VOL. LIII. THI ROSARY OF XT YEARS. The dials of earth msy show The length, not the depth of years. Few or many they come—few or many they go, ltut onr time is beet measured byte .re Ah ! not by the silver gray lliat creeps through the sunny hair. And uot by the soenee that we pane on oar way- And not by the furrows the finders of care Oa the forehead and face have made ; Not so do we eoaut onr yeare ; Not by the eun of the earth—but the aha Je Of our souls—tid the fall of our tears. Fr the young are oftt mes old. Thou h their brow be bright aud fair ; While their blood beats warm their heart lies eold- OVr them the springtime— but winter is there. And the old are ofltimee vouug. When their hair is thin and white ; - And they in age as iu youth they auug. Aud they laagh. for their aro* was li^ht But bead by bead I tel' The rosary of my years ; From a cross to a erowu they lead—His well ! And they era blessed with a bl easing of ti are. Better a day of etnfe Than a century of sleep ; Give me, instead of a long s ream of life. The tempest and tears of the deep. A thousand joys msy foam On the billows of all the years ; But never the foam brings the brave bark borne: It reaches the haven through tears. The Poor Man's Temp'ation Among the passengers aboard the ship Petrel, bound from New York to San Prwnciece, were Thomas Warren; his wife ami their six-year-old daughter. Flora. Warrets had been unfortunate. By careful saving from his income as a clerk in a dry goods store he had built a little house one story and a half high and there for four years, with his wife and child he had lived, happy and contented. The® the firm employing him failed, He looked about him perseveringly for steady, hanest work of sane kind—not caring what —but could not obtain it. One day a laborer who was obliged to be ! absent from his place of toil—a bank of j earth which was being removed—permitted him to act as his substitute for ten hours. Warreu plied the ptek and shovel manfully and reeeived one dollar when his task was I done. His health not being good, such heavy work made him ill. He could not leave his lied for months. What little money he bad aas all spent by that time. He sold his bouse and with some of the iroceeds look passage for San Francisco, as stated, hoping to there better his for- : ma •Saa Fimacrsm.** aid bis wife Mary when they were within two days* aaii of thai port. "It is the place w here pap* went, rears ago. to look **■ - Tom Sum on. ttT >oor neither, who ran away from home. Mas you know, Tom was never found. We never could learn what became of hhn.' At that moment a terrible ery went ; through the craft "FVal Fire." Fire:** The captain and crew did all in their power to save the vessel, but in vain. Very soon the lurid flames, roaring and kissing enveloped nearly every part of the j ship. Down went the boats and they were presently occupied by p.tw and passengers. I Warren had brought np from the cabin a tin box. containing five hundred dollars, whieh remained from the sale of his house. With his wife and ahild he got into one f the boats. . •*The petroleum!" ydled the first mate. •*Puil away lively:^—the ship's going to blear up:'* TW boat in which Warren sat was ten latbaiM from the ship, when with a roar 1 liter a boasting volcano, she flew to pieces, hex fiery fragments shooting high in air. The frightened passengers made a rush, which capsized the boat. Warren s box of money sank to the bottom. lie could swim'and contrived to nave has wife and child from drowning by them un til one of the other boats came and picked up all the persona who w ere In the water. •'My box:" groaned Warren. •Ok my!'* cried his wif turning deadly pale and cl aping her hands. "It has gone to the bottom of the sea! s he said wfldiy. his fingers twitching nervously in his agony. 4 1f I could swim I'd dive and get it!" said little Flora, <*Never mind, papa, w can fill it wis* fold when wo get to the gold town." • ABH a piece of cake from her pocket, die commenced to eat it. Warrea bowed his head. He looked white and fimp and gasped for breath. Thee the true qpirit sbewed itself on the part of his wife. There is no describing how she consoled yn She did it with the strange subtle power of her sex. Hb was Still grief stricken, hut somehow the hums aiwl dismay caused by his loss were nearly goue. Before night the passengers were picked up by a bound into the port of San Francisoo. And thus Warren and his little family arrived there. He had a few dollars in his pocket-book, ftixt he hired lodgings in s small house, near the outskirts of the town. Ha set about kicking tor employment at once. Te his surprise, it was as diffiult here to obtain work as in New York. Day after day he west about on his hope less