Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, January 08, 1880, Image 1
VOL. LIV. SHE ONLY SAID GOOD-BY. Grod-by, if it ple&pe you, sir—good bv. This it a world where tks wild swans fly. This is a world where the thorn hamcs on When the ross its tine is goas. U goua. Good-by—good-by - good-by. Good-by, if it please you. sir—good-by. Tou are bera aad away—l cars aot why. This is a world whsre a aian ka his will, A world where a woman had best be still. GceJ-by—geo; -bye— good-by. Good-by, if it please you, sir—good-by. Thie is a wcrld where— ws see the t*ky; After a while the stars will fall; Au 1 the end w.ll—make an eud of it all! Go* d-by—Good-by—good-by. Not So Bad As He Thought. "Here I am—Eliuor Koystan; my edu cation finished and myself ready to com-: nienee life, with a fortune of SBOO a year and a large and T&riiKi assortment of old valentines, a canary which cannot sing, and a pug dog with a bad temper, Ol and a j heap of hideous dresses and an adorable new ulster." So exclaimed a young lady as she stood in momentary stillness upon the hearth-! rug, after a breathless burst into the draw ing-room of Oaktree Hall. The master of the mansion, Graham Daglish, had been reading in the peaceful enjoyment of a splendid fire anil a luxurious arm-chair, i which, upon the girl's entrance, he had quitted, aud came forward a few steps to greet her. "Well," said Miss Royston, and after a moment's pause' in a tone of wonder, and t gazing frankly into the eyes of her coni jiauion, "are you not going to ask mo how I am?" "How do you do?" Daglish nodded •oolly. "1 thought you were too much engaged in taking that inventory of your property, i for such a ceremony as shaking hands." | "How do you like my ulster* Don't you like it? It's all pockets," she said thrust- ! ing her hand into one receptacle, then into another. "What & silly baby you are," Daglish ; cried, trying very hard to frown, and not 1 to smile," at the lovely glowing face now 1 raised to his. "Do you want everybody to l>e the Methuselah that you are?" Elinor pouted. A shadow crossed his countenance at the random words. Elinor Royston was 19; Graham Daglish 89; and as the dew , and sunshine are necessary to the life of. flowers, so seemed this wayward, winuing, girl to Gralmu Daglish to be necessary* to j distance. When, twelvd years ago, she was left an orphan on their care, both Dag- j lish and his mother regarded the trust as a serious and unwelcome responsibility, but lime had changed loth their view s, iho old ladv had called Elinor her sunshine, and Giahara had grown to love the sweet, various moodeii girl with all strength of his t resalute nature. j i Elinor's late al>scnce at school was a : source of deep regret, and now upon her : return home for good high festi-! val would be held in the hearts and in the mansion of Oaktree. "Are you not glad that 1 have finished with that detestable school?'' she contin- 1 ued, after a short pause. "It depends upon how much you know. What can you tell me conscien tiously you have learned, Nell?'' She took her stand immediately before him, and checked off her accomplishments •o the pretty fingers or the left hand as she spoke. "Music," she answered. "Voice and piano gymnastic, I should rather say." "German, the whole of the French lan guage, drawing, painting and geography."', ••Could you stand a good- examination im the capital cities of Europe?" ho inter rupted. "I should not like it." she frankly al lowed. "But what does it matter? Every body is not an old book-worn like you. j Perhaps when I am your age 1 shall know nothing else. "I have yet to learn that ignorance is so interesting," said Daglish somewhat crossly under the irritation of her illusions. "So I am ignorant now and I was silly . before. You need not have told mo so iu the first honr that I am at homo—at Oak tree, I nicsn," she said in proud correction j of herself. Occupied with his own bitter reflections he did not notice the halt and change of expression. But his indifference was dif ferently construed by the girl who gathered up her hat and gloves and swept from the room in anger. "He gave me no welcome although I gave him so many opportunities," she said to herself, as brushing tho tears from her eyes she shut the door. However melancholic the effect was upon his intellect, Mr. Graham Daglish had soon to witness the terrible process: for the next day the mansion of Oaktree was full j of Christinas visitors, and ous of these, Mr. j Arthur Young, fell straightway in love with tke brilliant beauty, Elinor Royston, and his tender sentiments, Mr. Young by no means concealed from an interested world. Mis 3 Royston seemed, too, to be j receiving his attentions with favor and j ®#mplai3ance. Daglish might witness the position of events with despair of apirits, but as her guardian he could make no reasonabe ob jection to Arthur Young, who was an houest, handsome young fellow and heir to a good property. Beforehand, though, he would not have supposed him the kind of a man to attract bright, original Belle Roy ston. Iler preference, however, was clear enough; in fact, with the encourage - msot Young received, the only marvel was that he did not urge his suit more boldly. The new year had come in, and all tho Ilall guests were gone save Arthur oung and he would appear to have takeu up a permanent residence there. "I