VOL. LIII.
THE PRINCE IMPERIAL.
Ou Longwood'a shore the exile stands.
Despair upon his haughty face ;
Behind him clasped hie useless hands
That fain would rule the human race.
Victor of many hostile lauds.
He falls in peaoe—to him disgrace.
The iron girdle round Sedan
Grows narrower yet; no man oau fly;
He fights for death, that broken man,
Capitulates, and does not die.
Not then—while yet the eagle tloata
Above a cause worth fighting for—
But oast out by his people's votes.
He fades, like his great ancestor.
At Chiselhurst an Empress weeps;
Half-mast the fiags of Eugland wave ,
While far away our sold.ers sleeps
Securely in a soldier's grave.
What'er the name he might have wou.
No grander this in victory's breath—
" lie of his race achieved alone
The glorious end—a hero's death."
Last of the Caribs.
You have often told me that you know
the island of Martinique. Then you have
heard them speak of the Caravelle. It is a
wild isthmus, so called by the sailors from
a Spanish wreck. The sea is always rag
ing wild enough there. Ah, you should
see the waves as they leap madly on the
rocks. Then they break into drizzling
white foam—sheets a furlong broad—and
then fall back in vain. And it is always
going on: it never ceases. There my
father's house was situated.
But farther down, the country changes
entirely; it becomes perfectly fascinating.
The two aides of the isthmus resemble two
fairy lakes. It was for this reason that its
proprietor, the Count de Saint Croix, called
it Beau Sejour—the beautiful home.
The Saint Croix family and ours formed,
so to speak, only one, we were so intimate.
Francis, the Count's only son, was like a
brother with my sister and me.
Any who had seen us, three-in-hand,
ninning, like deer, over the sand, our hair
lifted by the breeze, mingling our merry
laughter with the murmur of the waves,
would liave believed that there are some
happy beings here on earth.
Our greatest pleasure was to run out on
the eaves, or sand-bars, and a hunt of
shells. We left at sunrise, a little basket
on our arms. The songs of the negroes
fishing in their log canoes, came to us over
the water.
One winter day we returned from run
ning on the sands. It was an evening fore
l>oding storm. Distant lightnings darted
across the sky. Julia was delayed by en
deavoring trf tear up from a seafan a shell.
The tide rose until the sand-hank on
which she stood became an island. The
poor girl became alarmed, and lifting her
arms, cried aloud for assistance. Her long,
black braids flapped in the the storm-wind,
and coiled, like serpents, around her neck.
The negroes, hearing the cries, came m
tlicir OADoea* Dcfow iWrj- cuittrrt, rmnt*lß
had swam across, and stood by his sister,
supporting hwr.
They earned her beneath the palm trees
which bordered the shore. With her anns
entwined around her brother, she cast on
him glances of love; but from time to time
looked regretfully toward the island.
"Who will bring me my shells!" she
cried, at last.
And, aa if she had power to command the
elementary spirits, there suddenly arose a
deep, strange voice, which exclaimed' 'l."
A man of copper hue, grey eyes, bushy
browns, long hair, dripping with salt water,
came forth from the waves, bearing the
wished-for sheila
"Father Sassa!" cried all the negroes.
Father Sassa was neither white, mulatto,
nor black. He was of the indigenous Carib
race. His family, a last remnant of the
original tribes found by the Spaniards, had
escaped the massacre of civilization and
taken refuge among the rocks of our wild
peninsula. But the family had been sadly
reduced under the English rule of the is
land, and Sassa survived. He bore the title
of cacique, though without subject to rule.
His name was Sassaggari, but the blacks,
following their custom of giving diminu
tives, always called him Fs'Uer Sassa.
He had brought the lon . '-for shells to
Julia. When he first heard cry, he had
plunged into the waves.
"Ah! what a horrible shell!" I cried,
perceiving a dark mass in the hand of the
Carib. "Why, 'tisn't worth the pain it has
cost. Throw it back into the sea, Father
Sassa."
"To the sea! to the sea!" cried all the
negroes.
But the Carib, deaf to these murmurs,
advanced with us under the shade of the
cocoa trees.
"Little whites," said he, "youlove what
shines and for that reason do not throw
away this shell. It is colorless on the sur
-1 ace, but it gleams within. The stars of
night have marked its heart."
"What, Father Sassa," we cried, "do
you mean to say that you can see through
the shell?"
The cacique stretched out a hand toward
the last rock of the Caravelle, where his
little hut gleamed out and vanished every
moment in the frequent lightning.
"Come there," said he, "and you will
learn more.
And entering his canoe he disappeared.
