)
iiiili
HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., ttiltor and Publisher.
:- -
NIL . DESPERANDUM.
Two Dollars per Annum.
VOL. IV.
ItlDGWAY, ELK COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1874.
NO. 19.
l
(3
7
" Too Low, and let Too High t
I.
He came in velvet and In gold ;
He wooed her with a careless grace )
A conBdonce too rashly bold
Breathed in his language and his face.
While she a simple maid replied i
" No more of love 'twixt thee and me !
Those tricks of passion I deride,
Nor trust thy boasted verity.
Thy Butt, with artful smile and sigh,
Resign, resign :
No mate am I for thee or thine, ,
lioing too low, and yet too high !"
n.
His spirit changed ; his heart grew warm
With genuine passion ; morn by morn
More psrfect seemod the virgin charm
Thai crowned her 'mid the ripening corn.
And now he wooed with fervent mien,
With soul intonse, and words of fire,
But reverence-fraught, as if a queen
Were hearkening to his heart's desire.
She brightly blushed, she gently sighed,
Yet still the villago maid replied
(Though in tad accents, wearily) :
" Thy suit resign.
Resign, resign !
Lcurl Hugh, I never can be thine :
Too low am I, and yet too high !"
JOHN AX1) I.
" Come, John," said I, cheerfully,
"it really is time to go ; if you stay
any longer I shall be afraidto come
down and lock the door after you."
My visitor rose a proceeding that
always reminded me of the genius
emerging from the copper vessel, as he
measured six feet three and stood
looking-reproachfully down upon me.
" Yott are in a great hurry to get rid
of me," lie replied.
Now I didn't agree with him, for he
had made iiis usual call of two hours
and a half ; having, in country phrase,
taken to " sitting up '' with me so liter
ally that I was frequently at my wit's
end to suppress the yawn that I knew
would bring a troop rushing af ier it.
He was a tine, manly-lookiug fellow,
his John Crauford, old for his age
which was the rather boyish period of
twenty-two and every way worthy of
being loved. But I didn't love him.
I was seven years Lis senior ; and
when, instead of lotting the worm of
concealment prey on his damask cheek,
he ventured to tell his love for my ma
ture self, I remorselessly seized an
English Prayer-book, and pointed
sternly to the clause, " A man may not
marry his grandmother." That was
three years ago ; and I added, en
couragingly, "Besides, John, you are a
child, uud don't know your own mind."
" If a man of nineteen doesn't know
his owu mind," remonstrated my lover,
" I would like, to know who should.
But I will wait for you seven years, if
vou say so fourteen, as Jacob did for
Rachel."
" You forget," I replied, laughing at
his way of mending matters, " that a
woman does not, like wine, improve
with age. But seriously, John, this is
absurd ; you are a nice boy, and I like
you but my feelings toward jou are
more like those of a mother than a
wife."
Tho boy's eyes flashed indignantly ;
and before I could divine his intention
he had lifted me from the spot where I
stood, and carried me, infant fashion,
to the sofa at the other end of the
room.
"I could almost find it in my heart
to shake yon!" he muttered, as he set
le down witn emptiasis.
This was rather like the courtship of
VJT.Uiaui of Normandy, and matters
proiinWd to be quite exciting.
'D$(tt do th -.t again," said I, with
dignity, rhen I had recovered my
breath. '
"Will you mnrry me ?" asked John,
somewhat threateningly.
" Not just at present," I replied.
" The great, handsome fellow," I
thought, as he paced the floor restlessly,
why couldn't he fall in love with
some pirl of fifteen, instead of setting
his affections on un old maid like me ?
I don't want-the boy on my hands, and
I won't have hiral"
" As to your being twenty-six," pur
sued John, in answer to my thoughts,
' you say it's down in the family
Bible, and 1 suppose it must be so";
but no one would believe it ; and
don't care if you're fort,. You look
like a girl of sixteen, and you are the
only woman I shall ever love."
Oh, John, John! at least five mil
lions of men have said that same thing
before in every known language. Never
theless, when you fairly break down
and cry, 1 relent for I am disgrace
fnliy soft-hearted and weakly promise
then and there that I will either keep
my own Dame or take yours. For love
is a very dog in the manger, and John
looked radiant at this concession. It
was a comfort to know that if he could
not gather the flower himself, no one
else would.
A sort of family shipwreck had wafted
John to my threshold Our own house
hold was sadly broken up, and I found
mvsell comparatively young in years.
with a half-invalid father, a large house
and very little money. What more
natural than to take boarders? And
among the first were Mr. Cranford, and
his son, and sister, who had just been
wrecked themselves by the death of the
wife and mother in a foreign land one
of those sudden, unexpected deaths
that h'avo the Burvivors in a dazed con
dition, because it is so diffloult to
imagine the gay worldling who has been
called henoe in another state of being.
