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-m<U in the valley.
" Hut after all," said Pete Scarles, one
of John's friends, in speaking of the
matter afterward, "what could neigh
bors amount to, when the nearest of
them lived a mile away, and all of them
were plain to say that they believed she
was the mother of a murderer f"
But the neighbors said the woman
did not seem to mind the solitude and
the rough work. Morning, noon, and
night she was out iu the suow or the
storm at the little hovel of a barn back
of the house, tAking care of two cows
and a few sheep which were her's and
John's. At other times travelers UJHJU
the Wilderness road would see her
gaunt, angular figure clambering down
a rocky ridge, dragging poles to the
house to be put up for fuel.
She received two letters from John
in the course of the winter. The first
told her that he was imprisoned, aad
awaiting his trial in Montreal, and the
next one said that his trial ha* been set
down for an early day in March.
Thia correspondence was all tho in
formation the mother had of her son;
for the lake was frozen during the win
ter so that the boats did not run, and
no news could come from Canada by
the boatmen.
When March came and passed away
without intelligence from Johu, it was
taken by the dwellers npou the lake
shore and along the wilderness road as
a sure indication that he had been con
victed of the crime. A letter or uews
paper announcing the fact was confi
dently looked for by the ne ghbors
whenever they went to the distant post
office for their weekly mail.
As March went out, and spring days
and sunshine came, it was noticed that
the face of John's mother looked sharp
and white, but she wont about the
same daily duties as before, without
seeming to feel ill or weak.
On a plasliy April day, full of sun
shine, she stood on the rocky ridge
back of the house, looking down npon
the lake. A few early birds had come
back and were twittering about the
clearing. Althongh the snow still lin
gered in patches upon the highlands,
the valley looked wa/tn below, and the
first boats of the season were dotting
the wide, distant mirrow of "old Cham
plain." A man came slowly np the
muddy line of road, through" the gate,
aud aronnd the house; then first the
woman saw him. A slight spasm pass
ed over her face. There was a little
pitiful quiver of the muscle* about the
mouth, and U. u she walked slowly
down the • • to where the man
•tood. She a.. J-rgled a little with her
self before she said, "Well, John, I am
glad to see vou back."
John tried to be cool also, but nature
was too much for him. He ooald not
raise hi* eyes to her*, and his simple
response, " Yes, mother," was choking
ly uttered.
The two walked into the honse to
gether in the old familiar way ; the wo
man without a word began to spread the
table, and her son went out and pre
pared fnel, aud, bringing it in, replen
ished the fire. Then he sat down in his
accustomed place by the stove, with a
pleasant remark abont bow well tlie fire
burned, and how good it seemed to be
home again. And the woman spoke n
few kind, motherly words.
It was the way they had alwajra done
when John came back, but now there
was a great sadness in it, for he bad
come "from prison." Jupiter seemed
fully to realize the situation. He ex
hibited none of that Riskiness which
characterized the welcome he had
usually given ; bnt when Jolin was
seated the old dog came slowly np to
him, laid his fore paws and his head iu
his master's lap, and looked Badly in
his face.
As they sat down to sapper, John be
gan to toll of bis fare in the jail at
Montreal, and to speak freelyof his life
there. " Will you have to go back ?"
said his mother, with that quiver about
the mouth again. " No, mother," said
John, " it is finished, and I am dis
charged."
After supper the story was told over,
how well John's counsel had worked
for him, and how the judge had said
there was not sufficient evidence to
convict of so great a crime.
John contained from this time on
through the spring to live at home. He
allowed his sloop to float idly in the
bay, while, as be said, he himself rest
ed. The truth was, lie saw, as others
did not, that his mother hail carried a
fearfnl weight, and now, when it was
lifted by his return, that the resources
of her life were exhausted. The
change, not yet apparent to other eves,
was clear to his vision. So it is that
these silent spirits read each other.
As the warm weather advanced, the
strong woman became weak; ami as the
June flowers began to bloom, she
ceased to move about much, and sat the
most of each day in a chair by the open
door. John managed the house and
talked with his mother. Her mind
changed with the relaxation of her
physical frame. She no longer strove
to hide her tears, but, like a tired in
fant, would weep without restraint or
concealment, as she told her son of the
early loves and romance of her girlhood
life in a warm valley of the West, He
learned more of his mother's heart in
those June days than he had surmised
from all he had known of her before.
And he understood what this predicted.
