The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-01-03
Copyrighted, 1soo. by George R. Sims.

SuIIIns OF ones nails on Friday, see
ing the new moon through glass, the
breaking of a mirror, and sitting down
thirteen to table.
Good, kind-hearted, supplemented
Christian souls both of them, no argu-
ments of the Rev. Mr.. Jones, the curate
(who had specially enlisted them under
his banner for his Dorcas society, his
Mothers Meetings, his Little Helpers
League, his Coal and Blanket Fund and
his Cottage Mission), could shake their
faith in the simple forms of superstition
in which they had been reared
The Rev. Mr.. Jones was bachelor of
forty, pale and lean, not because he will
ingly denied himself the good things of
this life, but because until he came to take
charge of his present parish he had re-
ceived such miserable stipend that when
he had paid his rent and sent his mother
a small weekly allowance there was not
sufficient left for him to make good red
blood with and to grow fat on He had
practically starved himself for twenty
years and now that he had fallen among
hospital, well-to-do people it was too late
for him to repair the ravages of the past.
One winters evening, after a hard days
work preparing for the distribution of the
Christmas charities, in which he had been
largely assisted by Deborah and Jane
Shoosmith, the Rev. Mr.. Jones, who had
called as he was passing by, and had had
a large glass of the delightful elderberry
wine specially mulled for him on the par
lor fire, found himself so comfortable
in the easy chair and felt his nerves so
soothed by the amiable chatter of the old
ladies that he yielded to their pressing So
licitations and stayed to supper.
The temptation on this occasion was
great, for Miss Deborah, who had inform
ed him that she was then baking in the
oven for their evening meal some Span
hot
the Rev. Mr.. Jones had a special weakness
for it was baked Spanish onion. There
are very few people who know how to
prepare a Spanish onion, which, perfectly
cooked, is a delicacy for a monarch. To
boil a Spanish onion is an atrocity The
proper way is to put it in the oven and
let it bake slowly for some hours, and
when it is cooked to take it out all hot
and fragrant, and prepare it with butter
and pepper and salt, and then L know
nothing that bounteous nature has given
to man for food that can compare with it.
Even as l write there comes back to me
the memory of a Spanish onion q dear old
lady cooked for me over twenty years ago
in an old farmhouse in northumberland.
/ have never tasted anything like it since.
/ have, in wild moments of despair Or
dered Spanish onions at big hotels in vari-
GUS parts of England, and endeavored to
impress upon the waiter the necessity of
a slow and careful baking, but the result
has always been a bitter disappointment
The Spanish onion of the old Northum-
berland farm still stands out in my mem
ory thing distinct, unapproached, and
alas, it seems to me now, unapproacha-
BILE
The Rev. MIR. Jones found not only the
baked Spanish onion excellent, but the
cold beef delicious, and the horseradish
sauce, specially prepared with cream by
a nv of bo
intense qualification it afforded his palate.
And after the supper the good old ladies
begged him to smoke the pipe which they
knew he carried in his pocket, and he sat
back, satisfied and slightly sleepy in the
easy chair and puffed his evening cloud,
and felt he was beginning to enjoy life for
the first time.
He was sitting with half-closed eyes
listening dreamily to the soothing chatter
of the old maids and replying in conVe-
nent monosyllables, when he felt some
thing warm suddenly depositing itself
upon his knees, and opening his eyes he
found that a large black cat had confid-
ingly curled itself up in his apology for a
lap.
oh Peter, how dare your exclaimed
Miss Deborah, and she came across to
remove the intruder.
But the Rev. Mr. Jones smiled and held
up his hand deprecatingly.
ut doesn't incommode me in the slight
est" he said; ain fact, 1 rather like it."
Then he began to stroke the black cat
gently and the black cat began to purr
and to go through a process which the
children call sometimes "kneading dough"
and sometimes spinning money" but
when a cat "spins money" it spreads it's
paws out fiat, and digs its claws into any
thing that may be handy, in the process.
ooh, I'm sure Peter will worry you
nlea CO Int me- take him - oqi6 Miss nebO-
rah.
mot at all-not at ALL" replied the Rev.
Mr. Jones' I'm used to cats-Pm very
fond of them. But don't think I've ever
seen this one here before, have 1? What
beautiful jet black it is"
at only came into the house yesterday"
said Miss Janet. 1T was a stray cat evil
IDENTIFY, but we couldn't turn 1t out be-
cause, you know, a black cat coming into
the house is so lucky, and if you send it
away you send your good luck away with
it,"
The Rev. Mr.. Jones smiled.
my dear Miss Shoosmith," he said.
''you really must not talk like that. l
cannot imagine that you really believe
that what you call luck is dependent
upon the coming or going of an animal"
"Oh, but indeed 1t is" answered Miss
Deborah. Our mother had black cat
we have called this one Peter after it
and 1t came into the house the very day
our dear father received the largest order
he ever had in his life, and the day after
II disappeared mamma was coming home
from town in a hired brougham late at
night, and wanting to tell the coachman
not to whip his horse so cruelty, she went
to put her head out of the window, not
knowing that the window was up, and cut
her face dreadfully."
The Rev. Mr.. Jones lifted his bands in
holy horror
my dear ladiesv he exclaimed, "this
is very dreadful. Such superstitions as
these belong to the dark ages-they belong
to Paganism rather than to Christianity.
You will tell me presently that black cats
are the famillars' of witches-perhaps
that they are witches or demons them
selves, who have assumed the shape Of
animals"
Miss Jane shook her head. 1T won't say
I quite believe that" she said, but
have heard our dear mamma tell story
| of a black cat who was found in a cottage
where a witch had lived, and the old
woman was never seen again, and 1t was
always said in the village that the witch
had assumed that shape"
my dear ladiesl" cried the reverend