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"MILI.IIEIM JOURNAL."
A Poor Han's Wealth.
A poor man ! Yea; 1 must confess—
No wealth of gold do 1 po-eoss;
No pastures lido, with grazing k no,
Nor lields- of waving grain are mine;
No loot of fat or fallow land
Where right lul'y my lett may stand
The whih -laim it as my own--
Ky deed • title mine alone.
Ah, poo, hid ~d ! perhaps you say—
Rut spr<• e -itf your coni| assion. pry!
When I c... 't ride, w iih you, I waik
In Nature's company, nnd talk
Wish one who will not slight or slur
The child forever dear to her—
And one who answers back, be sure.
With smile for smile, though 1 am poor.
And while communing thus 1 count
An inner wealth of largo amount —
The wealth of honest purpose blent
With Penury's environment—
Hie wenl'h of owing naught to-day
Rut dtbts that 1 would gladly pay.
And wealth ol thank* still unexpressed
With cumulative interest.
A wealth of, patience and coutent—
For all my ways improvident;
A f aith still fondly exercised—
For all my plans unrealized;
A we dtli of promises that still,
How e'er 1 'ail, 1 hope to fill;
A wealth of charity lor those
Who pity uie, my ragged clothes.
A poor man! Yes, I must n'ess
No wcibh ol gold do I possess;
No pastures line, with grazing kine.
Nor ti Ids of waving grain are tniue—
Rut fdi, my Iriend ! I've wrahb, no end!
And millionaires might condescend
To bend Ihe knee and envy nie
This opuleuce of poverty!
J. H'/i [comb Hilty.
THE PRAIRIE FIRE.
"Oh, daddy!" called a clear, girlish
voice.
"Yes, Lindy; what's wanted?"
"Ala wants to know how long it'll be
'fore you're ready."
"Oh, tell her I'll le at the door by the
time she gets her things on. I>e sure
you have the butter and eggs all ready
to put into the wagon. "We're makin'
too late a start to town."
Butter and eggs, indeed! As if Lin
dy needed a reminder other than the
new dress for which they were to be
exchanged.
"Elmer and 1 can go to town next
time, can't we, ma?" she asked, enter
ing the house.
"Yes, Lindy; 1 hope so," was the re
ply. "But don't bother me now; your
pa is coming already, and I haven't my
shawl on yet. Yes, Wilbur; I'm here.
Just put this butter in, Lindy, I'll
carry the eggs in my lap. Now, Lindy,
don't let Elmer play with the fire or
run away."
And in a moment more the heavy
lumber wagon rattled away from the
door, and the children stood gazing
after it for awhile, in half-forlorn man
ner. Then Lindy went in to do her
work, Elmer resumed his play, and
soon everything was moving along as
rheerfully as ever.
After dinner, Elmer went to sleep
and Lindy, feeling rather lonely again,
went out-of-doors for a change. It
was a warm autumnal day, almost the
perfect counterpart of a dozen or more
which had preceded it. The sun shone
brightly and the hot winds that swept
through the tall grass made that and
all else it touched so dry that the
prairie seemed like a vast tinder-box-
Though her parents had but lately
moved to this place, Lindy was accus
tomed to the prairies, hdie had been
born on them, and her eyes were fa.
miliar with nothing else; yet, as she
stood to-day with that brown,unbroken
expanse rolling away before her unti
it reached the pale blush-gray of the
sky, the indescribable feeling of awe
and terrible solitude which such a
scene often inspires in one not familiar
with it L-lole gradually over her. * But
Lindy was far too practical to remain
long under such an influence. The
chickens were "peeping" loudly, and
she remembered that they were stilj
without their dinner.
As she passed around the corner of
fhe house with a dish of corn in her
hands, the wind almost lifted her from
the ground. It was certainly blowing
with greater violence than during the
morning.