wish I had one of those crimson roses there are in the conservatory," said Miss Royston, late one afternoon, as tlicy all sat in the drawing-room. "They are all well out now; you can have twenty,'' said Graham Daglish look ing off his paper for a minute. "Let me get them for you, Miss Roy ston," said Young, with very unnecessary alacrity, Graham Daglish thought. "Thana you; you are always kind. I will show you the tree,', replied Miss Roy ston, with still more unnecessary alacrity, ill-used Daglish considered. The pair strolled away into the conser vatory, Daglish wishing, too lato that he lie ipftileiii §fie§ui had offered to get the blossoms. To tor ment himself farther, he pulled out his watch to observe how long the offenders would be gone. But at length the guilty ones reappear ed, just as twenty minutes were completed; not a bad allowance of time for plucking a couple of roses. . Daglish surreptitiously pocketed his watch, affecting not to notice tlieir return; but every gay laugh of Nell's went .nto his bosom like a poniard thrust. The next day was one of singular beau ty as regards weather, and the saddle-horses were ordered around early, for Arthur and Elinor proposed to take a long ride. As she stood by her steed, Daglish offer ed to help Miss liovstou to mount. "You need not trouble," said Elinor coldly, the incident of his neglect with re gard to the flower rankling 111 her mind. "1 prefer the groom; you either lift me up abort or nearly fling me on the other side." At the same time Young rushed for ward, and seeing only a servant iu attend ! ance, cried: "lA't me put you up, Miss Royston." And she accepted his attendance with the most gracious smile. Upon their return, which was not until 1 8 or 4 o'clock in the afternoon, Daglish noticed that Elinor was very much subdued in spirits. To this circumstance, though, he did not attach much meaning of importance until an event the following morning gave the depression and ailment a new significance. The event was Arthur Young making the at art hug announcement in the course of breakfast of a necessity for his leeving by the first train. "Is it possible, Air. Young? and so sud denly too!" exclaimed Mrs. Daglish. "You don't really meau it, old man?" cried Graham Daglish, the only persou who showed no sur prise was Miss Eliuor Roystou. "Well, Nell, are we to have a wedding*" asked Mts. Daglish, while they were still sitting iu the unsettled state mat a hasty departure of from one member leaves any family. At "the same inopportuno moment a ser vant entered with a message from a poor widow, a pensioner at the Hall, begging she would s*e her with respect to some trouble she was iu. Off bustled the kindly old lady, leaving Graham and Elinor to discuss the delicate topic she had introduced. "Is that true, Nell?" asked Daglish in a low tone. "What if it be?'' said Miss Royston, flashing defiance upon him from her eyes. "It is nothing to you." "Nothing?" he cried. "It is much, Eli nor,"" he said, speaking calmly, but with a certain tender gravity. "Your happiness is almost my chief concern. Arthur Young is a good enough 'fellow, his i>osi tion suitable, and all that, if you feel that he is calculated to make you hapay, anil you love him." "It is something to lie loved —to feci that one is cared for. Love to me is what water is to a man dying with thirst," she cried passionately. "Elinor! Is that speech the fitrewardof your treatment here?" "Forgive me —forgive me!" she said bursting into tears. "I am ungrateful; but that is just my trouble. lam a species of dependent; the recipient of charity— kindly generous chanty—still charity." "Well," he said, and he took lioth her hands into his and looked straight at her. "I think you should know how much your presence is valued here. To niy mother vou are almost necessary, and as for myself," he added, with a curious break in bis voice, "gone, you leave me a solitary man for life. But heaven forgive me! I never meant to distress you by say ing so much." "Why should you not? Your —your con duct^-" Then Miss Boyston's tears flowed afresh —choking utterance. Iler head she turned aride to hide her tell-tale face. But not before Daglish had caught some thing of its tell-tale expression. "Child, let there be no misunderstanding between us in this supremo moment. If you have given your heart to Arthur Young marry hi in and happiness go with you." "You have no right to say such a thing,'' pouted Elinor, interrupting him. "Much right and much reason, I think," ho answeted, "although he will very likely set it down for jealousy." Over Miss Itoyston's features a brilliant smile flitted sufficiently expressive of suc cessful mischief. But her triumph was his also, for he saw and interpreted the smile not altogether incorrectly. "Nell, could you ever learn to lore mo?'' he asked abruptly. Miss lioyslon apparently needed time to gauge her capabilities in that respect, tor she gave Graham Daglish no reply for a , minute or two; and while she hesitated two strong arms stole around and a voice whispered; j "Are yon mine, to be my darling cher ished wife?'' Miss Itoyston seemed still to be afflicted with a difficulty of speech, but she suf fered without opposition or even remon strance, the bondage in which she was de tained. Red Hair. i Throughout creation nature appears to delight in reu. It predominates in