VOL. LV. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBKRSBUKG. PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. JgROCKERUOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCKEBHOFF, Proprietor. WM. MCKKKVKR, Manager. Good sample rooms ou first floor. Free bus to and from all tralus. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly Fifst Clast. IRVIX HOUSE. (Most Central Hotel In the City,) Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. 8. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office in 2d story of Tomliuson's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa. BF. KINTER, A FASHIONABLE BOOT JT SHOE MAKER Shop next door to Foote'S Store, Maiu St., Boot*. Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work GUARANTEE Kejiairingdone prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. S. R. PKALK. H. A. MOKEE. PEALE Ac McK EE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, office opposite Court House, B?llefonte, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA. Office In G&rm&n's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Northwest corner ot Diamond. JJ H HASTINGS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, '2 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late firm of Yocum A Hastings. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre county. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. F. BEEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. W. S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA, Consultations in English or German. Office In Lyon'o Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. *9 BELLEFONTE, PA. 0 Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the UW W7 P. WUAOA. lie pillbeiw initial OLl> DKKAMS. Where are thy footstep I was went to hear, O Spring, tu pauses of the blaekbtrvl's song? I hear them not; the world has held mine ear With Its insistent sound too long, too loug 1 The footfall and the sweeping roties of Spring, How, oaoe, t hailed them as life's full delight! Now, little moved, 1 hear the blaekblrd slug, As blind men wake uot at the auddeu light. Nay, not unmoved? But yestereve I stood Beneath thee, throned, queen songstress, in the beech; And for one moment heaven was that greenwood, And the old dreams weut by, too deep for speeeii. One moment —It was passed; the gusty breeie Brought laughter and rough voices from the lane; Night, like a inlst, clothed rouud the darkening trees. And 1 was with the world that mocks again. So near is Eden, yet so far; it lies. No angel-guarded gate, too far from sight; We breathe, we touch It, yet our blinded eyes Still seek it every way except the right. THK COQUETTK'S LOVE. "ARE VOU engaged to be married to Charlie Danforth, Kate ?" asked Ann Duncan of her friend. " Prav why do you ask that ques tion ?" retorted Kate Landon, rather peevishly. " I asked merely for information," re plied Ann. "Well, what put such an idea into your head ? I cannot guess who told you. lam very sure I never lisped such a tiling." "Such is the current report, Kate. You have not told me whether it is true; but I mistrust it is." "Yes, I'll own it, Ann; though I'm ashamed to." "When are you going to l>e married ? or don't you intend to be married ?" " I told him I would be marritHl next winter, but I won't. lam tired of him already." • " Kate Landon," said Ann, " will you promise to answer me one question, if you can ?" "Yes, half a dozen, if they are not too silly." " How many times have you been en gaged, then ?" " 'Pon my word, I don't know. Twenty times, I guess." "As many as that to my knowledge,' said Aim. "Yes," said Kate, " there was Will Harley. He was such a wit that I told him I would have him for the sake of laughing ; but I soon got tired of his folly, and told him so. And Captain Stanton, with such beautiful, curling moustaches! I never liked him. I only engaged myself to liirn for the sake of teasing Fan Lawrence. And Burwell; I don't know why I flirted with liim, ex cept it was l>eeause no one else offered himself just then. And there was Mr. Higgins, with a most beautiful hand and foot! But I found he wore tight boots, and I would not have him. Who would? And young Simper, who looked so senti mental, and always talked of love and moonlight! I ooneluded he must be the man in the moon, anil I should not like to live in moonshine always. And there was Wilmertou, who looked so silly, and never said anything worth mention ing in his life. But I never engaged myself to him. I flirted with him till he made me an offer, and then refused him. And Jenkins! Good reason why I refused him. The only question in my mind is why I ever engaged to marry him. And Simpson his father was rich, but I found that he was stingy. There is a host of others, but lam tired. They call me a coquette, but I don't care. I won't have anybody I don't like ; and if I find it out after I am en gaged to them, I'll break off the match." " I would not have any one I did not like either, Kate ; but why