Hie Light at Home. Th* light si home, how hr r' t it 1 earn* When •nftig *li*,!e* sivrmd n fall ; An 1 from the ltu, p fr it ftU-ttr*. To lev*, arxtr*t * .Icemfoit !l ; When wearied with llio toil* . f .Ut, And strife for glory, gold nt ftuie. How *wei-t to sock the quiet c*l * crown Underneath Uus heel of urine Siuce but d< a:h lteserves the man whose deed, be it vrce or wan! of heed. Stops the pomp* that give us breath Stops the pnmpe that suck the death Prom the poio:.ed lower level* of tlie miue So one answer*.!, for a cry From the shaft rose up on high ; Aud ahaffltng, ecranihhiig. tumbhug flow be low. Came the tutners each, the holder. Mouutiug ou the weaker * alioulder. Grappling, clingtug to their ho!J or Letting go, A* the weaker gasped and fell From the ladder to the well - To the jvtsoued pit of hell, Down below! 'To the man who set* them free," Cried the foreman. Harry l.ee. Harry l.ee. the English f, reman f lire mine,— " Bring* them out and sets ilu-ui free, I will give that man," uq he. " Twice that sum. who with a ro|K> Face to face with PeaUl shall e. [>e. Let htm c,t mueh amazed to resist when he touk her hands in his, or to comprehend the disconnected sentence which continued his declaration. The first words she heard distinctly were uttered by lips that almost touched her cheek : " Will yon marry me?" " I—l SomelxHly will see us," j she said, struggling in vain to free her self. " That isn't answering my question. Poor little stained lingers ! they shall never do any more hard work. How would you like to bo a rich lady, Lottie ?" He saw the quick sparkle in her eyes. Ah, how beautiful ! To dress, to drive, j to dance, to see a thousand thing* she had heard of ! She let the clasping arm j draw her closer and closer,.and the bearded lips touch hers once. The chimp of marigolds iu the garden gleamed like a prophecy of the wealth she might possess if she won 1. No more ealiooes and kitchen-worlf; but, instead •• Are you never going to tell me yes ?" Homo answer that Lottie managed to utter earned her so many kisses that she struggled again to rise. " Let me go, please 1" she entreated, scarlet with shame. " Well, I want to put this ring on your finger. There ! and now—" An approaching footstep startled them. Mr. Davenport rose hastily, and Lottie, too, sprang to her feet. Hunau, the house-maid, appeared in the door way, and Mr. Davenport turned ab ruptly down the gardeu path. •• Be them peas shelled, Miss Lot tie?" " No, but almost. What time is it ?" "Eleven and a quarter." Lottie went to work in serious earn est, despite her excitement; but she was fated to have another interruption, in the shape of a tall, blue-eyed youth, ' who came up the garden path with sev eral fish dangling from a rod. " There !" he said, dropping these on the piazza, and throwing him*. If down in the place Mr. Davenport had just vacated, "the,'me lor Susan, if she wants them. I've had good luck this morning. I suppose the fishes wanted to celebrate my last holiday. Don't you think so. Miss Lottie ?" " Yoar last holiday !" was the blank rejoinder. " What ilo you mean ?" "I've got to go back to the city to morrow. Two of the clerks are sick. Ho for cashmeres and mnsliu again J" I He looked np at Lottie rather ex -1 pectantly, hopinc for some expression of regret; but i.> taw rd did she say. A sadden pallor h id .vj laced thelWh on her face, however. The heavy seal ring that Mr, Davenport had placed on her fiuger most inopportunely slipped off just here, fell from her lap, and rolled along the step slowly. The new comer picked it up, changed color as . his eyes fell upon it, but merslv said, | as he handed it back. " You have a new ring, haven't you ?" " Ye-yes." He watched her as she hastily push ed it on again ; then said, rather indig nantly : " Yon haven't told me whether yon're sorry I'm going or not." " Of course I'm sorry, Mr. Willard," was the reply, in stitlcd tones ; for Lot tie was bending over another handful j of pods. "'Of courso !' Is that all? Well, that's the way with women. A man be lieves a woman will perhaps think kindly of him when he is gone, will perhaps regut his departure from her, so he regrets it himself : and she tells him almly, why 'of course,' she is sorry!" Lottie was making sad work with the pease. Bpite of all she could do, a lit tle quiver of the lips betrayed her agi tation as she rescinded hurriedly, " Whv, I mean it. What—what oan'l say but iu-t that—that I'm sorry ?" ' A ui y< u call me Mr. Willard." " II irry, then!" with an apprehen sive glance down the garden path, j " Lottie, I believe yoti have made a vow not to look at me. Do put those con—l mean those pease—out of the way !"_ " I can't ! —yon mustn't ! There, now ! see what you've done !" cried Lottie, in real distress, as an unguarded movement sent the basket and its con ! tents rolling down the steps. " I'll pick np every p-a if you'll sit still five minutes and talk bo me. Lot tie, now te 1 me truly are you sorry I'm going ? Shall you ever want b> see mi when I'm miles away from this little j town, back in New York ?" " Oh, don't, don't ! How can yon botlu rme so? Indeed, I must pick up | the pease this minute 1" The tears rolling down tho round cheeks were sufficient answer; but, man-like, Harry persisted. " I don't see bow I bother ycu. It's only a simple question ; but I know what the real answer is—yon don't care a straw 1 I'm only a poor clerk, and there are plenty of rich widowers in the world." "Oh, Harry!" This time Lottie sobbed outright, and so piteously that Harry was con quered. " I ought to be ashamed of myself, I know I had ! Don't cry ; please don't cry, dear. If you knew half how sorry I am myself—how it seems to me I never can go away from you—you wouldn't blame me ; you'd forgive rue if lam a brute ! You do care about me, don't yon, Lottie ?" No answer, but unrestrained sobs and mute resistance as he tried to take her hand. " Lottie !" There was a whole vol ume of reproach in the one word. " Oh, don't! don't 1 You mnsn't talk to mo any longer." "And you won't answer me?" No reply. " And you don't love me ?" Silence still. Suddenly his arm stole around Lot tie's waist, and the hidden face was lifted and scanned by a pair of blue eyes. " Lottie, do you love me or not ?" " I—l don't know. I mean I don't — I can't— You mustn't talk to me so." ' Why not?" '• Because I—l mnstshell the pease." " What in the world is the matter with yon ?" " Nothing," said Lottie, freeing her self desperately, as the odor of a cigar was wafted toward them, and the top of a beaver hat became visible at the extreme end of the garden walk. "Go away—oh, do go