Mr. Cranford was one of my admira
tions from the first. Tall, pale, with
durk hair and eves, he reminded me ol
Dante, only that he was handsome
and ha had such a ireneral air of know
iDg everything worth knowing (without
the least pedantry, however), that I
was quite afraid of him. He was evi
dently wrapped up in John, and pa
tient with his sister- which was asking
auite enoneh of Christian charity un
der the sun, for Mrs. Shellgrove was an
unmitigated nuisance. Such a talkerl
babbling of her own and her brother s
affuirs with an equal indiscretion, and
treating the latter as though he were an
incapable infant.
They staid with us three years, and
during that time I was fairly perseoted
about John. Mrs. Shellgrove wrote me
a letter on the snbjeot, In which she in
formed me that the whole family were
ready to receive me with open arms a
prospect that I did not find at all allur
ing. They seemed to have set their
hearts upon me as a person peouliary
fitted to train John in the way he shoud
go. Every thing, I was told, depended
on his getting the right kind of wife.
A special interview with Mr. Cran
ford, at his particular request, touched
me considerably.
"I hope," said hp, "that yon will
not refuse my boy. Miss Edna. He has
set his heart so fully upon you, and you
are every thing that I could desire in a
daughter. I want some one to pet. I
feel sadly lonely at times, and I am sure
that you would just fill the vacant
niche. "
I drew my hand away from his caress,
and almost felt like hating John Cran
ford. Life with him would one of
ease and luxury ; but I decided I would
rather keep boarders.
Not long after this the Cranfords con
cluded to go to housekeeping, and Mrs.
Shellgrove was in her glory. She al
ways came to luncheon now in her bon
net, and gave us minute details of all
that had been done and talked of about
the house in the last twentv-four honrs.
"It is really magnificent," said she,
lengthening each syllable. "Brother
lias such perfect taste ; and he is actu
ally furnishing the library, Miss Edna,
alter your suggestion, lou see, we
look upon you quite as one of the
family."
" That is very good of von." I re
plied, shortly ; " but I certainly have
no expectation of ever belonging to it."
Mrs. shellgrove laughed as though
I had perpetrated an excellent joke.
" loung ladies -always deny these
things, of course ; but John tells a dif
ferent story."
1 rattled the cups and saucers an
grily ; and my thought floated off not
to John, but to John's father, sitting
lonely in the library furnished after my
suggestion. Wasn't it, after all my
duty to marry the family generally ?
The house was finished nud moved
into, and John spent his evenings with
me. i nsed to get dreadfully tired of
him. He was really too devoted to be
at all interesting, and I had reached
that state of feeling that, if summarily
ordered to take my choico between him
and the gallows, I would have prepared
myself for hanging with a sort of cheer
ful alacrity.
I locked the door upon John on the
evening in question, when I had finally
got rid of him, with these feelings in
lull lorce ; and 1 meditated while un
dressing on some desperate move that
should bring mat tern to a orisia.
But the boy had become roused at
last. He too had reflected in the watch
es of the night ; and next day I received
quite a dignined letter lrom him, telling
me that business called him from the
city for two or three weeks, and that
possibly on his return I might appreci
ate his devotion better. I felt inex
pressibly relieved. It appeared to me
the most sensible move that John had
made in the whole course of our ac
quaintance, and I began to breathe with
more freedom.
Time flew, however, and the three
weeks lengthened to six without John's
return. He wrote to me, but his letters
became somewhat constrained ; and I
scarcely knew what to make of him. If
he would only give me up, I thought ;
but I felt sure that he would hold me
to that weak promise of mine, that I
should either become Edna Cranford or
lemain Edna Carrington.
" Mr. Cranford" was announced one
evening, and I entered the parlor fully
prepared for an overdose of John, but
found myself confronted by his father.
He looked very gravo : and mstoutly
I imagined all sorts of things, and re
proached myself for my coldness.
" John is wbll?" I gasped, finally.
" Quite well," was the reply, in such
kind tones that I felt sure there was
something wrong.
What it was I cared not, but poured
forth my feelings to my astonished visi
tor. " He must nut come here again !" I
exclaimed. " I do not wish to see him.
Tell him so, Mr. Cranford 1 tell that I
had rather remain Edna Carrington, as
he made me promise, than to become
Edna Cranford."
"Aud he made you promise this?"
was the reply. "The selfish fellow I
But, Edna what am I to do without the
little girl I have been expecting ? I am
very lonely so lonely that I do not seo
how I can give her np."
I glanced at him, and the room
seemed swimming around everything
was dreadfully unreal. I tried to sit
down, and was carried tenderly to the
sofa.