the pleasure of the imagination, for whatever is beautiful, agreeable, or sublime partakes of red. Ibe rainbow, tbc rose, and the charm-' ing lip and cheek of beauty's self, the sun, the source of heat and light, are all red; as is also the fire, the mighty autocrat of the universe. The most brilliant flowers, the most delicious fruits, the orange, tiie apple, and the peach, are red. Through the an imal kingdom red predominates, as iD the king of beasts, the lion. But go further: Adam, the first of mankind, was red. Tin greatest of Grecians, Jujiter, Apollo and Vulcan, were crimson. Sansom, whose strength was gigantic, derived his power from his red hair, and the destiny of the empire of Athens depended on the red hair of Nisua. Queen Elizabeth had red hair; so had Spencer and Shakespeare Milton is another instance of the proof of my pro position Also Defoe, the author of that world-renowned story, 'Robinson Crusoe.' Lafayette had red hair; Bonaparte's hair was of this color, Artemus Ward had red hair; so have the Red Indians, or else why so named?" etc. I Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield" was ! sold for a triflo t© save him from th® grip •f the law. MILLIIEIM, l'A., THURSDAY, JANUARY 8, 1880. AlK'lfllt Colli*. There is quite a full collodion of Aneien j Coins on view in Now York. It is quite evident that early English \ coins tH>k something of tlio Creek designs and later the Konum, though very much ! changed. On many early coins the fable of tho wolf suckling the twins is repeated, hut j it requires a very ingenious amount of num ismatic acquaintance to discover it. This | curious diversi >n in art is shown by Evans iin his "Ancient British Coins." Originally the fine coinage of Phillip was used as type !in Britain, but gradually worse copies being ; made from Ivad imitations, in timo all sein | bhuice of tl* stater was lost, until only the crown, throwing locks, and an ear became visible. Tin re is nothing more remarkable than this transition in urt from the really sublime to the ludicrous. Those barbarians who invaded Macedonia after Alexander, though having Greek art constantly before tlieir eyes, did exactly tho same thing as the early Britons. Of ancient British coins there are two examples, of Anglo-Saxon money some 12. There is a Danish silver pennv of C'nut or Canute, both rare and tiue; ot William the Conqueror there are three examples, the William being rendered, as is usual. Pillem Hex, both P and V having been used for W. There is a rare silver penny of Hufus, which both Kuding and llawkins have declared to be authentic, for it lias always been more or less troublesome to make exact differences between the mon ey of the Comparer and his diluted son" The Plantagenet money, remarkably good and varied, is represented by some 29 pieces. In the first of the reigns of this dynasty the mounayer struck not only his own name on the piece, but that of the town where the coiu was issued; after Edward 11., only the town appears, in the I udors there are 85 pieces. The No. 44, a shilling of Edward VI., 1549, is the earliest piece in the col lection which bears a date, but the Edward's of 1547 also had the date. The No. 51 of the same King, 1558, a gold sovereign or double rial, is the first dated English gold coin. There are some good examples of hammered money. The Stuart collection, with Oliver Cromwell and the Common wealth, with the Stuart Pretenders, is large and of exceeding interest. The No. 76. a James I. gold rose to rial, though a flat piece, is distinguishable for its art. showing that ielief is not always necessary in order to produce effects. There arc numerous pieces of Charles I. which are very good, and in excellent preservation. The No. Hfi, a shilling, is a fine typo of Briot's skill. There is an exceedingly rare piece, a silver pound of Charles 1., 1642; also one of the same date of a half-pound. As it is often stated that the pound is an imaginary unit, it is worth while calling attention to these two pieces. There are always some good pieces of the time of Oliver Cromwell, the work of a dye-sinker called Simon. It is. perhaps, strange that this name recalls a famous Greek artist, who left his impress on the finest of all Greek coins, tho money of Syracuse. There is a strange bit of num ismatic history attached to these coins of Cromwell and the Commonwealth. Haw kins. the author of "The Silver Coins of England," an excellent book of reference, eft out in his work all tncntioa of Crom well, for he was in 1841, when his book was printed, too good a royalist to allow that the greatest Commoner of the world had ever existed at all. No. 118. a gold two-guinea piece of Charles 11., is a rare piece. The guinea was introduced when New-Netherlands was taken from the Dutch. In this department of the collection there is a satirical medal, representing Queen Anne as Dalilah, cutting off the hair of Louis XIV., (or was it his wig?) the King as Samson. On the reverse, the King, who has lias gout, is dancing to the Queen's harp. The ilanovarian succession, of course, is very full, and has innumerable, rare, and curii us pieces, for it is not always the coins which are near to present times which are the easier to obtain. Gastronomic* in tho Tyrol. Throughout South Germany the English traveler is apt to complain of the prominent place which veal occupies