away 1" THE CENTRE REPORTER " I'll go when voav'e answered. It in a little thing enough to ask. Just Nov it sor no. I toll von 1 love you ; you know I do. I'm njw ->r matt, but 1 eau make mv wife comfortable, anil I'm certain I can make her happy. Lottie, 1 w in -uiro you oared for we this morn ing ; it you ray you don't, I novor ahull be happy *ga u. Say yo or no." What Isolde moant to anawor n hard to toll. Mi Davenport came into > tow auiLh'tilv, tuul hor mothor'a voice sounded (rout the kitchen, " I. dtie ! Lottie! where are thoae {lease ?" She tore her hands a*ay, and sprang down the ateps, wayitig, hastily and contradictorily, " No, no ; certainly. Yc*. iu a min ute." Without a word more, Harry picked up the |H-ase (or her the work of full five mmiltes set the basket oil the porch, and walked away. Ten minutes later the pease were dually shelled and put ou the kitchen table, but Lottie was no w here to Ik found. She was locked in her chamber. The seal ring had been tossed indignantly on the thaw, and its uew owner was crying us it her heart would t'fvak. Half that long summer ufteruoou she staid shut up, too miserable to face any comment, Uki hopeless to see any way out of the trouble she had brought np-.ii herself; for if she had said "no" t-> Mr. Davenport and "yes" to Harry YYillard, she would have been a happy gul. What was there to do but iaoe the consequences ? She might unsay tlie yes, but never the no ; uud yet if she were to write to Harry—if she were to tell him she never meant it ! There was still a little of his holiday left i(, indeed, he did not let his anger hurry htm away. The sunshine of mid-afternoon was slanting in on the faded our{H-t and Yel low wash stand as Lottie hastily bathed her eyes and pulled a wntiug-ilesk to ward her. It slanted more aud more from the west as she sat considering, perplexedly biting the end of her pen, writing ami re-writing aud tosstug and tossing aside tiny cream-tinted sheet* of pa{>er, until the table was littered with beginnings, and only one sh < t was left iu the box. This she filially took up despairingly, aud wrote the date and the commencement : " Mr diak Hauky. —l don't know how to write this to you, and I am very much ashamed to take back what 1 said, but 1 never meant to say it. I had to, because Mr. I>avenjK>rt was coming, and that was lit* ring I had ou my finger, and he Lud just a>krd me to marry him, and 1 had said ye.s, because, you kti >w, 1 i> -u rich, and I thought it would be nice to be a lady. 1 don't know what made me sav yes, tor 1 don't love him, and Ido love yuti. 1 am so sorry I said what I did. You'll forgive me, won't y now you know that I really don't care for any body but vou ? Please ! " LorrtE." As she sat looking at this rather crude production of hers a difficulty occurred to her. How should she send it ? Carry it t-> the post-office, and let the post-mistre-s, who ha 1 known her fn m a baby, discover that she had written to rry Wtllard? Never. Drop it into the jH>st-box ? No, for the handwrittiug would IK-tray her, and the whole town would hear of it. Could she give it to Harry herself? No, not that! Or give it to Hasan to give him? Worse yet. Thoroughly perplexed aud disheartened, Ix>ttio fell a prey to In r own fears. If Harry hail tlie letter, he might be disgusted bv her forwardness, or else too mueh displeased to forgive her at all. IVrhaps it was unlady like to think of sending the letter, and yet, if she did not seu.i it, Harry would go a wav. A miserable half hour of indecision followed, at the end of which she t >--ed all the scattered sheet* in a heap into her writting-desk, locked it, and then cried w:tii renewed abandon. Ascrus of sharp raps on the door and a voice by no means gentle roused her. " Lottie ! I say. Lottie ! For good ness' sake, what are you about ? Here it's after our, and no cake for supper, and Mr. Willard g< iug in the sit o'clock train ' Come right down stairs, snd don't let us have any more dawrjliug 1 Come ! there's no time to spare." How Lottie ever got into the kiteh en, and in what manner she contrived to begin In-r cake-making, she never knew. Ilurry going at six ! Sho wa* snch a child that his going away so< mod to her to end everything finally between them. She should never see him again ! Over and over she said it to herself a* she mechanically weighed the flour and the sugar for sponge eaki, beat Iter egg-q and commenced to mix the ingredients. A great many ti ira fell into that cake, nnd they so blinded her that she did not sec her mother ut ber elbow, oh she was drop ping it int > the pans, until a sharp voice startled her : "lyttie, what lias como over yon ? You haven't put a bit of paper in the bottom of those pans ! It would have burned for certain, and hero it i# almost fivo. Hurry ! run and get some pnper, quick!" Lottie, still mechanically, searched th* drawers of the dresser in vain ; then, spurred t > action by the sharp voice and by tho sound of the clock striking five, t-hc rushed up stairs to her own room, tore ofl two half sheets of paper from the pile she had thrust into her desk, ran down again, snd had tho cake in the oven in such a miraculously short time that even her mother was astonished. " There, now, pick over those ber ries, and set the table. Husan hasn't finished ironing. And fetch up the bntter, and—" The voice buzzed in Lottie's ears, as she hurried from one thing h> another. At last everything was done and on the table, but the rake, and the shrill ring ing of the stipju-r-bell admonished Lob tio to hurry with that. Never was enko so unceremoniously tipped out of the pans and so roughly cut up. The pa pers had burned on, and there was no time to stop to pull the fragments off. Ho Lottie made the best of it, and left them on, dumping the cake-basket down on the sideboard, with n long sigh of relief. Mho did not dare to go into supper on account of her swollen eyes, and on ac count of Mr. Davenport, whom she was afraid to meet. And if Harry was going, what was the use V Hhe could not let him go unwatcbed, however ; so, run ning up stairs, she hastily donned a walking dress and hurried out of the back-door toward the village. From the post-office she would be sure to see biuj pass, and it " would bo some com fort just to do that," thought poor Lot tie, trying to swallow thedump in her throat as she hastened along. Once in the post-office, she dawdled aimlessly about the counters, asking for this and that, and keeping her broad hat pulled low over her face lest the marks of tears should be seeu. Hhe waited a long time, watching the street, but Harry did not pass. The clock pointed to five minutes of six—perhaps lie would be late for the train. At any rafce, ho liad not passed, and there was no other road to the station. Onofciinnteof six. Hurely the clock must bo wrong. No ; for the whistle of the train sounded with its first stroke, and Ilarry had not gone by. He had been late, then. Lottie turnod toward home in a hurry. If she should see him— CENTRE IIA EE. CENTRE Co.. PA., TIU KSD.VY, OCTOBER '2J, IH7 E She dol iu>t tlni*h that sentence, for .