" Shall it bo Edna Carrington or Ed
na Cranford ?" he whispered. " You
need not. break your promise to John."
" Edna Cranford," I replied, feeling
that I had left the world entirely, and
was in another sphere of existence.
If the thought crossed my mind that
Mr. Cranford had rather cheerfully sup
planted his son. the proceeding was
fully justified during the visit which I
soon received from that young gentle
man. I tried to make it plain to him
that I did him no wrong, as I had never
professed to love him, though not at all
sure that I wouldn't receive the shak
ing threatened on a previous occasion,
and I endeavored to be as tender as pos
sible, for I really felt sorry lor him.
To my great surprise, John laughed.
" Well, this is jolly 1" he exclaimed.
" And I'm not a villain, after all. What
do vou think of her. Edna?
He produced an ivorytype in a rich
velvet case a pretty, little, blue-eyed
simpleton ; she looked like cetal seven
teen. " Rose," he continued" Rose Peri
ling : the name suits her, doesn't it ?
She was staying at my uncle's in Mary
land that s where 1 ve been visiting,
vou know and she's such a dear little
confiding thing that a fellow couldn't
help falling in love with her. And she
thinks no end of me, you see says
she s finite afraid of me, and all that.
John knew that I wasn't a bit afraid
of him : but I felt an elderly sister sort
of interest in his happiness, and never
liked him so well as at that moment.
And this was the dreadlul news that
his father bad come to break to me,
when his narrative was nipped in the
bad by my revelations, and the inter
view ended in a far more satisfactory
manner than either of us had antici
pated. So I kept tny promise to John, after
all, and as Miss Rose kept hers, he is
now a steady married man, and a very
agreeable son-in-law.
Farming In Italy.
Anna 'Brewster, writing from Rome
tothe Philadelphia Bulletin, says : "A
friend described to me the other even
ing the type of a veritable Mercante di
Campagna dell' Agro Romano, or a
Campagna merchant, as they call these
remarkable farmers. He took for this
t pe a certain Signor Mazzoleni. This
gentleman works three farms which lie
on the border of the sea between Auc
tium and Terraciua, These farms con
tain about 50,000 acres of land. On
this vast space are pastured 14,000
sheep and lambs, 3,000 oxen and cows,
700 horses and mules. Signor Maz
zoleni has 9,000 acres sown with wheat,
oats, corn, and beans. Yearly he gath
ers in from his great fields 52,000 sacks
of grain ; he sell 45,000 pounds of wool,
190,000 pounds of cheese, and furnishes
to the prevision or meat markets 5,000
sheep aud lambs, 1,500 calves and 2,
000 fatted beef. This immense under
taking brings him in a rental of from
450,000 to 500,000 francs. Now comes
the most singular part of this veritable
history. Twenty years ago Signor
Mazzoleni was nothing but a petty
tailor. For fifteen centuries these
gigantic farming undertakings have ex
isted on the Campagna of Rome, or
Argo-Romuno. About 113 families have
owned the whole tract, and their agents
have worked the best lands. The pro
prietors and their agents never live ou
these farms. The only buildings are
the casale, a very modest house, which
is sometimes the ruins of an ancient
Middle Age fortification, where the
agent or master lodges at need ; some
very modest out-buildings for servants,
small stables and granary, or barns.
There are also some straw huts for tho
workmen and laborers. The cattle of
all kinds live in the open air. Some of
the very largest farms, such as the
farms of the Campo Morto or Conca,
have not as many buildings on them as
as we would see on one of the smallest
of our farms. The meicanti di cam-
pagna are not people of the couutry,
but ol the city ; they are really agricul
tural merchants. Their busines con
sists in establishing a vast fabric of
natural products on a given piece of
land ; they must unceasingly watch so
as to make the produce proportionate
to the demand ; watch sales, and be
ready to profit by the raise, and lofie as
lit-tlo as possible by the fall of prices,
throughout the whole perimeter of the
Mediterranean. Thus the mercante di
campagna, you see, must be at once
agriculturist, dealer and banker, and
ship owner also ; directing at ono and
the same time the ra sing of cattle, the
culture of land, thousands of laborers ;
small maritime expeditions, and his
Roman country house. It is a perilous
business, but has built many a family
iu the Papal States to title as well as
fortune.
Colt Breaking.
In Kentucky we saw a two-vear old
colt broke dead broke in a half-hour,
so that ke worked as amiably as a
trained horse. The colt had never
been bridled. He was attached to a
curricle called a " break-drayv" and put
turougn astonishingly quick. The
break-dray is nothing more than a
strong, broad-tread dray, with long
shafts, the tail omitted, and a spring
seat between the wheels. Tho harness
was strong, and so arranged over the
hips as to prevent the possibility of
nign KioKing, ana tne colt was hitched
so far from the druy that his heels
could not possibly reach the driver.
