PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY IK MUSS ERRS IHJIEDINO. Comer of 3faln nml I'enn nt SI.OO PER ADVANCE; Oi $1 2f> if not paid in adtanoa. Acceptable Correspondence Solicited. all lottero to " MILLITEIM JOURNAL." What the Ship Brought Me. I waited long by the wide bay's aide, Wailed until the aun weut down, And the mountain peak against the sky T, n aned, wearing a gleaming gold crown, lite crickets ehiipeJ in the waving grass. The waves made music in passing along, While many a bin! jnst going to rest Sang its solt, melodious vesper song. T heard the hells ot the village ring. Ringing the el se of the long day's toil, The end of the factory's busy hum, And the daily 1 dxn's brisk turmoil; And the shadows deepened while I sat there Watching, nve, watching lor oue to come, One who had btajn for a whole long year Many and manv a mile from home. VVhut was that voice tlist 1 listened to. That sarv; a song oi sweetness rare? What was the whisper that eatne to me As I sat watching tho bright waves there? It was the votoe of iho heart's strong iaith, Of the soul's high trust it was the song. And 1 knew that 1 soon wool 1 behold the laee Of him who had absent been so long. And the moon aro9c with her wonted grace. And s oiled on a siil so purely white It seemed 1 Ke the wing ot s one spirit pale That had come abn>ad i:t the moonlit night- I watched its coming with hope and fear As I saw the vessel mote platn'v grow To my sight, though it came on slugg-sh feet, Aye, it came, it seemed to me, so slow! Rut j iy lor tne was in that diip. For it brought my loved one back to me— Him who had carried his iaith and hope All over the cruel, tempestuous sea; And now. whenever I sit beside That white capped b v an 1 a sail appears, 1 think f the joy which a sail brought me One summer eve in tho long-gone years. Caleb Punn. THREE BRAVE MEN. Pretty Barbara Ferron would not marry. Her mother was in consterna tion. "Why are you so stubborn. Barbara?" she asked. "You have plenty of lovers ?" "But they do not suit." said Barbara, coolly tying her curls before the mirror. "Why not ?" "I want to marry a man who is brave, equal to any emergency. If I give up my liberty I want it taken care of." "Silly child! What is the matter with Big Barney, the blacksmith?" "He is big, but 1 never heard that he was brave." "And you never heard that he was not. What is the matter with Ernest, the gunsmith ?" "He is as placid as goaf's milk." "That's no sign he is a coward. There is Little Fritz, the tanner ; he is quarrelsome enough for you, surely!" "He is no bigger than a bantam cock. It is little good he can do if the house was set upon by robbers." "It is not always strength that wins • fight, girl. It takes brains as well as brawn. Come now, Barbara, give these three young fellows a fair trial." Barbara turned her face before the mirror, letting down one raven tress and looping up another. "I will, mother," she said, at last. That evening Ernest, the gunsmith- ! kirocked at the door. "You sent for me, Barbara?" he -aid, going to the girl, who stood upon the hearth, coquettishly warming one pretty foot and then the other. "Yes, Ernest," she replied, "I've been thinking on what you said the other night when you were here." "Well, Barbara?" Ernest spoke quietly, but his dark blue eyes flashed, and he looked at her intently. "I want to test you." "How ?" "I want to see if you dare do a very disagreeable thing." "What is it?" "There is an old coffin up-stairs. It 3mells moldy. They say Kedmond, the murderer, was buried in it; but Satan came for his body and left the coffin empty at the end of a week, and it was finally taken from the tomb. It is up. stairs in the room grandfather died in, and they say grandsire does not rest easy in his grave for some reason though that I know nothing about. Dare you make that coffin your bed to-night?" Ernest laughed. "Is that all. I will do that and sleep soundly. Why, pretty one, did you think I had weak nerves?" "Your nerves will have good proof if you undertake it. Remember, no one sleeps in that wing of the house." "I shall sleep the sounder." "Good night, then; I will send a lad to show you the chamber. If you stay till morning," said the imperious Miss Barbara, with a nod of her pretty head, '*l will marry you." "You vow it?" Ernest turned straight away, and followed the lad in waiting, through dim rooms and passages, up echoing stairs, along narrow damp ways, where rats scuttled before, to a low chamber. The lad looked pale and scared, evident ly wanting to hurry away, but Ernest made him wait till he took a survey by the aid of his lamp. It was very large, and full of recesses, which had been birred across. He remembered that ahc fttilllieim Journal. DFINTN"GFR & BUMILLFF, LMILors and Proprietor? VOI,. LYII. the old grandsire Forron had been insane for several years before his death, so that this precaution had been necessary for the safety f>f himself and others. In the centre of the room stood a coffin, beside it