IIEtfllY A. IMHSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher.
ELK COUNTY THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.
Two Dollar per Annum.
.VOLUME III.
RIDGWAY, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 15, 1873.
NUMBER11.
Miscellaneous Selections.
A SPRWO QROWL.
Wouia yon think It? Spring hag come.
Winter's paid his passage homel
J ackert his ice-box, gone half way
Jo the Arctic pole, thry say.
lint I know the old roWan still
Skulks about from hill to hill,
" here his freezing footsteps cling,
Though 'tis Spring.
t Heed not what the poets sing
In their rhymes about the Spring)
Spring was once a potent queen
Kobed in blossoms and in green.
That, I think, was long ago)
Is she buried in the snow,
Deaf to all our caroling
Poor old Spring 1
Windows rattling In the night!
Shatters that you thought were tight
Slamming back against the wall:
Ghosts ol burglars in the hall;
Itoaring winds and groaning trees;
Chimneys shuddering in the breeze)
Doleful damps in everything
Such is Spring.
Sunshine trying hard awhile.
On the bare brown fields to smllc
Frozen ruts and slippery walk)
Uray old crops of Inst year's stalks)
Shivering hens and moping cows
Curdled sap in lenfless boughs,
Nipped by winter's ioy sling
Such is Spring.
Vet the other day 1 heard
Something that 1 thought a bird,
lie was brave to come so soon,
But his pipes were out of tune j
And he chirped as if each note
Came from flannels round his throat,
And he had no heart to sing
Ah I poor thing.
If there comes a little thaw, .
Still the air is chill and raw.
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down anarshy flood,
. Ankle-deep you stick in the mud
in the meadows while you sing.
"This is Spring."
Are there violets in the sod 9
Crocuses beneath the clod ?
When will Boreas give us peace ?
Or baa Winter signed a lease
For another month of frost,
Leaving Spring to pay the cost 1
For it seems lie still Is king
Though 'tis Spring.
C. P. Cranch, in A. Y. Mcptndent.
LOST.
"Lost I lost! lost!"
How beautiful she was In her superb
calmness, so graceful, so mild, and yet so
majestic ! Ah I I was a younger man
then, of course, than I am now, and pos
Bibly more impressible; but I thought
her then the most perfect creatare 1 had
ever beheld. And even now, looking back
through the gathering mists of time and
the chilling frosts of advancing age, and
recalling what she was, I indorse that
earlier sentiment she lives in my memo
ry now, as she lived In my presenee then,
as the most perfect creature I ever beheld.
But, alas I I say it not In pride, not in
exultation, but in very sadness of heart,
hers was " the fatal gift of beauty;" and
fatal, indeed, in her case it proved. It
was a snare to her feet ; it was her ruin
and her overthrow. I firmly believe it
was her leauty which led to her destruc
tion. Had she been less beautiful, less
winning, she might still have been
But why do I anticipate? I will tell yru
the short sad story, and you may judge
for yourselves. Poor thing I poor young
thing I Perhaps you will think, as I have
persuaded myselt to do, that the was
innocent the victim and not the crim
inal " more sinned against than sin
ninar." But I will tell the sad story as
impartially as I can, and you may judge
for yourselves ; only remember 6he was
but mortal, and so are you, and judge
leniently, as you would wish to be
judged. I shall never forget the first
time I beheld her. . I cannot tell you just
how long ago it was ; it does not seem so
very long a time to mo, for I am an old
man now, and to the old time slips rapidly
by. Yes, I am an old man now, and I
wa3 not a young man then at least I had
begun to look upon myself as a confirmed
old bachelor (I believe my young
nephews. Frank and Charlie, had been
looking in that way for some time ; but
young folks da not always know as much
as they think they do) when certain
business matters compelled me to leave
my own quiet, somewliat secluded, but
beautiful residence in the country, to re
side for six months in the, to me, distaste
ful bustle of the city.
Old bachelors are said to be particular,
and proverbially hard to suit ; and I dare
say It is true at least I know I found it
very hard to suit myself in a city boarding
house, even though it was to be (thank
Heaven for that !) only a very temporary
home.
I got a list of all the best boarding-houses
in town, and I took them all in regular
course like medical drugs ; but (the fault
might have been in me I do not say it was
not) I found objections at every place :
some decidedly necessary element of com
fort was lamentably wanting, or some un
necessary element of discomfort was la
mentably obtrusive, to suit the fastidious
taste of a man who, in the luxury of his
own home, had been pampered and petted
and humored by an idolized only sister: it
was not in the nature of things that I
should be easy to suit.
At last, having nearly reached the close
of my list, as well as the measure of my
hopefulness, I went to Mrs. Honey wold's,
and there, in her small, unpretending es
tablishment, I, General Leslie Anchester,
having been subdued, I trust, to a proper
and humble state of mind by my past ex
periences, agreed to take up my abode.
The situation was an excellent one, cen
tral and easily accessible, but not too pub
lic: the house small, but neat, tasteful,
and home like. My landlady, who had,
she 8:iid, no other boarders, was a quiet,
well-meaning, kindly woman. 1 had been
told she was what is termed "a decayed
gentlewoman:" but tliere was certainly no
appearance of decay In her bright, intelli
gent face, quick, light step, and erect llg-
i . -i. . I mm nl i win t Viu farm wua H tnrnti v
UlOf DU . JJ 111,1 ii'iu i nil v. u w n .
and financial. My chamber was a pleasant
one, and faultlessly neat in all Its appoint
ments; the table abundant, and well
served : and if it was not home to me, it
came nearer to it than my late explora
tiom had left me any hope of.
And it was there I first met her 1 The
indulerent reader must bear with me if in
this little narritive I forbear to give any
other name than the personal pronoun I
have used already. When you reach the
close of mv story you will, I think, un.
derstand and appreciate my reticence upon
this point. Perhaps she had no legal
right to the name we called her by. I
ouestlon If fche iiad ; and even if she had,
why should 1, at this late date, give pain
hv a needless disclosure? Why drag forth
into light events which tte slow ashes of
time have drifted over and partially oblit
erated? Perhaps
'There are to whom that name was dear
For love and memory's sake)
When theae the voice of Humor hear,
Their inmost heart shall (make.