Great tumble weeds went flying by,
turning over and over with lightning,
like rapidity; then, pausing for an in
stant's rest, were caught by another gust
and carried along, mile after mile, till
some fence or other obstacle was reach
ed, where they could pile up in great
drifts, and wait till a brisk wind from
an opposite direction should send them
rolling and tumbling all the way back.
But Lindy did not not ice the tumble
weeds. The dish of corn had fallen from
her hand,and she stood looking straight
ahead with wide-open, frightened eyes
>What was the sight that so frighten
ed her?
Only a line of fire below the horizon-
Only a line of fire, with forked flames
darting high into the air, a cloud of
smoke drifting away from them. A
beautiful relief, this bright, changing
spectacle from the brown monotony of
the prairie.
flu Hilltwm Journal,
DEIiNTINGER &. BUMILLIIK, Editors and Proprietorr
VOL. LVll.
But the scene was without beauty
for Lindy. Her heart had given one
great bound when sho first saw the red
line, and then it seemed to cease beat
ing. She had seen many prairie fires I
had seen her father and other men light
t hem, and she knew at once the danger
her home was in. What c-mld she, a
little girl, do to sa\e it, and perhaps
herself and her little brother, from the
destroyer which tho south wind was
bringing straight toward them?
Only for a moment Lindy stood,
white and motionless; then with a
bound sho was at the well. Iler
course was decided upon. If only time
and strength were given her Draw
ing two pails of water, site laid a large
bag in each, and then, getting some
matches, hurried out beyond the stable.
She must fight fire with fire. That
was her only hope; but a strong, expe.
rieneed man would have shrunk from
starting a back fire in such a wind.
Site fully realized the danger; but it
was possible escape from otherwise in
cvitable destruction, and sho hesitated
not an instant to attempt it. Cautious
ly starting a blaze, she stood with a
wet bag ready to smother the tirst un
ruly flame.
The great fire to the southward was
rapully approaching. i'rairio chickens
and other birds,driven from their nests,
were flying over, uttering distressed
cries. The air was full of smoke and
burnt grass, and the crackling of the
flames could plainly be beard. It was
a trying moment. The increased roar
of the advancing tire warned Lindy
that she had but very little time in
which to complete the house and barn;
still, if she hurried 100 much,she would
lose control of the fire she had started,
and with it all hope of safety.
The heat was intense, the smoke
suffocating, the rapid swingiug of the
heavy bag most exhausting, but she
was unconscious of these things. The
extremity of the danger inspired her
with wonderful strength and endur
ance. Instead of losing courage, she
increased her almost superhuman exer
tions, and in another brief interval the
task xvas completed. None too soon,
either, for the swiftly advancing col
umn had nearly reached the wavering,
struggling, slow-moving line Lindy
had sent out to meet it.
It was a wild, fascinating, half terri
ble, half beautiful scene. The tongues
of flame, leaping above each other with
airy,fantastic grace, seemed, cat-like, to
toy with their virtues before devouring
them.
A sudden, violent gust of wind, and
then with a great crackling roar the
two fires met, the flames shooting high
into the air as they rushed together.
Eor one brief, glorious moment they
remained there, lapping the air with
their fierce, hot tongues; then suddenly
dropping, they died quickly out; and
where an instant before had been a
wall of fire was nothing now but a cloud
of blue smoke rising front the blacken
ed ground, and here and there a sickly
flame finishing an obstinate tuft of
grass. The fire on each side meeting
no obstacle, swept quickly by, and
Lindy stood gazing, spell bound, after
it, as it darted and flashed in terrible
zigzag lines farther and farther away.
"Oh, Lindy!" called a shrill little
voice from the house. Elmer had
just awakened.
"Yes, I'm coming," Lindy answered,
turning. But how very queer she felt!
There was a roaring in her ears louder
than the lire had made; everything
whirled before lier eyes; and the sun
seemed suddenly to have ceased shining,
all was so dark. Beaching the house
by a great effort, she sank, faint, dizzy
and trembling upon the bed by her
brother's side.