stood a chair* The room was otherwise perfectly empty. Ernest stretched himself out in the eotlin. , "Be kind enough to tell Miss Barbara it is a very good lit," he said. The boy went out and shut the door leaving the young gunsmith alone in the dark. * Meanwhile Barbara was talking with the big blacksmith in the sitting room. "Barney," said she. pulling her hand away from his grasp when he would have kissed her. "I've a test to put you to before I give you an answer. There is a corpse lying in the chamber where my grandsire died, in the untenanted wing of the house. If you dare sit with it all night and let nothing drive you away from your post you will not ask me again in vain ' "You will give m a light and a bottle of wine and a book to read V" "Not hing." "Are these ali the conditions you can offer me, Barbara?" "All. And if you are frightened you need never look me in the face again " So Barney was conducted to his post by the lad. who had been instructed in the secret, and whose involuntary start at Ernest's placid face as he lay in the coffin, was attributed by Barney to the natural awe of a corpse. He took his seat and the boy left him alone with the darkness, the bats, and the coffin. Shortiy after, young Fritz, the tan ner. arrived, fiattered and hopeful from the fact that Barbara had sent for him. "Have you changed yoi r mind- Barbara?" "No; and I shall not until 1 know that you can do a really brave thing." "What shall it be? I swear to sat isfy you, Barbara." "I have a proposal to make to you. My plan requires skill as well as cour age." "Tell me." "Well, in this house there is a man watching a corpse. He has sworn not to leave his post till morning. If you can make him do it I shall be satisfied that you are as smart and as brave as I require a husband to be." "Why, Dothing is no easy!" exclaim ed Fritz. "I can scare him away. Furnish me with a sheet, show me the room and go to your rest, Barbara. You shall find me at the post in the morning." Barbara did as required and saw the tanner step lightly away to his task. It was then nearly 12 o'clock and she sought her own chamber. Barney was sitting at his vigil, and so far all had been well. The night had been very long, for he had no means of counting the time. At times a thrill went through him, for it seemed as if he could hear a low suppressed breathing not far away. He persuaded himself that it was the wind blowing through the crevices of the old house. Still it was very lonely and not at all cheerful. The face in the coffin gleamed white still. The rats squeaked as if there was a famine upon them and they smelled dead flesh. The thought made him shudder. He got up and walked about, but something made a noise behind him, and he put his chair with its back against the wall and sat down again. He had been at work all day, and at last grew sleepy. Finally he nodded and snored. Suddenly it seemed as if somebody had touched him. ile awoke with a start, ana saw nobody near, though in the centre of the room stood a white figure. "Curse you, get out of this," he exclaimed, in a fright, using the first words that came to his tongue. The figure held out its arm and slowly approached him. He started to his feet. The spectre came nearer, pressing him into the corner. "The mischief take you!" cried Barney, in his extremity. Involuntarily he stepped back; still the figure advanced, coming nearer and nearer, as if to take him in a ghostly embrace. The hair start ed up on Barney's head; he grew desperate, and just as the gleaming arm would have touched him he fell on the ghost like a whirlwind, tear ing the sheet, thumping, pounding, beating, and kicking, more and more enraged at the resistance he met with, which told him the truth. As the reader knows, he was big, and Fritz was little, and while he was pounding the little fellow terribly, and Fritz was trying to get a lunge at Barney's stomach, to take the wind out of him, both kicking and plunging like horses, they were petri fied by hearing a voice cry: "Take one of your size, Big Barney." Looking around they saw the corpse sitting up in his coffin. This was too MILLIIEIM, r A.. TIT IT RSD AV, Sfi I'TE MBER 20, 188. S. much. They released each other and sprang for the door. They never knew how they got out; hut they ran home in hot haste, panting like stags. It. was Barbara herself who came and opened the door the next morn ing. "It's very early; one more little nap," said he, "one more lit lb' nap." turning over in his rodin. So she married him; though she sent Frit/ and Harney invitations to the wedding, tney did not appear. T r they discovered the trick they kept the knowledge .to themselves and never willingly fared Barbara's laugh ing eyes again. TIIK SHETLAND PONY. I hnrmlfrlillci of (lie Klttlr Aiilmnl l£nt|rly Peuilil ot Vicloiisncs*. The native live stock of Shetland cannot generally he commended, but the well known pony of that part of the world is perfect of its kind. As carts would be out of place on the steep sides of the