rounds. * He sould find nothing to do. "Hive me a piece of bread,** said Flora, one morning— "a piece of bread 'wis'salt on it." 4 'What! have we no sugar "said Warren. T thought we had a little. * u uv>& n straight to Roger Bannoht. The merchant read it through his gold spectacles. "It's all right,'' he said quickly after Warren had explained. "I am much obliged to you. I will have the Invly de cently buried." Warren looked around him, wistfully. Stalwart men were moving hither and thither handling bales, boxes and casks. A legion of clerks were making their pens fly ! over the pages of the ledgers. There was one cask, half full of sugar, outside, partly open. A drizzling rain was falling, wetting this sugar. "Wouldyou not like to have that cask" moved into the store?'' he inquired faintly. Mr. Barmont looked up. "Oh! I believe I have not rewarded you for bringing me tnese silver pieces,'' he said. He took a quarter from his pocket and put it on the counter. "No, thank you," said Warren; "but I will take, it for moving the cask, if you 1 like." "Very well," said Barmont more gently. "Move it as soon as soon as you ean." Warren tugged at the heavy cask. It was too much for his strength, in his pres ent weakened condition. I But be got it In the store. Then he stag ' gered against it nearly fainting. "A glass of wine, "here," called Mr. Bar- luont. One of the clerks brought It. It revived | the sufferer, although he still look bewil- I dered. "What makes you so weak? Have you been ill?" inquired the merchant. The other's gaze, as if by a 9ort of fas } cination, against which he Vainly strug gled, waa fixed, with a greedy look, upon a box of damaged biscuit, which one of the men was about to throw into a refuse cask! Mr. Barmont drew "Warren to One side. "What is your name, and where do you ftvef" he inquired. "Thomas Warren. I live at No. ! street." "Have you a family?" "A wife and child. Would that Mary • Mar-ton had never married a poor wretch like me!" 1 "May Marston! Was that your wife's > name?" cried Barmont starting. "Yes, sir." 1 "And had a brother. What was his , name?" r, "Thomas Marston. He went away years ' ago, and has not been heard of since." t j "Your wife was in Boylston, Massachu setts —was she not?" 5 ! "Yes, sir." | • "Very good; and so you did not know - that the miser who just died was Tom i Marston, her brother?" | "Good heaven! No!" i, I "It is the fact —he was. Here is half a it dollar for moving the cask. I will ca 1 j upon you to night." i. Warren went home with some provisions j bought with the half dollar, is To his astonished wife he told his story, 't Not long after, the old merchant, Mr. y Barmont came. i- ' He made a few inquiries of Mrs. Warren which fully satisfied him of her identity— that she was really Mary Marston. u j He unlocked a small satchel he had ie ' brought with him and exhibited the con tents —fifty thousand dollars in crisp bank l- notes. lf What does this?' cried the bewildered L Warren and his wife, simultaneously, n "It means," said Mr. Barmont, "that your brother, Thomas Marston, who was a t- miser, looked upon me as his only friend. Every penny which he herded, except just MIELIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY. DECEMBER 11, 1879. enough to supply his few wants, he placed in my keeping, for he was afraid of being robbed. 1 kept all his money locked up in my safe for him. With him he always had a keg full of counterfeit half dollars so that In case robbers should steal from him, they would obtain only those worthless coins. He has been away for many years, and must hare but just returned. Before lie went, he in formed me tlrnt, in case of his death he would send me the keg of counterfeits, as lie would rather they should not lie found about his promisee. He was afraid it would make people think, he had tievn a counterfeiter. After his death 1 was to ad vertise for his sister. He did not know whether she was living or not, but if I found her, I was to giye her his money which 1 hail in charge. This was the request he made to me, and which I promised to comply with. It was also arranged, that, if 1 did not hear from him, or hear of his death within twen ty years after his departure, I was to keep his money for my own use, and not trou ble myself to make any inquiries about his sister. 