How will they hope, despair, and griev
Bel ieve, and long to disbelieve
But never cense to acuej
Still doomed in sad suaiwnse to bear
The hope that keep alive deapulr!"
She was sitting in the drawing-room
nhpn I went in sittintr near the window,
but not at It near enough to see, but not
to be seen by the passers-by; ana as mv
va first rested unon her X was struck
with her remarkable beauty and the per
fect symmetry of her lithe and graceful
ngure.
I have always been an enthusiastic ad
mirer of fcm'nlo loveliness (in the ab
stract), and I was wonderfully struck in
the present Instance. Poslbly my looWg
expressed more than I was myself aware
of, for I remember that as I involuntarily
took a chair near the one she occcupicd
sho silently drew herself up with quiet
grace and "dimity, and leaving her seat,
walked to the door with show, gliding,
noiseless step, and left the room. Per
haps it was Well she did so, for I will
frankly own she was distracting my at
tention from my future landlady. But
the nreliminaries were easily settled ; I
became a boarder, and had no cause to re
gret the chance which led me there.
And thus it was that I became an in
mate with that lovely being ; nnd day by
day I saw her come gliding into the room,
taking her place among us, affable still,
but with a calm I had almost said
haughty rest-rve which nothing could
break through, and which effectually
checked all familiarity; for though she
did not repel notice, she never courted it,
and it seemed to me she grew daily more
winning and beautiful.
I have said I was a confirmed old bach
elor even then, and this is to be no
shcool-boy's tale of youthful love. I
was long past all the enthusiasm of
my youth. Certainly I did admire her,
Eossibly I was learning to love her,
ut it was the calm," unimpassioned
love one bears to a beautiful and innocent
child, or to some unprotected dumb thing
whose very helplessness is a constant ap
peal to our kindly nature.
uut let me describe ncr as Rite was
when I first saw her. I have said that I
was old then ay, old, no doubt, as her
father might have been, or even it may
be, as her grandfather, if she had one.
But yet she was not young I mean she
was not a girl, not in the first bloom of
youth, and her beauty was not of the rosy,
pink and white, blushing type that poets
sing and lover-like boys rave about. No ;
hers was the early maturity of loveliness,
perfect in repose, with niild, thoughtful
eyes, intelligent and tender, a trille sad at
times, but lighting up with quick bril
liancy as some new object met her view,
or some vivid thought darted its
light through her brain for she was
wonderfully quick of perception with
an exquisite figure, splendidly full
and symmetrical, yet swaying and
supple as a young willow, and with un
studied giace in every quick, sinewy mo
tion. She spent little upon dress (I was sure
she was noc wealthy) ; but though there
was little variety, her dress was always
exquisitely neat and in perfect good taste,
of some soft glossy fabric, smooth as
silk and lustrous as satin, and of the soft
est shade of silver-gray, that color so
beautiful in itself and. so becoming
to beautiful wearers; simply made,
but fitting with a nicety more like the
work of nature than of art to every
curve and outline of that full and stately
figure, and finished off round her white
throat with something scarcely whiter;
made to trail slightly, with graceful
sweep as she walked, but carried with an
easy unconsciousness which gave it dig
nity. I have always looked upon trains
as awkward and unwomanly appendages,
but I mustowu that as she carried hers it
was graceful.
She never wore ornaments of any kind,
no chain, no brooch, no ring, no pin, not
even a wedding Tins', that I ever saw ;
with nothing upon her well-shaped head
but her own thick, glossy hair, always ar
ranged with scrupulous exactness no
meretricious additions, no false braids, no
water-falls, no ringlets, no crimpings ;
she wore her hair au naturel, conforming
as closely as possible to the shape of her
graceful head. Was not that the style in
which Grecian beauty was wont to adorn
Itself In the days when Grecian art gave
to mankind the peerless statues destined
through future ages to "enchant the
world?" But I have spoken of the ab
sence of a . wed. ling-ring, and that re
minds me that I have not yet told you
that she was a mother. She had twins
two beautiful little rolly-poly blue
eved things wonderfully like her
self little shy, grace! ui creatures,
alwavs together, always playful. 1
used to see them trotting through
the passages, or climbin? un and down
the stairs, but they always avoided me,
and it was a long time before I could get
near them. They would stan'l peeping
out at me from behind a half-open door,
with shy, startled glances o! turtive curi
osity ; but if I called to them, or reached
out my liana, or took a step toward tnem,
they would dart away, and I would hear
their little footsteps scampering down the
passages as if fear lent them wings. But
at last, by slow degrees, I won their con
fidence, and then they would come to me
uncalled, and climb upon my knees, and
rest fondly in my arms, or lay their
bright heads upon my shoulder in fearless
content. Av. thev liked to have the old
man tossthem In the air, and rumple their
glossy hair, or admire the pliant grace of
their young supple limbs ; out never irom
their lips, or from their mother's did I
ever hear any mention oi tneir other
parent,
I think she was evidently fond of her
beautiful little ones, and proud of them
too. She would often lead them out into
the garden, where, seated on a bench, In
the made ot its one tree, sne would
watch their untiring iroiics with a
calm maternal tenderness and sometimes,
sheltered behind my window blind, I have
seen her. when she thought herself wholly
unobserved, loin in their sports with a
graceful abandon, and a zest apparently as
. ii- .1 1 1 . l. . . . . l
uuuuecittu as meir uwu , uut 11 a cimuce
step or sound betrayed an observer, then
she was in one moment calm, dignified,
and reserved again ; and if either
of the little ones, led on by the eagerness
ot may ana tne exunerance oi animal
spirits, became in the least rude or bois
terous, she knew in a moment how to
check and subdue the little offender, and
never let them go beyond the bounds ot
propriety
Often, as I watched this pretty by-play.