The lightning grew more brilliant; large
drops quickly falling announced a coming
tropical hurricane. We hastened home
ward, bearing the shell.
The next morning the banana trees beaten
down in the fields, the uprooted trees borne
afar by torrents, were the only indications
of the storm of the previous night. The
heaven and the sea rested, calm and beauti
ful, after their wild passions had been
gratified..
We started for the cabin of Father Sassa.
We found the Carib seated on a large
stone before his dwelling, preparing nets
for fishing. Seeing us he raised his heavy
eyebrows; his strange eyes gleamed, as
with a gratified feeling that we had remem
bered him and what he had told us the eve
ning before.
"Who gave me this twine to mend my
nets with ?" said he.
"I, Father Sassa," replied Julia.
"Who gave me this good knife to cut the
twine, make the wooden needles, cover my
cabin with reeds, curve my canoe?'
"I, Father Sassa," replied Francis.
"And for that," continued the cacique,
"Sassaggari follows you wherever you go.
Sassaggari would let the sharks eat him
before a hair of your head should be in
jured. Sassaggari saw ths little master and
Me MiMlem IVNrUZ-
mistress stniggling against the sea; he went
under the water; he saved their shell."
"But what is this shell, Father Sassa? 1
inquired; '*and what was the meaning of
all the sorceries of Zombi (a negro fetish),
which you told us yesterday eveuing under
the cocoa trees ?"
"See!" said the Oarib, pointing with his
finger to the fragment of shells heaped up
around his hut, "see what remains of Sas
saggari, my father, who was the flrat in
these lands to walk securely beneath the
deep."
We observed that the shells were of the
same kind as ours.
"The white strangers chased our fathers
from their home. We are not negroes. To
escape from slavery the old Sassaggat i em
barked his family in his canoe; but he
would not leave behind him the shells
which bring luck to the fisherman and keep
afar the witchcrafts of the water. The
whites suspected some mystery. They
broke the shells against the rocks. Furious
at finding nothing hut the white gleam of
the shells, they pereued us—we rowed in
vain. They shot all except me, who saved
myself by swimming under the water. I
have caught since then far more than they
have snapped Hp, the bio*>d-suckers. The
rock only, l>esides Sassaggari, knows the
nest where they slumlier. But keep the
shell of yesterday, little whites; when it
speaks, Sassaggari will reply. He who
sings in the shells the plaiuts of the sea,
and who paints the sunrise on their faces,
will make the stars of heaveu sink into
their heart." So the Carib spoke. He was
motionless his glance sweeping afar to the
verge of the horizon.
We silently left him and gained our
ceol hall before the burning noon made it
intolerable without.
But these early happy days were coming
to an end. We were about to quit this
pleasant paradise for new scenes.
We grew up. Our parents spoke of
sending Francis and me to France. When
Julie heard this she sighed—was agitated.
One evening my father came home from
the town and said that passage hail Invn
taken for us on l>oard a vessel which would
sail in two weeks.
My poor sister, the news was terrible to
her. I think I can see her now during these
days. She would sit for hours under a
palin tree, looking at the deep blue sea.
Once when Francis stole up to her, tak
ing her hand, he said in the tenderest tones:
"My lily, what is it you see there at the
bottom of the sea?"
"I sec," she replied, "the white sail of a
ship which l>ears you far away—away! "
The Count consoled them l>otlq and,
passing his hanils over the golden curls of
his hoy, said:
"You love Julia very much, then."
"Yes, papa; and were I never to see her
again, I would drown myself."
The day of departure came. We bade
adieu. Julia, pale as a sheet, came to us
with her shells.
She gave the finest to Francis, and, tak
ing me by the hand, said:
"Jules, I give you this horrible old shell;
don't forget that I found it that evening
tghpH -- ■ XT m *— *
memory of your sister and of her love for
Francis."
Six years later, during the winter of
1747-8, a young man completed a highly
successful course of studies at the Univer
sity of Paris and entered aristocratic life.
It was the Vicompte de St. Croix.
We made our preparations to return to
Martinique. Between our departure and
the wedding there came an obstacle. This
obstacle was a revolution.
Tli freedom of the blacks was pro
claimed. The Count de St. Croix was
ruined. He hoped to save his crop by
borrowing. The money was obtained and
wasted in vain efforts.
Francis rose in dignity and energy dur
ing this trial. "I will overcome this dis
aster," he said. "I will not be crushed. I
will go to America; a few years of labor,
and we shall be reunited, and Julie shall
le mine."