hills, ponies arc kept by every family for the purpose of car rying peat for the winter. The fuel, after being dried, is placed in baskets called "cassies," one of which hangs on each side of the animal's hack, a st rong, broad ba< k, admirably adapted b>r tho purpose of bearing heavy burdens. The "Sheltie" is an animal which for many generations has been bred and trained under special and peculiar cir cumstances. and hence his physique and general character, his hereditary instincts and intelligence, his small size and his purity and fixity of type. A pony belonging to a breed which has had to pick its zigzag way down a steep declivity during many genera tions. must, be sure footed. By the same rule, a pony, whose grooms and playmates include a dozen juveniles the children of the neighborhood, who roll about underneath him, or upon his back—must be gentle, and the same pony, living on the scathold on air sometimes, rather than on herbage, must be hardy. The pony of the Shet land Isles is in fact the offspring of circumstances. He is the pet of the family, gentle as the Arab steed under similar training. He will follow his friends indoors like a dog, and lick the platters or the children's faces. He has no more kick: in him than a cat * 9 ami no more bite in him than a puppy, lie is a noble example of the complete suppression of Uuiee vicious propensi ties that some of his kind exhibit when they are ill-treated, and of the intelli gence and good temper that nray be developed in horses by kindness There is mi precedent for his running away, nor for his becoming frightened or tired, even when he has carried some stout laird from Lerwick to his house, many Scotch miles across the hills. lie moves down the rugged hillsides wittfi admirable circumspec tion, loaded pannier fashion with two heavy "cassies" of peat, picking his way step by step, sometimes sideways. In Crossing boggy sjots, where the water is retained and a green carpet of aqua tic grass might deceive some steeds and bring them headlong to grief in the spongy trap, he carefully smells the surface, and is thus enabled to cir cumvent the danger. In the winter the Shetland pony "wears a coat made of felted hair, and Specially suited for the occasion. Ilia thick winter gar ment is well adapted for protecting him against the fogs and damps of the climate. It is exceedingly warm and comfortable, fits close to the wearer's dapper form, and is not bad looking when new. But when tho coat grows old toward spring—at tho season when the new one should appear—it becomes the shabbiest garment of the kind that you often see. Its very amplitude and the abundance of the material, render it conspieious when it peels and hangs for a while ragged and worn out, and then falls bit by bit, till the whole of it disappears. The number of ponies bred in different districts de pends upon circumstances. A good breeding district must possess a good hill—that is, a hill lying well for shel ter, and well clothed with native vege tation, such as heather.— Forestry. Rules for Entertaining Gnests. Don't invite them if you don't want them. Don't run in debt to entertain them in style. Don't, turn your house upside down for them. Don't wear your Sunday dress when you are cooking the dinner. Don't show them off too publicly if they happen to be distinguished indi viduals, and don't hide them if they are poor relatives. Don't change the complexion of your family prayers to match the relig ion they happen to belong to. Don't tell them every minute to make themselves at home, but make your house so home-like that they can't help feeling at home. A PAPER FOR THT HOME CIRCLE. COMfALi:!) WKALTH. Tlir c hi iun Place* Whrr* Money Ima lire it ho ii n(I When Hidden or Loel. "1 have been sent for very often in my time,"' said and elderly New York detective, to a San reporter, "to search fur money concealed by eccentric peo ple. There was more of this hiding of cash forty years ago, than there is now, owing probably, to the doubtful char acter of some of the old savings banks. "Some fifteen years ago, I went up to a faun house in Orange county, at the request of the heirs, to look for money. The deceased had no striking characteristics for my purpose, and after trying several lines of search for threedays, I grew doubtful. His riding saddle had been ripped open, his boot neeis Knocked off for diamonds, his shoes split up and his upholstery pull ed lo pieces. Bricks had been taken out, the hearth torn up, and the wain scotings pulled down. Even the back boards of picture frames had been taken out. and the hens had dug around the roots oi every tree in the orchard, but still no money had been found The reward was too large to be lost, but 1 was nearly at my wits' end. Finally the thought came like a flash: 'Where was the old gentleman in the habit ol' sitting ?' 1 asked. *Oh, he al. most always sat by that window,' said the brother; 'but we've pulled every thing to pieces around there,' *. s it down just he did.' The man sac down. 