or saw her moving about the house in quiet
dignity, I had puzzled myself with vague
conjectures aDout ner. i naa maae up my
mind that she was not a woman of wealth.
and it seemed to me that she stood very
much alone in the world. No person ever
came to see her ; no letters were brought
to her. I did not think she had a hus
band ; but was she a widow ? I did not
know that she was, and I could not In
quire. She never spoke of her own
affairs ; and affable as she was, and gentle
In manner, there was something about
her which repelled intrusion. I had. in'
deed, no right to inquire, and I think no
man living would have had the folly to
ask her such a question, expecting to od
tain an answer. At least I had not. Some
times I flattered myself I had almost won
her confidence, as if she wanted to make a
friend of me. ' Once in particular, when I
had addressed to her some few words of
simple kindness, I fancied she was moved,
She half turned in her chair, fixed her
great lustrous eyes upon my face. I saw
her full, white chest heave ; her lips halt
opened, but no words came ; she only
sighed deeply, and hastily rising, walked
out of the room, with that slow-gliding,
undulating step, which was in her the
very "poetry of motion," and the seem
ing opportunity was lost.
Oh, if she could but have told me, how
glndly would I have been her friend 1
What was it stopped the flow oflicr con
fidence? Why were words denied her?
Did she fear me, or herself or others?
Poor thing I she could not speak ; it was
Impossible ! She could not do it ; I realize
It now. And when you reach the conclu
sion of my story, you, too, will under
stand why 'it was impossible for her then
to have spoken.
But when, after some weeks' residence
there, I had gained the good-will of my
simple-minded but kindly little landlady,
I cautiously ventured 'o ask her to gratify
my not, I think, unnatural curiosity; but
I found, to my surprise, she knew but
little more than I did myself.
"She came to me," she said, "Just at
the edge of the evening, one cold rainy
night, and I could not refuse to give her
shelter, at least for the night, or till she
could do better. I did not think of her
remaining ; but she is so pretty and gen
tie and innocent-looking, I could not turn
her out of my house could I, now ? I
know I am silly In isuch ways; but what
could I do?"
" But la it possible," I said, " that she
has remained here ever since, and you
knothing more about her?"
" No more than you do yourself, gen
eral," said Mrs. Honey wold. "I do not
even I now where site lived before she
came here. I cannot question her, and
now. Indeed, I have become so fond of
her I should not be willing to part with
her ; and I would not turn her and her
little ones out of my house for the world !"
Farther conversation elicited the fact
that she was not a boarder, but that she
and her little ones were the dependants
upon Mrs. Honeywold's charity. "But
1 don't call it charity," said the kind little
woman. " I am sure she more than earns
her living, poor thing, by what she does
about the house. Why, I shouldn't know
how to do without her 1"
What those important services might be
which were accepted as equivalent to the
board of three 1 did not feel justified in
asking ; but I am sure It was no servile
labor she performed, and no menial sta
tion she held ; for, though I sometimes
met her coming out of the chambers, or
saw her going down the basement stairs,
her dress was always the perfection o!
neatness, and in perfect order, while my
good landlady herself, though always
clean and respectable, was apt sometimes,
Eoor woman 1 to look a little just a little
eated, and tumbled, and en deshabille.
But why do I linger over the trifling
details? Only, I believe, because I have
a natural shrinking from reaching the
trirgical denouement of my story. But it
must be reached, and it is useless to loiter
thus on the vay.
One fine summer day I had made an ap
pointment with a friend to drive out to his
place in the environs of the city and dine
with him, returning In the evening.
When I came down in the afternoon,
dressed for my excursion., I went into the
dining-room to tell Mrs. Honeywold she
need not wait tea for me. As I came
back through the parlor she was there
alone. She was sitting on the sofa. A
book lay near her, but I do not think sho
had been reading. She was i-ltting per
fectly still, as if lost In reverie, and her
eyes looked heavy with sleep or thought,
But as I passed out of the room I looked
back. I saw she had risen to her feet, and
standing with her graceful figure drawii
up to its full heightshe was looking after
1 ... . . . . i i i e
witu a iook wnicn i natierea inyseii
was a look of interest,
remember that look I
Ah, how well I
The day had been a beautiful one,
though sultry ; but in the early evening
we had a heavy thunder shower, the vio
lence of the summer rain delaying my re
turn to the city tor an hour or two ; ana
when the rain ceased, the evening' was
still starless, cloudy, and damp ; and as I
drove back to town I remember that the
nisht air. although somewhat freshened
by the rain, was warm, and heavy wttn
the scent of unseen fiowers.
It was late when I reached the quiet
steet where I had taken up my abode, and
as I mounted the steps I involuntarily felt
for my night-key, but, te my surprise, I
tound tne nan door not oniy uniasteneu,
but a little way opened.
"Why, how, is tins, Mrs. noneywoidr"
I said, as my landlady met me In the hall.
Do you know that your street-aoor was
left open?"
"les." sne said. quietiF. "i Know it.'
"But is it safe ?" I said, as I turned to
lock the door ; "and so late too !"
"I do not think there was any danger,
she said. "I was on the watch ; I was in
the hall myself waiting."
"Not waiting for me, I hope 1" said I ;
"that was surely unnecessary."
"Ne, not for you," she answered. "I
presume vou can take care of yourself;
but," she added, in a low tone, "she is
out. and l was waiting to let ner in."
Out at this time ot night I that seems
strange I vv here nas sne gone t"
"1 do not know."
"And how lonarhas she been gone?"
asked, as I hung up my hat.
I cannot tell lust what time she went
out." she said: "Iknow she was In the gar
den with the little ones, ana came in just
before tea. After they had had their supper
and yone to bed I saw her In the paflor
alone, and when I came Into the room
again she was gone, and she has not re-
turnea. ana i "
"Oh. then she went out Deiore tne rain,
did she ?"
" Yes, Sir ; some time before the ram."