He left soon for Havre and for New
York. Not long after his departure his
father, the old Count, arrived in Paris. He
hoped to obtain from the Government some
indemnity for his lost estate. Every effort
was in vain. One morning the poor old
Count tottered into my room, and, casting
himself on the sofa, exclaimed:
"All is lost!"
In sudden alarm I started up to relieve
him, and so suddenly as to overthrow a
heavy tab e. Owing to its concussion, the
portraits of Julie, which hung on the wall,
fell to the ground, and with it the shell,
which rested upon the portion of the frame.
As the shell fell it separated into two por
tions, from which rolled three white balls.
They were the three stars of night—three
extremely large, immensely valuable pearls!
That very day the first jeweler in Paris
gave us $30,000 for the three pearls.
We met again in Martinique. The mar
riage was solemnized. We sought the old
Indian, and cast ourselves, shedding tears
ot gratitude, into his arms.
"Father Sassa," said Francis, "You told
us the truth. We found the stars of heaven
in the shells of the sea."
The eyes of the chief shone with a strange
light. "Who were kind to the poor Indian?
Who gave him wood for his canoe, a knife
for fishing? Who were good to him? for
all that children, follow me!"
He placed his hand on a great smooth
stone, or rather rock, which seemed cast,
where it was by the fury of the waves.
1 'Sassaggari goes to the south. He goes
to the hidden land to join his fathers.
There they live in the city, where all is
gold, where the race of the Incas of the
south and the Aztecs of the north talk the
old sacred language of the serpent and of
the sun. There the voice of the white was
never heard. Children, adieu!"
He rolled away the stone. It covered
the entrance of the cave, in which we saw
piled high hundreds of shells, containing
pearls. We stood bewildered at the sight
of such enourmous wealth, and then turned
to embrace the Carib. He had disappeared.
But far off, in the last rays of the setting
sun, vanishing in its purple mist, we saw a
! canoe paddled by one dusky form, which
i waved us an adieu.
We had gained a million. On the grotto
we had placed the inscription : "The Sassa
gari, last of the Caribs of this isle."
You are more sure of success in the
end if you regard yourself as a man of
ordinary talent, with plenty of hard
work before you, than if you think
yourself a man of genius, and spend
too much time in watching your hair
grow long, that you may oonvlnce peo
ple that you are not like other folk,
MILLHEIM, PA.. THURSDAY, AUGUST 21, 1879.
The Flrat Pair of l'auts.
When the eventful time arrives in
which the punts are finished, tlie earth
is hardly large enough to contain our
embryo young man.
How his eyes shine, and how his
cheeks glow ! and he struts like a pea
cock witli all sail set, and thrusts his
arms to the elbows into the capacious
pockets, which will, In a short time,
be filled with a miscellaneous collec
tion of twine, fish hooks, old buttons,
nails, jack knives, whistles, angle
worms, spruce gum, bullets, hard-shell
ed bugs, fragments of stolen cookies,
and other articles usually found in
boys' pockets.
All the aunts in the house must ad
mire him in his new toggery. All of
them must kiss him and shake him, and
tell him lie looks like a man.
He will tuck the legs of his new
pants into his stockings by the time he
has them on an hour, to make believe
the stockings are boots and the streets
are muddy. He will sit cross legged
like papa, and tip over backward In the
vain attempt to put his heels on the
table, like Uncle Jack does when he is
reading and smoking.
If you want to make him your mor
tal enemy for life, insinuate that he is
too small for pants and call him the
baby!
How his blood will boil! and how all
the revengeful elements in his boyish
heart will come to the front, and he
will tell Tommy Jones you are a nasty
old thing! and he wishes you'd fall in
a well as Towzer did !
Among his young companions, the
hoy with his first pair of pants Is agen
eral-in-eliief. He issues orders which
are obeyed. The luud-pie-making bus
iness goes agreeably to his com mads.
He "bosses'' the playing horse and
"bag ' proceeding, and puts down the
other boys unmercifully with the cry :
"Don't mind them! They're only
girls in petticoats and gowns!"
To all the callers at his house, he says
at once:
"See my new pants!" and then
he shows the pockets and stretches out
his dumpy little legs, and feels proud
and happy in a manner that will never
come to him again.
He wants to climb trees and ride
horses, and stand ou his head, like the
other boys; and if the new pants con
tinue intact for a week, under the strain
inflicted upon them, then the cloth was
genuine, and the tailor was loyal to his
profession.
Never laugh or ridicule the boy with
his first pair of pants!
T.g l - * - • w •
unalloyed enjoyment, do not meddle
with it. Let no scornful sinile come
over your face when you see the exulta
tion of the boy in his first pair of
pants! The man who would willingly
mar such a state of felicity would
steal the cents off the eyes of a dead
mother-in-law.