He felt that the heart nearest his own
was counting over the treasures of life
ere it surrendered them foreveT.
There was no great scene when the
woman died. It was at evening, just as
the July fervors were coming on. She
had wept much in the morning. As the
day grew warm she became very weak
and faint, and about noon was moved
by her son from her chair to her bed,
and so died as the sun went down.
John was alone in the house when
she died. Since his return from Mon
treal, he had been made to feel that he
had bnt one friend besides his mother.
Only one neighbor had called upon
him, and that was Pete Searles. lie
had ever proved true. But John did
not like to trouble liis one friend, who
lhed two miles away, to come and stay
with him during the night. So he
lighted a candle, took down from a
shelf a little Bible and hymn-book that
he and liia mother had carried on an
average about four times a year to a
school-house used as a church, some six
miles away, and so along with the dead
he spent the houra in reading and tears
and meditation.
In the morning he locked the door ot
his home and walked "over to Pete's."
THE CENTRE REPORTER.
As he met hia friend, he said in a clear
voice, but wiUi eyes averted, " She hus
gone, IV to—if you will just take the
key and go over there, I'll go down to
the lake and get the thing*, and tell
Downer, and we'll have the funeral, say
on Thursday."
Pete hesitated a moment, then took
the kov John offered him, and said, !
" Yes, John, I will tell my woman, and j
we w ill go over and lis it," and be there
when you oowe back." Aud so John
went on his way. "Downer" was the
minister, aud " the things " were a
coffin and a shroud.
On Thursday was the funeral. Pete
took care to have all the paopls of the
neighl>orhood 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 k<eping the
air from us. This conception is utterly
erroneous, and we can bear no garment
whicli doea not allow of a continual
ventilation of our surface. Just those
texture* which are moet permeable to
the air keep u* warmest. 1 have ex
amined different materials for their per
meability to air, and taking the perme
ability of air passing through flannel
as 100, linen allowed sft, silk 40, buck
skin 58, chamois 51, kid 1 part of sir to
pass through them. If the above
•dated notion was correct, kid would
keep us 100 times warmer, chamois
warmer by half than flannel, and so on,
while every one knows that it is quite
tho rovers.-. Fur is so arranged that
its fine hair projecting into the air in
tercepts all the heat which flows from
the surface of the body by radiation
aud couduotion, and distributes thia
heat through the air which circulates
between the single hair cylinders. Thus
tho air, however cold it mnybe, reaches
the nerves of our skin as a warmed air.
Furred animals in winter, when touch
ed superficially, give a very cold sensa
tion; it is only near the skin that their
liair feels warm. In a severe cold. c r
tainly little of our animal heat cornea
as far aa the points of the hair, from
which it would escape by radiation or
(•.induction, as the current of air in the
fur coola the hair from its points to
wards its roots, and a severe cold pene
trates only a little further into tho fur,
without reaching tho skin of the same.
This can take place only at an exceed
ing low temperature, or when a very
cold air is in violent motion.—7>r. 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<m* to bring distant
friends near you ; the advertisement
really puts you into communication
with them.
lleechcr on Preaching.
The ninth lecture of the course on
Breaching was given at New Haven by
enry Wan! Beecher, the subject being
the way Uj make men conscious of their
sinfulness. Among other things Mr.
Beocher said :
An ignorant villager who had paint
ed s lion for a sign and thinks he has
genins will never be convinced that he
has none by arguments, but if a fine
painting of a lion be placed beside his
bungling work, we will at once say, "I
was an ass." So we may preach that
men are without holiness, but if wc do
not show this by speaking of their
specific sins they will not realize it.
In preaching wo must follow the scrip
tural rather than the theological
method. There could not be any great
er cruelty than to preach to this genera
tion as Jonathan Edwards did to hia.
That was almost inhumanity to men.
We must make men feel that God is
compassionate and feels for them as a
father. /
A BUM FLOOD. —Bum is abundant at
Key West, Recording to a correspond
ent*, and neither sailors nor marines
have auy difficulty in finding it. It
flows in streams from hidden sources ;
Cuban rum, made from rotten potatoes,
which will make a raving maniac of a
man in fifteen minutes. Every shanty
is a rum Rhop. Everybody diffuses the
odor of this pungent spirit as he walks,
and the atmosphere is permeated with
its fragrance. Here is the most promis
ing opening for a temperance crusade
in the United States, for all—men, wo
men, and children, without distinction
of color or previous condition of servi
tude—drink from early morn till dewy
eve, and then begin afresh,
NO. 14.