-die had no idea how M-< ltlg 11111 l would help the matter ; Mill she felt m<-re cheerful a* she hastened along the Nilii 11V road. She had allllo-t reached home when she saw the ot>j> -t of her thoughts coming toward her at . round pace. There was uo valise in his hand, and he still wore liin (Liter's coat. Lot tie's heart gave a great bound, half of relief, half of apprehension. The llrM feeling quickly predominated, for Harry's strides soon brought him to her side, and lie looked down on her from his altitude of six feet with a smile that betokened anything but dis pleasure. " Where have you been running to, you naughty child ? And where why, where's your seal ring?" " At home." rtwqrouded the puzzled Lottie, faintly. " Why didn't you come to supper, and bid mo good-bye ?" " You liaveu't gone." " I'm going, though. Will you give me some siH>ngo-cake for luncheon 1" More and more amazed, Lottie made uo rcplv at all. " Did you make the sponge-cake we hail for *up|K-r ?" " \es." " M ule it in u hurry, didn't you?" " Why ?" " You didn't get all the paper off, that's all. Hve what was stuck on my piece, yon small deceiver ! Why didn t you Use the {H>st ollice instead of the sponge-cake ? Eh ?" A email strip of greasy pat>cr was laid in Lottie's outstre! -lied hand. I'pou it she read the beginning of her last epistolary production of the after noon : " Mv Dttktt HAUKV, —I don't know how to write this to you, ami I am very much ashamed to take back whut 1 said, but I never meant to say it. Iha 1 to, because Mr. l>aveu|K>rl Here the paper was torn ofT, and, be sides was taken forcibly out of Lot tie's hand, which was clasped iu two others. " You wrote that to rue ? You mean it ? Say yes 1" For some time after Lottie's reply nothing connected or sensible was said ou either side ; but when they had reached the garden gate, and were philandering under the elms, L.ttie said : " But I don't see li w you got so much paper on yottr mkw. I thought it was ali in little fragments." Harry laughed. " I couhlu't break it easily, because it was so tough n offense to the cook —so I took a whole bar. I couldn't eat it. for I had no appetite, so I turned it over ami looked at it, and, singularly enough, 1 began to get hungry imme diately. Let's have sponge-cake lor our wedding-cake, I*ottie !" Travail of A l.lfc. In a late London pajH>r apjveart d the following, appended to a notice of a woman starved to death : " O.i Thursday her landlord open. 1 the bare room, whence ali the fumitnre had been taken bit by bit for food. There was no fuel, no food in the room; ouly a skeleton that a few days In-fore had laid down her pen, never more to t ike it up agaiu—laid it down iu that moment wheu her childhood'* home had risen tw-fore her, just as the water* of life rolled into eternity's deep sea !" Who was it that thti* went out a fam ished thing into the world t > come? Her journal contained these words, the uarae of the owner having been care full v erased : Fire I have gone without for days, and now 1 nui trying to see how loug this tir< 1 b ly can endure without food. Strange, that during the last few days 1 have lived over again my girlhood's life. I am ag:i ugh the open chnrch windows the tb.w of the river, 1 hear the hum of the bee, ami smell the sweet -scented hay ; and amidst all this dreamy, delicious Sab bath silence, a void- is preaching the law of charity to simple lisb in r . "Faith, hope, and charity; but the gre t< st of all these is charity so far 1 have listened, tuid I am of! again, eyes and thoughts following the gayly winged butterfly which lnis just come in at tho open window. We penetrate into the very heart of tho dense copse, and somehow or other silence keeps our tongues. The ripened nuts fall softly upon tho dried leaves, and the nimble little squirrel overhead is eyeing us askance. Suddenly my br ither leaps to his feet to gather some flowers growing nenr. I am by his side ; lie has extended his hand, but it is rapidly withdrawn- a viper's head had darted up from among tho moss. * * * * Hunger tortures me, and the water I drink is icy cold ; but I am in sunny France—sunny Southern France, ami our convent grounds slope to the swift Rhone. We, a knot of happy girls, are talking of our future. I do not look so far ns they ; my eye in following tho laden grape carts as thov wind slowly down the opposite liili, and some grape-gatherers ure singing in their soft patois, so musical and sweet when draped in poetry. Schil ler's " Maria Stuart " rings in mv ears, mixed with the murmur of the Uliine, and 1 stay my pen to listen to its wa ters as they leap over HchafThatu* u's Falls ; the murmur grows louder, the waters are dashing along a mighty flood ; they deafen rue flicy are crim ing nearer and nearer !—Rut " Wie die Arbeit, so dor Lonn" repeats itself again and again : "As the labor, no the reward." I have labored, and my reward is hunger, cold, n pauper's grave. I will try a little longer. " Ap peal to your relatives," I am told each time I ask fr help. 1 did appeal. One sent ni live shillings, another sent me two, and told ine to make use of my education—that would Hud me bread. 1 dropped the seven shillings into the jMHir-box last Sunday when I dragged myself to chnrch. 