1 expostulated with him on this point, but he had always been eccentric, and he would now have his own way. Had I not heard of his death to-day, by to-mor row the twenty years would iiuve expired, ami I should have kept my agreement by re turning the money. I hope you will believe nie when I say that I am really glad of the chance which has been afforded nie of giving it to the rightful heir." When he was gone Warren said to his wife: "How fortunate I did not yield to the temptution to retain that keg of coins. Had I done so I would probably soon have been arresteod for passing counterfeit money, be sides which you would never have heard of your fortune or have received a penny of it!" "True," said Mary. "And oh! husband!" she added, embracing him. "I would sooner have starved than have known that you kept those coius! I am i-urc you would never have thought of doing it had your mind not been weakened by care and hunger combined." "1 believe my brain was nearly turned at the time," he answered. A week after Warren wont into business with some of his wife's money. He is now ouo of the moat thriving whole sale merchants in San Francisco. Iridescent Glass. It is not genera'l) known, that tlie beau tiful vases and other forms of iridescent glass, which have recently l>egun to adorn the windows of our china ware dealers, mark the revival of oue ot the lost arts of old Ro man days. Most of the old glass brought to light from the buried cities of Pompeii and llerculaneutn, from Roman tombs, and more recently from the treasures of the Cypriote cities or temples, possesses this curious property of iridescence, by means of which it reflects light with all the colors of the rainbow. There has been some dis- Wblbkdsr , tfK u Wtwhiffer , Tr quality subsequently by some natural agency. The more reasonable conclusion, and tiie one adapted by Mr. Pellgot, the celebrated .French chemist, is that the glass originally plain, became iridescent from long exposure to the action of the air and moisture at a high temperature, these con ditions being admirably fulfilled in the old Roman tombs, where most of the glass is found. All glass has a tendency to be come iridescent under certain conditions; but in some kinds this tendency is more strongly marked than in others. In glass for optical instruments a tendency to be come iridescent is a serious fault and differ ent kinds of glass are combined to form a perfect colorless lens. Modern chemists and glassmakcrs have long keen trying to discover the art of making glass iridescent by some more speedy means than that of burying it in a damp soil for the benefit of a thankless posterity. With all the pro gress made in kindred branches of the art, nothing of note was done in this direction until two French chemists quite recently succeeded in artificially producing this iridescence. The process they make use of is said to consist essentially in submitting the glass, under a considerable pressure, and at an elevated temperature, to the action of water containing fifteen per cent, of hydro-' chloric acid. Only certain kinds ot glass are suitable for this operation. The action of this acid is thought to be analogous to that of the elements upon the older glass in • dissolving the alkaline silicates and leaving the surface of the glass finely ridged or cor rugated, and thus capable of refracting the lights with prismatic or rainbow colors, like those of mother-ot-pearl. The modern glass stands any amount of nibbing or elcaning without losing its curious property ; but, if the exposed surface be cut or ground off, the iridescent effect is instantly lost, show ing that its cause is merely superficial and not structural, as is the case with mother of-pearl. The Bohemian glass, so far, seems to be the favorite for embellishing with the new iridescence. Bohemian gluss will re sist a much greater heat than any other kind, and is made in graceful shapes, and is clear and transparent. At present the leading Bohemian factory is producing a good deal of this iridescent glassware, prin cipally for the European market, as the Ainerician public is hardly yet acquainted with this novel and beautiful glassware. One of the greatest charms of this new glass is its infinite variety and freshness. No two pieces are alike in color, and no piecs remains the same when placed in a new position or regarded from a different point of view. All show a greater or smaller range of the spectrum, curve or bent, ac cording to the shape of the glass; but while some pieces flash with red and yellow, oth ers are tender, with a silvery blue or rich gold gray, and still others exhibit all the colors ol the rainbow. Don't. Don't believe every senseless rumor you may hear respecting reputable citizens; don't retail a calumny against any man un less you have good foundation for believing it true; don't bite off your own nose to spite your face; don't let passion knock down judgment and choke its life out; don't go back on principle to gratify personal feeling; don't betray the confidence of your friends; don't give your friend the "dirty shake," as the boys say, because he don't look through your spectacles; don't harbor ani mosity against a neighbor because his opin ons conflict with yours. THE bounding clam is beginning to figure in politics, I Wit tit Hlicmltl ho (lit) I.