among gastrono mic materials, and Tyrol is no exception to the rule. It muat be said, however, that much ingenuity is displayed in varying the forms in which it appears. Moreover, it is a fact that other kinds of animal food arc obtainable. Beef is tolerable, ham and bacon are much better than an Englishman, who is apt to think that swine's flesh is uneatable on the Continent, would suppose. Chamois, when fresh (which it seldom is. that served at tables d'hote being preserved from the previous winter in pickle), and roe are very tolerable. But it is in her puddings that the Tyrolese cook displays her genius. M. Albert Wolff, Frenchman though lie is, lias rendered homage to the excellence of the Tyrol mehispciscn, and their variety is inexhaustible. Let not the English housewife, however, hope to "pick up a wrinkle," unless she be one who can contemplate wl'hout disnmy the use of a dozen egg 3 and a pint of cream to a singl® dish. It is on the unlimited supply of the ingredients, as well as on her own skill, that the Tyrolese cook relics. In the mat ter of drink the strangers will fare as well as elsewhere. Just as in Switzerland, there are two kinds of wine—red and white— both very decent when not too new; but they are not, as in Switzerland, bottled and labelled according to the price which the ; consumer wishes to pay. Till recently, ■the regular measure was the scitcl, about two-thirds of a pint; but of late years the litre aud its fractions havo come into gene ral use. A Strict Diamond Test. It is the rule of Lord Chamberlain's office at London to send to the Queen's jewelers for all the ornaments which arc found in Uie palace after a court ball or concert. The day after a state ball a gen tleman came to the office and inquired for a diamond necklaee which his wife had lost the night before. The chief clerk as sured him that no diamond necklace had been found; whereupon the husband pro ceeded to expatiate ou the enormous sum which he had given for the necklace, with description of its various beauties. Tho clerk listened in silence which much ap parent sympathy, and, just as the loser was taking his leave, quietly remarked: "It is a very old coincidence, but your nacklace was of the same pattern as a paste orna ment which has been found, but which has been pronounced of so little value that it was not worth advertising." The paste ornament was produced, and it ended by the gentleman signing a receipt for it, which involved swallowing a large mouth- I ful of humble pie after his circumstantial ' des®ripti®a ®f the est ®f it. "MMkn Soup of Ti nn " "What use do you make of old hoots?" "Well," said he, "in Paris they might make soup of them, hut in Amtrica we sell them again. Why many a good pair of uppers are nothing in the attic or closet they might be sold for 25 or 50 cents, thus bringing money in tho family ai d clearing the house of 'trash' that is on y in the way. We buy up these old boot legs, pack thom in boxes and send them to New York and Philadelphia. No, sir ; we are not thieves in disguise, and we don't go round to get a sight at front bolts that we may be ter know how to go about picking locks and getting into houses. That is a mistake. This a legitimate business of ours. To be sure, it is a little low down or off-color, but there is u little money iu it and we might as well have it. We get through here in a few days. You see, there are many cheap John slioe stores in the world. I mean such stores were very cheap boots arc sold. Well, wo sell the old Ixxitlegs and new feet are put to them and the old leg is finished up nearly as good as new. The man who buys them isgeneraly quite pixir and it does him no harm to wear that kind of boots so long as they are clean. Then again tiic leather we buy is need for various things and answers the same purpose as new leather does." "There," continued he, holding up a pair of bixit legs, is a pair of French calf lags which I bought up street this morning for twenty-five cents. I'll get about seven ty-five cen's or one dollar lor them. They are in excellent condition. Some day I can make as high as four dollars. We deal with reliable men, and get our cash early. Of course we meet with many ups uud downs in our business, but as for that, who don't? At some places we are insulted, and at other points kindly received. There is monev to be made now-a-days in our business, but the panic that ha* just closed compelled men to hangon to their old boots rather long, and this slackened our trade. I have bought at least ten thousand* pairs of old boots in the past ten years. "What is your name?" "My name is Tompkins, sir. and I hail from New York. I do not belong to a gang of thieves, and I wish you would say so in the paper. I have seen better days, but when pinching poverty comes I must make my living the best way I can. 1 have found many high-priced old bixits in this city, boots that could not have cost less than eighteen or twenty dollars. And they only about half worn out. Buch as that nre half-soled and sold for second-hand material." "Then you don't ?