The process of hitching was, of course,
very delicate, as a colt is excessively
ticklish, and is apt to let his heels fly
awKwaraiy. ah ueing ready, ono man
held the colt and another took the seat
and reins. The colt was then let go to
plunge as he pleased. The break-dray
which was so broad that upsetting
seemed out of the question was pushed
upon tne coit, and the colt pushed side
ways until lie started. A few plunges
settled mm. lie went as lie pleased.
up hill, down hill, and so on, until he
nuauy struck a sober trot, and was
thoroughly broke. The confused aud
bewilde.ed look of that colt was piti
fully amusing. Mr. Bob Strader was
giving directions, and upon ono of the
breakers raising his hand to slap the
coic to urge mm. Mr. wtrader said
" Don't do that. Never strike a colt
when you are breaking kim. Push
him sideways, or any way. Let him go
just where he will, and how he will.
Let him fall down if he will, but don't
strike him." When the colt was taken
out of the shafts he was as wet as if he
had been in water, and a child could
have handled him. He had not been
struck a blow. The dray, we believe,
was invented by Mr. Strader.
Hydrophobia.
A French physioian, Mr, Buisson, of
Lyons, claims to have prevented or
cured hydrophobia in every one of more
than eighty cases which came to his
notice. His preventive was a Russian
bath, at 134 and 144 degrees Fehrenheit,
for seven days in euocession, before the
disease declared itself. After the
symptoms had developed, a single
bath was sufficient. Buisson discover
ed the remedy by accident, when en
deavoring to suffocate himself in heated
vapor,' to escape the horrors of hydro
phobia, contracted in the pursuit of his
profession. When his bath had reach
ed au extreme high temperature, all
the dread symptoms disappeared as if
by magic, never to return. So dimple
a remedy cau do no harm, unless the
patient has organic disease of the heart,
and it certainly is worthy of trial here.
The Huckster. "Ia that an escu
lent?" inquired Professor Hotohkiss,
the other day, of a huckster who dis
played in the market a mammoth and
very odd-looking vegetable. The man's
face assumed a scornful smile, and af
ter he had studied the professor' form
contemptuously for a moment, he an
swered, "Esculent I thunder and light
ning, no I that's a blue-nose potato."
Hans Andersen.
When the cable dispatch came to the
effect that Hans Andersen, the Danish
poet, lay dying, all literary journalists
prepared to write a sketch of his life,
or in some good fitting way do honor
to the good old man, and a shade of
gloom passed into every household in
which there had been children to teach
the older people to love him. How
ever, the obituaries were unwritten and
the tears unshed, for the next steamer
brought word that the immediate dan
ger was over, and the old poet, although
an invalid, had, it was hoped, several
years of life yet before him. Later
another story was told, which we have
reason to believe to be true, that Ander
sen had himself stated that, in spite of
the enormous sale of his books in for
eign countries, these sales or his wide
spread reputation had never been of
ono dollar's pecuniary value to him,
except in a single instance when an
American publisher, unsolicited, lately
sent him a copyright percentage on the
sale of one edition of his works. An
dersen is now an old and feeble man,
and although not in want, lacks many
comforts to make his few remaining
years easy and pleasant. It has been
proposed, that instead of waiting until
the affection and homage of his friends
in this country could evaporate the
funeral notices aud private sighs and
lamentations, they should send him
some solid, practical testimony in token
of gratitude for the pleasure he has
given them.
Andersen deserves, as no other man
does, that title of the children's friend,
the more because ho will never, in all
probability, be dead to them. Like all
joyous, child-like -natures, there is an
immortal quality of life in all he says
and does ; morbid, melancholic men re
turn to the channel-house and mold as
to their native place ; but the Danish
poet and his gay, happy kinsfolk never
can cease to be to us. He will go
out of sight some day, but, long after
he is dust, the little chap who reads the
" Hardy Tin Soldier" will know quite
all that the man who tells it to him is
above somewhere, tel'dng stories as
wonderful to other children about his
knee. There is, too, a something oddly
contagious, so to speak, iu Andersen's
genius ana character ; to the man who
once has heard his story there is a slight
change in the tone and color of all the
out-door world thereafter.
His early years gave a strange bent
to his genuisMAndersen spent his
childish days in the kitchen and shoe
maker s ghop where his father and
mother worked. Outside were the nar
row, sloping streets .of the town ot
Odense, smelling strongly of leather
and fish, and opening into the waters of
the Skager Rack, whioh shone red in
the evening sun.