1 could not imy bread with anything so grudgingly given. Tho four wnlls of my desolate room close around mo, the roar of the cataract of the Rhine comes nearer, bnt a voice from its din of waters says : "The greatent of these is charity." Have I lived in vain ? Shall I die in vain ? Down n I'M. Frank Mayer, a miner, walked Into an abandoned shaft near Chestnut Hills, Pa., and fell to the bottom, a distance of over 100 feet. When he returned to consciousness he found himself encom passed by the carcasses of horses, cows, pigs, and goats that had blundered into the shaft at various times ; and the horrid hissing of snakes that crawled ulNiut him warned him that although he had escaped death by his fall ho was in danger of a more painful nnd linger ing death by the slow poison of veuemous reptiles. All that terrible night he lay quietly ut the bottom of the shaft. The next morning lie made an attempt to climb out, bnt soon dis covered that all human efforts would be futile. Ho then sought to attract the attention of tho people in the upper world, hut as the shaft is a hundred yards from tho public roiul it was several linnrs before his cries were heard. Ropes were brought, nnd a dozen strong men with willing hands soon had tho sufferer ont of the pit. Physicians examined him, but found no bones broken and hardly a bruise. \ hI'EEIIV MAltltlAGK. A IHnlitiiiuit VI oi l>c tit.it VI ullar tilt I, ssul Uuli Wl) Win* llct. Four y< trs ago a bright, intelligent, but n -i pretty looking young iiiirs, left a homeless uud penniless orphan by the death of her fattier, came to ttiis city, i sat n a Detroit | aper, and procured em ployment as a waiter girl at a well known second class hotel, making her | home with a family tilth cousins, or something of that sort, thin residing on Second street. One day, at dinner time, there strode into the dining room a tut!, broad-shouldered, bronzed and bearded man, who was evidently from the far West. There was the unmis takable air of a plainsman about him ; evidently one of the better sort. He seated himself at the table si rved by the girl in question, uud watched her movi i ie!,t* very closely. At sup|M-r on the second dnv after his arrival he remained at table until it was nearly di-sertisl, and then us he was about ris ing he addressed the gul in courteous tones, saying that he desired an inter view with her, a* he had information of importance to communicate. Hhe re plied that she would see him iu the ladies' parlor ut a late hour. She did so, and was not a little surprised ut re ceiving nu off rof marriage. Unstated that he w■ a resident ot the grazing district of California, owned a large stock ranch, and was a wealthy mau. He l ad been out there tbirteeu years, during which time he had wiut-d, pros pected for rich diggings, hunted gnz ill *, fought ludtans, chased greater*, - ami pursued the usual avocations of su .-nti-rprising Californium lie was on his way east to visit hu aged parents, who resided 1U Massachusetts, hail stopped IU Detroit to See the citV, had met her as above described, was pleased with her appearance, and thought it would IK fur her advantage to quit her priKM-ut employment uud I become tin wife of a ranchman. There was aa honesty and sincerity to the man's voice aa he made his dec laration that convinced t! <• girl that hu was IU earnest. She replied that she would consider his pro]tat part of (leneral Tropoff. the head of the St. Pet-rsbnrg police, who had given in earlier life extraordinary proofs of personal courage. A fearful d..tible murder WMI recently committed at the Military AM demy of the city by n jh>l crnian, who, being attached to the female aervant of the doctor of the n• '.xbludiment, fanci- d lie had cause to nnapect her of infidelity. Having en tered the d octor's quarters to upbraid her, he en b 1 by taking up a oarving kuife and killing the unfortunate wo man on tho spot, mid then slaying the doctor himself with it in bis study. Here ho locked himself i:: with the in ntrument of bin crime, and vowed lie would despatch the first man with it, who attempted to arrest him. The JKIIICO summoned to tho spot were awed by his apparent determination, while some proposed to shoot huu as a wild beast, and a party went in search of a lire engine with a view to drench him into siirr. nder. A report of the occur rence reached General Trepoff. .Spring ing into the drosehky which is kept n ady for emergencies, the General w as on the scene in a few minutes. He ordered the door to tie burst open, and then entered unarmed. As lie expect ed, the murderer retreated into a cor ner prepared to sell his life dearly. The General approached him unhesita tingly, with tho words, "Well, my friend, you liaio committed a pretty pair of murders, ami I hear that you are going to stick any one who tries to take you. Now- stick me : for I came on purpose to take you myself." The wretched man was so awed by the quiet and authoritative maimer of his former superior that he lowered his weapon and mode no reply to the challenge, and two of tho ji lico officers who had fol lowed General Tropoff sprang on him, and secured him without further resist ance. It is not surprising that tho St. I 'eterabnrg police, in relating the story, declare their chief to be the bravest man in Russia, The Disease of the Day. A eorr spondent of the liont-on Jour nal writes : I'aralysis is becoming a prime disease. It is not couflued to tlio fleshy, tho plethoric, nor to the aged. Tho fast life of our business young men tells on them. It is n very common thing to see men of thirty and tliirty-flve bald headed, feel>!e-giiited, nnd walking about with canes, their underpinning knocked out, with other signs of premature iigc. These signs of earl}* weakness develop in paralysis. Sudden deaths from this cause are very common. Several have occurred in railroad trains ; the vibration seeming to predispose persons to the diseuse. Not long since a gentleman died in one of our churches. Ho was interested in a case of discipline. He made a report to tho church on tho case, ant down, laid his head on the back of tho seat aud instantly expired. In another case a man not accustomed to public speak ing arose to relate his religions experi ence. He was so excited that ho could scarcely speak. In tho midst of his remarks ho was seized with paralysis, aud curried to his home. Our young men will have to tone down their stylo of living if they amount to anything. ECONOMY lOK TIIE YYIMEH. !!•%% II !■ lauirllmti i ftiiltfl (hit—A Hint. The end of September a year ago, sals the New York TVibunr, inaugura ted one of the most curious reforms which ever took place ut our social his tory a reform bssrd at first ou neither a reason nor a principle. Every man began to economize before he felt any lack of money ; not because he hold economy to Ik* a virtue, bat because he doubted his neighbor's financial credit, just a* now he d>ns bis religion, and tor no better cause. Not knowing what business or s|ieculatiou to trust, he re solved to button up whatever money he might hate iu hi* |N>cket, and bj all means possible to keep it there. Lctu.