did you not mention Henry Eaton in your catalogue! I thought he stood at the head!" " Because I did not want to, Aun. I do not like to speak of him with those fellows." " But you were engaged to him, were you uot ?" " Yes; we promised to have each other when we were children, and re ne veil the promise once a week regular ly, until he went away." " Why did you then break the en gagement? I should have thought it was so strong, no power on earth could have done it." " I thought so once, but I have grown wiser. I have found by sad experience that vows are things of air.'' " But you really loved Henry, once ?" " Yes, and always have and do yet." " Why, what made you refuse him, then ?" "I did not refuse him, Ann. The fact is, that Henry Eaton was poor, and he felt it. Edward Leslie's father was very wealthy ; be had just returned from college, and frequently came to see me, though for nothing more than friend ship, and because we were children to gether, as yon yourself know. " Henry was a little jealous; he hinted his suspicions to me. " I was angry that he should suspect that I could love any one more than him, and especially that I loved him less be cause he was floor. "I told him, in a pet, that if he thought me so fickle, he could be re leased from all childish engagements. " This only confirmed his suspicions ; he left me. I received a letter of fare well from him. " Where he went, I never knew. He lias probably forgotten me, and given lua heart to one more worthy of him; MILLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24,1881. but 1 have uot forgotten hiui, ami never can. "Thcv call mo a heartless coquette perhaps Henry does. I was not a co quette then, though 1 have been since. " My heart is given to Henry, but 1 have lost his." "But, Kate, if you have loved no one but Henry Eaton, why have you so often promised to marry others? Was it for the sake of breaking your promise ?" " No, not exactly that, 1 hardly know why I have done so. I have given you the reason for some of my engagements. I did not know but 1 might forget Hen ry, and love some other one—but I can not ; sometimes I did it for fun, and sometimes I was altogether reckless. But I will never promise to muirv again. I'll tell Charles Danforth I cannot love him, and live a nun for Henry's sake." "See that yon keep that resolution," said Ann, laughing at Kate's sober con clusion. "Oh! I'm in earnest. I'm tired of hearing of broken hearts and dying lovers. There is no sense in it. I am tired of being called cruel and hard hearted. I'll give no more occasions for silly words and sickening sonnets. I am really determined to bike the veil." " Perhaps you are serious, but I'll wager a diamond ring that you'll lie en gaged again liefore the end of the win ter." " I don't think I shall have much lie 3d for diamond rings in a convent," said Kate ; " but I'll accept your bet, for I know I shall win and it shall remain a lasting witness that I have, at least, kept one promise." Thus the bet was agreed upon. Kate Laudon had determined to be ooine a nun, and immediately wrote for admission to a convent in the following spring. I don't know but she would have taken the veil the next day after her conversation with Ann Duncan: but Ann was to be married in a few weeks to Edward Leslie, and Kate had promised to le her bridesmaid. This, like the promise lad ween Kate and Henry Eaton, had l>eeu made in ehililiuxxl and ratified ever since. If Kate was married first, Ann was to bo her bridesmaid ; and if Ann was married first, Kate was to be hers. Though Kate had made twenty promi ses to her beaux, and broken them all; and though she had declared that vows are things of air, yet these two promi ses she had ever considered sacred; and though her promise to Henry was now void, yet there were moments like that in which she had conversed with Ann Duncan, when she felt that perhaps it was binding, and she would live in se clusion rather than trifie with or break the engagement. The promise she had made to Ann though of minor importance, was also a promise of childhood, and now remained in full force; and Kate deferred entering the convent, in order to fulfil it. Ann's wedding was a joyous occasion to all save Kate Landon. It had l>een long wished for and expected. The parties were wealthy, and young, and handsome, and happy in each other's love. The wedding party was large and fashionable. The apartments were splendidly adorned and lighted up. The refreshments were rare and sumptuous. The bride was elegantly arrayed. She looked almost as beautiful as Kate. The bridegroom looked better than usual, though Kate thought not so well as Henry Eaton. But all this happiness, elegance, beauty and bliss had no charms for Kate. She had dressed herself richly, and with taste, and looked beautiful ; for she could not look otherwise. She looked happy and pleased, for she would not look otherwise at Ann's wedding; yet she felt that such a festi val might have been, but never would be for her. That all those