Visit to * Russian Cemetery.
A Ht. Pctere burgh correspondent of
the London Timet write# : To-day I
•hall devote my time to giving an oo
oount of an excursion I made the other
afternoon to the cemetery of Ht. Ser
gina, 20 vents from the capital on the
Peterhof road. At hair-past one
the troikas were at the door, and we
took our acuta. Onfortuaately the
road# were exccrmble, for sleighs tramp
ed and dragged through slush and ruta
and water, instead of traveling
smoothly along on the silent snow. A
troika, as all the world knows, ia drawn
by three horses abreast, attached to
the vehicle, which ia a primitive aort of
barouche on runners, by light harness
covered with silver scale*. Above the
withers of the centre horse rises the
high, light yoke peculiar to Russia, and
bells arc bang either to this or to the
neck of the animal. Bad ae waa the
road, we made progress somehow.
"On we went slipping and eliding,"
by the aide of the Moika Canal, past
the triumphal arch with its bronse
horses and warriors, and along the
Peterhof road.
St. Scrgi is a mass of heterogeneous ;
but picturesque buildings. That ia j
which the 60 monks live is of brick, and j
reminds an Englishman of one of .the ;
colleges at Oxford. This church ia
many-domed and lofty ; its roofs are
gilded in part, and its interior ia very '
nehly decorated. But the great feature j
of Hergi is the chapel* built by noble
families for the interment of their j
dead. These have been erected here ;
and there in the cemetery ; they range
in size from an entire church to a mere
grot, and their decoration is most
sumptuous end Uriah. In one of the
largest there is not an inch of wall or
roof thst has not been painted by hand,
and though the Russian pictorial art
in churches will seldom bear minute
criticism, the mingled effect of the
masses of color and the marbles, gem
like stones, and even actual gem* which
are used is exceedingly splendid.
Scrgi cemetery is a favorite burying- ]
place, and some of ths monuments are
very costly. In nearly all marble is
used, and most have also about them
much fine metal work, pictures of
saints under glass, etc. Some are main
tamed as shrines, where the flame of
little lamp burning from year to year,
like a soul jailing for its tody.
There are some English monuments
in the eemetery, for the Greek monks i
are not bigoted, and will even eend
chorister# to take part in a Protestant
burial service. The chapels of noble
families are each in care ef a custodian
and we were conducted from one to the
other by a slim young monk, who look
ed terribly thin in his long black gown.
His mild blue eyes and the fair hair
which fell curling about his shoulders
gsve him s ainularly girlish look. In
the chapels we were allowed to en
ter the sanctuary behind the Royal
doors ; but the Lieutenant of Infantry
who was with us had to lay aside his
sword, and we were asked not to stand
upon the carpet before the altar. The
tomb# of the princes and nobles were
nearly always in the chapel crypts,
lavishly decorated chambers, with s
shrine and a burning lamp by each
grave, and with sacred pictures framed
in fine metal work, often jewelled, on
the walls. One coffin stood on e low
stone bier and was heaped with flow
ore ; others were in graves below, dosed
hv great slabs of white marble, on
wbich lay, perhaps, a single wreath.
The tombs of the Oldenburg family
have a large glaas hothouse built over
them, frcstooed with growing plant*.
One white marble slab was pointed to
us as the gravestone of a young man
whose death was a dark stonr. He waa
a Prince, related to the Imperial family,
and be fought a due) in spite of the
severe laws against the practice. The
Emperor was much displeased, lest it
should be said that men of Imperial
blood broke the the law, and lest
other# should think that tbey had as
good right to fight duels as any Prince
of Oldeubnrg. The end of it all was
this marble slab and a whispered story.
We found the monks at service in the
church of the monastery. The tre
mendous tiasa voice of Father Gideon
is the pride and toast of the Sergi, and
the deep volume of his recitative rolled
in tones which sounded like very Jeri
cho trumpets, and which might well
bring down by the run the walls of
the cities of sin built up by the
Devil in the hearts of his congregation
since the last service. He seemed to
thrill his hearers to the marrow, not
only bringing them upon their knees on
the stones, but impelling many of them
to bend their faces upon their breasts
till the crown of the head rested upon
the pavement This is the most abject
an- 1 attitude the human 1
body can take, and one could scarcely
see it without feeling that one had no
right to look njK>n it, and that one ought
to quit the building and leave the peni
tent—if such, indeed, he really was—
alone with his fellow-worshippers and
his priest
In Death Sot Dlrided.