- omy was for a while literally the fash ion ; it was the proper thing to have invested iu Northern Pacific, and to find it expedient to contract." Now, when the general distrust and eoutrac i turn have made the evil a reality, and ! economy is a necessity, we do not prac tice it with such complacency and airy ! grace J u*t nt present, when the summer holiday is over and the heads of the firm or family are planning the winter's campaign, is the time which they tukt to decide how and where the pinch and tightening shall be made. In most j cases the object is to make it, , not where it shall be least felt, but where the next door neigh tor shall not find it out. Bro*n, finding his shelves full of good* which sell too slowly for his needs, retains his . omanirutal platoon of salesmen, but Jocks the number and pav of hi* hand* who work out of sight. Hu wife cuts down the wage* of lier seamslre-6, dicker* with the washerwoman over every week'B lull, but drives us usual in the park lwhind her blooded bays and liveried fouttnen. The same sy j tern of petty scrimping and ill-judged : expenditure runs into every class and grade. The master carpenter's wife, pronounced among her neighbors a* a generous housekeeper ton the basis of ber dress and parlor furniture) " a |xrfect lady," finding her allowance cut down one-half, turns off the poor woman who has sewed for her, and buys her under-wear ready made, sav ing enough in this wav to treat herself to a I'urt-iau winter dress, a mass of ouirse cloth, gaping stitches, and taw- Jrv bead work. The sewing woman in her turn is driven to these ready-made clothing shops, and will make for the rest of the winter calico wrauperw at twenty-five cents each, and other garment- in the same proportion. The frmslc em ployees of the mills recently closed or runuiug on half-time crowd the doors where this work is given out, glad of il poor el at.ee to rxea|>e starvation. Hm oMmT MM which offers it* If to both s4-a ing woman and mill-band, de cs nt,faithful domestic service,they turn from as involving a loss of caste. Tbe cook or chambermaid at Brown , or eviiithe carpenter's house, is paid at nearly double the rates of " ;-*'<•*- ladit •> " in the smaller shop*. Tne sales lady lodges in a garret and lives on starvation diet, while tlie cook has at her dis|K>sal all the comfort and delicacies which her employer can com mand for himself. The motive in this madness he* in the much abused name of " lady," and it t this motive which accounts for the hundreds of women driven, by Uieir own showing, to the broth-M 01 New York for bread. Tlua appetite for vulgar displav aud strug gle (or sham, position, have served N.K-isl mentors as a never failing text for Tear* in their cm► ado against tin shortcomings of our halto-ducated cla*ses. it wa* apparent en >ugh iu the days of lavish expenditure, but it is oddly more notice able in the recent attempt* at economy. The nan who when in Europe fling* his money about to (he amusement and gain of all shopkeepers, and when at home dares not dispute an extortionate bill for fear of a suspicion of poverty, is the man who iu the hard times conn tig this winter will dock the wages of lfl* workmen to spend the money on opera or ball tickets. Any appeal to him would U- wasted. When wealth i* held to be tlie sole qualification in rank or respect, we are not likely willingly to betray our lack of ih Theru is class of rational and cul tured men and women whom it may be worth while ton mind just now that the saving of money is uot sometimes the tMst humanity or economy. We fail to mc the wisdom of discharging wotkrocn or servants whose wages would amount to hundreds during the winter mouths, aud before the winter is over subscribing thouands to bene tlcial societies or soup-honses. Nor is it better policy to deny ourselves sud denly the comforts and luxuries upon the manufacture of which the majority of city operatives depend for their daily bread. Those remarks, of course, ouly apply to the wealthy class : but there nio tii lie of us who should not carefully consider how our small surplus funds could be expended in wages rather than in alms. Number of Type* in a Newspaper. The nmubor of types nsed in a news paper the usual size is Rliont 000,000— i. the actual number of liitsof metal arranged and rearranged in preparing a newspaper for the press. Me sup pose tew people think of the printing trade as ono of the most exact and par ticular of all handicrafts ; but it is. In ranking type, variations that might be allowed iii the finest machinery would render the type useless. It is very rarely that typo furnished by two sepa rate foundries oau be used together without a great deal of trouble, though they try to make it after the same standard. We read ones in A while of a wonderful piece of cabinet work, or mosaic work, containing ton, twenty, or fifty thousand pieces, the maker of which has spent months, or even years, of labor in producing it, nnd people go to see it as a great curiosity ; but ttie most elaborate and carefully fitted piece of work of this kind ever made docs not compare with that which the printer does every day for minuteness of detail and neeurney of fitting. The man who does the first is looked upon as nn art ist—n marvel of skill; and if a hundred of his pieces are put iu wrong side up, or turned the wrong way, it is not observed in the general effect; lint if the printer, in fitting ten times as ' many pieces together in a single day, puts one where another should be, or I turns one the wrong way, everybody sees it, nnd is nmnzod at "tho stupid carelessness of these printers." THE MEANEST.— The . meanest man has been found. llis name is Charles Ford, late of Chicago. Ten days ago liia poor wife become, a mother. Ford drew all his money from the bank and went to St. Paul. ' Thither, as soon OR she was able, Mrs. Ford went also, in order to bring him hock to his home and family. She met him in the atreet, and put into his arms the body of her baby. It bad died on the cars. He took it and went with her to his father's house, where the sorrowing wife nnd mother told the story of her troubles. She turned to speak to him, but lie was gone, and has not since been Been, Sirs. Ford will not follow him, but is on her way to join ber relatives in Nw York. 