| query:
And Tim, why didn't you bring the
churn with its head?
Faith, yer honor" he replied in fash
and with a winsomo smile, holding the
churn-head banjo aloft so all could see,
faith, never argue wild a lady-an'. yer
honor, bould Irish woman stud at its
other ind!n
L had got a taste Of his sprightly and
never vicious wit, and he as quickly got my
shilling for that same; more power to the
! quick hinges OF the nimble tongue of the
wandering minstrel of Tipperaryl
EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN.
PADEREwsKI did the proper thing on his ar
rival in Springfield, Mass the other day. He was
. adj