happy smiles and joy ous wishes and bridal kisses might have been lavished upon her who soon would be so lonely. When she looked at Edward, the happy bridegroom, she thought of Hen ry and their sail parting, and longed for the sad cell of the convent—the holy cloister of the devoted nun. Gay music echoed through the festive halls. Youth and beauty joined in the " light-toed dance," but as Kate accep ted the hand of the first groomsman to join in the quadrille, she felt that it was for the last time. Her partner was a young gentleman from India. He had just arrived. Kate had been introduced to him as Lieutenant Atwood, an old friend of Edward Leslie's, who had returned in order to visit his friends, and be present at Edward's wedding. He was tall, erect, and of a fine figure; with large, regular features, and dark, expressive eyes. He was noble, dignified and command ing in his bearing ; graceful in the dance —all that a girl could love. Before they had finished the first set, Kate was deeply interested in his con versation, and thought he bore a strong resemblance to Henry Eaton. She w-as tired and did not join in the second quadrille ; but Mr. Atwood sat by her on th 6 window-seat, and was even more interesting than in the dance. Ann Duncan (now Mrs, Leslie) Looked at tlicm ami thought of the diamond ring. Mr. At wood attended Kate to the supper table. She did not fiirt; she was evidently pleased with him. Ho handed her into the carriage, and Kate uaktsl him to call upon her. Ho culled the next womiug. I hasten to the sequel. The winter wits not more than half finished when Ann received a diamond ring and a note from Kate, stating that she was once more engaged'to Im* inar riixl, and before the end of winter there was a more splendid aud elegaut wed ding. A larger and more fashionable party than we have bofoie described. A more beautiful brid and a hand somer bridegroom than Ann Duncan and Edward Leslie. Kate Lamlon was married to Henry Eaton. Solution Lieutena.it At wood was Henry Eaton. The pld and fictitious name hud boon coutrival by Ann Dun can and Edward Leslie The climate and liariships of India had so changed Henry his dress ami manners were so alterin, that Kate did not recognize him. Afcer the wedding Kate received a diamorl ring from Ann. She hail not made a lew engagement ; only renewed an old on. The Itloude HMICIIU. "Did you ever see Uem buckskin bronchos of mine that I ised to drive, named Yeller and Yuiler*" asked Buek Brawel the other dap ol Gen. Worth, while he looked out across the green billowy divide toward tie eternal whit euers of the snowy rang). "Why, no; never head of em." "Well," faid Buek, as-a tender light came in his blue eyes, aid a three-corn ered nugget of tin-taj tobacco was stowed away in his cheek "both of them same cayuse plugs coJd scoot over more mountain road be ween sun and suu than anything in tin line of boss I ever see. "Yeller was pretty niddlin' rapid but Yaller was an imported terror. You ought to see him gather up his limbs in a wad and vanb*. One day I was out on loard of 'aller, tryin' to round up an American oow that hae to see him Ufht out, but he first praueed along kind 4 careless like, as much as to say, 'I gues I wou't give you uo 2:13 gait this mcning. Life is too brief. I can't run tht way just to amaze every snoozer that'omes this way 011 a blonde plug like tht.' "I touched up old Wler with the quirt, and sailed over toward the ante lope, thinkiu' I'd stir hu up a little. "The antelope trottd along a few rods, and then looked oack over his shoulders and smiled a iardonic smile, that made old Yaller as uiad as a wet hen. "Thou he got up and got. Jewliilik ins, how he pawned Occas ionally the antelope woid look around and snort, and jump tiff-legged, and laugh. Then old Yalle would consume some more spac.. "The antelojx* turied hiaiself loose, and for a while all I muld see was a lit tle cloud of dust and he white spot that is always behind thisamusin' little ani mal. "After a while, however, T could see that the white patch p>t bigger. Yal ler was gainin', I ja>bed the Mexican spurs into him to euuu try," paid his first visit to Little Rock, He went to the residence of old 'Squire Mtickle, who at one time had lived iu the parson's neighliorhood. The Squire's family were oxctxxliugly glad to see the parson, fir years ago he had tukeii off his saddle at the Squire's gate: had eaten corn bread and cabbage with the family and hud sung and prayed until the boys, who had plowed all day fell asleep. After singing the old familiar songs aud praying the old familiar pray er, the 'Squire conducted the parson to the bed-room designed for the rest of the good old servant. "What do you call this?" asked the parson, regarding with an air of interest a mosquito-bar suspended aUve the bed. "Why, that is a mosquito-bar." "What account is it? ' "To keep off mosquitoes." "Brother Muckle, I thought that you were too sensible a man to give way to these town fixin's. You told me that when I came to see you