Ucath ot a Desperado.
John Barrett, a New York burglar, con-!
fined in Bing Sing prison, lately outraged
the laws of that penal institution, and offi
cers McCormick and Mackiu were detailed
to bring him down stairs. He was led out
of his work cell to the main hall in front
of the chaplan's office, but while standing
there he continually kept his hands in his
pockets. He was told to take his hands
out and fold his anns, but as he was raising
his arms to told them he stepped back
somewhat, and one of the officers saw that
he had a sharp knife in his hands. Officer
McCormick at once struck at him with his
caue and drove him back, and just as offi
cer Mackiu was warned that Barrett had a
knife, the convict plunged it into Mackin's
left thigh, inflicting an ugly wound several
inches deep. The wounded man having
t_>en cared for by others, Officer McCormick
pursued Barrett, who, by this time had fled
to the North end of the yard. Reinforce
ments soon came up, but the convict, who
was a young man of about twenty-one, was
too fleet for his pursuers. He had disap
peared and for a time their search was
fruitless. Officer Good, who had in the
meantime bfcen ordered to join in the chase,
happened to pass through the moulding
shop. There he was informed by one of
the workmen that Barrett had just been in
there and armed himself with several pieces
of iron knowr. as "sprues," and that he
had climbed up the roof. Quick as light
ning Good jumped through one of the win
dows that cover the roof, and he had just
one foot outside when cue ®f the heavy
"sprues" was hurled at hijn, but fortunate
ly it only g.azed his head. Barrett hallooed
to him: "If you come near me I'll kill
you." The convict was then about fifteen
feet from the officer, while another keeper
was stationed at the other end of the roof.
(iood called upon him to surrender, when,
in reply, another sharp piece of iron was
hurled at him. The officer then drew his
revolver and fired without taking aim, ad
vancing at the same time steadily, but cau
tiously, along the roof. The shot, however,
did not frighten Barrett a single moment.
From the roof he went through a window
into the cupola room, this time followed by
both officers. There, too, he defied both of
them to approach, and while one of them
called for more help, the fellow escaped
from the roof down into the moulding
rooms to the very spot where his ordinary
working place was. That was about half-1
past eleven o'clock. He was now once
more in the midst of his comrades with
only a few keepers around him. There he
stood, as the pursuing officers found him,
leaning against a huge'water tank, and,
having armed himself in the meantime with
a "rammer" —a most formidable tool used
in the foundry—he defied the officers to
come near him. Right in this and the ad
joining shop some two hundred convicts
are employed. When they heard the noise
they all came rushing on as if ready for a
fight. One fellow went up to Barrett and
whispered words of cheer to him, telling
him to hold his ground, they wuld all
stand by him. Thus encouraged, still
holding the "rammer" in one hand, he
took with the other a riveting hammer from
the shelf, testing it first and then swinging
it with defiance at the officers. It was now
a critical moment. The whistie had just
blown for dinner, aud some of the convicts
were forming in line. Extreme caution
had to IK* taken now by the officers. The
least mistake on their part, and over two
hundred convicts would have hurled all the
mass of iron and tools that lay around in
the shop at their heads, and made short
work of them. Taking in the situation at
a glance, Higlin, the chief keeper, began
to parley with Barrett, telling him not to
make a fool of himself and to surrender.
Ba.rett said: " If you promise* not to jMid
dle inn for this I will go." Higlin, how
ever, made no promise. "Then," said
Barrett, "I'll be G d d if 1 surren
der !" swinging ids formidable weapons
defiantly at the officers. Over a hundred
convicts were cheering him on. Once more
Bigliu urged him to surrender, but Barrett
raised his hammer and was aliout to hurl it
at Biglin's head when Officer Good again
drew his revolver and said: "Barrett, if
you firs that hammer I'll shoot you." De
risive laughter, groans and catcalls now
arose from all parts of the foundry. The
line of convicts which had been formed
preparatory to dinner, was broken, the men
were circling around the officers, crowding
them on, lunging and yelling. Somebody
in the back part of the foundry here called
out: "He dare not shoot!" Then arose the
cry all around the officers: "You are cow
ards! You dare not shoot!" and it became
high time to show them at least that the
shooting-irons were readyr Up went the
revolvers from half a dozen pockets, and,
while Officer Good kept his revolver pointed
at Barrett, the other officers, having sta
tioned themselves in a semi-circle, pointed
theirs at the threatening convicts, some of
whom had now begun to reform their line.