|ptl Slumlord ol Ker > t no? > _________ These art' two widely prevalent errors in r regard to the use of kerosene. One is thnt ! kerosene explosions are always the result of 1 carelessness; the other, that the use of 1 kerosene is necessarily attended with more 1 dangei than accompanies the use of animal or vegetable oils; in other words that it is 1 impossible to make an illuminating oil from 1 petroleum which will not be more or less risky under ordinary household conditions. But these errors are due to popular ignor ance, with regard to the nature and proper ties of the mixture of petroleum products properly denominated kerosene, and the conditions under which low grades or adulterated kerosenes explode. Crude po ' troleum, from the complexity of its com position, lias been aptly compared to a i>ook; the products given off at successive temperatures beiug the leaves, each allow ing more or less pronounced characteristics. Its more volatile pails are given off at a temperature as low as the freezing point of water. At summer heat appears rbigoline which boils at 65 deg. Fail.; at tempera tures below 170 deg., gasoline is given off; and between thai and 800 deg., the product is called naphtha. The naphtha dis tilled at a temperature above 2SO deg. is distinguished as benzine. All these pro- ' ducts are without oily properties; are vola- j tile at common temperatures; take fire readily; and when then* vapors are mixed with from seven to nine times their vol ume of air they burn with an explosion, even when not confined. Between 800 deg. and 400 deg. kerosene is distilled a mixture of products rangiug in character between benzine and the heavy parafine oila, too ; thick for use in lamps. According to Pro fesssorChandler, 100 parts of crude petro leum yield by distillation, 1 1-2 parts of gasoline, 10 of refined naphtha, 4 of ben zine, 55 of kerosene, 17 1-2 of par&fflne, 1 (lubricating) oil, 2 of paratline, and 10 of coke, gas. and loss. Benzine is worth about half as much as kerosene; naphtha and paralllne oil aliout one-third at much. I The temptation of refiners of petroleum Is to mix their oils with the lighter and cheap er naphtha, thou bring up ths product to the appearance of kerosene by an admixture of parafiine oil, also lower in price than pure kerosene. It is the naphtha, with its J low flashing point that causes all the mis- 1 chief. The legal standard for kerosene in New York and many other States is 100 deg. fire test; the United States Standard is 110 deg. In Michigan all oils are for bidden which Hash at 140 deg. or below. Obviously if the law is enforced in the last named state, kerosene accidents are quite impossible there. An effort is being made in Boston to have the standard raised from 100 deg. to 110 deg.; some insist that it should be made as high as 185 deg. Pro fessor Chandler, President of the Board of j Health of New York city, asserts that the \ standard of 135 deg. should be adopted everywhere; in which case there would be an end of kerosene explosions, provided, of course, (hat r la\f be rigidly enforced. j cost of the oil, he a."y m raised the actual creased more than n e<*n. w. ' A Typical ffeiUTn Outlaw. Barker, the Cherokee desperado, who was hunted down and killed near Muskogee, j in the Indian territory, recently stood at the head of the list of western outlaws, lie was of white skin, though his blood was tainted and he claimed Cherokee citi zenship. He was six feet tall, straight as an arrow and of stout frame. Twenty- | eight years of crime (for his life was full of it from the cradle) had stamped fiercely upon his Indian features the marks of the dare-devil who expected to die with his ; boots on and with the whistle of bullets in bis ear. His first crime was that of whole sale cattle stealing. 80 imperfect are the laws of the Indian territory that Barker and his men rode with free boots and boldly for many years. Triplet, a half-breed Cherokee; Scogden, the Mexican, and Mason, the Texan, were his lieutenants. Men were waylaid, murdered and robbed by them time and again. It is said that every citizen of the Cherokee country car ried a special bullet iu his pocket for Barker. The culminating atrocity of the band came about on the morning of the 2d of August last, when they galloped into the village of Caneyville, Kansas, and in broad daylight sacked the place, driving the residents, men, women and children, like a tiock of sheep, out into the woods. Two inefi who resisted were shot through the heart. Not long age ten Cherokee and two white men caught the outlaws in ambuscade. Scogden and