The boy knew nothiug of dwarfs or
genu to people this scene, but his
imagination was no less a potent and
life-giving flame ; every paltry object
about him lived lor him with a soul of
its own, talked, fought, boasted, suf
fered as a human being. When the lad
was old enough to tell the stories of
these tin soldiers or old street-lamps,
the world would stop to listen, as it al
ways does to a true thing. People long
ago believed that mermaids and birds
or faries might have adventures ; but
'at the touch of this boy the mirrors and
tables in the drawing-room, the toys in
the nursery, even the cook's darning-
needle aud the matches in their box,
began to expose their loves and hates,
and private hates and squabbles. An
dersen has been emphatically the En
chanter of Home, and the work of his
youth made childhood for most of us
purer and happier. Jjet our children,
then, return the gift to him iu comfort
and cheer for his home during the few
days left to him.
The Stage Horse Kitty.
The following is one of Mr. Charles
Dudley Warner's spirited little picture
sketches from life during one of his
stage-coach journeys:
May I never forget the spirited little
lade, the oft-leader in tne third stage,
the petted belle of the route, the ner
vous, coquettish, mincing mare of
Marshy Hope. A spoiled beauty she
was ; you could see that as she took the
road with dancing step, tossing her
pretty head about, and conscious of her
shining black coat, and her tail done
up "in any simple knot," like the back
hair of Shelley's Beatrice Cenci. How
she ambled, and sidled, and plumed
herself, and now and then let fly her
little heels high in air, in mere excess
of larkish feeling.
do, oirl I so, Kitty I murmurs the
driver, in the softest tones of admira
tion ; " she don't mean anything by it ;
she's just like a kitten."
But the heels kept flying above the
traces, and by-and-by the driver is
obliged to "speak harsh" to the
beauty. The reproof of the displeased
tone is evidently felt, for she settles at
once to her worn, snowing perhaps a
little impatience, jerking her head up
and down, and protesting by her nim
ble movements against the more delib
erate trot of her companion. I believe
that a blow from the cruel lash would
have broken her heart ; or esJe it would
have made a little fiend of the spirited
creature. The lash is hardly ever good
for the sex.
The Women for Wives.
The N. Y. Star commends the advice
of Chancellor Crosby to the graduates,
with reference to marri'ge, to avoid the
fashionable and frivolous, and seek
those who will adorn their lives with
domestic virtue ; and yet, says the
editor, how strange it is that nine men
out of ten will pick a stylish, frivolous
girl for a wife if she be pretty, in pre
ference to one with all the virtues and
a homely visage. Men admire all the
good qualities in woman, but they rare
ly take one to wife if she be possessed
of the spirit of an angel, if she is not
also blessed with a comely visage,
And the girls know this as well as we
do. Catch them in the kitchen cook
ing when they can find a beau and have
a good time in the parlor. Hence we
say there is little or no encouragement
for a girl to train herself on Chancellor
Crosby's pattern. It is only old gentle
men who have " had their day " and
wish to settle down quietly, that seem
to appreciate this kind of woman.
A Bashful Man.
Charlie Johnson is a first-rate follow,
only lie'a terribly baBhful. He called
to see Miss Jones one night. He never
would have been guilty of fluoh an act,
had she not met him coming out of
church cornered him right up by the
steps where all the girls could see him
aud made him promise to come round
the next night before she'd let him
go. So the following evening Charlie
arrayed himself like a lily of the field,
and started for the Jones', This hap
pened last winter. He got there about
eight o'clock. It was quite dark.
Charlie mounted the steps ; rang the
bell ; and then his e mrage failed him.
He clearnd the six stepB at one leap
and fled down the street. Bridget went
to the door. Nobody there. Old Jones
hailed Bridget and asked her who rang
the bell. " Shure it's some of-of of
thim lads that do be ringin' the bill
ivery night, and-and thin run away
bad look to thim, at arl and at aril"
" Once more to the breech, dear
friends," was Charlie's soliloquy, as he
slowly retraced his steps. With glad
and gallant tread did he re-ascend the
front stoop and blithely pulled the bell.
But nimbly did he again descend the
steps and swiftly disappear np the
street, reaching the quarter post in
forty seconds.
Bridget at the door ; same result as
before. Bridget waxed wroth. And
old Jones vowed he'd fix that infernal
whelp ; so he got a piece of stont
broom-cord ; tied one end of it to the
iron railing on the further side of the
steps, about a foot higher than the top
step ; then passed it through a hole in
the filigree work on the other side of
the steps at the same heighth ; brought
the end of the string through the blind
of the bay-window, thence into the par
lor ; afterwards he went out and slack
ened the string so as to have it lay flat
along the step where nobody would
notice it in coming up but where, if
it were tightened up from within the
house, after one had gone up the step,
one would be somewhat apt to "notice"
it in going down, especially if one were
in a hurry. Then Mr. Jones sat down
in the parlor ; grasped the end of the
string and waited for the bell to ring.
