Tho Litt If Ones. " Oome to the foot of the stairs. mainm*. Mr coaxing darling* said, n* thf.rr our pood night kino, Niffore wo go to hod." To the wart* nursery above, Whence altsne a mellow light. The liule here feet clambered up, The night-gowns fluttering white. In tl;e dark hall 1 stood and gated, I,ike Jacob when he dreamed, Pure angel* on their upward war, To me the children seemed. Farrwril to a ladj. ■Withdraw not ret thoee lipa and Angara, Who* touch to miue i* rapiure'e epell; J.ife'a joy for via a moment linger*, And death aeonia in Uie word Farewell. The hour that bids u part and go. It aounde not yet—O no, no. no! "Time, whilst I gare upon thy aweetneee, Hies Uke a courser nigh tlie goal; To-morrow where ahull be hi* fleetnee*. When thou are parted from my *oul ? Our hear;* shall t>eat. our tears shall Aow But not together—no, no, no! JOHN'S TKIAL. Just where the Wilderness road of the Adirondack Highlands strikes the edges of the great Champlain valley, in a little clearing, is a lonely log house. On the llkh day of July. 185$, a muscular woman stood at the door of the house, overlooking the vast extent of the vaiiev. From her stand point, ten miles of green forest swept down to the lake's winding shore. The woman know that these distant moving atoms were boats freighting lumber through l.ake Champlain. She knew there was but one boat that would l-a likely to turn aside aud come into the little bay, and that this boat would be her son John's sloop. At about four o'clock, a young man and the dog came up the road and to the house, "fleigho, mother, all well?" was the man's greeting. The woman's greeting waa only, "How do yon do, John P Two hours passed away, and after supper, the neighbors who had seen John and the dog come np the road, dropped in for a talk with "the cap tain, ' as John was called by his friends. Soon the inqairv was made, "Where did you leave your Cousin William ?" John had taken his cousin Widiam, who lived upon the lake shore, with him upon his last trip, and hence the question. But John did not answer the question directly. He seemed troubled and nn happv" about it. He finally acknowl edged that he and William had not agreed, and that high words and blows passed between them, and added that ais eousm had finally left the boat and gone away in a huff, he knew not where, but somewhere into the pineries of Canada. He declared, getting warm in his recollections of the quarrel, that he "didn't care a darn" whare Will went, any way. A month passed away; it was August. Cousin Will did not return. But certain strange stories came np Lie valley from Canada, and reached the dwellers along the Adirondack Wilderness road. No cousin William had been seen in the f fineries; bat jast across the Canada ine, at the month of Fish river, where the aloope were moored to receive their lading of timber, a bruised, swooleu, festering corpse had risen and floated in the glare of a hot August day. The boatmen rescued it and buried it upon the share. They described it as the body at a hale. Vigorous young msn, agreeing in height, size, and appear ance with cousin William. It soon grew to be the current opinion npon the lake that Captain John had murdered his cousin William. The dwellers npon the Wilderness road also came by slow degrees, and unwillingly, to the same conclusion. It was felt and said that John ought to be arrested. Accordingly, on a dreary day in No vember, two officers from the county town twenty miles away down the lake shore, came and climbed the steep road to the lonely log-house, and arrested John, It was undoubtedly a dreadful blow to those two lonely people living isolated in the wilderness. Perhaps there ought to have been some crying and a scene, but there was no such thing. The officers testified that neither John nor hia mother made any fuss about it There was a slight twitching of the strong muscles of her face, as she talked with the officers, bat no other outward sign. John gave more evidence of the wound he felt. He was white and quiv ering, yet he silently, and without ob jection, made ready to go with the offi cers. He was soon prepared, and they started. John, as he went out of the door, turned and said, " Good-by ; it will all be made right, mother." She simply answered, " Yes, good-by ; I know it, my son." The trio "went on foot down the road to the next boose, where the officers had left their team. Jupiter, standing np with his fore paws npon the top of the fence, gazed wistfully after them. When they passed around the bend of the road out of sight, Jupiter went into the house. The strong woman was there about her work, as usual; but the heavy tears Would now and then fall upon the hard pine floor. ' She knew that her own boy would spend the coming night in the county jail. At twelve o'clock of that ehilly No vember night, the woman and the dog went out of the