" Oh. then that explains it ; she was
probably caught out by the rain, and took
shelter at some friend's, and has been
persuaded to stay. There la notning to
be alarmed at ; you had better not wait up
another moment."
" But I don't like to shut her out, gen
eral ; I should not sleep a wink."
"Nonsense! nonsense!" I said. "Go
to bed, you silly woman ; you will hear
her when she comes, of course, and can
come down and let her in." And so say
ing, I retired to my own room,.
The next morning, at breakfast. I no
ticed that my landlady was looking pale
and troubled, and I felt sure she had spent
a sleepless night.
" Well, Mrs. Honeywold," I said, with
assumed cheerfulness, as she handed my
coffee to me, "how long did you have to
sit up ? What lime did she come in ?"
"She did not come all night, general,"
said my landlady, in a troubled voice.
" She has not come home yet, and I am
very anxious about it."
"No need of that, I trust," I said, reas
suringly ; " she will come this morning,
no doubt."
"I don't know. I wish I was sure of
that. I don't know what to make of it.
1 don't understand It ; she never did so
lmlYiA ITaw alia ft mil rl haua at a til nnf
UCIUl V AAV v D11VI w 1114 ai w Diait4 Villi
and left those two blessed little things all
night and she always seemed such a
tender, loving mother too I dorvt under
stand it."
"Where are they now?" I asked. "Do
they seem to miss her much?"
"Bless your heart, no ; I can't say thev
do ; they are too young. They are down
in the kitchen with Barbara, and lust as
inerry as grigs. Such little things have no
feeling."
"I wish you would take it as easily as
uicy ao,- i Biuu,
"I can't ; I do not believe she will ever
come duck."
"Never come b ck ? never I Why, what
do you mean? Do you think she has ruu
on?"
No: not of her own accord. But I
think she has been spirited away. She
was too handsome to be out in tne streets
alone in the evening. And Barbara has
been telling me such shocking things of
murder and everything. Barbara says
she knows there are men in tne city who
would not hesitate to carry her off and
kill her. She says she knows there are."
Good trracious I Marbara must have a
choice circle of ncnuaintance. certalnlv. It
Is all non sense. Barbara is a goose, and vou
shouldn't listen to ner ; sne nas maue you
fairly nervous. It is absurd. JustthinkI
kidnanlnir and murder in a aiilet Christian
city like this I Why, the idea Is too pre
posterous?" Yet, as I walked down the
street after breakfast, I could not help mv
thoughts reverting to the sad story of
tnose two voting ana Deauttiui married
women in New York, who, it was said,
left their hopnv homes, whera thev were
loving and beloved, and in full davlight
went out into the streets to snop or pay
visits, and never returned; no tidings
ever came from them, the most vigilant
search failed to discover them, and con
jecture itself could form no clew to their
fate.
When I returned at dinner-time I found
matters still worse. She had not returned.
My poor landlady was almost in hysterics,
though she tried hard to control herself;
and Barbara, who had no self-control,
was audible in her sniff, and I besran to
feel myself thnt the chances of her safe re
turn were growing less and less.
" w nat is tnere l can ao, sslts. tioney-
wold?" I said. "You may command my
services, if you will only tell m what you
think I had better do."
Oil, thank you, thank you, General
umiiK you, wnerai
bten all round the
Anchester 1 I have
neighborhood myself this morning ; but
if you would be willing to see the police
men, and go to the city-hall and speak to
the town-crier (for such folks never mind
what a woman says), and if you would
not think it too much trouble, just write
an advertisement for the papers, and offer
a reward for me."
"Of course I will." I said, and I set off.
I did not spare myself; I visited all the
purlieus of the city; I posted up notices
In various directions; I wrote advertise-
ments to appear in several of the local
papers, doubling the reward Mrs. Honey
wold had named ; I Interviewed the city
crier, and was interviewed by the police
men. One of the latter, 1 fancied, seemed
to take more Interest than the rest. He
followed me down stairs, and indicated a
wish for a private interview, without the
knowledge of his chief.
l uiuiK, general," ne Degan, connaen-
tiaiiy, you saiu as now tne party was
nan'somei"
" Yes," I said, "very handsome."
"And young, sir? did you say young?
mo onense, i nope?"
" 1 es," 1 said ; " yet no, not very
young. I do not know her age, but she
Is the mother of twins."
Ah !" said the policeman, speaking
slowly arid deliberately; " I see. I guess
It is an awkward, fix, rather. But I'm
with you, general ; I'll do what 1 ean for
vou. seeing as now you look like a gentle
man as wouldn't heslfate to Ho the gener
ous thing." Here he paused, but he
looked at inn so sio-nmcantlv that I in vol
untarily handed him a small bank-note as
a retainer,
"Thank ve. sir: thank your honor."
he said, as the ready hand closed over the
bribe. " That's han'some of you, gen-
eral. that Is and I'll do my best for you ;
that's so. But still, at the same time, 1
musi say it looks kind ol blue.
" Blue I how do vou mean r '
" Well. I mean lust this. If she la any
wheres round about here, and is O K,'
as we say. In course she'll come back to
them young ones of hern ; and if she don't
(I'll do my very Dounuen Dest lor tnem;
in course I will) but I doubt if she ever
turns up In this beat again. I've knowed
something of such thine s In my time, and
1 uuess 11 she turns up at all, you'll nnd
she has gone to a distant market. But
I'll do mv Dest."
Ana so, sau, weary, ana discouraged, l
returned home at night, only to learn
mere were no tidings oi tne missing one,
1 give her up now," said my weeping
landlady ; " I shall never see her again !
She is lost forever ! and those two poor
pretty little creatures"
" By-the-way," i said, " I wanted to
speak to you about them. If she never
does return, what do you propose to do
with themr"
" Keep them," said the generous and inv
puisive little woman.