Elmer, frightened and hardly awake,
began to cry, and as ho never did any
thing in a half-way manner, the result
was quite wonderful. His frantic
shrieks and furious cries roused his
half-fainting sister a3 effectually ;is if
he had poured a glass of brandy be
tween her lips. She soon sat up, and
by and by color began to return to the
white face, and strength to the ex
liausted body. Iler practical nature
and strong will again asserted them
selves, and instead of yielding to a feel
ing of weakness and prostration, she
tied on her sun-bonnet firmly, and gave
the chickens their long delayed dinner.
But when, half an hour later, her
father found her fast asleep, with the
glow from the sky reflected on her
weary little face, lie looked out of the
window for a moment, picturing to
himself the terrible scenes of the after
noon, and then down at his daughter.
"A brave girl!" he murmured, smooth
ing the yellow hair with his hard,
brown hand—"a brave girl!"
A Long Branch hotel clerk has
made himself famous and popular by
kissing babies (age not limited), and
has received many favorable com
ments from admiring parents. Bash
ful fellow! Babies are well eu ugh
though to commence on.
WHY THEY LOSE NERVE.
iiiinnliiK nit Kiiuin, IViulit nnil ■* > -
Ait I'litijiittff' \ Itioiit.
"Oh, yes, engimors do lose their
iu rve," said Old Throttle; "especially
on" who has a night run ail the time.
Von see in the night time an engiuceiV
eyes, thoughts and all arc confint d to a
\ cry small space; it's nearly or quite
dark inside the cab, ami it' his engine
is work in' all right, eairyin' her wa
ter, good lots of steam, and the lire
man wide-awake and lively, that engi
neer don't have mtieli to do with his
eyes, only to look out ahead over the
little spaec made bright by the head
light, aiul his thoughts :.re naturally
confined to what his eyes take in. In
the daytime it's different, he can look
around and see lot's goin' on. lie no
tices tfiat this field of 'taters look good
and wondirs if his little patch at home
will turn out as well; he sees a feller
lishin', and renumbers the mess of
trout lie caught in the Shohola; lie
sees a woman and a baby in the little
white house near the big curve, and
his thoughts llv 1 aek to his home and
his wife and children, and he wonders
what they are doing just now.
And this ho can take in, and he
'tendin* to business strictly, but in the
night-time all is changul, and his vis
ions and thoughts, as i said, are con
fined to tlie small spot made vi able
and distinct by the headlight, and his
ideas naturally follow the rails, lie
remembers that the culvert just ahead
is tho very place that was washed
out last spring, and nothing left under
the ties and rails for ten or fifteen feet ;
true, his engine jumped the ehasui,
and only five cars loaded with express
matter and baggage went down and
were smashed and piled on top ol each
other, but it might have been the ten
cars of emigrants that were coupled
in the rear, and it isn't pleasant to
think of w hat might have been.
"Just around the curve is the place
where his engine struck a draw-head
some careless brakeman had left lying
on the track; his engine only turned
over on her side, and fortunately the
air-brakes had so stopped the train
that no further damage was done, but
he shudders as he recalls the sens;',
tions he experienced while the engine
was turning over and crushing its
ntad way through the ties, and 'tisu't
pleasant to think of it. He flies over
a huge embankment at a pace of for
ty miles an hour, and thinks of the
feelings that were his on a certain trip
last winter when a side rod came crash
ing through the side of the cab, while
passing over the same embankment.
"In the cut just ahead is where, on
the last trip, a watchman, intent on
watching a train on the opposite track,
had forgotten the express was due,
and the horror and agony depicted on
his face as the pilot threw him high in
the air, will never be forgotten, neith
er will his mangled and blood stained
body, picked up and cared for as soon
as the train could be stopped. And
so on every mile of the road something
of this kind is brought to mind. a> his
thoughts follow the circle of light
ahead, which flashes and changes con
stantly, now shining on a bridge, now
showing an embankment, flashes its
rays now on a house and through trees
and foliage, and if (lie man is easily
worried or bothered he gets very ner
vous indeed, and wishes he was at the
end of the trip- anywhere off the rail.