house ; she fastened the door, and then they went together down the dark mountain road, while the an tnmn winds swept dismallv through the great wilderness, and tlie midnight voice of the pines mourned the dying year. The next day at noon, a very weary woman on foot, with a small bun dle and a large dog, pnt up at the little village hotel hard by the county jail. Another day passed, and then the preliminary examination came on before a justice, to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to hold John in custody until a grand jury of the county should be assembled for the next Court of Oyer and Terminer. Tile evidence against John seemed to the magistrate clear and conclusive. But the counsel for the accused (em ployed by John's mother) took the ground that as the offense WOB commit ted in Canada, a justice in the United States had no jurisdiction in the mat ter. This view prevailed, and after five days tlie accused was set at liberty. Bat the voice of the people, which the ancient proverb saysis like the voice of God, had decided that John waa guilty. It was under this crushing condemna tion that John and his mother left the county town on a cold December day, turning their steps homeward ; and at evening they climbed the acclivity so ami liar to them, and reached the onely log-house upon the mountain. Their-neighbors were glad to see them back again, but were plain to say that "it appeared like as if John was guilty. ' These dwellers in the solitude were accustomed to speak truly what they thought. John and his mother too speke openly of this matter. It was only of Bhoa ing affection and love that these people were ashamed and shy. They both admitted to their neighbors that the evidence was very strong, but John added quietly that he was not guilty, as if that settled the whole mat ter. ' But the voice of the people and a sense of justice would not let this crime rest. It canae to be very generally known that a man guilty ef murder was living near the shore of Lake Cham plain unmolested. Arrangements were effected by which it camo to pans that the Canadian authorities made a formal application to the United States for the delivery of one John Wilson, believed to be guilty of the murder of his cousin William Wilson. And so again two officers, this time RRI iD. lv 1 "RTX. Tnlitor nn] ! *r^priotor. vol*. Ml. UniLd States officials, climbed up to the Utile log house upon tho edge of the great valley. Through a drifting, hlingiug atortn of anow thee were pilot ed by a neighbor to the lonely house. They made known their errand, and in the course of half an hour the officers and their prisoner were out in the storm en route for the distant City of Mon treal. It was many days before tire woman saw her son again. For four months John was imprisoned, awaiting his trial before the Canadian courts. Doubtless thoe four month* seemed long to the solitary woman. She had not much oj>- IHortnnitr to indulge in melancholy anciea ; she spent much of her time in pulling brush and wood out of the suow and breaking it up with an ax, so as to adapt it to the sire of her stove. The neighbors tried to be kind, and often took commissions trorn her to the store and the grist-morhood there, although it hardly ; seemed es if Johu desired it. The I Pmlar voice having ouee decided it, d John as a murderer, and claimed 1 that he was cleared from the charge > only by the trieks of his lawyers. John i knew of this decision. At the funeral he was stern, cold, white, and statue- ■ like. While others wept, but few tears j fell from his eyes, and cveu these seem ed wrung from him by an anguish s for the most part suppressed or con cealed. He chose that his mother should tie buried, not in the " buryiug-ground " at the settlement, but upon their own little farm where she had lived. And so in a spot below the rocky ridge, where wild violets grew, she was laid to rest. Johu spent the night following the funernl at Pete's house, theu returned to liis owu home, and from that Line his solitary life began. He took his cattle and his sheep over to Pete's, made all fast about his home, and re sumed hi* boating UIHIU Lake Cham plain. He fully realized that he was a marked man. He was advised, it was said even by his own legal counsel, to leave the country, aud to leave his name behind him; bnt no words influ enced him. Firm and steady in his course, strietlv temperate ana just, he won respect where he could cot gain confidence. Tho years rolled by. Captain John still was a Wat man. and still kept hi* home at the lonely log bouse on tho . edge of the great valley. Frota each voyage he returned and spent a day and night alone at the old place ; and it was noticed that a strong, high paling Was bnilt around his mother's grave, and a 1 marble head stone was placed there, and other flowers grew with the wild violets. Even in winter, when there was