" 1 wanted to say, it sne does not re
turn, I will, If you iike, relieve you of one
of them. My sister, who lives with me,
ana keeps my house, 18 a very kind, .tender-hearted
woman. There are no chil
dren In the house, and she would, I am
sure, be very kind to the poor little thing.
What do vou sav?"
" No, no !" sobbed the poor woman ; "I
cannot part them. I am a poor woman,
It is true, but not too poor to give them a
1 - ' J 1 ! 1 - T U l.V-
iiuuie; uuu wuue i 11,
ne; and while I have a bit and a sup
lor myselt they shall have one too. Their
f i-i i, , , .
poor mother left them here, and If she
ever does return she shall find them here.
And if she never returns, then"
And she never did return, and no tid-
inga of her fate ever reached us. If she
was enticed away by artful blandishments
or kidnapped by cruel violence, we knew
not. But I honestly believe the latter.
Either way, it was her fatal beauty that
led to her destruction ; for. as I have said
tmpnrS
before, she was the most perfect creature,
the most beautiful Maltese eat that I ever
beheld in my life ! I am sure she never
deserted her two pretty little kittens of
her own accord. And If poor dumb
thing she was stolen and killed for her
beautiful fur, still I say, as 1 said at first,
she was " more sinned against than sin
ning.
TTni-ova nn atrftere mnnW nooHir nnrtVi
-and south are far preferable to those lo-
cated on those going east and west, in a
sanitary estimate. In the first, here at
the north ot tne equator, the sun shines
hriiiinntiv in thA fnwnnnn nn th frnnr
and with nearly equal force in the after-
nnnn An thn rpr. Thus riamnnMa la v.
xtquuH-cainpaec. -carpers . " . ,u ,r," ah- and the Children porn .to mm thelr gneer for the
- . . .. I .1... t.i.l 1 I'll in .1 MTAWnlil mOflV Til fill U 11T 11T1 I ' ' ' ' . I 1X1 111 1 n
nne jor juay. -7,7-" .n ; Mrh7 WrkmJr7 r re y necessary resu t tne pnysipiogi- e-. when youth and
- . - . '". .. .;i r u ".S; W t 7riir 9"1 embodiments oi mistake, unbalance, , ,,rui.eila- there
The position or a noose. I ' rk h' T"hta impel tecUon. They are born ii-construct- w be accorded to
pelled, and the whole edifice is dry and npaxea. -it pay ue wr me meat, nere
the air far purer for its solar exposure. If plied, coolly, "but I took care o' the sax-
1 1 1. j i i I nanpa TYl Y! c nl '
a uouse is on au east aim wetst Hireeu,
those fronting north are decidedly the
best for a residence, because the sun's ac
tion on the yard, the kitchen, and usual
regions of neglected accumulations, puri
fies and modifies the humid atmosphere
that is sure to predominate in yards and
the backside of houses whose rear is north
of the street. Thus circumstanced, the
back rooms are never so pleasant, cheer
ful, or economically wanned in winter or
ventilated in summer, as when on the
south side. Opening on the street, the
front of such gets both light and air by
reason of the frequent swing of the front
door. M.
Not a moment files but puts its sickle
in the field of life, and mows down its
thousands wltlj their Joys and cares,
MISCELLANEOUS PARAGRAPHS.
A trying business Rendering lard.
Tub child who cried for an hour didn't
fret it. . . ... .,
If a miss Is as good as a mile, how much
better Is a Mrs. ?
Womrn can now bo elected school offi
cers in Illinois.
A trck American Is too proud to beg
and too honest to steal. He gets trusted.
Why is it necessary to mention that the
victims of suspended animation were
"well brought up ?"
A local paper in Iowa records the ac
cidental shooting of a doctor, and has
" strong fears of his recovery."
The Memphis Avalanche says this
ear's cotton planting in tne aoutnern
itates will be the most extensive since the
ar.
A Tkrrk IIautb man has a fine collec
tion of walking canes, which have been
thrown at an ill-natured dog in his front
yard.
Englishmen look upon all other people
as foreigners, and firmly believe that they
will meet none of them In the other w orld
which Is good for the foreigner.
Young lady (who is tired of his com
pany) : "You ain't a bit nervous are you,
Mr. Poet? All my gentlemen acquaint
ances start when it strikes twelve."
" I'm so thirsty," said a boy at work in
the corn field. " Well, work away," said
his Industrious father. " You know the
prophet says : ' Hoe, every one that thlrst
eth.' "
"Murdku Is a very serious thing, sir."
said a judge to a convicted prisoner. "It
is next to stealing a norse or a muie, sir,
and 1 shall send you to the State prison
for six years, sir."
gentleman requested the medium to ask
. A f o fin rif miwr nor thd ftthnr nlornr. a
what amusements were most popular in
the spirit world. The reply was, " Head
ing of obituary notices."
Onb can sive an approximate guess at
the immensity of the coming wheat crop
in California, when it is known that the
producers are negotiating for fifteen mil
lion sacks to hold it.
An Alabama paper says of a recently
elected member of the Legislature, that he
nag already shown nis devotion to tne
state by nine years' gratuitous service in
the State penitentiary,
Jdst now that we are e-ettinc readv for
our new postal plaything, from which we
expect so much, it is Inst-uctive to come
across in the English papers so oiten an
item headed "The Postal-Card Nuisance."
A man who has a red-headed sweet
heart addressed her as " Sweet Auburn,
loveliest of the plain." Sweet Anburn
got mad about it. She objected to being
classed among the " plaln" even though
called the loveliest of them.
A kino's fool who was condemned to
die, was allowed to choose the form of
death, and chose old aze. An Iowa cirl.
being asked what form of death she pre-
ierreu, remarked tnat it sne must die sne
preferred to be smothered with kisses.
A Worckster, Mass.. gentleman, who
locked his combination safe on the word
bean." was aurnriserl when he p-rvr his
clerk the word that he was unable to lock
it, until he accidentally discovered that, his
employer habitually spelled it Dene."