"Why, I've known men to give up
the best trains on the road and big pay
because they had to run in the night
time, and take trains that were much
harder to run and poorer pay, simply
because the latter run in daylight.
Yes, engineers do sometimes get fright,
ened and lose nerve, aud it is not to be
wondered at when wo think of his
standing one hand on the throttle and
the other on the reverse lever, with his
thoughts going back to incident and
incident of his busy and hazardous
life on each curve and straight line of
the road, as revealed by the heal-light
of his engine."—Tort Jervis (X. Y.)
Gazette.
A Darning Mine.
A correspondent of the Indianapolis
Journal, travelling front Bismarck to
the Little Missouri, saw a burning
mine. He says: "It gives off so sul
phurous an oder that I at first thought
the heat due to the decomposition of
sulphides. But the glow is red; little
sulphurous acid is formed; you can
stand over the crevasse without fear of
either burning or suffocation. Sulphur
is volatilized and recrystalized on tho
edges of the crevices. There is no
smoke; the air quivers with the heat.
The burning area is from ten to fifteen
rods square, and has been on fire since
the first visit by white men, and no one
knows how many centuries before. It
is only one of a number of fires that
are known on the Bad Lands." The
writer goes on to say that tho Bad
Lands are probably the ashes of extinct
coal fires.
MiLLIIFIM, PA., THURSDAY,OCTOBER 11, 1883.
A PAPER PC'R THE HOME CIRCLE.
.
CHILDREN'S COIX>IN.
IVhnt She 11
Mina Pussy gut on i!ic lowfcfet bough
Ol ft Waving hickory Iroe,
Wlu-jpfriiiy softly, "I'll have you now,
You gay lilile robin, you'll see!
'lho old hen watches her chickens thiitceu,
And has melt u leaiful way
Of Hying at one, thai I haven't eocn
A bit of ireah incut to-day."
ltut Muster Kohin twitters away,
As she stealthily creeps
Joining in as the thrush and jay
Chirrup a morning song,
dancing sideways once and again
Out of his saucy eye.
A* if to say, "You will cpteh me, then?
Well, madam, suppose you try!"
"I have lour leg j ," sahl Pursy Cut,
"And you, sir, huvc only two;
I have sharp claws, depeud on that,
And they'll get tho better of you;
I'm stronger, too, than a dozen birds —
Look now!"—and she quickly springs t
But tho robin laughed ss he soared away,
"lLi! lu! but you have no wings."
Youth't Comjanion.
A llrlligrunt nird.
The kingfisher is not regarded as a
dangerous bird, but an artist friend of
mine once had a most remarkable
adventure with ono. "While sketching
on the shore of a river, he saw one of
these birds flying across the water di
rectly toward him. lie watched its
approach, expecting every moment to
see it change its course, but, to bis
astonishment, the bird, swerving nei
ther to the right nor left, came
straight at his face. His* bands were
filled with palette and brushes. He
raised his foot to shield himself.
"Thud!" came the bird against it, fall
ing to the ground stunned by the
shock; but, recovering quickly, it
again took wing and disappeared
around a bend in the shore. Now, the
snowy owl is said to alight at times
upon the heads of sportsmen while
they are crouching quietly among the
reeds watching for wild geese and
ducks, probably mistaking them for
stumps or something of that sort.
But to suppose that the kingfisher
may have taken my friend for a
stump would not be complimentary
either to the bird er the artist.—
Nicholas.
Tommy I.rnnw about Tonds.
" Oh, papa, see what a great ugly
toad! l)o get a stick and kill him be
fore he gets away." said little Tommy
(Jrav, as he was walking in the garden
with his father.