'ln which direction was he most apt to look ?' 'Nowhere in j ar ticular; out of the window, generally.' •Toward the barn?' 'No, this way.' I followed the look; it was in the line of an olu used-up pump. 'Which way did he walk when he went out to the field?' 'Over to the pump, and then made a bee lihe for the pond/ 'lhcso answers had a certain significance. Men like to have the place of conceal ment in sight, and it is well known that they will often walk over money they have buried, to see thht the sod is undisturbed. I had the pump taken up and excavations made- no paoney. The pump was replaced I entered the room once more, and stood by the window. Maidenly l saw a faint but peculiar looking mark on the sill; it was a surveyor's point. I 'lined' it tip to the pump, measured out to the exact centre of the line, and the digging be gan. A two-inch steam pipe was struck at a depth of four feet. The end was plugged; I took home a SSOO bill that night." "1 bad n curious case two years ago. A wealthy man had been attacked with partial paralysis, and his sj>eeeh and the greater part of his memory had left hini. He wrote out the ques- tion: 'Where did I put my money ?' The amount was large, $32,000 in bonds, which he had been about to take to a safe deposit building. The heirs were wild. 1 stopped all the tearing up and cushion-pricking busi ness, for the man was not a concealer," though it was supposed by the doctors that he had felt the attack coming on, and had put the money in some out-of- the-way-placc. Just how, or in what spot in his library he had fallen, could not be made out. After a day's reflec tion, my partner and 1 Inul to conclude that he had been robbed. Two courses were open to us: we could make sud den arrests without any real evidence, always a hateful course for a good de tective to take, or we must find the ex act spot where the man fell, and 'line' up from that. The doctors helped us here; 'You had better examine the gentleman's body,' they said. We did so, and found a long horizontal mark on the hip, and bluemarkson the knee and elbow. He had fallen sidewise over an object not. over sixteen inches high, and having a narrow, rounded edge of metal, for an iron mark was found on the clothing. Every piece of furniture in the house was inspect ed, but to no purpose. The heirs ap parent were in despair. We took all night to think the matter over. Then my partner said: 'How 'about the cel lar? That's where the household metal is.' They all laughed. 'He hasn't been there in a year,' they said. We went down. My partner glanced quickly around, and then gave me a look that 1 can almost feel running through my nerves to this day. He had discovered some common house hold articles which had not been used since the family had been searching the fireplaces. He was. in fact, look ing over a lot of coal hods. 'There is our metalic edge,' he said. He turned the hods over carefully, and from out a mass of waste paper, there roll ed at last the $32,000 worth of bonds. The paralytic had fallen over the hod, and the money had dropped into it among his waste papers. Before the general search was made, all 'rubbish' had been taken to the cellar. Our friends had sought too deeply for what they had supposed to be concealed money, and had grossly neglected the science of the obvious. Some detec tives do precisely the same thing. My partner and I divided $5,000 between ui that night" Invention of the Telephone* This is Professor Bell's account of the way In which the telephone came I to be invented. A reporter asked him: "Was the invention of the telephone the result of a deliberate research and experiment for that purpose, or was it a discovery rather than a creation ?" "It was the result of long and pa tient study of two distinct lines of thought which finally blended in one, producing the telephone. I had for a long time studied the subject of speech and the organs by which it is produced, as had my father before me, and in doing so conceived the idea of producing artificial sounds by a certain system. I came to Canada for my health, I ajn a native of Scotland, you know, and while studying electricity in the woods there, and on regaining ray lost health, I was called by the officials of the Bos ton schools to introduce a new system of teaching the deaf. It was nothing less than teaching them to speak. I had long believed it possible to teach the deaf the use of the mouth and or. gans of speech and had demonstrated it in some degree, and gladly accepted the opportunity of putting the system into practical operation. 1 undertook the work, keeping up, however, my study of electricity and its application to sound production, working late at night after other people were at rest. In my elliorts to demonstrate to the deal how the sound waves affect the hearing ear 1 made use of a little in strument with a membranous dia phragm which responded to the sound wa\es. 1 conceived the idea of writ, ing thes" sound waves on smoked glass so that they could be read. Continuing the experiment still further. I obtain ed a human ear. and found that by speaking into it I could produce simi lar but more satisfactory results, a little bone in the ear being moved by the vi bration of the ear drum and writing the sound waves on the glass. All this time 1 was continuing my exper iments with sound and the application of electricity ty its production. 