>e!ong to the gang called tramps?" "No, indeed, eir. Neither am I a thief or a murderer; nothing but a stranger in your city, for a few days seeking an honest livelihood." As the reporter thanked him ami was turning to leave, the biuc-eyed man spied the mistress of an adjoining house at the window, when his clear, shrill voice echoed the words from housetop to housetop, "Any old boots or shoes to seU r ma'kuu I'alnlchU Death. In one of his lectures Frof. Tyndall spoke of the great probability that enitirc absence of pain accompanied death by lightniug. It is probably supposed that an impression made by the nerves, a blow or pnncture is felt at the precise instant it is inflicted, but such is not the fact. The seat of sensation is the brain, and intelligence of the injury must be transmitted to this organ through a certain set of nerves, acting as telegraph wires, before we become conscious of pain. This transmission or telegraphing from the scat of injury to the brain takes time, long er or shorter, according to the distance of the injured part from the brain, and accord ing t:> the susceptibility of the particular nervous system operated on. Hclmholtz, by experiments, determined the velocity of this nervous transmission in a frog to be a little over 85 feet in a second ; in the whale about 100 feet per second, and in a man at an average of 200 feet per second. If, for instance, a whale 50 foot long were wounded in the tail, it would not become conscious of the injury nntil half a seeond after the wound had been inflicjed. But this is not the only ingredient in the delay. It is believed that in every act of conscious ness a determined molecular arrangement of tho brain takes place, so that, besides the interval of trauaiission, a still further time it necessary for the brain to put itself in order or its molecules to take up the mo tions or positions necessary for the comple tion of consciousness. Helmholtz cousiders that one-tenth of a second is required for this purpose. Therefore, in the case of a whale, one second and one-tenth would elapse before an impression made upon its caudal nerves could be responded to by a whale fifty feet loug. Genius and Wuur. Homer was a beggar. Spencer died in want. Cervantes died of hunger. Torrance, the dramatist, was a slave. Dryden lived in poverty and distress. Sir Walter Raleigh died on the scaffold. Butler lived a life of penury and died poor. Bacon lived a life of meanness and dis tress. Plautus, the Roman comic poet, turned a mill. Paul Borghese had fourteen trades, and yet starved with all. Tasso, the Italian poet, was often dis tressed for five shillings. Steele, the humorist, lived a life of per fect warfare with bailiffs. Otway, the English dramatist, died prematurely, and through hunger. Chattcrton, the child of genius and mis fortune, destioyed himself at eighteen. Bentivoglio was refused admittance into a hospital he had himself erected. The death of Collins was through neglect, first causing mental derangement. Bavagc died in prison at Bristol, where lio was confined for the debt of forty dol lars. Fielding lies in the burying ground of the English factory at Lisbon, without a stone to mark the spot. Milton sold his copyright of "Paradise Lost" for seventv-five dollars, at three pay ments, and finished his life in obscurity. It Is wonderful how silent a man can be when he knows bis cause is just, and how boisterous he becomes when he knows he is in the wrong. Show me the man who cares no more for one place than another, and 1 will show you in that person on* who loves nothing but himself. The Clirl*lni!* Ghost. "Look alive there I" growls the coach man as the passengers enter the coach. "Ail aboard !'* shouts the guard. A few cries of "Farewell," a merry melody on the horn, a crack of the whip, and the "Comet" ia off, laden with school-boys, priiu maiden ladies, stiff old gentleman, and jolly commercial travelers, the greater part of whom are go ing home for the holidays. The air is keen, tho skies are blue, the road frozen hand, and a most prosperous journey is anticipated. At nightfall they enter a tiny village, and there being no change of horses, the coach jogs serenely over the rough stones of the High street, when crack! a wheel rolls off and the passengers liuve a spill. Although many female screams are heard, no one isscrious ly hurt. Chiefly disconcerting, however, is the idea of passing Christmas eve here, when cheery firesides and anxious friends are waiting on ahead. But the coach will not be in traveling order until the next morning, so there is no help for it, uud they all adjourn to the Red Lion, a neat little inn, which is quite fluttered at the advent of so many guests. After a hearty supper they all gather around the enormous fireplace, where the fliune roars up the chimney as though cele brating Christinas with all its heart. Each contributes to a Ihiyvl of punch, and the fumes of the liquor, combined with the good nature of the season, having dispelled tlieir British reserve, they propose one an other's health until the punch is exhausted. "Fill it up again, and I'll tell you a cries a very stout, rosy man, in a bag wig. nothing could be better. The bowl is full to the brim, and the stout gentleman Coughs, looks solemn, winks at the bar-maid, and begins: "My father, on retiring from business, bought a country-seat in iSiissex called The Oaks. Miles of beautiful woodland sur rounded the gloomy house, which was so large it could accommodate a hundred guests with ease. There had been rumors of ghostly tenants, but we paid no attention to them and took possession at once. The only mysterious