"Why do you wish to see him
killelV" said his father.
"Oh! because be is such an ugly
thing, and I am afraid he will eat up
everything in the garden. You know
we killed several bugs and worms
which we found here last evening, ]
am sure this toad is much worse than
they."
"We killed the bugs and worms be
cause they were destroying our flowers
and vegetables. This poor toad never
destroys a plant of any kind about the
place. Besides, ho is one of our best
friends. These insects that are doing
so much harm in our garden are just
what he uses fur his food. 1 have nc
doubt that he kills more of them every
day than we did last evening. If you
can find a live bug, place it near him
and see what he will do."
Tommy looked about, and soon found
three bugs, which he placed near the
toad, and then stood back a short dis
tance to see the result. Soon the bugs
began to move away. The toad saw
them, and made a quick forward mo.
tion of his head, lie darted out his
tongue, and instantly drew them, one
by one, into his mouth. Tommy
clapped his hands with delight.
"How can such a clumsy-looking
fellow use his head and tongue se
□imbly?" said Tommy; and he ran oil
to find more food for him.
Tho next evening Tommy went
again into the garden, and soon found
the object of his search ready for his
supper. At first the toad was shy, but
he soon learned to sit still while Tom
my placed the food near him. Then
lie would dart out his tongue, and eat
the bugs while Tommy was close by.
Finding that the boy did not hurt him
ho soon lost all fear, and became a
great pet. Tommy named him Hum.
pv, and says ho would not have him
killed now for anything.— Our Lttth
Ones.
Tho nightingale's habit of singing
at night, and the imaginary sadness of
its song, are accounted for by a legend
to the effect that in ancient days the
nightingale and blind worm had only
one eye apiece. The bird borrowed the
reptile's eye in order to go with two
to a feast, and afterwards refused to
restore it. The blindworm vowed ven
geance on its perfidious friend. Con
sequently the nightingale is afraid to
go to sleep at night lest the blindworm
should attack it in its slumber. And
in order to keep itself awake it sings,
resting its breast against a thorn, the
pain caused by which renders its sing
ing sad.
TRADING IN DIAMONDS.
1 The '> mi Itrramlng n Sort of <'nrren] -
Somr Trie'Km lii tli* Trade.
A recent advertisement in a morn
ing newspaper to the effect that $500,-
i 000 worth of diamonds and jewelry
wi re offered in exchange for real es
' tate, prompted a reporter to inquire
i who had so largo a stock of gems for
i trading purposes. Jt was ascertained
from the broker who is managing the
transaction that the diamonds were
the property of a diamond merchant
who desired to lessen his stock, and it
being tho dull season of the year took
this means of accomplishing that end.
"1 do not often have diamond trades,"
said the broker, "but I have managed
several. 1 traded for several houses in
diamonds not long ago, the largest
amount being $75,000. This was all
paid in diamonds. A few weeks ago
I traded a $20,000 lot of diamonds for
a house that belonged to a well known
society lady. After the bargain had
been closed, the diamonds deposited in
my safe, and the deed brought out for
her signature, she asked to see the
stones. They were in a small paper
box, and when she saw them she ex
claimed, 'ls that my house in that
little box? I won't sign the deed.' .She
did sign it, though, but not until after
much persuasion."
A member of a firm of diamond im
porters said that there were just two
houses in this country who imported
over $500,000 worth of diamonds last
year through the custom house. He
was satisfied that neither of these es
tablishments win disposing of its
stock for anything excepting money.
"Diamonds are largely used for trading
purposes," he said; "they bring a ready
sale and command a staple price.