Mason escaped, the 12 rifles cracking for Backer's benefit. Barker fell and offered resistance with the only limb that was uninjured, the left leg. His tight leg and both arms were broken and all three limbs were amputated shortly before his death. Triplet crawled off through a corn field, but limping into the house of his mother at Vinita on the following day laid at her feet and died. Table Etiquette. Never eat very tast. Never fill the mouth very full. Never open your mouth when chewing. Never make a noise with your mouth or throat. Never attempt to talk with the mouth full. Never leave the table with food in the mouth. Never Boil the tablo cloth if it is possible to avoid it. _Jt is easy to find reasons why others should be patient. Never carry away lruit or confectionary from the table. Never explain at the table why certain foods do not agree with you. Never encourage a dog or a cat to play with you at the table. Never introduce disgusting or unpleasant topics for conversation. Never pick your teeth or put your hand in your mouth while eating. Never cut bread; always break it, spread ing with butter each piece as you eat it. Never come to the tabic in your shirt sleeves, with dirty hands or disslieveled hair. Never express a choice for any particular part of a dish, unless requested to do so. Never hesitate to take the last piece of bread or the last cake; there are probably more. Never call loudly for the waiter, nor at tract attention to yourself by boisterous conduct. Nevei hold bones in your fingers while you eat from them. CuJ.tha meat with a 3(nife. Conjugal Chess. If you are a married man and don't know chess never learn it. The reason I give you this advice is because up to three evenings ago such a thing as a chess hoard was never known in Mr. Oration's louse. He and his aged partner have managed to pass the long evenings very pleasantly, and lie supposed they were happy enough together until a friend paid them a flying visit, and asserted that the ganic of chess served to quicken the perceptive faculties, enlarge the mind, and render the brain more active. After giving the subject due thought Mr. Grattan walked down town and purchased a chess board, and when evening came he surprised his good wife by saying: "Well, Martha, we'll have a game or two. I expect to l>eat you all to flinders, but you won't cure." "Of course not; and if 1 beat you, why you won't care," she replied. • They sat down and he claimed the flrst move. She at once objected, but when he began to grow red in the face she yielded and he led off. At the fourth move she took a man, chuckling as she raked him. "I don't see anything to grin at," he sneered, as he moved. "Here, you can't move, that way!" she called out. "I can't, eli? Perhaps I never playe chess before you were born. *' ' She saw a cliacce to fork two men, and gave in the point, but as she moved he cried: "Hold on ! I've concluded not to move there," She gave in again, hut when lie took a man she had overlooked her nose grew red and she cried out: "I didn't mean to move there I" "Can't help that, Martha." In about two minutes he shoved a pawn three squares, and went into the royal row shouting: "Queen him ! Queen him ! I've got an other quecu." "One would think by your childish ac tions that you never played a game before," he growled out. "1 know enough to beat you 1" "You do, eh? Some folks ore awful smart." "And some folks ain't," she snapped, us she captured another man. "What in thunder are you moving that way for?" "A rook can move any \cny." "No it can't!" "Yes it can !" "Don't talk back to me, Martha Gratlau! I wan playing chess when you were in vour cradle ?" "I don't care ! I can capture a man whichever way you move!" He looked down ou the ltoard, saw that such was the case, and roared out : "You moved twice to my once P "1 haven't!" 'l'll take my ca'h you have! 1 can't play against any such blacklegpractices!" "Who's a blackleg? You arc nt only cheating, but tried to lie out of it 1" Board and nun fell between them. He could gel on his hut quicker tlurn she could WIIT nrpn ni* tn tm- ■■■■— ■ i < Caught In Swamp About a fortnight ago a widow named Avery, alxmt forty-flve years old, left her home, near Salem, Wayne county, Penn., to visit a brother, living near the Lack awaxen river, in Pike county, Penn. She was making the trip on foot. While pass ing through a dense piece of woods in the western part of lackawaxen township, it being after dark, she lost her way and wandered into Tinkwig swamp, a short way to the right of the public highway, where she became fastened in the mire. When she found that she could not extricate her self, she called lustily for help, but as no one lived within some distance her cries were not