no boating anil ho boarded down bv the lake, he made many visit* to the old homestead. His figure, which, . though youthful, was now growing gaunt and thin as his mother's had j been, was often seen by Pete at night-1 fall upen the top of a certain rocky ridge, standing out clear and sharp against the cold blue steel of the winter sky. John hail no companions and aought) none. The yonng men and women of hi* st had married nnd settled iu life; be was still the same. Bnt thero came a change. Eleven years had passed sinoethe mother died, and it was June again. John was spend ing a day at the old place once mora. \ He aat in "the door, looking out on the magnificent landscape, the broad lake, \ and the dim line of mountaina away > across the vallev. Tho lovely day seemed to cheer this stern, lonely man. Three persons came nptlie road; they advanced straight to where Johu was ' sitting. One of them stepped forward, looked John steadily in the face, held out his hand to him, and said, " John, do . on know me 7" The voice seemed to strike him with a sharp, stunning shook. He quivered, held his breath, stared into the eyes of the questioner, and then suddenly be- j coming nnnatnrallv cool and collected, j said, " Is it you, William ?" Tlie two who stood back had once been John's warmest friends. They now came forward, and with such words a* they conld command, told the story I of William's sudden return, and sought for themselves forgiveness for the cruel and falne suspicion which had so long estranged them from their friend. John seemed to hear this as one in a dream. He talked with William and the men in a manner that scorned strangely cold and indifferent, about . where William had been voyaging so long in distant seas, and of his strange absence. A quarter of an hour passed away. The men proposed that John should go with them to their homes, and said there would be a gathering of friends there. They pressed the in- j vitation with warmth, and such true feelings as onr voice* express when a dear friond ha beet gr- atly wronged, and we humbly acknowledge it. John said absently, IU reply, that he did not know. He looked uneasily around as if in search of something, perhaps his hat. He essayed to rise from his chair, bntconld not; and in a moment lie fell back, ashy pale, fault ing and breathless. The men had not looked for this, hot accustomed as they were to thorough life of the wilderness, they were not alarmed. They fanned the fainting man with their straw hats, and as soon as water conld be found, applied it to his bands and face. He soon partially recovered, and looking up, said in a broken voice, " Give rue time, boys." At this hint, the two old friends, who were now erying, stepped ont of the door, and cousin William sat down out upon the door-step. • John found that a little time was not enough. He had traveled too long ami far it that fearful desert of loneliness, easily or quickly to return. A nervous fever followed the shock he received, and for two months he did not leave the homestead, and was confined to his bed. But the old house was not lonely. The men and women camo I>oth his old friends and some newcomers, and tried ts make up to h'ni in some degree the love and sympathy ho had so long missed. But for many days it was evi dent that their kindness pained and op pressed him. " It appears like," said Tete, "that a rough word don't hurt him, but a kind one be can't stand." And this was true. His soul was fortified against hatred and contempt, but a kiud voice or a gentle caress seemed to wound him so that he would sob like an infant. As lie recovered from his illness he continued gentle, kind and shrinking, to a fnwlt. By the operation of some spiritual law that I do not fully com prehend, he was, after his recovery, one of those who win a strange affection from others. His influence scorned liko a mild fascination. It was said of him in after years that he was more trnly loved, and by more people, than any other man or woman in all the settle ments round. Children loved him with a passionate attachment, and the woman of a child-like nature whom he made his wife is said to have died of grief at his death. He departed this life at the age of thirty-eight years, and he sleeps on the edge of the great valley, with his mother and his wife beside him. HEAVY Burr.—The Hon. Alexander H. Stephens has brought a suit against the Western and Atlantic Bail road Railroad Company to recover $1,000,- 000. He charges that he transferred to the State of Georgia all his interest in the road, of which he was one of the lessees, in 1870. He has since learned that the transfer was never made, and he claims that the property is, there fore, still his, CENT HE HALL. CENTRE CO., PA., THURSDAY, APRIL !