The Milford (Del.) Xeivt says: "Mr.
John Dilaha, aged sixty-sixty years, and
his wife, Mr*. Stacy Dilaha, aged sixty
seven years, husband and wife, old citi
zens of this town, were followed by
manr friends to their last resting place
at Union Cemetery on one day, and
buried in the same grave. The hnsband
had been ill for several months, and
faithfully attended by his companion,
who had* been in her usual health up to
Friday, when she was attacked sud
denly with paralysis and died immedi
ately. The husband lingered until the
next day, when he followed his faithful
wile to their long home."
FRENCH RAREBIT.— An! old cook, a
Frenchman, who says that he recently
tasted Welsh rarebit for the first time,
in Philadelphia, gives the following re
ceipt for making French rarebit, which
ho thinks will be found a great deal
better than the Welsh: Take three
ouncoa of cheese, <ut i in small square
pieces, and set it to fry with a little
piece of butter. When your cheese
begins to melt, have three eggs beaten
up with Bait nnd pepper. Poor them
npon yonr cheese. Stir and roll it into
a sort" of mnff, and take it off. The
whole operation should not take more
than one or two minutes.
THE ORANOES. —A corespondent at
Washiffgton says: The National Grange
Circular for January shows an increase
since the 13th of December, when the
last circular was issued, of 1,566
granges. The total number at that
date was 9,296 ; the total of that of
the last circular was 10,662. The mem
bership is only approximately stated at
about 780,000. The increase is largely
in the Western and Southern States.
PENSIONS.— Georgia is the first of the
States lately in rebellion to pass a law
giving public money to persons who
became helpless in Pie Confederate ser
vice. The bill made a donation of SIOO
to those who had lost both eyes by
reason of servioe rendered to the Con ■
federate States. It was disapproved by
the Governor on a technicality, there
being no entry on the journal to show
that the act passed by a two-thirds
vote, as is required by the Constitu
tion, though in fact it did so pass.
.1 'MB
Items of latarMt.
Pennsylvania has 19,000 publicscbool
i teachers.
A Milwaukee hurra has died of a
broken heart
One who can always get bread when
he kneads It—A baker.
Lazy husband* are known out West
as stove watchers.
A Rochester horse baa a genuine as
of inflammatory rheumatism.
Only one birth hae occurred ia the
White House, and that was a boy.
It ia uncertain at what place death
awaits tboe; wait thou for it at every
place.
No Northern man who goes to Flori
da oaa rest until he haa shot an alli
j gator.
Portland has a citiseo Who has served
1 upon the Hcbool Committee over forty
; years.
j "Speech is silver, but silence
1 golden." Hence the cipinarion, hush
j money.
West Point bosata that only fire out
of 155 paymasters appointed from
! among its graduates have proved de
| fsuiters.
The emigration from Great Britain
1 was greater last year than in'aay year
j since IKS*.
He that baa money ia bothered about
' it, and be that haa none ia bothered
i without it.
Galena, 111., does not see how it can
get along without restoring whipping in
its public schools.
It is said that in the makingnpof
eostamea, three shades of a color will
be very fashionable.
"The curse of extravagance is ruin
ing this country," says Gerritt Hmitb,
and Gerritt is right.
A Milwankee dry goods clerk wears a
i shingle under his shirt front to beep the
. wrinkles in subjection.
Johnny eeaures us that a railroad
conductor punches a hole in your ticket
I to let you pass through.
Not' content with giving bis people
the right of suffrage. Bismarck now
propose* compulsory voting.
Summer-resort hotel keepers have
! commenced pretwraikras for the com
ing season by intimating a reduction in
MHMb
A petition ia circulating in Stockton,
Qal., in favor of introducing the study
of the Irish language ia rite public
! schools.
Black skunk skins, which for
merly sold for a shiUing, now command
one dollar each; such are the ireaka. of
fashion.
In Maine several manufactories are
now in operation producing ch tap sugar
and syrup from sawdust, rags nad other
lobitAfifiii.
Creosote oil and cinders have for
some time been need as fuel by certain
English engineers with the most satis
factory results.