"I am going in that line," exclaimed Bar
rett. "If you do," said Good, "it will
not he well for you." Barrett's object evi
dently was to go with the convicts into the
mcss-rcom. and, with the aid of the twelve
hundred fellows there assembled, create a
general revolt With all the appearance of
a leader among destK'rate men, he swung
his weapon defiantly to and fro. 41 1 am
going in that line; do what you d n
please," he exclaimed next, and made a
motion as if to leap in the gangway,
whitner the the other convicts had been
driven by the ugly appearance of the offi
cer's revolvers. Seeing, however, that lie
could not get there he lifted his heavy
hammer and was aiming it at Officer Good
when, just as he raised it over his head
ready to strike, Good fired. Barrett stum
bled into the gangway. He was with his
comrades now, hut a dead man. The mo
ment this shot was fired the convicts scat
tered, they had seen that the officers meant
business; and while several of the latter
had now come forward with drawn revol
vers to protect their fellow keepers, Officers
Biglin and Good carried the dead laxly of
the convict to the hospital. lie had lived
just four minutes after he lnul been shot.
A Venal Lawyer.
An Irish lawyer, named Grady, hail wit
"The' following anecdotes reveal
his character : He had been elected one of
the members for Limerick in the Irish
House of Commons, and soon became one
of the Government's staunch sup|x>rters.
When remonstrated with on going against
the wishes of his constituents who were op
posed to the Union, he very resolutely de
clared his ideas to be strongly in favor of
that project, and hinted the Government
had made it worth his while to vote for that
measure.
"What 1" cried his indignant remonstra
tor, "do you mean to sell your country ?"
"Thank God," cried this pure patriot,
"that 1 have a country to sell."
He was very coarse in his expressions,
and when reminded that he owed his posi
tion to his constituents, he said :
"I care nothing for my constituents ; I
get nothing good from them. Sure, if I
only shake hands with them, they give me
the itch."
Grady exercised much influence in court
by what he termed his "jury eye."
His right eye was constantly used in
wiaking at the jury when he wished them
to note some particular answer from an ad
ve'se witness.
Appearing in court one morning in his
d .'pressed spirits, which, for one of rather
usual joyous temperament, was very un
usual, a sympathizing friend said :
"Harry, are you unwell ? You are not
as lively as usual."
"How can I be, my dear fellow?" he an
swered.
"What's the matter with you]?"
"My jury eye is out of order ," was
he reply.
Trylnjj to Astouish a Pawnbroker.
The imperturbability and extreme cau
tion of the average pawnbroker are pro
verbial, The other day a young man of an
experimental and facetious turn of mind
resolved to astonish a pawnbroker or die in
the attempt. So, entering the secret shrine,
he gave the officiating pontiff a $lO eold
piece and said: "Well, old man! how
much'll you advance me on that?" The
pawnbroker tested, rang and weighed the
coin, dropped a little aquafortis upon it,
and replied: "I can let you have $4 on it."
"Four Erebuses?" cried the young man;
"why, it's worth more!" "Well, yes,"
answered the pawnbroker ;*" the gold is
good, evidently. But it's very old-fash
ioned—it was made in 1834—and isn't
worth any more than it's weight in old
metal. Besides, there is such fluctuation
in gold and silver. I've seen gold up to
'286, and silver down to 84. How do I
know but that silver may go up to '286, and
gold down to 84 ? I can't take any risks
in my business like that, you know ! But
I'll tell you what I'll do. seeing it is you; I
don't mind letting you have $5 on it. But
don't let the boss know, for he has the heart
disease, and the shock might kill him!"
" Gimme $7, and I'll take it!" said the
impetuous youth; but the pawnbrober
shook his head so sternly that he knew it
was no go; and so, picking up his $lO
piece, he departed. He returned three
minutes afterward, and throwing down the
same piece, said to the pawnbroker: "Say!
can you give me two $6 greenbacks fpr
this ?" " Certainly, sir 1" said the pawn
broker calmly, and produced the notes.
"You sweet-scented old idiot!" said the
young man as he pocketed the bills, "that's
the same $lO piece that you wouldn't lend
me $7 on at interest a minute ago! " "I
know it, my friend," said the pawnbroker.
"That was business! that was business! "
—There is said to be a man in Allen
town, Pa., who has 1000 parrots for sale
Wedding Ulfta.