that we would have a revival of the old days. Now y u want to hang the thing over me. Take it down, please. I'm afraid that the vanity that I've allers heard lurked alxut these towns is taking a-hold of you." The bar was taken down and the old man blew out his candle, which he al ways carried in his saddle-bag, with a "puff," and retired. "The' Squire and Mrs. Muckle slept in an adjoining room. They hail been in )>ed but a few moments, wlien Mrs. Muckle remarked: "What was that noise?" "Pow, pang!" came from the adjoin ing room. "I don't know what it is,"'answered the 'Squire, stuffing the corner of the pillow into his mouth. "Slap!" came from the next room. "Did you hear that?" exclaimed Mrs. Muckle. "It's nothing," said the 'Squire. "Something is shaking the bed, Mr. Muckle " "Slap, slap!" "Go in there and see what's the mat ter with the parson, Mr. Muckle." "Chuck, chuck, chuck," was all that Muckle could say. "You act like a man that hasn't got any sense. You'd lay here and see a man die in the net room." "How can I lay here and (chuck) see a man in the (cnuck) next nx>m? The door's shut and the lights out." "Slap, bang!" "You must go in there, Mr. Muckle." "Why don't you go?" "Think I'm going into a man's room? All right, if the old man dies it ain't my fault;" and Mrs. Muckle turned over and Muckle chuckled liimself to sleep. Next morning when the parson npjx'ar ed at the breakfast table he presented a swollen appearance. His face was cov ered with bumps aud his hands looked as though ho had the nettle rash. "I lay there and fit them tilings all night," he said solemnly. "Reckon you'd better put up that thin looking sheet," and liowing over his plate he said, "Gracious Lord, make us thankful for these, Thy many blessings." An Indian l'rui'**■. Princess Marie Lulu Nemenoosha, as she is colled, now on her way West, is a member of the tril>e of Blackfeet rodskius. She is not a thoroughbred savage, for her father. Joe Lavagme, was a famous French trapper and scout, for many years iu the service of the United States. Nemenoosha Is a come ly woman about twenty eight years of age. She wears the usual Indian garb —gay colors, with strings of beads about her neck, and large ear-rings, crescent shaped, in her auriculars. A woman of moie than ordinary intelli gence, she converses well in several lan guage. Maria Lulu has a very roman tic history. Her father, while on a hunting excursion in 1847, was lost, but was pioked up by some friendly Osage Indians, who treated him kindly, sup plied him with food, as he was almost starved and took him to their camp. He became much attached to his red breth ren, and married Nemenoosha, daughter of the chief, a girl of rare beauty. Upon the death of his squaw's father, Lavagnie succeeded to the position of chief. To his wife a daughter was born. Lavagnie finally became tired of his wild mode of life, and, his wife having died, at the imminent risk of his life, he stole away with his irfant child, two years old and reached Montreal, Can.. in safety. The little girl was placed in a convent, where she remained until fourteen years of age. During this time Nemenoosha obtained a finished educa tion, and learned to speak French flu ently. Her father married the second time, and by his second wife had four children. About three years since La vagnie died, leaving a handsome fortune, Nemenooslia's share of which would have been $16,000, but her stepmother proved her Indian birth, and the girl was cut off without a farthing. She knew noth ing of her Indian origin until that time, and at once she went West, among her own people, where she was treated very kindly. Organizing a company of the wild red men, she went with them to Europe, and made a very successful tour of England, exhibiting in nearly all the leading cities of the United Kingdom. A few months ago the princess returned to this country, and is now on her way, with her husband, Wild Harry, to his ranch in Texas, The l*r*MiUential Bullet. In reviewing B tuo case from an autopti cal standpoint, it is quite easy to otlcr criticism. The stubborn facts of poMt. mortem always stand out in bold relief against decisions rendered ante mortem. But it must be recollected that there were peculiar difficulties in the case. Tney are best appreciated by all who have had ex perience in the treatment of gunshot wounds. However greatly we may regret that, in view of the great public import ance of lite case, a correct opinion as to the course of the ball was not made at the beginning and was not proven at the end, it is quite difficult to see how the error conld have been avoideil. There were no symptoms during life to point to the local ity of the ball. But, even at the worst, as proving that the surgeons never knew during the life of the patient where the ball was located, there is nothing to show that in consequence of that error the pa tient suffered. The bail itself, by being firmly encysted, became harmless, while the real cause of all the trouble had its origin seemingly