'lVrm®: S'-J.OO a Year, in Advance. DA.NH rilOHMHCtl'll. The queerest fellow, without excep tion, in all Wexford, was Daniel Bat tles. He was sixteeu years of age, yet ho had the rrpdlatiou of )*>*aaail)g as mtt'-h knowledge about odd ami out-of the ways things ss any ten average lads, lie Was believed to have an intimate acquaintance with every trout in the *tr am*, and every bud in the woods, and cverpr rabbit in tbe burrows. He had the irgest collection of birds' eggs to be found in the county ; and it w* reported, and solemnly believed by all the small boys iu the neighborhood, that he had a secret understanding with the kingfishers and orioles, by which they agreed to surrender one egg of each litter to him, iu consideration of his promise to let all the olbera alone. He was alwaya taking up aoine new idea to work out, and if he did not know ail about many things, he really seemed to know a little about every thing. He knew how to print, how to bleed a horse, how to run the telegraph instrument, how to cultivate silk worms, how to make the moat out rageous noises with his hands, how to graft pours, how to write backwards, hew to pluy checkers withjhia eyes shut, and, iu short, he knew how to do near ly every thing that came in his way to learn. One day the neighbours opened their eyes and prtrkeJ up the.r ears at the news that Dsn had taken up photog raphy ; uot that they were astonished, for they had long censed to be aston ished at auything that Dan did, but they were interested iu his enterprise, though regarding it simply as another freak of s curious genius. " Well, well," stud they, shrugging their shoulders, " Dan is an odd stick. It's auout time he wsnt into something useful. Photography, eh ?" The report was true. Dan had ob tained a camera of good size, and was experimenting with it up in his "den,' in one end of his mother's garret. It would be hard to imagine a more untidy, chaotic-looking place than Dan's "den." It was full of bottles, old cloths, jars,bits of machinery,musi cal instruments, car/tenter's tools, old maps, torn pictures, pots of [paint and chemicals, fragmeiits of old machines, stuffed birds, etc. ; and it sraelled so fearfully that no one but Dan could ever stay in it long enough to make an invea ory of the contents. Dan was a* odd-looking a character as one would be likely to see in s year's travel. He was thin and lank in the body arid leg*. His head was large, and he had iight bine eye*, and long, whitish hair, which he rarely combed, and which straggled about all over hta head, as if the rats had made nest* in it the last time he slept. He was not much of s talker. He generally kept silent and stared. No body knew what an amount ef thinking he did meanwhile, aud in faet, many who laughed at his "greenness" hsd to confess afterwards that he not only saw all thing" that was going on, but knew more about what he saw than the smartest of them. Dan went ou with his photographing for several weuka. He learned to take Very good pictures, but he was far fr m satisfied. He grew thoughtful ,nd almost melancholy. His fingers wire always stained black and brown with acids tkat he could not wash off, and his clothing alwavs gave out the jweuliar scent of "cobodon." Dan's mother began really to I* anx iofis. The boy was growing up a loose Jack s' all-trades, but without asy par ticular turn for one profitable calling. It was necessary that ho should begin to earn mom y pretty soon, and she was anxious that be should choose some single business and stick to iL H#- tan looked distressed. "I'm trying to do something, mother. I'm just g tting hold of it now, I gueas. I only want a little more time." Tins was about as long a speech as l)*n was in tlie habit of tusking at one time. His mother was oacifled, and for the present, let htm aloiSe. Two or three more weeks slipped by. Dan made pictures of tverybody he could get before his camera. He pho tographed the cat and her kittens. He photographed his " deu" and all its miscellaneous trumperx. He photo graphed the l>oys in tho street, and he photographed bnildiugs, fences and trees. Still he did not sncceed to his mind. His pictures lacked the peculiar shad ing of " tone" ttiat he wanted. His dream was to achieve this, which he be lieved would not only make them very beautiful, but give him a largo profit able custom. Ho labored incessantly, now try ing this plan, and now trying that, but without any perfect result. Iu the course of his experiments ont of his garret window, Dan made street pictures of people both near and re mote, in divers attitudes, and at nearly #ll hours of tbe day. Dan Ux-k them in single figures and in groups ; he took them looking np and looking downi ; making jeatnres or sitting still; he took them as they stood in windows, and as they walked below him, or rode past in carriages. Many of the photo graphs were clear and good, but stall the subtile finish was wanting. Dan ceuld nat realize his dream. Finally his mother begged him to stop bis'nmnsemcnt (as she called it), and go into a store, or so mo business where be might support himself. I>an shook his bead. "Can't, mother." " But, Dan, I can't afford to give much more money for the acids you want." " Ah i" said Dan. He shook his head once more, and looked very dejsoted. He was at his wits' end. Ho believed he was on the very verge of an impor tant disoovery. 11a only wanted a little more time and a little more money. Where should the money come from? This was a trying question. He could not imngine that any one would ever loan him enough cash to carry out his projects, and he did not seem to think of any way to earu a sufficient sum. He went up to his " den," aud sat down in the midst of his bottles and rubbish, feeling uncommonly blue. Then* was his camera upon its three long legs, with its black muffler drawn carefully over it, and with its brass nose pointed out into the cold air. The boy's thoughts pointed the same way. He must go out in the cold aud tluit something to do, or some day he might have to stay out in the cold. He descended into tho street, and wander ed about the town, moody and dis tressed. About this time a trial was in pro gress at the court. A man was charged with passing a forged check at the bank. The teller who paid the money fully identified the prisoner, described his movements, and related what was said tkdween them at the time with the greatest minuteness. On the other hand, the acensed in dignantly denied the charge, and pro tested that ho was not in or near the bank at the time alleged, but in the of fico of a frieud on It. Btreet. Ho re membered his whereabouts, for his ar rest was not so long after the presenta tion of the check but that all his move ments on that day remained distinctly in his mind. From tlie first he had oontinued to assert his innocence, and NO. 42. declared that the teller had miataken him for some other man. Unfortnuately for him, he was obliged to admit that he waa alone iu bia friend's office at the hour in qneation, and be failed to produce uuy witneaa heaidea himself to prove definitely where he was, though he bad made very effort to do ao. It waa a question of veracity, man against man, bnt the clear and very positive *Utement of the teller against the accused, and the pos sibility of some motive presumed to ex ist in the man's financial circumstance*, had decided the bank directors, con sidering