The Massachusetts Solons purpose to
regulate the sale of "hen fruit" ty legisla
tionthat is, to have eggs sold by weight
instead of by the dozen. It is a sort of
contest cetween snangnae and uantam
between the. barn yard heavy and light
welo-ht.
weights.
Punch thinks that if a young lady
wants to keep her hands free from chaps.
all she has to do is to dress in the present
fashion, and let It be known that she has
no money. Chaps, especially li tney be
sensible chaps, will then let her hand
alone very severely,
While the civilized world was fueling
the full shock of the wreck of the At
lantic, and the bodies of the dead still lay
frozen on the beach, a man in Toronto
sent the following unique dispatch to
Capt. Williams : "This Is the best market
for sale of damaged goods. Let me hear
from you."
An attempt is shortly to be made to
cross the Pacific, from San Francisco to
Japan, In a small sloop thirty feet long.
sue is named tne uoipnin. ana win carry
a crew of three men, in addition to tier
captain. The object is to hunt sea otter,
which are stated to De very picntuui ou
the Japanese coast.
Goi.no up and down in hotel elevators
Is considered by physicians to be a bene.
tlclal exercise in some nervous disorders.
An old lady, whose physician pre
scribed the elevator for her without
any special explanation, has taken the
advice literally, and now makes herself
frantic every day with brandy and soda
water,
It illy becomes the Pacific slope to try
to claim all the rare and delightful fruits
of the earth, and the equally pleasant pro
ductions of the sea and yet we f-ee that
without hesitancy it claims to dig up on
ttA hoanhes clams that
weign irom one
nniind to a pound and a half. Of course
I llULlllU n-i n I'viiiiin mm i in.,.. v i-v-ii. ,7ii
they are not good, anyhow, and think
ww. nmrninlv chowder thev would
make I
iKanvvinvMT Ttirisnv Tn an English
iS.S nubhatZ of
I . - ' . .F ...
the bans oi marriage by tne minister, ai
grave elder, in a Btentorian voice, forbade
the bans between a certain couple. On
being called upon for an explanation, " I
had,'' he said, pointing to the intended
bride" I nad intenaea nannan ior my
self." His reason was not considered suf
ficient.
. There is a good opening ior carpenwrs
There is a good opening for carpenters
Tahltrmost of theTous of wMch a?e
ianiti, mosi oi tne noubes oi wuicn are
mart f u,ii ,i.inh Woiiob nf th a
tuwuv. v. win., , n -
scarcity of carpenters
ltpra Ik hewn In and im-
iters, is uewn in miu 1111
I A CANNY BCOt, WhO had accepted tile
office ot elder because some wag had made
l,u urevo nmUuHUuu
sixpence each Sunday and a boll of meal
i,Y:i'rlJ? ""1,cu
around the ladle each bunday after ser-
vice. When the year had elapsed he
claimed the meal, but was told he had been
Iowa Progress.
Iowa is one of the most vigorous and
prosperous of that powerful group of
great States of the ITPper Mississippi Yal-
ley which used to be called "the North-
uraot ' ' until W.ahlTi(tAn anil ' MMirnn
" . . M"v" e"i "suu
coolly planted them fourteen hun.
dred miles east of their name. But thev
can have a better one : they are, for
present at least, in reality, what the Chi-
nesevalnlycalltheirhalf-allvei'ealm, The
middle lunguom, uie center or the ponti-
cai anu material loroes or America. Iowa
uuiiuKOM.il ntw .ugmuu, except
tiuru pari oi mninu. ner wiute uopuia-
tion in 1836 (as part of Wisconsin) was
10,531 ; In 1870, 1,191,727 ; in llus year
(1873). nearly a million and a half. She
has 3,200 miles of railway, no barren land
at all, a bountiful supply of water and
water-power, abundance oi Dtiiiding-
stone, three and a half million acres of
wood-and 20,000 square miles of coal lands
almost four times as much as all those of
Great Britain. She produces already a sur
plus of a thousand million bushels of farm
crops (the book says "agriculural pro
ducts ;" but we haven't time), and having
lust made a Dcgmntngin manuiacnires.
Is turning out as yet only $22,000,000
worth in a year. Her climate is an Invig
orating temperate one, just fit for farm
ing, frulOgrowing, ana stooK-raising.
From Old and mw tor May.
The Source of Humor.
A recent writer lashes himself Into a
fury over the Iniquities of our American
humorists, and denounces them, one and
all. as "liars and lovers of lies." He has
discovered that "in almost every state
ment they make tney are guilty oi tne
grossest exaggeration," and from this he
argues that they nave no love oi irurn in
their souls, but are utterly and almost Ir
redeemably bad. we are halt tempted to
print the article entire, for the same rea
son that Mark Twain published a serious
English review ot the innocents. Decause
it was the funniest thing he could possibly
think ot.
This censor of the genial humorists
clearly has no conception of what humor
I', else he would have discovered that It
Is always and necessarily an exaggeration,
ana tnat our American writers in mis
branch of literature are by no means pe
culiar in this regard. Leigh Hunt's dic
tum was true, that humor is an ebullition,
of buoyant animal spirits, and buoyant
animal spirits express themselves always
in exasperation, because they themselves
are an exaggeration. Your bright, en
thusiastic hoy, lairiy running over with
energy and life, Is sure to see' a thoutand
blackbirds in a peach tree on any bright
June morning, and yet we never think
him a liar because his young eyes see
more of ioynusness In life than our older
ones possibly can. And it is something
of this same exaggerated appreciation of
plcasurai le ideas which makes the humor
ist "slop over," to our great delight.
liis animal spirits enaoie mm to see more
in men and things than there really Is in
tnem. and he Jubilantly tells us, with pen
or pencil, the things which he sees not
to deceive us. Due to let us snare in tne
fun he has In the sight. Our enjoyment
of humor Is of the keenest and heartiest
kind, chiefly because the buoyant spirit
of which humor is born is irresistibly con
tagious.