Bridget not aware that the old gent had
set the trip, had a " little something "
fixed up herself. She repaired to the
kitchen ; took the boiling tea-kettle
from the range; meandered np stairs
with it : sat down by a window right
over the front door ; and waited, too,
for the bell to ring. It rang.
The old man pulled the spring
Bridget emptied the kettle and Char
lie Well, it didn't hurt Charlie much.
That is to say, he was able in ft oouple
of weeks to sit up and have his bed
made ; and inside of a month he could
get around very nicely on a pair of
crutches. To Do sure, six ol his eye
teeth were never found and his left eye
looked as if he'd run a knot-hole into
it. But he didn't mind such a little
thing ns that still, he never seemed
to care to go down to Jones afterwards,
as a sort of a coldness, as it were, had
sprung u between them.
Nowad ys when Charlio wishes to
experience the estatio delight of a call
on Miss Jones, he goes out and lays
down in the road in front of his house
and lets a hack run over him ; it's just
as much fun and not near so far to go,
He thinks that by the time he can let a
full grown omnibus drive over tho
bridge of his nose, without making him
wink, he'll be able to stand another
whirl down at Jones'.
A Well-Merited Rebuke.
For a place where the varied humors.
characteristics, and moods of hnman
nature are developed and exhibited
commend me to a crowded horse-car in
a large city. All the petty, mean, and
manly traits are shown forth by men
and women in theee conveyances to
their lullest extent. A lew evenings
ago a lady entered, and by dint of per
sistent crowding, made her way through
the car to the front end. Here a gen
tleman arose and proffered her his seat,
Just as she turned to take it, without
so much as thanking him, she concen
trated all the venom of a hateful dispo
sition in the remark : " If there were
any gentlemen in the car they would
not allow a lady to go the length of it
before giving her a seat." She had not
time to get seated before the insolent
remark escaped her, when the gentle-
man who had offered ber his seat quick
ly slid back into it again and quietly
remarked : "1 think the ladies are an
seated." The rebuke was so deserved
aud withal so capitally administered
that a murmur of applause escaped
from nearly every one in the car, and
the crestfallen woman soon rung the
bell and alighted.
A New Torso.
The Berlin Museum is about to come
into possession of a Torso, a headless
and armless Torso, but one of great
antique worth. It is a female figure,
small, life-size. The position of the
body indicates a dancer or bacchantin,
even if the castinets on the right leg
did not positively prove it. The char
acteristic form, the fall of the light
drapery, the execution of parts, partic
ularly a well-preserved foot, all show
the finest and most exquisite workman
ship. The artist selected for his work
the best, finest-grained Parian marble.
If it be real Grecian work, and out of
whioh period, has not been deoided.
No similar statue is known to exist in
any of the museums of the present day.
The Torso was brought secretly in
Rome and no mention of tho matter
was allowed to be made until it was
beyond the clutches of the Italian Gov
ernment, if it proves to be, as sup
posed, an original, the museum has se
cured a cheap prize for the outlay of
4,000 thalers. The agents of France
were treating for it at the same time.
but the German agent was fortunate in
not deliberating over the matter.
Fate of Kings. Somebody has been
summing np the late of Kings and
Emperors, as follows: Out of 2,540
Emperors or Kings, over sixty-four na
tions, 299 were dethroned, 64 abdicated,
20 oommitt-d suicide, eleven went mad,
100 died on the battle field, 123 were
made prisoners, 25 were pronounced
martyrs and saints, 151 were assassina
ted, C2 were poisoned, and 108 were
sentenced to death. Total, 063.
The Frylng-rnn.
The Anti-Frying-Pan League is the
latest movement, and the need for it
is in the everlasting frying ot meat, in
the use of so much lard, and in the
great number of doughnuts mode.
Frying has only one recommendation
that is, ease with which it is done.
We are told by the apostles of the Anti
Frying League that farmers' wives are
short-lived because they fry so much,
and the children are short-lived be
cause so much lard injures their deli
cate stomachs ; but it seems that farm
ers themselves are long-lived, not be
cause they eat lard, for their stomachs
are strong, but it is to be presumed,
because they have no frying to do.