thing about the place was a door which could not be opened. Every means but fire had been employed, and father finally-gave it up. The first Christ mas wc gave a ball. All the country was there, and a gorgeous supper was prepared. But in the midst of a reel, the candles burned blue and a beautiful female glid ed silently through the room. I followed and saw iier enter the mystic door. When 1 returned the party had just recovered from the awful hush prevailing when the gllbst had passed. I told my talc, and we rushed up-stairs to the room. We entered easily, and tound nothing save a few old letters on the floor. We picked them up and learned the sorrowful history of the beautiful girl. She was the daughter of an Earl, and had loved a handsome cavalier, against whose family her father bore a deep hatred. She persisted in her affection, and even vowed that sooner or later, in life or in death, 6i. and her lover would be united. One Chr: -i'.. is eve, as father and daughter -wVnod in the ball room, the old dispute was renewed. She besought the proud Earl in piteous accents to consent to her wedding the man she loved and save her fro.u a lingering death. He only replied by a bit ter. conteniptnous smile. Finally she cross ed the room, and. turning, waved a haughty farewell to her ctuel sire. But what a spectacle met her eyes! A gloomy procession ol black-robed monks, bearing torches, entered the apartment. They filed in slowly, and last came a bier on which lay cold and stark her lover. With a wild shriek of despair, she flung herself on her knees by nis side and buried her face in his hands. 'Daughter,' said a monk standing near, 'becomforted.' She answered not. Her heart had broken, fc?he was dead." There was a silence in the little public room, broken only by the crackle of the burning logs "Poor dear!" said the landlady, wiping her eyes on her apron. The stout gentleman laughed a hearty laugh that shook the glasses in the bar. "Bless you, my dear madam, you needn't be wasting your highly-valuable sympathies on this story of mine, for I don't mind tell ing you that my father no more owned or dreamed of owing an estate in Sussex or any other county than the head of one of your shining andirons. But I'll have to sing you a song to pay for my fraud, so here goes." And thus the evening passed pleasantly on until bed-time, when the meeting broke up with three cheers for the stout gentle man, including his bag wig. A Roy's Fortuno. Hal, a boy of twelve, after a season of discontent, concluded that he was not going to stay at home, and work "for nothing." So he told his littl® sister that some dark night, when the wind blew a gale, the thun der roared and the lightning flashed, he was going to "light out," to seek his fortune, and was not coming back either until he brought oceans of money; then he would be considered of some account, and not told to do this, that aud the other for nothing. The little girl became so nervous and un happy, whenever a storm was brewing, the mother noticed it, and questioned her for the cause, and so found out the true story. There was a family consultation, and Hal was tol l by his father that, if he was not satisfied with his home, ho need not wait for an inclement night, but could go in broad daylight, right out of the front door, with his clothes in a new valise instead of tying them up in a bundle, some money in Ins pocket, accompanied by the best wishes of his friends, and, if not successful in his endeavors to earn "oceans of wealth," could return and be warmly welcomed home, llal hung his head, but said he had better be earning something. Father said, "Yes, it's manly to wish to work." nil that he knew of a man in the neighbor hood who was then hunting some one to do a man's work for boy's wages. W hen told who the man was Hal looked disconcerted, but said he supposed he need not be too particular, as it was wages and not the man he was after. "All right, I'll try it," was the decision: so Hal was off with the birds next morning—andjhiswas his experience: When Hal arrived at Mr. Yan Nest's, he was received with these words: "So you are on hand; your father spoke to me about you yesterday, aud engaged a day's work for you. It's a bargain, is it!" Hal said; "Yes, sir," but was too much abashed to say a word about the wages. "Had your breaklast ?" And when Hal shook his head, said, "That's bad, but come in, I s'pose you'll have to eat something." So Hal went into the small untidy kit chen, sat down at a table against the wall j to a breakfast very different, and served up very differently, from the morning meal at home. Hal's appetite, which the brisk morning walk had sharoened, had suddenly abated with Mr. Van Nest's salutation, and wholly departed at his wife's cold look at the "new lx>y." The first order was to hitch the horse to the plough, then an old tin bucket was banded llal and they started fur the field. Mr. Vun Nest said, "Stick to your business to-day, l>oy; look sharp, for I want you to pick up angle worms, as 1 turn the furrow, and fill that gallon buc ket, if you're smart and know what's good for yourself. "Are you going fishing ?" llal asked with sudden interest." •"Never you mind where I'm going—oniy follow me uud stick to business." Hal did not mind stooping over so many times in a minute, at first, though the birds sang tlieir love songs in