In the weddings of the poorer classes
in Ireland this levying contributions
on guests never takes place; hut how •
ever poor Paddy may he, his pride re
volts from the appearance of poverty
on such an occasion. There is a col
lection, however to raise a sum for lib
erally compensating the clerical gentle
man who 4( haß tied the knot," aud in
the house of a rich farmer, this swells
up to a good round sum. In Wales
among the small farmers and traders,
tlie custom prevails to this day of "bid
ding," not single guests but whole
families to a wedding. That such an
advent is to come off, with the where
and when, is duly advertised in the
local newspapers with a request that
all persons who in times past, have
been similarly obliged in that manner,
will attend, bringing presents for the
bride and bridegroom. Besides this,
particular and almost peremptory in
vitutions in writing, are sent to each
household on whom the to-be-wedded
folks may have some special claim for
former generosity under like circum
stances. Presents of all sorts —food,
flour, fuel, table, and chamber linen,
even sheep, lambs, calves, goats and
ponies, are among the gifts. In Ger
many there is the "pay wedding," at
which the bride receives her guests
with a basin before her, each person
depositing a jewel, silver spoon, or a
piece of money, at the same time apol
ogizing for the donation being so far
below value compared with the dam
sel's deserts. In some parts of Ger
many the rule is that the expenses of
the marriage feast shall be met by each
guest paying for what he eats and
drinks—just as if he were iu a hotel,
but not at fair hotel prices. Thus the
entertainment sometimes extends over
several days # and the young people of
ten realize a sum out of the profits suf
ficient* to start them fairly in lile.
From one to three hundred guests are
often present throughout these fes
tivals. Sometimes the flow of pres
ents takes a very different course. In
Poland a lady is not regarded as eligi
ble for double blessedness until she
wrought with her own hand, cloth and
garments for each of her future lord's
friends (groomsmen) accompanying
him to the altar. In Norway, the cler
gymen has to be propitiated with two
or three bladders of mince meat, made
by the hand of the bride, and a bottle
or two of brandy. In that country
most presents made on wedding occa
sions take the tangible form of larder
&Wdftfsaftk. ,n 'TA IffifciebtiMlrtW/'ftrttre
present time, wedding presents may
he said to abound. This system of in
viting people to a wedding reception
and expecting them to make a valuable
present has become a serious tax, and
though much money is thus expended,
the result is generally not quite satis
factory.
Kasteru and Western Story Telling.
Its no use for an eastern man to try
to tell a big story when there is a west
ern man about. "When I was a young
man," said Colonel 8., "we lived in
Illinois. The farm had been well
wooded. and the stumps were pretty
thick. But we put the corn in among
them and managed to raise a fair crop.
The next season I did my share of the
ploughing. We had a 'sulky' plough,
and I sat in.the seat and managed the
'horses, four as handsome bays as ever
a man drew rein over. One day I
found a stump right in my way. I
hated to back out, so I just said a word
to the te im, and if you'll believe it they
just walked that plough right through
that stump as though it had been
cheese." Not a soul expressed sur
prise, but Major S., who had been a
quiet listener, remarked quietly, "It's
curious, but I had a similar experience
myself once. My mother always made
our clothes In those days as well as the
cloth they were made of. The old lady
was awful proud of her homespun—
said it was the strongest cloth in the
state. One uay I had just ploughed
through a white-oak stump in the way
you speak of Colonel. But it was a lit
tle too quick for me. It came together
before 1 was out of the way, and nipp
ed the seat of my trousers. I felt mean
I can tell you, but I put the string on
the ponies, and if you'll believe it, they
just snaked that stump out, roots and
all. Something had to give, you
know."
An Oriole's Spile Ajcauist a Dog;.
An incident interesting to students of
natural history occurred a few days ago at
a residence in Rochester, N. Y. In front,
of the house a small tree is growing, in
which an oriole some time ago took up its
abode, building a nest and evidencing an
intention to raise a family. The owner of
the house has a spaniel, over which he has
shot innumerable game birds within a few
years past. From the time the oriole began
to build its nest it exhibited a marked an
tipathy to the dog, flying at him boldly
whenever he came in front of the house,
and pecking him until he retired from the
field. This occurred several times, the bird
always coming off victorious. Of late the
oriole has shown more objection than
common to the dog, perhaps because there
are now some young ones in the nest. Re
cently the unhappy spaniel came out to lie
on the front steps, but was not allowed
to enjoy his rest unbroken, for the
oriole swept down on him, pecked his back,
flapped his wings in his eyes, and made it
so uncomfortable for him that the dog ran
into the house. But his trouble did not
end there, for the bird went into the house
after him, beating him continually.
"My Lord, m Letter."
Edwin Forrest's career as an actor
furnished the foundation for many
stories which he told with [real enjoy
ment. One which was a favorite with
him ran in thiswise: While playing
an engagement at one of the theatres
in Philadelphia, he desired to produce
a certain piece with a full and complete
cast of characters. Among the minor
parts was a page, whose duty it was to
deliver a package and prouounce the
simple sentence: "My Lord, a letter!"