There is, however, much difference
[ Oct ween the selling and buying prices*
and it takes a pretty sharp and cxperi*
; enced buyer to avoid a deception in re
! gard to the true value of a stone. A
short time ago a gentleman bought
S4OOO worth of stones from us for
cash. A few days afterward ho re
turned and said that he would pur
chase SIOO,OOO worth of stones, pro
vided we would value them at ten per
cent more than that if our opinions
were asked by any person wanting to
buy them. We refused, as a matter of
course, and he left tho ofiice. Last
week a wealthy gentleman called on us
and asked our opinion of the value of
a number of diamonds he had with
him. He said that he loaned a certain
sum of money on them, and, as the
loan had not been returned, the stones
were forfeited. We examined them
and found that he had loaned much
more than they were worth. To our
astonishment we found that all of our
SIOOO sale were included in the lot.
We told him of this fact, and <lesribed
the man, whom he readily recognized.
•I'm glad,' said he, 'that I didn't let
him have any more money. I offered
to lend him from SIOO,OOO to $200,000
on diamonds, provided he would let me
call Iteie and have them appraised.' I
explained then how the scamp had
tried to bribe us to help him cheat,and
the loaner has permanently retired
from the diamond business. There
tire tricks in all trades, but I thiuk
there are none to excel those in our
business."— New l'urk Times.
Prices of Trotfcrs.
In an article in Harper's Mayazine
on horse farming in Kentucky, Wil.
liam H. Bishop says: Each blue grass
breeder of prominence has his regularly
printed catalogue of stock revised
yearly, generally with a wood cut of
his best stallion on the cover. Some >
as General Withers, insert the selling
prices, from which "no deviation" is
advertised. In looking over such a
catalogue from S4OO up to S2OOO are
found to be demanded for the younger
animals, with proportionately more for
older ones that could be at once made
useful. But when a horse has really
entered the ranks of the great "flyers,%
there is hardly any limit to his value.
One with a record of 2:30 may be esti
mated in a general way worth $lO,-
000. From 2:30 down to 2:20 SIOOO
may be added for each successive sec
ond. "When xve come into the teens
and near tho head of the record, jug.
gling with gold and diamonds is a
coarse occupation in comparison. Mr
Bonner is said to have paid $33,000 for
Dexter, and $30,000 for Barus, and
Mr. Yanderbilt $20,000 for Maud S.
But this last was before she had made
her great time; now that she has made
it you are told confidentially that a
person stands ready to draw his check
willingly for $75,000 whenever he can
get a horse that will lead her, and give
him the distinction of having the fast
est trotter in the world. But how
does it pay? Well, it pays first in
stock raising, it pays next in the op
portunity to take purses and stakes af"
forded by the great system of racing
circuits; and no doubt even those gen
tlemen who withdraw' from racing and
do their driving in private life, find it
Terms, SIOO Per Year in Advance.
pay In a pleasure and improved health
from this kind of recreation, extrava*
gant as it is, which they might not be
able to procure so well from the ex
penditure of equal sums in any otho
direction.
The Vor.icltj of the Pickerel.
Of all fresh water fish the pickerel is
most paradoxical and singular as to
some of its traits, says a writer lor the
New York Ectninj Post. The grey
hound of our rivers, no fish living
matches him in the speed with which
lie darts through the waters. Yet ly.
ingperfectly still, ruminating along the
edge of some shady water nook, he
may be touched almost with the hand
before he takes flight. He likes clear,
wecdv waters, yet his filial refuge,
when hard pressed, is the muddy bottom
in which ho plunges and disappears,
l aving behind only a cloud of dingy
water to mark his refuge. Some inci*
dents to prove his coniprehenisve and
enduring appetite will, I am afraid,
make the veracity of the fish discount
the voracity of the writer. Neverthe
less they are rigidly true. Standing
knee-deep in water, 1 have known
pickerel to pass between my legs in
pursuit of the bait. 1 have seen them
take a big shiner when gorged with a
protruding lisli almost half as large as
themselves; to seize fiercely a new
bait just after breaking successively
two snclls that were afterward found
in the mouth with their two hooks
and baits attached; to swallow snakes,
frogs, mice, and any living thing not
too vast that has come within reach of
their insatiable maw. '1 lie pickerel is
an inveterate cannibal, and an oblong
slice from the stomach of one of his
own kind is a most dainty and taking
bait. Fishy as souud some of the
newspaper stories of pickerel gorged
and strangled in the attempt to swal
low a big victim, there can be no doubt
that many of thein are trustworthy.