This is a little illogical, because we are
told that frying is easv work, ana it so
happens that it is not true that farmers
live longer than their wives. Take the
country through, and quite as many
old women will be found as old men,
and the probability is there are more
extremely old women than extremely
old men. Women have many cares and
vexations, but they are not exposed to
unfavorable influences like men. Men
and women rise and fall together. The
trouble is not so much in frying ns in
what is fried. Fried apples and fried
potatoes are unobjectionable, But fried
salt pork the year in and out is un
doubtedly injurious, and it does not
make much odds wnetner it is oonea
or fried. Indeed, our people eat too
much meat, and they would find it to
their advantage to use more fruit, more
sugar, and even more cake. The cry
against lard is constant, but the article
does not differ much from olive oil,
which has been in use from the earliest
ages, and the human stomach seems ab
solutely to need fat in some form to
carry on digestion. There are instances
where pies made with extremely short
crust have proved specifically medi
cinal. It is tolerably refrigerating for
city people and literary people who
think more about their victuals tnan
their manners to lecture farmers on
thtir habits, while if they should come
out into the country and go to work
they would quickly adopt many or the
habits they despise ; though it is to be
granted they would retain some worthy
of being retained.
A Neat Revenge.
Burleigh, the New York correspon
dent of tho Boston Journal, writes
ds
follows:
An amusing incident occurred the
other day on one of the trains from
Boston to this citv. The cars were very
crowded. An elegantly dressed woman
occupied an entire seat. Her bundles,
bandbox, and bag were piled artisti
cally. She was oblivous to the fact
that passengers were rushing back and
forth to obtain sittings. More than
one gentleman drew himself np in front
of the imperious dame, and silently
plead for the vacant spot. She fanned
herself leisurely, lolled in the seat, and
evidently thought that things were very
comfortable as they were. " Is that
seat occupied, madam?" said a well
dressed gentleman.very politely. " Yes,
it is, was the snapping reply. The
man walked on. In half au hour the
door opened, and in walked a tall, rough
fellow, coarse as a l'oiar dear, tiis
huge beard was uncombed and stained
with tobacco juice. His clothes were
illy put on, and smelt of the stable.
hie was ungloved, and Drawny, ana
weighed full 200. He ran his eye along
the car, and caught the seat on which
our lady was sitting. He m tdo for it.
With great deliberation he seized bun
dle, bandbox, and bag, put them plump
into the lap of tho lady, and sat down
in the vacant spot like one who iutended
to stay. If looks could have annihila
ted a man there would have been a
corpse in that car about that time. The
man seemed very much at home. He
whistled ; he spit ; he stroked his
beard ; he threw round his huge arms,
and chuckled inwardly at the evident
rage of the woman. She left the cars
at New Haven, and had hardly gone
before the gentleman who was refused
the seat reappeared. To some gentle
men who seemed to take a great inter
est in the proceedings, he said: "Did
you see how that woman treated me ?"
"Yes. "Did vou see how she was
come up with ?" " Yes." " Well, that
man is a horse doctor that sat down
beside Ler. He belongs to Bull's Head.
I gave him a dollar to ride with that
woman as far as she went." The car
roared.
A Souvenir Extraordinary.
Mark Twain in one of his articles
speaks of the lady who treasures a pre
cions slice of bread from which Dickens
had taken a bite. This sounds like the
"broadest burlesque, but the following
anecdote, which is literally true, and
illustrates many people's foolish desire
for relics, shows that Twain wes hardly
burlesquing in his essay : The last time
that Mr. Dickens was in this country he
happened one morning to breakfast at
the common table of the hotel where-
he was e topping. When he had eaten
his egg he dropped the empty shell into
his egg-cup, and after finishing his
breakfast left the table. As soon as he
had gone a lady who had sat next him
arose, and taking np the egg-cup went
to the hotel proprietor and offered to
purchase it of him at any price, and the
unwashed egg-cup containing the
broken shell is now kept by her as a
souvenir of the great novelist.
Resuscitation of Drowned Persons.
The Massachusetts Humane Society
has issued a card with these directions
for restoring persons apparently drown
ed :
Convey the body to the nearest house,
with head raised. Strip and rnb dry.
Wrap in blankets. Inflate the lungs by
closing the nostrils with thumb and
fingers and blowing into the mouth for
cibly, and then pressing with hand on
the chest. Again blow in the mouth
and press on the chest, and so on for
ten minutes, or until he breathes.
Keen the body warm, extremities also.
Continue rubbing do no give np so
long as there is any chanoeof success,
Prizes for the best loaves of bread,
to be made bv the students, is a new
and hopeful feature of several female
seminaries this year.
Items of Interest.
An
Arizona girl shot her lover, and
then nursed him tenderly till he died.
His last words were: "I forgive you,
Mary i you did itwith an ivory handled
pixtnl."
Mr. Beecher has discovered a remedy
for somnolency in church. It consists
of sitting down at home in a rocking
chair, about the time the second bell
rings, and taking out a nap there.
The statistics of New Zealand for
1872 show a population in 1800 of 76,-
390 ; in 1872 of 273,273. There was a
fulUog off in tho value of tho gold ex
ported ia 1872. In 1871 it was 2,787,
520, and in 1872 1,731,261.