in the comminution of the eleventh rib. It is a matter tor muco congratulation that the bullet was not found in a pus cavity. Under such circu'ustan ces, even if it were impossible fo remove the Lullet, there would have been many who would have claimed that such an operation should have bccu attempted, or at least that the neglect to resort to such a procedure was indirectly the cause ot the patient's death. But ail doubts in such a direction are cleared up by the autopsy. Ou the supposition that the ball should have been extracted iu any event, what have we not esca(>ed ? At least the wis dom of not cutting down upon the mist ile until the locality oi the latter was clearly niade out, cannot be gainsaid. As uearl) two hours were consumed in finding the ball at the autopsy, what might have been the chances of extracting the missile during life I Burglary Epidemic iu Loudun. It is a curious satire upon the complacent l>oait that we are the most orderly and law abiding nation in the world that the public should be dtscussiug with eager interest whether the protection of life aud property in tbe surburbs of London demards the arming of the police with cutlasses and revolvers. The murder of the policeman by burglars at Kingston has given point and urgeuey to the discussion, and there are not lacking symptoms that London is on the eve of a scare about burglars similar to the famous scare about garroters. Nor can it be denied that there is some ground for the general alarm. The long nights are setting in, and the housebreakers of the metropolis have begun the season with spirit. Burglaries, many of them—sucn as that at Kingston—giving evidence that the burglars arc as ready with the revolver as with the jimmy, have been reported almost simultaueousl) in several d ; rectioos, and as yet none of the marauders appear to have been arrested. The police statistics prove that burglarly is on the increase in London. In 1879, 903 cases were reported; but last year tbe number rose to 1,292, while the number of cases of shopbreaking increased iu the same period front 302 to 393. Even atter allowing a liberal margin tor changes iu classification, which vitiate so many statistical comparisons, this par ticular crime seems to be increasing in fre quency. Unfortunately the nuuiber of burglars convicted has by no means kept pace with the mcrease of burglaries com mitted. in 1879 there were 162 con victions. orjoue.couviction to every six cas< s. but in 1880 there were only 142, or one to every nine. In the same period there was reported an ounuous increase in the number of other robberies, assaults with intent to rob, and cases of sacrilege. There were omy twenty-nine cases of sacrilege, an offence closely akin to burglary, in 1879 ; but they increased by 200 per cent, in 1880; but although there were three convictious in 1879, in 1880 there were only five to eighty-five offeuces. If to these significant and disquieting figures we add the fact that murdcis in the metropolis rose last year from nine to seventeen, we have sufficient warrant for regal (ling the situatnm with considerable uneasiness. A Bath Tub. We .have one in our bouse, and we have a bath room, too. llow many farmers can say the same. Not one in a thousand, perhaps. 1 don't know of another farm house in all this country that has a bath tub. Every man and woman knows that frequent bathing is necessary to good health. Our family bathe three to four times a week in warm weather, and once a week in cold weather. My neighbors's wife told us, that not one of her famiiy had washed <4 all over" for a month. They had no bath tub, and had to use a wash tub or simply take a towel or sponge bath. A sponge bath is better than none, but can not hallway come up to a good splash in a genuine bath tub. We got our bath tub— the zinc part —IU town, and had a carpen ter put it iuto a small bed room which we henceforth dubbed''the bath room" and used it for this purpose only, except to hang clothes iu. It has a pipe leading ou side into a large hole or cesspool. Of course we have to carry water to All the tub, as we have no pipes to carry water through the house as in the city. But our stove has a large heating reservoir, which holds enough warm water to bathe the whole family. We intend to run a pipe from the cistern into the bath room, and have a pump that will pump water di rectly into the tub. Our bath room as arranged only cost us $lO and it is worth SIOO a year, in health and comfort. Dangeron* Houses. Houses that have been empty may become fever breeders when they come to be re occupied. An English sanitary officer alleges that he has obeerved typhoid, diplheria or other zymotic affections to arise under these circumstances. The cause is supposed to be in the disuse of cisterns, pipes and drains, the process of putrefaction going on in the impure air in the unobstructed access of this air to the house, while the closure of windows and door effectually shuts out fresh air. Per sons moving from the city to their