heard. Her struggling to free herself caused her to sink deeper and deeper in the mire in which she was caught. In j this position she remained for eight days, : with no food except bark from the bushes which grew within her reach. The water 1 she drank she dipped from the bog with her i hands. Mrs. Avery's brotlier, whom she i-was on her way to see, was not aware of his sister's intended visit, and no search was made for the missing woman. A man nam ed Basdeu, residing in Lackawaxen town ship, happened to pass through Tinkwig Swamp a few days ago. He was returning | from Rowland's, a few miles distant, to his | home in the western part *of Lackawaxen township, and carried his gun in the hope of killing some game. As he was passing along the edge of the swamp lie heard a peculiar moaning noise. He at first thought it was the moaning of cattle that might be grazing in the woods, tie paid no further attention, and passed on. Soon the same noise was heard again, this time more dis tinctly. He followed in the direction of the noise, and was soon in the very heart of the swamp. He stopped again to listen further, when, looking to his right lie saw an object moving, which he found to be Mrs. Avery, struggling between life and death. He attempted to extricate her, but failed, and was obliged to walk some dis tance for help. After giving notice to the nearest neighbors he returned, accompanied by a number of men with a wagon. They finally succeeded in extricating the woman, and she was driven to a neighboring house, and medical assistance summoned. Although Mrs. Avery is yet very weak from the ter rible ordeal thought which she passed, she will recover. When questioned concerning her feelings while imprisoned in the mire, Bne replied that they were beyond descrip tion. She had, on the seventh day, given up all hope of being rescued alive, but on the morning of the eighth day she had a presentiment that help would reach her. Mrs. Avery's mind is somewhat impaired by tie terrible struggle between life and death. Terrible Experience of a Woman. About two weeks ago a widow named Avery, about 45 years old, left her home near Salem, Wayne county, Pa., to visit a brother, living near the Lackawaxen river, in Pike county, Pa. She was making the trip on foot. While passing through a dense piece of woods in the western part of Lack awaxen township, it being after dark, she lost her way and wandered into Tinkwig Swamp, a short way to the right of the pub lic higßway, where she became fastened in the mire. When she found that she could not extricate herself she called lustily for help, but, as no one lived within some dis tance. her cries were not heard. Her strug gling to free herself caused her to sink deep er and deeper into the mire in which she was catlght. In this position she remained for eight (lays, wjith no food except bark from the bushes which grew within her reach. The water which she drank she 1 dipped from the bog with-her hands. Mrs. | Avery's brother, whom she was on her way to see, was not aware of his sister's intend ' ed visit, and no search was made for the missing woman. A man named Haeden, residing in township, happen ed to puss through Tinkwig Swamp a few days ago. He was returning from flow land'e, a few miles distant, to his home in the western part of Lackawaxen township, and caTying his gun in the hope of killing some game. As he was passing along the edge of the swamp he heard a peculiar moaning noise. He at first thought it was the moaning of cattle that might he grazing in the woods, lie paid no further attention and passed on. Soon the same noise was heard again, this time more distinctly. lie followed in the direction of the noise, and was soon in the very heart of the swamp. He stopped again to listeu further, when, looking to his right lie saw an object moving which he found to be Mrs. Avery, strug gling between life and death. He attempt ed to extricate her, but failed, and was obliged to walk some distance for help. After giving notice to the neatest neighbors he returned, accompanied by a nnmbcr of men with a wagon. They finally succeeded in extricating the woman, and she., was! driven to a neighboring house, and medical assistance summoned. Although Mrs- Avery is jet very weak from the terrible ordeal through which she passed, she will recover. When questioned concerning her feelings while imprisoned in the mire, she replied that they were bej*oud description. She had, on the seventh day, given up all hope of being reached alive, but on the morning of the eighth day, she had a pre sentiment that help would reach her. Mqg, Averj''s mind is somewhat impaired by the terrible struggle between life and death. A I'eck of Trouble. One of the letter carriers who has a dis