Mr. Forrest had attended to all the
main charcters with his usual care, and
had a company entirely to his judg
ment. This being the case he antici
pated an exceptional success for the
play when it should be enacted. The
first rehearsal of the piece was called,
and Mr. Forrest who had entrusted the
stage manager wLh the duty of pro
curing a lad to fill the role of the page,
asked if that personage was on hand
and prepared. The manager assured
him the lad was in tho theatre and
master of his lines. The first two acts
went off in good style and Mr. Forrest
was in high spirits. At the opening of
the third act he took his seat in the
chair of family state and waited the en
trance of the page. It was not a dress
rehersal and hence each actor was in
his every dav clothing. When the cue
was given the page appeared. He wa
a sharp-featured, black-eyed lad, atou
sixteen years of age. His gait was the
mixture of the strut of a dandy and
the roll of a sailor. He was clad
in clothing coarse in texture and loud
in color. pantaloons was stuffed
in the tops of his boots and his hands
encased in a pair of gloves of a decided
lemon color. Had the Gorgon head ap
peared to Mr. Forrest it could not have
more effectively transformed him into
stone. He was speechleas and motion
less. While in this condition the page
advanced, and presenting the package
said:
"My Lord, a letter."
The wonderful aud fearful appear
ance of the lad and the manner in
which he prouounced the words, the
latter partaking of the best qualites of
John Oivens as Jakey, the butcher fire
man, aroused all the humorous element
of Mr. Forrest and gazing upon the lad
for a moment, he said :
"That will not do my boy. Try it
again."
The lad did try again and again.
But with 110 better success. He could
not master the stage walk. He could
meaning or pr drrftft cact unhr
sage. It was Jakey iu all respects. But
the patience of Mr. Forrest did not give
way. He saw the lad was in earnest
and wished to help. At last he arose
from his seat and said to the page:
"JSit down, my boy, and I will show
you how to do it."
Acting upon the idea Mr. Forrest
went to the wings, and advaucing in
his best manner, presented the letter
and pronounced the words. Then lay
ing his hand upon the shoulder of the
lad, he said in a kindly manner:
"That is the way to do it, my boy.
Can you not act and speak in that man
ner?"
The lad evidently struck with the
acting of Mr. Forrest assumed a more
upright attitude, and said in a bold,
confident tone:
"If I could do it that way, Mr. For
rest, I wauld not act for fifty cents a
night."
The answer was so apt and ready that
Mr. Foi rest could only answer: "Right
ray boy, right." But he did not forget
the page.
A Forest Fir®.
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Uflfner, and
their daughter, twelve years old, drove
from Frackville, Shenandoah, Pa., re
cently, in an ordinary farm wagon
drawn by two horses. After driving
along awhile he observed that the
woods were on fire on both sides of the
road. After driving through the fire
several hundred yards, the smoke be
came so dense that the travelers were
nearly suffocated, and they had to lie
down in the wagon bed to prevent be
ing smoothered. He then urged the
horses into a gallop, having first to be
labor them with a cudgel, and the race
continued over the rough mountain
road for a considerable distance with
the flames roaring on both sides, and
myriads of sparks tailing in and about
the wagon. Mrs. Uffner's dress caught
fire, and her husband dropped the reins
to assist her in extinguishing Lt, when
she fainted in his arms. While he was
endeavoring to bring his wife back to
consciousness, the horses were tearing
along at a breakneck speed, the wagon
swerved, jolted and swung around in
anything but a comfortable manner.
Mrs. L finer became conscious in a few
seconds, however, aud just then her
husband saw a cloud of dense black
smoke enveloping the road, and knew
that they had reached the outskirts of
the fire and were safe. The travelers
were all slightly burned, but fortunate
ly escaped without any serious injuries.
Some idea of the terrible heat they pass
ed through may be had when it is sta
ted that the paint on the wagon was
burned entirely off, and the horses
hair was scorched in hundreds of
places by the clouds of sparks that fell
on them. On the same day the omni
bus that carries passengers from Frack
ville to Shenondoah ran the gauntlet,
and the driver was severely scerohed.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
From inordinate love and vain fear
arlseth all disquietness of heart and dis
traction of the mind.
My son, take it not grievously if some
think ill of thee, and speak that which
thou wouldst not willingly hear.
Death, to the Christian, is the funer
al of all his sorrows and evils, and the
resurrection of all his joys.