the interests at stake, to bold him to answer at the next session of the court. Aud now the day of hia trial hail come. Everybody waa extremely interested in Una trial, for the prisoner waa well known in the town, and had always Imwu sup-xised to be honest. The anxiety waa intense to I now whether he would really be proved a criminal. The case seemed to be going against the accused, for one or two other peo ple Lad txen summoned, who testified that, " to the beat of their knowledge and belief," they had aeen this man in or about the bank at one o'clock on the da v when the check was passed. The prisoner set in the court-room, pale, but with a certain fearless firni- Lieaa on bia features that aoareely seemed like guilt. All the known evidence was in, and to the last, save the statements of a few frienda aa to his previous good charac ter, nothing in bia behalf beyond bia own unsupported word had been brought forward. The prosecuting attorney roee and formally recounted the strong points iu the case, d frilling capecialiy on the failure of the prisoner to prove an alibi, i. e., to show to the satisfaction of the court that he waa elsewhere than in the bank at the moment of the crime, when suddenly, to the unspeakable astonish ment of all present, a queer voioe from a distant part of the room exclaimed,— " But I can tell where he waa." Everybody turned to look at th speaker., who was none other than our friend Dan. He stood with hia mouth wide open, clutching bia cap with oue hand, and with the other nervously poking hia tousled hair. Everybody laughed. "Silence!" roared the crier, in a fierce tone, and then, assuming that the boy intended to make sport, be ordered him to ait down. " So," drawled Dan, " I guess I won't." Of oourae that set the crowd into a still louder uproar of laughter. The cner made an attempt to get at the boy. " Stop !" cried the* judge, in a voioe that waa heard in all parts of the room. Aa soon aa silence waa obtained, be turned towards Dan, who wma still standing " Young man, do yon know anjthing about this case ?" " Yea, sir," replied Dan, slowly. " 1 know " "1 don't want to know that yet,*' in terrupted the judge. " Come this way. The shrewd magistrate knew the youngster well enough to surmise that be would neither care nor dare to be fooling at such a time. Dan, ail stained and spotted, picked his way out of the crowd and walked forward to the benab. A curious spectacle be waa, with his uncouth form and dress, and his mass of white hair. The judge leaned forward and said something to him iu a very low tore, and then Dan whispered back to the judge. Sooa the people saw the judge smile and nod hi* bead. "Ah." said they to one another, " our Dan has turned np something new. It's just like him." Their surmises were tamed to cer tainty vheu the judge announced, "This young man will produce im portant evidence for the defence." I>an made hia way out of the court room and disappeared. In ten minutes he came back again breathless. He bad never been known to run before. In his baud be held a paper as large a* the cover of a geography- This he handed to the judge. The judge look ed at it curiously. Then he looked at the prisoner. Then at the pajier again. In a moment he looked up and "said,— " Ciert, administer the oath to this bov." Dan was sworn. 1 cannet repeat his testimony here, bnt be sure it was drolly worded, and j disjointed enough. It made everybody j laugh, even while it interested .them profoundly. The substance of t was that on the day when the forged check wa* par-eed, he was taking photographs let ween 12 u. and three o clock in the afternoon. Among other pictures, he made one of a man who was standing in the window of a building on the j opposite side of the street The man that he photographed was tho prisoner [ at the bar. Immediately there * * general bun in the court-room. The prisoner's pala face flushed, and he gazed upon Dan with a look of joyful gratitude. # llat there was still a very important question to be settled. "At what time i x.ictly was that photograph taken ?" Daii took the picture and looked at it closely. " There's the clock on St. Luke's church, up in that corner there," said he, puntmg to the place, and handing the picture back to the judge. The judga looked again, holding the paper up to the light and turning it earefullr round. "By "the dial here," said ho, "it was jnst one o'clock at the instant when the picture wat takea." The jury and the counsel new ex amined the photograph minutely. It could not be disputed; there was the identical man, and there was the proof that he was not in the bank at the mo ment when the forged check was passed. The toller was once more placed upen the stand. He was confused by the evidence ho had heard, and was by no moans as positive as he was before. At last he reluctantly admitted that he might be laboring under a mistake. And upon that he retired into the crowd with au appearance of great chagrin. Dan's triumph was complete. He was a hem. People forgot his strange dress and his wild-looking head, and actually " lionised " him. The prisoner was discharged. He instantly went to Dan, and seizing both of his hands, ex claimed, — " You have saved me. Yon shall have any thing you want. I canaot do enongh'to show you my gratitude." From that moment Dan's star began to rise. He had money to continue hia experiments, and he eventually discov ered a process by wliioh he succeeded in obtaining the richest and most durable photographs that are now taken in Wexford. He still keeps the old camera that made his fortnne. A Mrs. McGuffey, of Dayton, Ohio, while traveling in Switzerland, took the smallpox, and was for many weeks confined to her room at a hotel in Vevay. When she recovered she fo"'.