>, 1871. THE I.A 110R OF THE MOUNTAINS. (u I lilr retting Act uttul l \ ulraulr Si n|> llau* attti aarll|U>Sct In Amctlra. The electric wire*, ssys the New York lit ruhl, have, iter haps, never fleshed more startling tiding* of physical con vulsion than the announcement that a volcanic eruption wit* imminent in the mountain* of North Carolina. No geologist of the present century has ever ventured, wo behove, to predict that the Appalachian chain, ut our own doors, would ever again he disturbed by those throes with which, in the so called prehistoric epoch, thev were sup posed to have been convulsed. Tho in telligence a* now conveyed to us reveals a terrestrial disturbance which, so far as we know, has no parallel on this Continent during the historic period. The historic accouuta of American vol canoes are confined to the Western coast of the Coutiuent lyiug in that belt of fire which stretches from the I'sta gonial! and Chilian Andes, through the isthmian mountains, far away to the northwestward, along the fog-shrouded whores of British Columbia. We are told by Haydru that, iu a remote geologic peruwl, the entire country drained by the Yellowstone and Colum bia rivers was the scene of volcanic ac tivity as fierce as that of any portion of the globe, and that it formed one vast crater made up of a thousand smaller volcanic vents and fissure*, out of which the liuid reek was hurled in un limited quantities. We kuow that Mounts Roane, Longford, Stevenson and more lhau a hundred others were the nuclei of cyclopeau fires that rivaled many on the shores of tho Mediterranean. Humboldt has record od the almost inconceivable upheaval in Mexico, iu 1759, when on the night of September 89, between the setting aad the rising of the sun, the vulcanic cone of Jurullo rose in fiery splendor sixteen hundred and eighty-three feet above the plain. In the middle of August, 186$, when the Pacific Ocean came rusbiug into the jx,>rt of Valpa raiso, many of us remember how its shock, responsive to the deep upheavals of tho l'aeifle coast, spread terror and dismay in the street* of Han Francisco. At that time the shaking of the earth extended fai ml.aid iu California. The ground opeuod ; jets of water were ejected fromit; tusuy build ngs were demolished, and ever since then tlie in habitants of the land of gold have lived in constant uneasiness. All these rocking* of the Continent have occurred on Ih* western slopes. The concussions which have been trans nutted from the West Indian and At lantic earthquakes to tho Mississippi Valley have teen scarcely pemsjrtlblc aud made but little or no impression on the popular mind. The nearest ap proaches to volcanic action in the Mis sissippi Valley have been theoeeamoua! slight disturbance* in the bayoua ami estuaries of the Lower Mississippi, which have been traced to the agency of the Mexican Gulf and it* underly ing volcanic furnace. There is uo doubt it is a centre of plutonie force, and Ftguier, the eminent French physicist, has gone so far as to suppose that its submarine furnace partly accounts for the superheated waters which emerge through the Florida Pa*s as the great Atlantic cttrrcltt. It is not impoemit'le that there may be a connection between this volcanic cen tre and the foundations of the Alleghany peaks, from one of which, in Western North Carolina, the present eruption is reported. Tho AUeghanies form an aji parently isolated barrier.or rather series of isolated upheavals, ( xtending from Alabama to Maine, with a mean alti tude of two thousand feet. Tlie two brothers, tlie Rogerac*. so eminent o* American geologist*, who most fully explored them, first pointed out the ex traordinary fact that they have no cen tral axis, bat consist of a series of con vex and concave flexures, giving them the appeanuic.' of •<> many oto4l in trencliment*. Mount Mitchell, the lof tiest, and Mount Washington, the next in altitude, guard either flank of the series. The western slope of tho whole range, running from the Genesee coun try <>f New York to the Mussel Bh ah of the Tennessee Kiver, are skirted by a deep nndetlyjng lwd of limestone. Tills latter fact is .significant and may give a clew to the origin of the volcan ic action in North Carolina. If, as Sir Charles Lyell, tho highest geological authority, asserts, volcanoes are duo to a chemical action in the bowels of the earth, and not to an internal sea of fire, it is not inconceivable how sncli chem ical action ha culminated in the pres ent fiery disturbance in North Carolina; but we anxiously wait for further intel ligence for the data from which to draw a satiafatory conclusion. Arthur Orion In Prison. Since his incarceration in Newgate, says the London ltailij Tctcgraph, the "claimant" has done his best to keep up the delusion that lie is the missing ln ir to the baronetcy aud estates. lie stoutly refuses to answer to the appella tion of Orton or Castro, but willingly responds to the name of Tichborne. Otherwise he has accepted his fate, sub mitted