trict in the northern port of Detroit, was bustling along Woodward avenue at his best gait, when he met a portly, motherly woman, who hailed him and asked: "lie you acquainted all around town?" "Yes'm," was his hurried reply. "\ou know where the City Hall market is, then*" "Yes'm." "Well, I'm in a j>eck of trouble. This morning I sent down by my old man .after tomatoes, onions, red pepper and cauli flower, to make chow-chow. He pent us everything but the onions, and I cap't. go ahead until 1 get .'em. Now you look sort, o' honest, and if j r ou would otuy take fif teen cents and run down for the onions, I'd think it a great favor indeed." "Why, ma'am, 1 couldn't think of it," he replied. "Couldn't do just that much to oblige a womau who luis always been kind V bovs?'' ' 'l'm a letter carrier you sec, and " . . "I'll hold the sack while you are gone. Come, now, that's a good boy. lXemember to get the same white onions, and if there's siblc it was,*but as he nurWlkJ fllHulfc lianeir: after him: •• *■ "I never saw such a disobliging j'ouig maul I don't believe you'd evea bring in my ice if I should promise you a fried cake 1" How ClilneM Ladle* Dreftir Lady Alcock has given a reception at her London home to the Ladies of the Chinese embassj'. Only one gentlemon was present. This was the Chinese ambassador himself, who appeared very magnificent in an over dress of deep j'ellow brocade. His wife and sister wore skirts of a red material, with over-dresses and long hanging sleeves of purplish black brocade. Splendidly em broidered between the shoulders. The sleeves of one was bordered with a broad band of magnolia satin, exquisitely em broidered with white stocks and silver leaves; the other had a baud of pale mauve satin embroidered with silver and gold. The hair of both was drawn tightiyback. and stiffened with pomatum into a curious protuberance at the back, edged with beads, and tinsed ornaments. Ornamental pius and red, violet and yellow flowers were. worn also. A little clujd, the spn .of the ambassador's sister, w ore an over-dress of the richest Sevfes blue brocade, iutennin gled with some lighter stuff, the headdress was on a foundation like a skull cap of stone-colored felt, and was composed of beads and spaugles. Dren l'ktn on Bund*yfr It would lessen the burden of many who find it hard to mantain their places in so-, ciety. It would lessen the temptations which of ten lead men to barter honor and honesty for display, ' l ~ If there were less style in dress at church, people in moderate circumstances would J)e more likely to attend. Universal moderation in dress at church, would improve the worship by the removal of many wandering thoughts. . It would enable all classes of people to attend church better in unfavorable weather. It would lessen on the part of the rich the temptation to vanity. It would lessen on the part of the poor the temptations to be envious and mali cious. , - It would save valuable time on the Lord s dav. it would relieve our means of a pressure, and thus enable us to do more for good en terprises. _ _ '. * About UglitnlDS. It is never too soon to go into the house when a storm is rising. When the clouds are fully charged with electricity they are most dangerous, and this fluid obeys a subtle attraction which acts at great dis- j tances and in all dire ctions. A woman told us of a bolt that came down-hcr moth er's chimney from a rising cloud when the sun was shiuing overhead. N. P. Willis writes of a vouifg girl killed while passing under a telegraph wire on the brow of a hill, while she was hurrying home before a storm. People should not be fool-hardy, about sitting on porches or by open win dows, whether the storm is hard or not. Mild showers often carry a single charge which falls with deadly effect. It may or may not be fatal to stay out; it is safe to in the house, with the windows and doors shut. The dry air of a house is a readier conductor of lightning than damp air outside, and a draught of air invites it. A hot fire in a chimney attracts it, so to speak. : iL * 'FOOD J?pR*TH^ugHT/V lie who wants little has always enough. Would you be strong conquer your self. There is no good in preaching to the hungry, A man used to vicissitude Is not eas ily dejected. . / Charity gives itself ricr., but covet ous hoards itself poor. , , - One snaile for the living is worth u dozen tears ror the dead./ • As the body Is purified by water, so is the soul purified by troth. Human Jife is everywhere a stoleJu. which must is to he endured. are they who always know w hat they will do. - . The best thing in the world Is to be able to live above the worla.' Everybody known good counsel e\ cep|4iiui that hath need of it. * He w ho can take advlcedsaouietimes wi|>erior