1 bad succeeded in a considerable degree when suddenly the idea of connecting the two successful experiments occur red to me, and 1 did so, attaching the ear to the instrument by which the sounds were produced,"and 1 had the telephone. The remainder was only a matter of detail. The two lines of thought and investigation which 1 had followed so long and patiently blended there, and the result was the tele phone," Curious Fuels About Insane People. The condition of idiots can some times be mended by proper training. There is an institution for this pur pose near Media, Fa. It sometimes happens that the infliction of accidental violence upon the head of idiots is fol lowed by the return of the mind. This is a very singular but well authenticat ed fact. It is stated by competent authorities that the bones of insane persons become unnaturally brittle. There is little doubt of the correctness of this statement; and this fact at times doubtless makes it appear as though great violence had been in. flieted upon the insane; that is, very slight injuries will in these persons produce wounds which would re quire extraordinary violence for their production in healthy persons. A curious fact concerning melancholy is "that great actors, public orators, and others who undergo great fatigue to amuse the public are subject to this very form of derangement." The poet Cowper was said to be suffering from it at the time he wrote "John Gilpin." It, is due insane persons that they be provided with the necessaries of life, and that they be protected from their own violence and from the violence of others as far as possible. It is also due society that tho sane people in the world be protected from the violence of the insane. In no way can this be accomplished as effectually as by the hospitals for the insane. Notwith standing all the furore which is at times raised against these institutions it is probable that most of them are managed in the best possible manner.— Philadelphia Tivies. Selfishness, Poor human nature, which views the universe from the stand-point, of its own interests, is illustrated in this an ecdote: A Scotch farmer was greatly exer cised regarding the safety of his hay crop. The weather, though often threatening, favored his efforts till he had succeeded in getting it safely gathered in, being in this respect more fortunate than several of his neigbors. After seeing the last wisp of straw tied round his stacks, he exclaimed, with a self satisfied air: "Xoo, sin' I hae gotten my hay a' safely in, 1 think the warld would be greatly the better o' a guid shower." TVrme, SI.OO Per Year fn Advance. SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS. Electricity has been successfully ap plied as a motive powe to omnibuses in Paris. . , Uotton manufactured Into duck is being successfully introduced as a roofing material. Aside from its cheapness it possesses the advantage of lightness as compared with shingles or slate; it effectually excludes from water, and it is s;iid to be a non-con ductor of heat. Brohme's experiments seem to show that in the plant there are two opera tions taking place—making sugar from carboni' 1 acid and the conversion of the same sugar into starch. Sir Henry Thompson, the London surgeon, recognizes in lish combina tion of all the elements of food that the human body requires in almost ev ery phase of life, more especially by those who follow sedentary employ ment. To women lie considers lisli to be an invaluable article of diet, but be scouts as a complete fallacy the notion that fish-eating increases the brain power. "The only action fish had on the brain was to put a man's body into proper relations with the work he had to do." Professor Sir W. Thompson, in his new treatise on natural philosophy, is led by a consideration of the necessary order of cooling and consolidation of. the earth to infer that the interior of our world is not, as commonly suppos ed, all liquid, with a thin solid crust of from 30 to Intinuto send them until nil arrearages are paid. If subscribers refuse or neglect to take their newspapers from the office to which they are sent, they are held responsible until they have settled the bills and ordered them dis continued. If subscribers move to other plncoa with out informing the publisher, and the news- Sapers are sent to the former place of resi ence, they are then responsible. __ | AIWRHTfIMO KATEttt - " 11 wk. 1 mo. | Smos. j 8 mo*, j 1 I CI 00 • SOO $ 800 $ 400 $ 8 0# L column I 3 00 400 800 | 10 00 | 16 W S™ I 500 g 001 19 00 1 90 00 86 W1 rcolumn:::::::: 1 ■I * wl > *>* "Timr iu- h nutke* a square. AdmTneArstora n