to the jrison regulations, and accommodated himself to his changed position with as much ease and tact as he hail shown before in passing /rem the life of a bushranger to the role of a baronet. The prisoner seems to have been most impressed with his fall when ho had to don the prison apparel. It was brought to him on Monday. His convict garb is a light-brown woolen suit,with knee-breeches, ribbed worsted stockings, common leather shoes, and a cap with. little knob u-top, without a peak. It is scarcely neeeossary to say that this suit required some expansive dimensions. Tlio shirt sleeves are t hirty-teyen inches round, and the ebest fifty-six inches. When it was shown to Orton he faltered a little, but the feeling was only momentary, and he quickly regained his usual self-posses sion. In this altered dress, close shaven, and the hair cropped short, the hngli bulk of the prisoner only remains to identify him with the defendant of the Queen's Bench. His manner sineo hia confinement has been taciturn, tint not sullen. Ho rises at G, retires at 9, sleeps wonderfully well, and on the whole, takes kindly to his skilly; but he rather fails in picking oakum. Ho does not succeed in getting through anything like the portion allotted to him; but the tar rope is somewhat try ing, and as yet his fingers ure rather delicate for the work. Would Have Order, A recent scene in the Chancery Court at Cincinnati: A lot of lawyers raising a reverberating racket, the deputy sheriff pouuding on his desk with n jaekkuife,the counsel's voice raising o'er the din in a vain effort to reach the per turbed ear of the urbane chancellor, who looks helplessly and imploringly around. Suddenly ho rises to the gravi ty cf the occasion, raps with his gravel and addresses the deputy sheriff thus: "Mr. Deputy." "Yes, sir," responds the functionary, starting us though he had been shot. "I waut you," pursued the chancellor, beniguly scrowbng over his spectacles, "to try and keep these Sntlemeu quiet; if • you can't, report em to me, and I'll find them; if you dout report them, then I'll find you." And there was a great calm. Stephen Llranl's Will. In a recent lecture liefore the Mercan tile Library Association of Boston, Dr. Cornell gnve the following interesting account of the opening of Htephen Guard's wills The old muu lav dead iu his house iu Water street. While the public out of doois were curious enough to learn what he handgun wjjJi his money there was a smaller number. withm the house, the kindred of the deceased, in whom the curiosity raged like a mania. They invaded the cellars oj tjit? house, and, bringing np l>ottlea of the old mau's choice wines, kept up s continual CMiousal. Burruuuding Mr. Duane, who bad been present at Mr. thrard's death aud remained to direct his funeral, they demanded to know if there was u will. To silence their indecent elamor he told them there was and that he was one of the executors. On hearing this their desire to learn its eoutenta rose to a furv. In vain the executors reminded them llist decency required that the will should not be opened till after the funeral. They even threatened legal proceedings if the will w as not immedi ately produced, and ut length, to avoid a public scandal, the executors con sented to have it read. These affec tionate relatives being assembled iu s parlor of the house in which the body of their benefactor lav, the will was taken from the iron sale by one of the executors. When he opened it aud waa about to read he chanced to hok over tlie top of tho document st the company liefore him. No artist that ever held a brush could depict tho passion of curiosity, tlie frenzy of expectation, expressed in that group of pallid faces. Every indi vidual among them expected to leave the apartment tite conscious possessor of millions, for uo oue had dreamed of his leaving the bulk of his estate to the public. If they had ever heard of his saying that no oue should be a gentle man on his money, they had forgotten or disbelieved it The* opening para graphs of the will all tended to confirm their hopes, since the bequests to exist ing institutions were of small amount. But the reader aoon reached the part of the will which assigned to ladies and gentlemen present such trifling sums a* 6*.,uou, SIO,OOO, #20,000; and he arrived ere long at the sections which disposed of millions for the benefit of great cities and poor ehildren. Some of them made not the slightest attempt to conoeal their disappointment and Jisgtud. Men were there who had mar ried Willi a view to share the wealth of Girsrd, aud had been waiting years for hi* death. Women were there who had looked to that eveut a* the beginning of their enjoyment of life, Tlie imagination of the reader must supply the details of a scete which we might think dishonored human nsture, if we could believe human nature was meant to be subjected to such