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.