A single reminiscence may be cited to
prove the pickerel's gullibility and ap
petite. Some ten years ago I caught
one of these fish, landing him on a
smooth, grassy shore, ten feet from the
edge. In taking him off, he broke the
line just above the sinker, which was
some two feet from the hook. As the
broken snell was somewhat frayed, I
replaced it, and while doing so the fish
flopped into amuskrat hole, which had
one ol its extremities under the bank
at the river's edge. Presently 31 r.
Pickerel appeared in the stream, trail
ing two feet of snell and the lead, lie
instantly took a second bait and was
readily landed again. That rash pick
erel had been dancing for fully a min
ute on the grass and had found his
way through a dark hole for ten feet
to the stream, not to speak of his
other enlivening, though not instruc
tive experiences. 1 have also caught a
dozen handsome pickerel in a small
river pool in which some youngsters
were bathing, the fish shooting freely
into the muddy water among the
sportive lads, to snap the bait Any
angler experienced in pickerel fishing
can no doubt recall similar incidents
without straining credulity half as
hard as this fresh water shark strains
his gullet.
Origin of Blue til ass.
It is possible that the finest speci
mens of this grass are to bo found in the
wooded pastures of Kentucky, where
the soil abounds in lime. There is no
good reason for believing, however,
that this grass originated there. The
Breeders' Uazdte, in discussing the
matter, says: We suppose it will come
to be known by its true English name,
meadow poa. The name Kentucky
bluegrass and jTune grass are indiffer.
ently applied to a variety of the poas,
especially to the varieties "pratensis"
and "compressa." There is no authentic
information that the grass whs origi
nally distributed from Kentucky; on
the contrary, it seems to be a fact that
the seeds were carried by the Kentucky
cavalry of Gen. Harrison, on their
return to Kentucky, after the successful
campaign against the Indians, in which
their savage power w T as broken in the
west. This grass was found growing
in dense pastures in cential Indiana,
furnishing forage for the horses after all
other grass was killed, and undoubtedly
contributed to the success of Harrison's
campaign. It is, in fact, one of the
most widely distributed of any of the
natural grasses of the United States,
wherever calcareous, firm, sandy soils
are found. From the fact that, as a
rule, the soils of the west contain plenty
of lime, it is one of the best grasses for
cultivation, in all soils not strongly
liable to heave, and is indigenous from
Tennessee and Kentucky, north. Th e
fiat-stalked poa (compressa), taking its
place, and is often found growing with
it, in the north. This flat-stalked poa
js indigenous to lighter soils than "poa
pratensis," Kentucky bluegrass, or
green meadow grass, as it is indiffer
ently called.
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I ADVERfISirtO lUTES: •
1 wk. 1 mo. I Smot. I wos. j Hysi
I ponur* SI 00 •3UOfB (O $ 4 M/• S W
H column 100 ®®®| I'®? 52]
I column 800 1100 l OSj 00| >fO t
fOm inch nankrn a .quant. Admini.ra*or sa4
•Tutors' Notions 52.60. Transmit advartlsornonWAßd'
Iccala 10 canto par Una for ftml insertion rad • osato par
i lina for oicb todltioiul Insertion.
NO. 40.
At Rest.
Ah, silent wheel, the meriy brook is dry
And qniot hours glide by
In this deep vle, tahero once the merry stream
Sang on through gloom and glean;
Only the dove in some leaf-shaded nest
Murmurs ol rest.
Ah, weary voyager, tho closing day
Shines on that tranquil bay,
Where thy storm-beaten soul has longod to be;
Wild blast and angry sea
j Touch not this lavo: o I shore, by summer blost,
A home ol rest.