There is a comfort in the strength of
love. "Twill make a thing endurable,
which else would overset the brain or
break the heart
It is estimated that the oyster beds
'of Virginia cover an area equal to 640,-
000 aero#, and yield an annual money
value of $10,000,000.
lhe lowa Heuae has passed a law
i prohibiting the aale of wine, beer, or
i cider. Whisky, brandy, and other
strong drinks are already forbidden.
Eli Love, of Wayne wmuty, Ohio,
climbed a tree to ebakeout a coon. The
dog* beard something drop end went
I for it, but it wsa not the eoon. It wee
| Eli.
Taking his one from corrupt officials
l all over the country, e California horse
thief offers to resign his position in
societv on oo~dition thst he is let off.
j He's bright
An Alabama editor named Knox was
shot in the shoulder the other day by a
husband who wanted his wife's obituary
i notice published free and was deter
mined not la pay a cent.
Two of the edible dogs of China are
now on exhibition at the Zoological
! Gardens in Paris. If it be found easy
to acclimatise them, it is proposed to
, introduce this new article of food.
There are said to be two or three
1 thousand outlaws ir *k mountains of
California, who live by robbery and
violence. They are qmte secure from
arrest in their mountain futsc#**
In Louisa county, Vs., tummons
was reeentiy issued from the Circuit
Court to J. C. Harris, a victim of the
' Virginias massacre. The sheriff * re
-1 turn s*ted the fact of Harris's cruel
death.
Hamburg bee and machine embroil
err are used exclusively for trimmu i
white dresses sad underclothing, in
stead of the magic or Coventry ruffling,
so moch in vogue for the fast eight
rears,
A receiver hes just been appointed
for a Wisconsin bank which haa been
bankrupt for seven years, the fact bar
ing been concealed by bogns draft*
and other device# in making periodical
statements.
In one of George Band's stories she
mmkee s man say : "In one short hour
I suffered death s thousand times over."
But what was thst to having a young
man's paper collar bust on him at an
evening party ?
The 8k Paul Pioneer long* for some
preventive against breaking the point
iof a lead penoiL A very simple and
! cheap preventive ia to roll it up in tis
ene paper, tie with silk tnread aud then
carry it around in a padded box.
The old theory about hearing the
murmur of the sea in a shell ia said to
;be a humbug For, if you will hold a
i beaver hat, or a goblet, or a pickle bot
tle, or an oyster can, to your ear, you
will year the same delicious murmur.
During the year 1672, 797 esses of
: suicide occurred in Paris—more than
i died of fever or small-pox. Of these
j 224 were by hanging, 100 by drowning,
I 77 shooting, 58 by jumping from some
■ high place, 50 by stabbing, and 41 by
' poison.
A novel kettledrum was given at a
! country mansion at Riverside recently,
! which had charity for one of its objects.
} The ladies were all attired in calico
dresses, which were subsequently sent
I to one of the societies for distribution
J to the poor.
A veteran observer says that " Old
1 friends are like old boots. We never
realise how perfectly they were fitted
to ns till they are east aside, and
others, finer and more stylish perhaps,
bnt cramping and pinching in every
corner, are substituted."
Sad are the memories that the song
of the cricket brings to our heart It
tells of the happy days, now gone for
ever; of-merry hours that have passed
away. It brings clustering around us
the furrowed brows of the living, and
the pale still faces of the dead.
A bill has been introduced in the
California Legislature to prevent the
wanton destruction of game ana fish.
Fish ladders are to be constructed in
the rivers over every dam more than
two feet in height, and the shooting of
game out of season is prohibited.
In the South American and Australian
mavkets English mannfapturera are be
-1 inp jostled by the inevitable Yankee,
1 who, released in a measure from the old
* fight with England for the control of
| his own homffmarket, is prepared to re
' new the oontest in other markets.
; Screws of all ordinary sizes are now
made in England by rolling bars of
heated iron between two peculiarly
; grooved plates. Two boys with one ma
chine are able to make twenty-nine
hundred pounds of fish bolts for rail
ways by this process in nine hours.
< The extract of taraxacum is a very effi
r caoioua but simple remedy for clearing
► the blood, and consequently of ridding
the face of all roughness and pimples.
) It is best to prepare a strong decaetioa
' by boiling a quart of water in which
half a cup of the ground root is placed
' down to a pint, adding a stick of lico
> rioe root and sugar to taste. The dose
r is one spoonful on going to bed four
i nights in the week, omitting it the oth
er three nights to let it work in the sys
tem,