'Hie first time a man deceives you,
the fault is his; if he deceives you the
second time, the fault is your own.
Circumstances cannot control genius;
it will wrestle with them; its power
will bend and break them to its path.
The direct and proper act of faith is
of perpetual use and necessity, and then
most when there is least of assurance.
He who, with wealth, has a true wife,
a dutiful child, a true friend, may laugh
adversity to scorn, and defy the world.
One moment of true love and happi
ness among years of sorrow is worth
more than a lifetime oi quiet, even mon
otony.
The angel who ministers to a dying
beggar may hold himself as highly
honored as he who keeps the gate of
heaven.
They who prepare the soil of the
world for the seed are but little knowo ;
for unto those who sowed is ascribed
th* 4 golden harvest
Looking up so high, worshipping so
silently, we tramp out the hearts of
flowers that lift their bright beads for
us and die alone.
A passionate man should be regarded
with the same caution as a loaded blun
derbuss, which may accidentally go off
and do us an injury.
If none were to reprove the vicious,
excepting those who sincerely hate
vice, there would be much less cenaor
lousness in the world.
It is no small wisdom to keep silence
in an evil time, and in thy heart to turn
thyself to Qod, and not to be troubled
by the judgment of men.
The man or woman whom excessive
caution holds back from striking the
anvil with earnest endeavor, is poor
and cowardly of purpose.
When you haye nothing to say, say
nothing. A weak defense strengthens
your opponent, and silence is less in
jurious than a bad reply.
A true man never frets about his
place in the world, but just slides into
it by the gravitation of his nature, and
Bwings there as easily as a star.
Do not despise the opinion of the
world; you might as well say that you
care not a fig for the light of the sun,
because you can And a candle.
It is impossible to make people under
stand their ignorance; for it requires
knowledge to perceive it; and, there
fore, he that can perceive It, hath it
not.
Let not thy peace depend on the
tongues of men; for, whether they
are they not in Me ?
—The deepest wretchedness often re
sults from a perpetual continuance of
petty trials. A chance look from those
we love often produces exquisite or un
alloyed pleasure.
A misfortune, like a storm in travel
ling, gives zest to the sunshine, fresh
ness to the prospect, and often intro
duces an agreeable companion for the
remainder of our journey.
Let every one sweep the drift from
his own door and not busy himself
about the frost on his neighbor's tiles.
Friendly letters should be written
because the words spring spontaneous
ly lrom the heart, aud not from a sense
of duty.
A contemplative life has more the ap
pearance of a life of piety than any
other; but it <8 the Divine plan to bring
faith into activity and exercise.
The immortality of the age says one,
is with some men a standing topic of
complaint. But if any one like* to be
moral 1 can see nothing in the age to
prevent hi n.
"Doctor," said a gentleman to his
clergyman, "how can I best train up
my boy in the way he should go?" "By
going that way yourself," replied the
reverend doctor.
No one can over-estimate his own
weakness, or the dangers to which he Is
continually exposed; no one can over
state the strength, and safety, and com
fort, of constantly abiding in Christ.
Whosoever would be sustained by
the hand of God, let him constantly
lean upon it; whosoever would be de
fcndeu by it, let him patiently repose
himself under it.
To enjoy life you should be a little
miserable occasionally. Trouble, like
cayenne, is not very agreeable in itself,
but it gives greater zest to other things.
To write a good hand, wear a good
coat, and keep a good character, are the
three requisites for a young man who
has his own way to make in the world.
One man gazes on a beautiful land
scape, ahd he is thrilled and satisfied.
Another gazes on the same and sees
only good land for raising crops. The
vision is the same, but the capacity for
reoeiving enjoyment from it vastly dif
ferent.
Was that a merciful man, who, when
he lay dying, said of his vasteathly
possessions, to the accumulation of
which he had devoted the whole ener
gies of his life— these things have chea
ted me out of my best interests for eter
nity.
Wit is not the produce of study; it
comes almost as unexpectedly on the
speaker as the hearer. One of the first
principles of it is good temper. The
arrows of wit ought always to be feath
ered with smiles: when they fail in
that they become sarcasms.
Without the preaohing of the Gospel
a well-governed community becomes
lawless; a peaceful community is in
volved in broils; an intelligent com
munity becomes ignorant; a rich oom
munity becomes vicious and ruined;
and a community that is poor becomes
impoverished.
Infinite toil would not enable you to
sweep away a mist; but by ascending
a little you"may often look over it alto
gether. So it is with our moral im
provement, We wrestle fiercely with
a vicibus habit which would have no
hold upon us if we ascended into a high
er moral atmosphere.
NO. 33.
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