And this is tne reason mat so small a
number of writers, comparatively, achieve
anything like a genuine success in humor
ous writing. Intellectual force, Industry,
acutcness of perception, imagination all
these are necessary to tne Humor
ist, but these alone are not suffi
cient. Humor Is not the product
of Intellect, or of the imagination.
or of the will, or of Industry, or of all
these combined. The buoyant animal
spirit, the perpetual overflowing of the
soul is the first and chief requisite. And
so humorous books or pictures are not so
much works of art as manifestations of
nature, and there Is no branch of litera
ture or art In which talent and industry
count for so little, and genius for so much,
as In till-).
But while there are very few people
whose buoyancy is sufficient to make them
humorists, nearly all of us have enough
oi animal spirirs to mawe us Keen rensn-
ers of humor. Now and then we meet
with an exception, but these are so rare
with an exception, but these are so rare
that the man who " cannot understand a
joke" is commonly regarded as himself
the best oi an possinie jones. we never
laughed more Immoderately than we did
over the manuscript oi an excellent cier
irvnian. submitted to us for publication a
year or two ago, in which ho mail serious-
i . i ; . . . ii.:. , ii' . t . ii .
ness wrote someunug 10 mis eiiect:
writer has wisely remarked that ' an ugly
young woman will become a pretty old
m.n If I'll 11 I ! lti,3 Inniy fl 1 1 1 1 1 1 11
UIIC, 11 1 IV. 1111 n 1 VI 1 ' 1 v.. lHll , .1. CWJ lllp
gn;' in saying
which he doubtless meant that tne culti
vation of moral beauty will in time atone
for the want of its physical counterpart."
The man was not stupid by any means,
but his lack of buoyancy was so utter that
the bon mot he quoted never presented
itselt to him as a bon mot at an.
Lord Morpeth used to tell of a Scotch
friend of his. who. when Lord Morpeth
remarked that some people could not feel
a jest unless it were fired at them with a
cannon, replied, " Weel, but hoo can ye
fire a lest oot oi a cannon, mon?" a
lady friend once put a conundrum to her
rheumatic old nurse, asking ner vv ny
are you like a church window, Sally?"
and irave the answer, " Because you are
full of pains ;" whereupon the old colored
woman pityingly replied, "Oh! dear,
somebody nas been a fooun' of ye, honey.
Dem's anudder sort o' panes. Dey 's been
foolin' ye, chile. Hearth and Home.
A Glaring Deficiency.
Among the sufficiently numerous de-
flciencles of pur beloved country is, the Second Empire senseless ; nothing Is more
want pi ' an Educution for the Children of frivolou8 than the dress that Worth de
thelllch. Physiological results of igno- Rit,nB. nnthinir more barbarous than the
i - J -- . . . , CI,
ranee and of consequent mistakes in the
use of life or perhaps Instead of mistakes
the term should be wrong conditions of
society, In our great business centers,
U'ake them often a sort of whirlpools into
I nthinh rri-rr otvnlna ri tetr ara innuBGflnT.
""' u j Vi .
lv diving and disappearinsr. A strong
eager resolute -worker cqmes Into the city,
intent on wealth. lie plunges into a
career of furious unrelaxing vaeationless
strussllnz for money, marries, and he
ana liiu wife go straight on in tne same
roaa. n.ven wnue a young- man, even
though upright and pure in life, the fresh-
. neg8"and cleanly viiror of his youth are
foilefd' dried stagnated, enfeebled by the
, t f f , nionev-makinp. the dead
,u' J ul ."""' "'"""?.'.
aim rit-tha r tt ehvAia fi iiia wiinnur. PTCpr.
I . 7 ' . . ...
ftnv health-elvinsr on
eii ; their very marrow and pltn has weak
streaks in it ; they are ships whose tim
bers had dry rot in them when they were
lramea.
Now. of all the distinctions of man, the
highest is, his infinite power of amend
ment. 01 reparation. 01 recovery. 01 im
provement. Even for the etrengthless
sprouts of these unlucky city stocks,
neither Physiologist nor educator scien
tific as we pretend to be knows how
creat a measure of redemption ini&rht be
O . . 1. ,
secured by a proper eoucauoH oi mum
ttiiu uuuy . r or uut jiuur, uui ttuuuio ouu
our life afford it. In other countries,
much is accomplished by the air of wise
and just sentiments as to the responsiblli-
ty of inheritors of wealth. But with us,
nhvsioloirical larnorance prevents any
1 - .. ,1 . iu. ...... . 1 . 1 .,..i.,l,,i.,n..n
I rouicuy ior iiiovuiiecuiuu nauueoora ui
mmui.miiiN in7)mn anA aru.lnl anrl
mnrflrnnrnp nrevpnta anv remedy
the the peculiar temptations around the help-
lesHiittipfVinia thv m-nw un. So
impartial self-limitations of nature
leit to do their cold unerring work, and
the second or third generation the abuted slonaliy marrieu, tne cnin not. so oiten.
a i race is extinct, by a vital rtauctw aa ao
$urdum.-UUt and Hew. for Slav
.-
A pop-ular beyerago-Qinger pop,
How Sheridan raid Ills Debts.
SnKRiPAX wa peculiarly sharp in eva
sions of dues and sheriffs. The charm of
his manner alone was irresistible. AaT"
lor of the Opera House, wsed to say of him
that he could not pull off his hat to him
in the street without it costing him fifty
pounds, and if he stopped to speak to him
it was a hundred. Once when a creditor
brought hiin a bill for payment which had
often been presented to him before, and
the man complained of its soiled and tat-te-cd
state, and said he was quite ashamed
to see it "I'll tell you what I'd advise
you to do with it, my friend," said Sheri
dan ; take It home and write it upon
parchment " He once mounted a horse
which ahorse dealer was showing off near
a coflee-house at the bottom of Sc. James'
street, rode it to Tattersall's and sold it,
and walked quietly back to the spot from
which he set out. xne owner was iuri-
swore that he would bo the death ot
him, and In a quarter of an hour after
ward they were seen sitting together over
a bottle of wine In the coffee house, the
horse-jockey with the tears running down
his face at Sheridan's jokes, und almost
readv to hue him as an honest fellow.