s stnun. it had been better, jHrhaps, if the rich man in hia own lifetime, had made his kindred partake of his superabundance, especially a* he had nothing else that he could share with them. They at tempted. on grounds thst seemed ut terly frivolous, to break] the will, and employed tlie most eminent counsel to conduct their cause, but without ef fect. They diJ, however, succeed in getting the property acquired after the execution of Lie will, which Girard, disregarding the opinion of Mr. Dunne, attempted by a postscript to include in the will. "It will not stand," said the lawyer. " Ye* it will," said Girard. Mr. Duano, knowing hia man, was silent ; and the eonrta have since de cided that hia opinion was correct. The Ylarmth of Clothing. Generally our clothing has been con aidercd a* an sqqiaratu* lor kr. lon Petfen K'ifrr. A Novel Table, A novel dining table is now in nse in one of the palaces of the Kmporer of Russia. The table iB circular, aud is placed on a weighted platform. At the touch of a signal, like a rub of Alad din's lamp, down goes tlio table through the floor, and a new table, loaded with fresh dishes and supplies, rises in its place. But this is not all ; each plate stands on a weighted dish, the table cloth beiug cut with circular openings, one for each plate. If a guest desires a change of plate, he touches a signal at his side, wheu, presto ! his plate dis appear*, and another arises. These me chanical dining tables render the pres ence of servant.i quite superfluous. In this conntrv, at the Oneida Community, they employ dining tables having the central part made to revolve. Here the goblets, spoons, tea and coffee, castors, pitchers, aud other necessary articles of table furniture are placed ; revolv ing the centre piece, the sitter brings before him whatever article may be de sired, without the intervention of a special waiter. Released on Rail. Four gentleman, says the New York JfrraUi, have been found willing to go l>ail in the sum of twenty thou Hand dol lars for the appearanoeof Officer Leahy, who shot poor MoNamara. The bail is large ; but it is be regretted that homi cide is a bailable offense. People who are over-readv in the use of dangerous weapons ought to be kept closely in the hands of the authorities until the law had decided whether or not their action was justifiable. It might mako shoot ing and stabbing a less popuWamuse ment if such as ipdulge in it were cer tain that they would have at least to stay in prison until a tender-hearted jury could be found to absolve them. We urge this reform on the attention of the law makers. Of course we do not wish to press hardly on that worthy class who make man-killing an amuse ment, but wo would liko to reduce the sport to due limits, lest it should be come altogether vulgar. A Story fur Liquor Dealers. The liquor dealers who have to listen to the prayers of the women have a consolation in the story as told by Dickens of Jerry Cruncher, tho body Kiiatohrr. We opine they took the prayers much as Jerry did. Dickens's a lory runs as follows : Mr. Cruncher rejwntod under a patch work counterpane, like a harlequin at home. At first he slept heavily, but by degrees began to roll and surge in bed, until ho rose above the his spiky hair looking as if >LJi*st liar the sheet to ribbons. At #l|M* j unci ire he exclaimed, in a \wtco of dire ex ttspt: ration ; Ijjgj; ff " Bust ulb| Wt at !** A woman of flfut-rly and"fnlfustrioiis appearance rose from her knees in a corner with sufficient hju>te and trepida tion to show that ahe wks the person referred to. " What I" said Mr. Cruncher, looking out of bod for a boot. " You're at it agin, are you 7" After hailing the morn with this sec ond salutation, he threw a boot at the woman as a third. " What," said Mr. Cruncher, varying his apostrophe after missing his mark, " what are y-u up to, Aggerswayter 7" " I was only saying my prayers." " Haying your prayers! You are a nice woman ! What do yon mean by tlopping yourself down and praying agin me 7 " I was not praying against you ; 1 was praying for you." " You wer'u'L And if you were, I won't be took the liberty with. Here ! Your mother's a nice woman, Jerry, going a-praying agin your father's proa peritv. You'vo got a dutiful mother, vou Tbave, my sou. You've got a re ligious mother, you have my boy; going and flopping herself down, and praying that the bread aud butter may be snatched out of the mouth of her only Child !" Master Cruncher (who waa in his shirt) took this very ill, and, turning to his mother, strongly deprecated any praying away of his personal board. " Aud what do you suppose, you eon eeitod female," said Mr. Cruncher, with unconscious incousiatoney, " that the worth of your prayers may bo 7 Name Lie price that you put your prayers at." "Thev only come from the heart, Jerry. Yhey are worth no more than that." " Worth no more than