country homes for the summer, should see that the drains and pipes are in perfect order, that the cellar and closets are cleared of rub bish, snd the house thoroughly aired before occupying. Carbolic acid used freely in the cellar is a good and cheap disinfectant. FOOD FOB THOUGHT. Wrinkles are the tomb of love. He that wants wealth wants every thing. Great talkers discharge too fast to ' take aim. Men should be tried l>efore they are trusted. Little by little great things are accom plished. Diseases are often the interest paid for pleasure. Faith will tiust God where it cannot trace him. Surely, some people's ways are past finding out. While God renews our leases we should renew our rent. The follies of youth furnish food for repentance in old age. Home men and women talk by the yard and think by the inch. He who can plant courage iu a human oul is the best physician. If tradesmen make their weights light er, they make their sins heavier. The man who fails in business but continues to live in luxury is a thief. Listen to conscience more than to in tellect. More important than the thing you do may be the discipline of the doing. The tilings which we enjoy are pass ing and we are passing who enjoy them. To win, work, and wait—but work a good deal more than you wait. The liest throw with the dice is to throw them away. Varieties of mere nothings give more pleasure than uniformity of something. The world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel. The reproaches of enemies shonld quicken us to duty, and not keep us from it We carry our neighbors' crimes in sight and throw our own over our shoulders. What we charitably forgive will be recompensed as well as what we charit ably give. Those who are disposed to be uneasy will never want something to be uneasy about. The greatest sources of happiness and usefulness are open to rioh and poor alike. Bodily labor alleviates the pain of the mind. Hence arises the happiness of the poor. Temptations come to us from our own bosom maiuly. That is the great maga zine of temptations. I have seldom known any one who de serted truth iu trifles that could be trusted in matters of importance. Doubt al vays sees huge obstacles in the way of accomplishing anything— nay, the doubt itself is the obstacle. The highest elements of character, of power and of dignity lie within reach of the lowest and the poorest. The government of a nation demands a certain harmony like music, and cer tain proportions like architecture. Commending a right thing is a cheap substitute for doiDg it, and with this we are too apt to satisfy ourselves. Never count on the favor of the rich by flattering either their vanities or vices. The best penance we can do for envy ing another's merits is to endeavor to surpass them. Politics is a science which no one be lieves those who differ from him uuder stand. As ravenous birds are the quickest sighted, so are the worst people the greatest fault-flnders. There is no one study that is not capa ble of delighting us after a little appli cation to it. Men are never so ridiculous for the qualities they have as for those they affect to have. Bashfulness may sometimes exolude pleasure, but seldom opens any avenue hi sorrow or remorse. If there is any great and good thing in store for you, it will not oome at the flrst or second call. The height of ability consists in a thorough knowledge of the real value of things, and of the genius of the age we live in. Instead of being content to live so as to blame, the Christian is requir ed to live so as to prove a means of blessing. One of the most effectual ways of pleasing and of making one's self loved is to be cheerful; joy softens more hearts than tears. Life is a casket, not precious in itself, but valuable in proportion to what for tuxe, or industry, or virtue has placed within it. Hope is man's birthright, which, after all hid blandishments, delusions and mockeries, never maketh him ashamed to hope on, hope ever. Tliey don't ring bells to let the peo ple know when the theatre or circus open, and yet nobody gets there too late. The universal heart of a man blesses flowers. He has wreathed them around the cradle, the marriage altar, and the tomb. Those are meek gentlefolks who mask their faults to others and to themselves; the true know them perfectly and ac knowledge them. Good temper is like a sunny day ; it sheds a brightness over everything ; it is the sweetener of toil and the soother of disquietude. Simplicity of manner is the last at tainment. Men are very long afraid of being natural, from the dread of being taken for ordinary. Wounds and hardships provoke our courage, and when our fortunes are at the lowest, our wits and minds are com monly at the best. Yesterday—the natural source of his tories. To-morrow—the mother of all mysteries. To-day—a jewelled moment set between. The man whose thoughts, motives, and aspirations and feelings are all de voted to himself is the poorest of judges as to the effect of his own action on other men. NO. 47.