Sheridan's house und lobby were beset
with duns every morning, who were told
that Mr. Sheridan was not yet up, and
shown Into the several rooms on each side
of the entrance. As soon as ho had
breakfasted he asked, "Are those doors all
shut, "John?" and being assured they
were, marched out very deliberately be
tween them, to the astonishment of his
self-invited guests, who soon found the
bird was flown. He owed large sums to
Holland, the architect of one of the hand
somest theaters in the kingdom, ot which
Sheridan was the manager; but the poor
man could never obtain a settlement or
even an interview on the sunject with
Sheridan. He haunted him for weeks and
months at his own house, at the theater,
at his usual resorts, but he was nowhere
to be seen. At last he tracked him to the
stage door, rushed in in spite of the oppo
sition of the burly porter, and found the
manager on the stage conversing with a
party of gentlemen whom he had invited
to show tnem the theater. Sheridan saw
Holland approaching, and knowing that
escape was this time impossible, put a bold
face on the matter. " Ah ! my dear fel
low," exclaimed he, you are the very man
I wanted to see vou have come most
apropos. I am truly sorry you have had
the tronble of calling on me so often, but
now we have met, in a few minutes I shall
beat liberty; we will then go into my
room together and settle our affairs. But
flrstyoumust settle an important ques
tion here. Some of these gentlemen tell
mo there are complaints, and loud ones,
that the transmission of sound Is defective
in your beautiful theater that, in fact,
the galleries cannot hear at all, and this is
the reason why they have become so noisy
of late." " Sound defective ! not hear I"
reiterated the astonished architect, turn
ing pale, and almost staggering back.
" why, it Is the most perfect building for
sound that ever was erected ; I'll stake
my reputation on it; the complaint is
most groundless." "So I say," retorted
Sheridan ; "but now we'll uri'ng the ques
tion to issue definitively, and then have a
paragraph or two in the papers. Do you,
Holland, go and place yourself at the
back ot the upper gallery, while l st.mu
here on the stage am talk to you." "tjer
tainly," said Holland, "with the greatest
pleasure." A lantern was provided with
a trusty gukle, and away went the archi
tect through a labyrinth oi nam ana
.!., .1: i. iX.i !,,,.,,,.
until he readied the distant and elevated
post. " Now, Mr. Holland," cried Sheri
dan, "are you there and ready?" "Yes,"
was the Immediate answer. " Can you
hear me?" "Perfectly, perfectly, Mr.
Shei idan!" "Then I wish you a very
good morning." So saying, bheridan
disappeared, and was two or three miles
oil before Holland could descend. Anoth-
I i . , , i ..l.l .
i er long interval occurreu ere lie was auie
to chase the fugitive to his lair again. I
believe there was but one debt paid by
sneridan the debt oi nature. aow a.
debt of nature.-
Sanbern, in Galaxy for May.
Invidious Criticism.
TnERK is constantly a great deal of in
vidious remark going the rounds of the
press, and, for the matter of that, the
rounds ef society as well, upon the sub
ject of feminine dress and all its appurten
ance ot inns and luroeiows.
In a season of dull politics one would
f appose that the chief end of man was to
attend censorially to the costume of the
weaker sex, and to spare no slur or rung,
ill-natured or good-natured gibe, that can
be made concerning it, ana we imagine
that now that the Presidential campaign
is over, we shall be called upon to undergo
a new exhibition of the thing.
Endeavor to conciliate these evil-minded
critics si'cins to be useless, for no fashion
pleases them, let it bo what it may : they
have no patience with the pure antique ;
they laugh to scorn the ruil and fardin-
pm Zi i i,i,,
I SlfifnS, IlUllllIlK 111U1U UlU UiUUUS II1UI1 W1U
UrCga'0fan Englishwoman, nothing more
rag-baby-like than the dress of the harem,
nothing more wastetui than the aress oi
the American woman.
When, a few vears since, boons ap
peared, these critics compared a lady to
the planet Saturn within his rings ; when
hoops began to go out, and puuiers-and
ruflles and sashes to come in, they com
pared her to a scarecrow, with her rags
fluttering round her. When bonnets
were large, they flung their pellets at the
faces that were seen down the vista of "a
" TZ ""t"r"n
Leghorn lane :" when hats were adopted,
m would fol&v ten The
.. .i,aj,i,.,i.. i,, .,
lace was hidden in a caiasn, tney were gay
I fl 1.1 1 v .. 1 :
1 uiul&-uiuucoij , . m n uunnv i-i. iw
- ;..,,! iKK ,v,.,vii
lilcic 1 i.'nij aim xiuuiiii, uicv imvi
brazen face of the wear-
beauty went about
was not enough praise
the sensible high heels
of our ancestresses ; as soon as high heels
were accepted, It was discovered ti,at they
produced incurable'diseases of the spinal
cord. 1 he Puritans found it necessary to
enact, a law against puff-combs ; the
present generation hailed with delight
the vermin in the jute. In short, there is
not a fashion irom ng leaves to crinoline
that has not been the subject of their ani
madversions t and the only particles of
feminine attire that go scot-free at present
are, for some unaccountable reason, the
. I UDl 1111 U11111U - " , WW
two-buttoned glove and the thlck-soled
guoet Harper tSazar.
.
a gentleman having been invited to a
public dinner for the benefit of the poor,
accepted, saying that if, by eating himself,
,a enuld keep other people from starv-
r. i' I . , . i t- .. i.
mjf mouicui; lb who a very ineuittiit
I ir
for 1 2
Some young men marry for dimples,
the I some for ears, some for 'noses; the con-
are test, however, generally lies between the
in eyes ana nair. i ne inoutn too, is occa-
A correspondent thinks that the win
ter of '73 was peculiarly adapted to poets,
because it was so rimy.