-BRI!r, H*W * Wmnlaln Onr*rula C*l •• IIW OmUi M III* mi III* •twikvr** Wlfs. About on* year sgo In Cumberland county, mj Um Kautneky Spectator, wan enacted on* of to* inoat horrible tragedies that ever appalled no en ;:gh toned community, the account of whifth, if giv*n in thu order of MMjuenos, will not only surprise tint roller at every atop, bnt will astound him at the catastrophe In wlrioh the victim ia a desperado aad the murderer a girliah bride. For the aake of thoae of our reader* who know little or nothing of the case, we give the facta aa we gathered them from the pleading* in the Bnrksvills Circuit Court. Clay and J a*per Watkina were broth era, and from all that we oould learn, fearless, ruckle**, dissipated and dan gerous men. For all Ihia they were not of a family which would usually be dnnominated low. Ilowerer, they were disposed to quarrel, than which noth ing could 1m more degrading. Their laat and fatal quarrel wa* iu regard to a note which one wiabed the other to deetroy. It waa Clay who made the de mand, and for the aake of peace Jaaper claim* that he at onoe complied; bat it appear* that nothing more than nomin al peace waa ever enjoyed thereafter lielwoen them. They quarrelled at al moat every meeting. Finally threata were uttered, and Clay went over to Tennessee, it ia claimed to avoid a fatal reaplL During hi* aliaenoe his brother married a girl of fifteen sum mers, who waa of a good family and possessed a character simply * pot lea*. Ooly about three days after Jasper's marriage Clay returned to Kentucky, and, being under the influenoe of whisky, said to some one that Ls waa " going to see Jasper, bavo a friendly chat, and shoot it out with him." True to thi* promise he went, and, on meet ing his brother, asked him for the eon furenoe proposed. The response from Jasper war, " Are you armad t" Clay rt-plieJ, " 1 bar# nothing but a pocket knife; have you anything f" Jaaper answered, " I have arma enough and plenty to divide with you." The mother of tho angay men left leet ska •bonld witness violence. The enraged Clay advanced upon bia brother, and Jaaper and his bride went np stairs, whence, possibly, a fatal shot, taking effect in Clay's back, brought him to the ground. Who did this the djing man seemed not to know, for when ask ed afterward who shot him be said, " I reckon brother did, bnt I thought him too brave to alj on me." This remark would indicate that more happened on that dreadful night than has yet been told, but it ia believed that Jasper Watkina shot his brother at an unex pected moment, aa nothing else will ao oonnt for this remark. Next morning the wounded man was taken to the house of Mr. Morton, where he waa viaited and eared for by iiis mother and hia friends. Here hia hopeleoa ooudilion waa deplored by Itiaaelf, here his dying declarations were made, but the moat fearful aoene waa yet to be witnessed. A day or two later the noble Jaaper and hia generous young wife go to see the unfortunate brother and propose to minister to him. All wet in the morn ing dew the bride stands by the door in the sick man'a room, her husband near her, but on the outside. The mother of Clay Watkina stands by hia bedside, attempting to feed him, as the unimpeacbed witneaa to these fade en tered the room. Now Jasper Watkina enters the room, calls hia mother from the bedside, "eying, " A word with yon, mother." Clay tarn* his face to the pillow, dosing* hia eyes aa his mother walks away with her back to him, and at tlua moment the tender bride of Jasper advances to the bed and, drawing a pistol which had been concealed under an oveiakirt, shoots at the heart aad immediately ends the ca reer of her victim. " Oh, why did yon do that, Mary ?' was the hypocritical interrogation of Jumper, to which the proper answer would have been, " Be cause you urged mo to do so." From the time of the oommiaaion of the crime till the beginning of the Borksville Circuit Court the murderers were held for safe keeping in ths Cum berland County Jail—a joyless honey moon indeed.* Daring the trial the young woman, who would seem to be in a state of nerrous debility, waa borne to and from the Court House on a lounge which she occupied; but we frankly confess that we saw nothing in this oalclisted to awaken the sympa thies of any thinking man. Not that we felt no sympathy for one so yonng, so helpless, and in snch hopeless mis ery. We felt deeply for her ; but not on account of any hypocritical air or attitnde. We looked upon her as the willing dope of the heartless wretch whom she loved. Through his influence she had fired the fatal shot, and under the same influenoe she is now profess ing a weakness which he thinks will plead for both ; hence she ia the lees to blame, but by no means blameless. The argument for the Commonwealth is closed, and the jury retires. What is their fate ? The faces of the prison ers are as expressionless as stone. The anxious crowd disperses for a little season and the Court proceeds to other bußineaa. The curtain falls over the window of the jury room, the eager crowd presses to the bar, the Jndge resumes hia seat, the prisoners look a little anxious, and the jury fail* to come down. The dis appointed crowd slowly moves out of the Court House, each with a sickly smile—"No decision yet" At this juncture we retired, but learned after ward that no decision was reached, and the prisoners were held over to further trial. A Xew Way to Bail*. They want a magnificent opera honse in St. Louis, and this is the way a cor respondent of the Democrat proposes to bnild it: "Capital stock to be $1,000,- 000. Oertifleatee of stock for $1,000,- 000, SSOO, $250, SIOO and SSO, to be issued payable twenty years from date. After the third year two and a half per cent, of said stock to be retired by al lotment, and such stock so retired to draw ita fall quota of interest for twenty years at five per cent Stock not retired at the exru ration of twenty years to be redeemed by the company without interest, and to this end the stock to be a first mortgage on the opera honse. To explain further, we will suppose that twenty men own the sum total of the stock. At the end of the first three years begins the allot ment. Blr. Jones is allotted to with draw. His stock is $5,000. On this amount he gets interest for twenty rears oomplete, although his money has been used but three years. At the end of the fourth year the same thing takea place, and so on up ~to the twentieth year. By the retiring of one man each year, it will be observed that at the end of the period indicated three men will own all the stock. They get no inter est on their money, but then in lieu thereof they hgve the building, ground, and all the appurtenances thereto be longing." A Letter from a Father. Here is a gentleman's letter to his son in college: 44 Mr DEAR SON—I write to send yon tiro pair of my old breeches, that yon may have a new coat made ont of them. Also some new socks which your mother has just knit by ontting down some of mine. Your mother sends you two ponnds, without my knowledge, and for fear yon may not use it wisely, I hare kept back half, and only send yon one. Your mother and I are well ex oept that your Bister has got the mea-les, which we think would spread among the other girls if Tom had not had it before, and he is the only one left. I hope yon will do honor to my teach ings ; if not, yon are an asa, and your mother and myself YOUR AFFECTION AT* PARENTS. " Western railroads are reducing the number and pay of their employees.