State Senator Powell of Newport, R,
I., returned 830, sent him in payment
of services as membei of a special com
mittee, with the statement that he
never allowed himself to take pay for
extra services as a member of the Legis
lature. Kate Stanton asserts that the planets
revolve around the sun by the influ
ence of love, ns a child revolves about
his parents. When the average youth
was a boy he used to revolve round his
parents a good deal, and may have
been incited thereto by love, but to an
unprejudiced observer it looked power
fully like a trunk-strap.
Conversation between an inquiring
stranger and a steamboat pilot : " That
is Black Mountain?" "Yes, sir ; the
highest mountain above Lake George."
" Any story or legend connected with
that mountain ?" "Lots of 'em. Two
lovers went up that mountain once and
never came back again." "Indeed?
Why, what beoame of them ?" " Went
down on the other side."
A countryman with his bride stopped
at a Troy hotel the other day. At din
ner, when the waiter presented a bill of
fare, the young man inquired, " What's
that?" "That's a bill of fare," said
the waiter. The countryman took it ia
his hands, looked inquiringly at his
wife and then at the waiter, and finally
dove down into his pocket and in
quired, " How much is it ?"
As for the comparative longevity of
drinkers and non-drinkers, the English
life insurance actuaries, whose business
it was not to be mistaken in such a cal
culation, have found that among 1,000
drinkers and 1,000 non-drinkers, taken
at random at twenty years of age, the
drinkers lived upon an average thiity
five vears and six months, and the non-
drinkers sixty -four years and two
months.
San Francisco rejoices over tho puri
tp of its lacteal fluid, aud it is with cer
tain nervous pride that can only be ex
perienced by the upright and law-fearing,
that the residents of the place pro
pound the following conundrum lo all
persons that have a suspicion of ver
dancy atached to them : Why is a Sau
Francisco milkman like Pharaoh's
daughter? Because he takes a little
profit out of the water.
A Chicago poet, upon hearing that
Nilsson was about to erect cow sheds
upon her Peoria lots, has burst forth
into the following verse: "Christine,
Christine, thy milking do the morn and
eve between, and not by tne dim re
ligious light of the fitful kerosene ; for
the cow may plunge, and the lamp ex
plode, and the hre nend ride tne eaie,
and shriek the knell of the burning
town in the glow of the molten pail!"
This is a bad year for Russian noble
men. - One ot them in Kentucky, a
count, purchased two thousand ncres of
land there reoently and agreed to pay
in ninety days (or as soon as his remit
tances came to hand), $300,000 for the
propeity. In the meantime ho borrow
ed ten dollars lrom tne owner oi tne
land, and, subsequently, when the Ut
ter was walking out iu one of the fields
to take a last farewell look at his lormer
possessions, he found the count dead
drunk, lying in a corner of a fence.
Thomas Whartoc, one of the crew of
the United States steamer Endeavor,
lying at the foot of Essex street, Jersey
Uity, oecame temporarily lusauo iu
consequence of drinking to excess, and
pulling out his pocket-dook, containing
$130, tore it into pieces and threw it
overboard. He then jumped overboard
and swam under the dock, where for
some time he eluded the efforts of those
who were trying to rescue him. lie
wa finally caught and taken to the
station-house, where a dry suit of
clothes was furnished him.
Henry Ward Beeclier's Work.
It is almost to be regretted that Mr.
Beecher is so papular, so much loved,
and so much sought after. If he could
be more of a recluse, if he could live
more slowly, there can hardly be a
question that his work would last
longer. There are so many calls on
him now that he is compelled to write
and speak nearly at the rate the writer
scribbles when the printers are calling
for more " copy." A speech, an article,
an editorial, a sermon are thrown off
with such rapidity that there is no time
to trim the rough edges. And this
man does an amazing deal of work.
He edits a large religious weekly, con
tributing its principal editorials, writes
for the Ledger regularly, is generally
at work on some book, is constantly
speaking in publio, and preaches two
sermons a week, which are the only
ones heard in these parts worthy of
regular publication. Several divines
have enjoyed the Honor of punnsnea
sermons, but only Henry Ward Beecher
has managed to keep up the supply of
matter worthy of the type-setter's at
tention. A large publishing-house
Uvea almost entirely on his brains.
An Important Expedition.
Advises received from Puerto Prin
cipe from private sources are of consid
erable interest, xrustwortny informa
tion through insurgent sources reports
the arrival 'of an expedition under
Agyilera on the north ooast, with 4,000
Remington and Peabody arms, six
pieces of mountain artillery, and a
large quantity of ammunition. All the
material was safely landed and commu
nication established with the forces of
Maximo Gomez. This is said to be the
most important expedition gotten up
by the insurgents since the first year of
the war.