that ?" re peated Mr. Cruncher. "They aiu't worth much then. Whether or no, I won't te p.ayod agin, I tell yon. I can't afford iL* I'm net a-going to be made unlucky by your sneaking. If you must go flopping yourself down, flop in favor of your husband and child, and not in opjxjailion to 'em. If I had any but a uauat'ral wife, and thia poor boy hail any but a unnat'ml mother, I might haTe made some money laat week, instead of being ooiiutcrprajod aud countermined and being religiously circumweuted into the worst of luck. Bu-u-ost me," Maid Mr. Cruncher, who had been all thia time putting on his clothes, "if 1 ain't, what with piety and one hlowed thing and another, been choused this last week into as bad luck tut ever a poor devil of an honest trades man met with. Young Jerry, dreaa vourself, my boy, and while I clean my boots keep an eve on your mother now and then, and il you see anv sign* of more flopping, give me a calL For 1 tell you,' here he addreaaed his wife once" more, " 1 won't be gone agtn in this manner !" A Trapeze Performer killed. A terrible accident occurred lit the theatre in Thirty-fourth street, near Third avenue. New York, resulting in tlie death of J axnen Sylvester, a trj>ere performer of considerable merit, I rem the statement made by the lessee it ap pears that he wan induced to engage Sylvester and hia confrere, named Bald win, to give a trapeze performance for oue wee*. Mr. Berry at first objected to the engagement, oaring to the danger ous uature of the feats which comprised the performance, but Stive* tor nat tired him tliat there was no danger, and to convince him, Hylvester and Baldwin went through the cutire performance several timea in the presence of the stage manager. After this Mr. Berry consented to give them an engagement, aud they commenced to tike part in the performance. The programme consist ed of a minatrcl and variety perform ance, after which came the feata on the trapeze. The house was filled, and the performance progressed without acci dent until the conclusion of the trapeze business. Sylvester, with the aid of hia confrere. Lad performed the various feats on the trajieze successfully, and it was while doing the act called " The Ijeap for Life" that Sylvester met with the fall which ended iris life. In this act the performer stands on the hori zontal bar of the trapeze, and after swinging back and forth sufficiently to i {[ive him the necessary momentum, caps from the bar to the rope suspend ed from the ceiling and which is held by his partner, and slides down the rope to the stage. In making this leap Sylvester miscalculated the distance, aiid failed to grasp the rope. He fell a distance of not more thau seven feet, but in the fall he struck the back of his head against the projecting edge of a private box on the right of the stage, and dropped, a helpless mass, at the foot of the box. He was immediately taken up and borne to the back of the Rtage. A shudder of horror ran through the people in the house, but very little excitement ensued, as it was not sup posed that ho had been seriously iu jur< d. The jierfomianee was then pro eeeded with. Sylvester was removed to the hospital, where death ensued soon. The base of the skull was found to have been fractured Sylvester was about twenty years of age, aad a native of New York. His mother aud a young brother were dependent upon him for support. A Test Case. Judge Brown, of Baltimore, has given a decision in a sewing machine suit that may !H interesting to thousands who are' laboring to pay for their machines by installments. A Miss Barker bought a" sewing machine on the installment plan, signing a contract by which she agreed to pay a certain sum per month for the use of the machine, and the I company agreed to execute a hill of sale when the whole price had been received. | The installments were promptly band ! od over by Miss Barker until five dol lars remained due. She was prevented ! from paying this by sickness, and the company sued out a writ of replevin. A Justice of the Peace decided in favor of the defendant, but Judge Brown, of ; the City Court, reversed the judgment, and ruled that tlio compauy was enti ■ tied to the machine and to all the money ! paid on it. ASCIKNT Crrms.