Ah, fevered heart, the grass is green nnd deep
Where thou art laid to sleep;
Kissed by soft winds, and washed by gen'l
showers,
Thou hast thy crown ol flowers;
Toor heart, 100 long in this nmd world opprest,
'lube now thy rest.
! I, too, perplexed with strife of good ami il',
Lorc to be Sife an 1 still;
Evil is present with me while I pray
That good may win the day;
Grout Giver, grant mo lhy hist gilt and best,
Ihe gift of rM!
Sarah Duwlrny.
HUMOROUS.
Official reports state that the British
j census embraces 17,000,000 women.
Who wouldn't be a census.
Sir Walter Raleigh made bis way to
fortune and fame bv politeness. He
I was not one of the Elizabethan ruffs.
i
S'ang is always objectionable. In
stead of saying "a dead give away"
I you should say "a posthumous dona
| tion."
i The following is extracted from a
, smart boy's composition on "Babies":
"The mother's heart gives 4th joy ;t
the baby's Ist 2th."
"You must be a quarrelsome fellow,"
said a phrenologist to a man wlkko
bump he was examining. "Say that
again and I'll knock you down," was
| tho response.
Loss of sleep, it is said, is making
men small and puny. That is a fact.
.Tust look at the difference in the
physique of a delicate scholar and th?
robust night policeman.
A man had just said to a friend^
"Let's take another " when his
wife turned the corner, but his duty
to his wife was not forgotten—"view
of the political situation," he added.
An old bachelor at a wedding-feast
had the heartlessness to offer the fol
lowing toast: "Marriage—the gate
through which the happy lover leaves
his enchanted regions and returns to
earth."
It's very easy to start false reports.
Just because a woman, while buying
a broom, wanted one with a heavy
and strong handle, it was reported
around that she was in the habit of
beating her husband.
Uncle—"Now, w hat would you say
if 1 give you a shilling apiece?" Mas
ter Jack—"l'd rather you gave mine
to sis, uncle, and tell her to buy me a
shilling cannon, as pa said the first
money I got should go for that win
dow I broke!"
The whistle of the locomotive is
heard 3,300 yards, the noise of the
train 2800 yards, the report of a mus.
ket and bark of a dog 1800 yards, the
roll of a drum 1600 yards, the croak
of a frog 000 yards, a cricket's chirp
800 yards. But the sound of a dinner
gong is heard all around the world.
The Caterpillar King.
"Regalis," said Mr. Ellio , an
entomologist, to a New York Tribune
reporter, "is the king of
There are some points about him which
are peculiar, one of the strangest being
his belligerency. Birds are actually
afraid to attack him, and even the
mocking-bird, which is bold and
rapacious and loves thick, juicy cater
pillars, is often beaten off by this
singular worm. This is, you will note,
the worm of the fable that turns
against the aggressor. The regalis
meets his foe with his horns, with
which he endeavors to hook his adver
sary somewhat in the manner of a can.
tankerous cow. He is well provided
with these weapons. He has four
principal ones five-eights of an inch
in length, four shorter ones, two that
protude, and one at his tail. The first *
eight are grouped upon what we term
the thoracic segment, by which wt,
mean the part which in the perfected
animal will become the thorax. A
caterpillar is built in thirteen segments
and on nearly all of these in the regalis
is an arrangement of six black, sharp
evil-looking spines. When a bird atl
tacks this caterpillar king he not only'
attempts to gore him, but he spits at
him a shower of saliva and fragments
of the leafy food he has been devouring,
precisely like the llamas and vicuna ß
in Central Park. These innocent-look'
ing creatures with their lamb-like eyes >
come up to be fed and caressed, and
then suddenly assuming an offended
and injured air, they spit right in the
faces of their benefactors. I grieve to
say that the regalis has the same vil
lainous habit*