the trees around him, and the breezes whispered in his ear, as they farmed his cheek, to "Come, come o'er the hills and away, fishing." lie re sisted the impulse to fly. and did stick to business most assiduously. Afler a while lie ventured to ask again: "What are you going to do with all these worms, sell them to the students?" And he was told again: "Never you mind what I'm going to do with them; you just stick to your business." When aoon cause, and they went to din ner, p<xjr Hal had became so disgusted with his work, that eating was a farce. Before starting for the field again, he made a pro test, but was, "See here, boy, you and I made a bargain for aday'swork. you dowhat I tell you. or I'll make you." Hal was subdued, uud marched off, and went to work. He was dizzy, faint, tired, hungry, sick, but he dragged himself after that everlasting plough. And so the long afternoon wore away, for all things haveau ending, and so did this wretched day. They went to the bum, unhitched, aud the rniiii took up the bucket, shook his head, said "not half enough," anil putting a pen ny in Hal's extended hand, said "Now, clicket for home, youngster, before dark." Hal threw the money at the man's head, anil started on a run. How he got over the ground, he said lie never knew, but he burst in upon his astonished family loosing delapidutcd enough and very considerably demoralized, lie sobbingly told the story of his wrongs, and as he sat in the large rocking-chair, looking into the glpwing em bers of a Spring fire, which burned low up on the hearth, lie soliloquized thus: "I dou't believe, as long as 1 live, I shall ever care a cent for angle worms again, and you'll never catch me complaining again, I can tell you " MinUkei. It is a mistake to suppose that a man nev er employed as conductor of a horse car un less he can bring the certificate of a respectable physician testifying to his total deafness. It only seems so to you because you happen not te attract his attention when particularly desirous to take Ins car. It i a mistake to think that your actions or desires have any influence on the Dispen ser of weather. You should be thankful they do not. If they did, Old Prob would go mad and your fellow countrymen go mad der. It is a mistake to think your interlocutor is listening to what you say. He is think ing either of what he has said or is going to say, just as you were and w 11 be. It is a mistake, young man. when you think the g rls are just dying after you. It is only you who are thoroughly in love with yourself. It is a mistake for a preacher to say, "Just one word more, and I am done." He but lengthens his discourse by sojnuch, without deceiving any one of bis hearers for an in stant. It is a mistake to suppose that everybody is ihinking about you. You do so much of that kind of work yourself that you exhaust the subject. it is a mistake to expect a direct answer from a politician, llis life is giving to dodg ing questions before election aud giving eva sive answers after election. It is a mistake to suppose that a profess ing Christian's perfect, lie is very much like yourself. It is a mistake to suppose that your chil dren will be satisfied with your experience. You didn't accept your father's, but prefer red taking a term in the sattie dear school. It is a mistake to suppose that men do not mean what they say. 1 here is but one man of whom you can positively make that affir mation. It is a mistake to suppose that the dis mally pious man has hud a change of heart. The change is iu his liver, if anywhere. It is a mistake to suppose that people go to a coucert to hear the music. They simp lv go to exchange receipts for doughnuts and drop-cakes. It is a mistake to suppose that your friend is consumedly interested iu your eloquent description of your liver troubles. On the contrary*, he is excessively anxious to tell you of his catarrh. It is a mistake to wiih the butcher would remove the bones before weighing your meat. How would you like to be weighed that way yourself. It is a mistake to suppose tha' physicians know how to treat your constitutional disor ders as veil as yourself. You know well well enought what is best for you, but you dislike to undergo tiie proper regimen. You employ a doctor, paying him for shoulder ing the responsibility of your sickness, and handicap his efforts'with all your unhealth ful habits and practices. The Old Red Cent. As the old "red cent" has now passed out of use, and except rarely, like the ' 'old oaken bucket," its history is a matter of sufficent interest for preservation. The cent was first proposed by Robert Morns, the great financer of the Revolution, and was named by Jefferson two years after. It be gan to make it appearance from the mint in 1792. It bore the head of Washington on one side and thirteen links on the other. The French revolution soonjjereated a rage for French ideas in America, which put on the cent instead of the head of Washington the head of the Goddess of Liberty,—a French Liberty, with neck thrust forward and flowing locks. The chain on the re verse side was displaced by the olive wreath of peace; but the French Liberty was short lived, and so was her portrait on our cent. The next head of figure that succeeded this—the staid classic dame with a fillet around her hair —came into fashion about thirty years ago, and her finely chitelled Grician featured have been but slightly alter®*] by the laps® ®f time. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. The Christian life Is not knowing or hearing but doing. The truest end of a life is to know the life that never ends. A judicious silence is better than truth spoken without charity. Religion is the best armor a man can have but the worst cloak. The best sort of revenge is not to be like him who docs the injury. They are never alone that are accom panied with uoble thoughts. Our acts make or mar us; we are the children of our own deeds. An ingenious mind feels iu unmeri ted praise tlie bitterest reproof. A foolish friend is, at times, a great er annoyance than a wise enemy. Do good and throw it into the sea; if the lisii know it not the Lord will. They are never alone who are accom panied with noble thoughts. They who have true light in them selves seldom become satellites. Good temper is like a sunny day; It sheds its brightness on everything. Without contentment there is no wealth, and with it there is no poverty. He has mastered all things who has combined the useful with the agreeable. A man's good breeding is the best se curity against other people's ill man ners. He who thinks lie has nothing to fear from temptation is most exposed to a fall. l'edantry consists in the use of words unsuitable to tiie time, place and com puny. There are three things which nobody can do witiiout —money, buttons, and the baker. Be constant in what is good, but be ware of being obstinate in anything that is evil. All thai tread the globe are but a mere handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom. Sin produces fear, fear leads to bond age, and bondage makes all our duties irksome. Only what we have wrought into our characters during life can we take away with us. in virtue and in health we love to he instructed as weil as physicked with pleasure. The chalcs of habit are generally too small to be felt till they are too small to be broken. Individuality is everywhere to be spared and respected as the root of everything good. Let a man overcome angor by love, evil by good, and greedy by liberality the liar by truth. Books are men of higher nature, ami tire only men who speak aloud for fu ture times to hear. The Greeks had their triolgles. the Romans their triumvirs, :.nd we have our three-cent pieces. The beit teacher of duties that still lie dim to us is the practice of those we see and have at hand. Happiucss can be built on virtue alone, and must oi necessity have truth for its foundation. Taleuts are best matured In solitude; character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world. Many a man lias been dined out of his religion, and bis politics, and his manhood, almost. Happy the man who can court on having every day of his life a mealy potato, some loose silver, and a good laugh. What 1 admire in Columbus is not his having discovered a world, but his having gone to search for it on the faith of an opinion. Whenever we have to establish new relations with auy one, let us make an ample provision or pardon, of indul gence and of kindness. No man while unhappy can show forth a true noble manhoed. Every thing short of cheer is medicinal, and medicine was not made for daily use. Being sometimes asunder heightens friendship. The greater cause of the frequent quarrels between relatives Is their being so much together. No one is so greatly to be feared as the man who is willing to tell you all he knows, because the chances are that he will tell you a great deal more. If a traveler does not meet with oue wiio is his better or his equal, let him tirmly keep his solitary jouruey; for there is no companionship with fools. The liabii rf resolving without acting is worse than not resolving at all, inas much as it gi .adually sunders the natur al condition between tnought and deed. Every mau should reap from his oc cupation as much pleasure as he can, and men iu conge lial occupations have little need to seek beyond them for amusement. A man sensitive to everything that Is beautiful in uature can have more en joy meat in looking up into the sky than witnessing the best of plays on the mi mic stage. It is a great thing to see a yonng mau who lias the glittering prizes of this world in his reach, bring all his splendid gifts and lay them as a sacri fice oil the altar of the Lord. If you were as willing to be as pleas ant and as anxious to please in your own home as yon are in the company of your neighbors, you would have the happiest home in the world. There is no magnanimity in con science ; It is prone to take us at disad vantage. It always wields its whip of scorpions w hen the soul is scoured by outward circumstance. We are all able to take care of our selves in love affairs when we are young, and when we get old we are all convin eed the inability of other folks in youth, to look out for themselves. He who brings ridicule to bear against truth finds in his hand a blade without a hilt. The most sparkling and pointed flame of wit nickers and expires against the combustible wails of her sanctuary. The history of the world teaches us no lesson with more impressive solem nity than this; that the only safeguard of a great intellect is a pure heart; that evil no sootier takes possession of the | heart than folly commences the con quest of the mind. NO. 1.