to biui who can give it Divine vengeance comes with feet of lead, but strikes with th hand of iron. Life is a comedy te him who thinks, and a tragedy to' htm who ffcels. .Surely half the world must be blind, they cau see nothing utiieas U glitters* A man, when he rises in the morning, llitte knows what he may do before night. All things are admired, either be cause they are new or because they arc not great. t —Human life Is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured and little to be enjoyed. A little less money and a little tiforc good character woyid improve hosts of people vastly. /{.. - Our best iutehtlons, even when they have been nost prudently formed, fail often In their Issue. —TJ miles to heaven are lew and short and the glorious end will come soon. Many a man has been dined out of hU religion, and his politics, and his manhood, almost. Go your way and don't trouble about your neighbors. A man never peeps through a keyhole without ~ fiildlfg something to vpx him. . It is vastly better to halre little with contentment than riches with worry. The ass that carries/ymi .trworfti more than the lidrse thfct'tnrows ltuin is the only cure fbr 'ftln with sonic people; there is nothing but the Teedil that comes of disgrace that will save a man of vanity and egotism. T.iere is au emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is Immediately felt, and puts the 6tranger at onee at liis case. f . There is 110 action of man Iu this life . which is not the beginaiag oi so louga chain of consequences, as that uo hu mau providence is high enough to give us & prospect to the end. "** whftdf-atwa-IHI no use or ass whether Ire chrflEw •*TTt int. >,*trh library or a bundleof faggots? ' - The Chinese, whom. lt.migbt.be wslH - i to disparage less apd imitate more, seem almost the only people among whom learning and merithave the ascendency and wealth is.uot the standard of esti mation. < You meet in this world with false mirth as oiten as with fal*e gravity; the griuning hypocrite is not a more uncommon character than the groaning one, and from a full mi ml as from an empty head. it were better to -have no opinion of God at all than such an opinion, as is unworthy of Jiiui; for, the one is un belief aud the other is ; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Witty sayings are as easily lost as the pearls slipping oft a broken string, but a word or kindness !f seldom spok en in vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped by chance, sprtngs.upAs a flower. •V The great moments of life are but 'moments like the oilier*. Your doom is spoken in a word or nvo. A single .look from the eyes, a mere pressure of the band may decide it, or of. the lips, though they car not apeak. All men and women are verily, as , Shakspeare lies said of them, merely players, when we she them upon the stage ot the world—rth at Is, when they •re seeu anywhere except iij the free dom and unaffected intimacy of*private life. '• ■ When people come to see us,-we fool* ishly prattle, iest .we be inbaaplt&bjye.-:< . w . Hut things said ponversatioum t '.. v " chalk eggs. Don T t say thfugs. What' you are stands over you the while, irad- tv i&z thunders so that 1 cpn't hear what you ■ , say *> the contrary. . r , . Examine your iLves, weigh your . motives, watch conduct, and you will not take lohgto learn or dis cover enough to make you entertain charitable opinions oi others. Be harsh in your judgment of self ; he tender m your judgment of othere.' *f * Marriage means re aun datum as well as acceptance v it means givlng.as well as receiving i it means Serylngas well as helpg served; "It teeans pxtWnpe as - * well{ahope;-it means Submission as • wveUa -being submitted, unto. It means,'.! a short, that the .'yfedding day is theJpgtffnlhgfnW the end. Lovers from oaresses, and haters IroVn Insults, whHs*k*hey sit in one paripr with common friends. Would we codify the laws that should reign In households,* and whose daily transgression annoys and mortifies us, uud degrades our household life, we must learn to adore every day with sacrifices. Accustom yourself to think vigorous ly. Mental capital, like pecuniary, to be worth anything must be well in vested—must be rightly adjusted and applied, and to this" end careful and deep thought is necessary if great re suits are looked for. There is no such thing as standing still in this world. Change is the eternal law of nature. How many, adorned with all the rar ities of intellect, have stumbled on the entrance into life, and have mada a wrong choice on the very thing that was to determine their course forever. This is among, the reasons, and perhaps * it is the principal one, why the wise and the happy afotwp distiaet classes of men. NO. 49.