—Some of the cities of modern Calfornia are on the very sites where ancient races had their dwelling places and their burial mounds. The skeletons of an unknown race have beeu found in San Faanciseo sand hills, and workmen engaged in cutting down a street crossing >t Napa recently un earthed the remains of nearly one hun dred persons. The skeletons had been partially burned before interment. Mortars, arrow heads, knives made from obsidian, and a shell ear drop were discovered. Term*: 32.00 a Year, in Advance. Cattle Raising la Trias. A stranger coming to Texaa would be almost of the opinion that cattle must spring up out of the earth, or be blown over the land by the fierce Northern. Every steamer that loaves for New Or leans carries its dock load of cattle, aud half the men to be met on the streets wear the long spurs and carry the cattle whips which indicate the ranchman of the prairie. The raising of cattle seems to be the main staple in this section of the Htato, whilst mauv of thoee engaged in it do not own an acre of land. They brand aud mark their cattle, and turn them loose on the uneucloaed prairies to multiply aud increase. A part of these prairies belongs to private par ties, but the majority are the pablie lands of the Htato. We board this morning of one cattle raiser w{io claims tliat he will have seventy-five thousand calves to brand this season. who has no enclosed pasture, but turns hia cattle loose, lie claims to have branded six tv-three thousand last year, and seventy thousand the preceding year. Still, in all this great cow country, it is almost im|M>asihle to get a drink of milk, or sufficient for a cup of coffee. At Gal veston it coats one dollar per gallon. The cows raise their own calves, which are allowed to consume all tne milk. A oalf is never killed before it is a year old. There is now, however, an effort mak- ing to compel all parties to keep their cattle iu enclosed pastures, mid take them up off the public lands. It is ar gued that they should be compelled to buy the public lands for their pastures, and not be allowed te let their cattle roam at large. It is called the " fence law," and imposes a tax on ths owners of all cattle found at large after a cer tain date, equal to the tax that would be due the btate if it were owned by private parties. Farmers are not re quired to fence their lands, but can re cover damages for the trespass of cattle in their fields. The superiority of cat tle fattened in enclosed pastures, and thiir enhanced value in the New Or leans and Havana markets will, how ever, soon compel those who keep their cattle running at large, to either secure enclosed pastures or quit the business. The keeping of cattle in pastures is a comparatively new enterprise, aud it has met with marked success every where that it has been adopted. This whole business of turning cattle loose with brands is regarded as a very demoralizing process, leading to all manner of fraud and rascality, but we will give a more detailed account of it when we reach the heart of the cattle region, where wo hope to arrive to-mor row. if tlie wind is favorable, and the mail boat don't postpone its departure. —Oar. Halt. A rue.. The India Faalne. Lord Northbrook had, in the famine stricken districts of India, according to the statement* of his subordinates, leas than 300,000 tons of rice accumulated at Calcutta, hundreds of miles away iroro the famine stricken districts, and to reach which obstacles of almost an insuperable character arc to be sur mounted. This supply would hardly laat a fortniKht for a population that, according to the London Times, reaches 05,000,000 souls. There is an absolute failure of the crops. There may be re lief in work and money, but money is of uo avail unleaa food can be purchased. This is the great work before the Vioe rov. Again, the Viceroy has based his calculations upon one pound of rice daily to each of 3,000,000 adulta for three months, when at the most mod erate estimate two pounds a daily ration are needful. The number requiring aid cannct be leas than 20,000,000 and the period of prospective absolute scarcity not far from ten mouths. Instead of 300,000 tons of food at least 3,000,000 tons are called for, and it is out of the question tli at auch a quantity cau be obtained. Thus the case stands. There is no possible way of plating a different construction upon it. Famine, with all its horrors, stare* the doomed Benga lese in the face, and it doea not appear that human effort csn do anything to wards preventing a repetition of the horrors of 1770. Notes on Advertising. To cure dull times—apply an adver tisement to tlie afflicted part A sign-board can't tell everything. It takes an advertisement to do that All *ho advertise do not get rich, but precious few get rich without it The world is full of advertising, yet every one wants to see what is new. The world's memoir is short It will forget you if you do not jog it fre quently. Early to bed and early to rise Will"all be in vain if you don't adver tise. The world is sure to find out an hon est man ; bnt it will find him oat a great deal quicker if he advertises. Yonr advertisement is your represen tative. It need not be large or impos ing, but should be honest aud re spectful. Truth mar contrive to live at the bot tom of a well, but it is about the only thing that can make a living in such obscurity. It takes three things to make adver tising pay : Honest goods, an attrac tive advertisement, and an economical medium. The telescope r