ENCHANTMENT.
m cAHurm rem
The sails we see on the ocean
Are as white aa white can be ;
But never one in the harbor
Ae white ae the sails at sea.
And the clouds that crown the mountain,
With purple and gold delight.
Turn to cold, gray mist and vapor
Kre evsr we reach the height.
The mountains wear crowns of glory
Only when seen from afar ;
And the anils lose all their whiteness
Inside of the harbor bar
Stately and fair ie the voeeel
That cornea not near our beach ;
Stately and grand the nicuutain
\\ hoec height we may never reach.
O ' -instance, thou dear enchanter.
Still hold tn thy magic veil
The glory of far-ofT mountains.
The gleam of the far-off sail!
Hide in thy robee of splendor.
OI mountain cold and gray '
Oh' sail in thy snowy whiteneaa.
Come not into port. I pray ' #
—JttMfwai.
General Jack s Diamond.
A STORY OR A mas TOO BON ICST ro ST*:*l
W HKM HK TKIKIT TO.
Prettr much everybody- has lie.vrd of
General Jack's penchant for diamond*,
and a great many of us know the man
himself, a sturdy character, sound ami
tlrm on his feet aa a horse-block. A
florid fac*, rather hard, a square chin,
determined IRVS closing over white teeth,
bold gtay eves looking right at you from
under a hedge of eyebrow* a* tidy in
color, dusted in gray, a large, straight
nose, broad ami fleshy— you've seen the
tnan. Dressy in his way, but not as
gentlemen dress, ami wearing rings
upon hi* fat. white lingers, and a big
diamond In hi* expansive shirt-front.
Hi* voice la deep ami *tcrn, rather
hoarse, too, ami harsh; it* volume is
tremendous when it comes freighted
with a crash of oaths, General Jack i
sell-made; began as a driver of a pair
of mules on a canal route,then took the
lion car of Herr Kroscher'* menagerie,
became dually ring-master to a circus,
owner of his owti circus, keeper of a
livery -table, millionaire, art patron,
political leader. His wife was on the
stage once, ami a charming creature she
Is; ami General Jack Is universally*
known and liked bv the profession—but
it i< about General Jack's diamond 1 am
to tell you.
"First thing I ever bought," says
General Jack, "w hen I got to l>e ring
master, after 1 was properly fitted out
in the clothe- departuieut, wo a dia
mond, and I've la-en buying 'em ever
since. It's a weakness, am! I've paid
for It. Tiffany's people always send
for tue w hen they 've got in anything
new. and the Amstcrdamuer* know
me."
It Is said that those who want to come
over General Jack—no easy thing to do
—always approach him on the diamond
side. lie take- it as a compliment to lie
asked to show hi* collection, and does
>how it. But he U a good judge of char
acter for all. The story goes that some
thieves conspired to rob him by profit
ing by bis pleasure In show ing his
treasures. There were three of tlieiu—
nobby English fellows—who came over
expressly to do the job and thoroughly
posted. They male his acquaintance at
a down-town hotel where he Is often to
he found, and In due course procured
the invitation to see bis diamonds. They
claimed to lie sporting men, ardent
turfites, but connoisseurs in such things.
They came to Jack's house one forenoon,
in a coach, and he received them alone,
opened his safe, displayed all his treas
ures, went into their history, etc.
"This." he said, is my Goleonda speci
tnen —not very large, but remarkable
for its brilliancy and pure water. This
is my Brazilian —it is a bit >fl color, a
-uspicion of a canary tinge—" whack!
smack! thwack! "You would, would
vou?" and with three successive blows
of his fat white tist. his three English
visitors were knocked down and put
bors de combat. It was a mere suspi
cion on his part—something he saw in
the men - faces, read iu their eves—but
it saved his diamonds. He summoned
aid, locked the safe, secured the men,
and found tlieui fully artned—pistols,
burglar tools, handcuff-, rope. gag.
chloroform, red pepper. He disarmed
them, bundled them into the coach, and
gave them twenty-four hours to leave
the country. "As you came here on
my invitation, I won't cache you, but—
git!" And he -till preserves the gag,
the handcuffs and the Cayenne among
his trophies.
One day General Jack had a visitor, a
tuan of forty year*, with grizzled hair
and a stoop in his shoulders—a pallid
lace, somewhat bloated from long in
dulgence in liquors. "You don't know
me. I. Jen era 1 Jack f" said the man.
The general was puzzled a good deal.
"Hooabre, I have seen you somewhere.
Stop—l have it: Good Lord. Gary,
what have you done to yourself!"
•'lt's fifteen rears ago, general," said
Cary, apologetically.
"Onlv fifteen! Zounds! You were
a handsome young fellow then; 1
thought you were a genius. And your
wife was lovelv."
"Don't mention the pa-t—she's a
wreck—six children to care for; and 1
am—what you see. I want you to do
something for me, before the black dog
devour* uie."
"Hombre, it'* the drink that does it."
"I want you to ave me trom the
drink, general."
"TIU man," (the general says, when
he tells the story;—"this man, Mark
Cary, was what you might truly call
one of these here geniuses. When I
knowed him—sunt loved him, too, as
everybody had to do—he was editing a
neat little paper in a Virginia town aud
happy as a June hug. One of your
Apolloes—tall, square, a step like a
spring-board, blue eyes full of fire,
Hyperiau curl* like—a man, every
inch. The things he couldn't do with
the dumb-bells weren't worth trying—
he could beat my best man at the square
leap- -sat on a horse like a Centaur or a
Comanche—and put a pen in his hand,
or call him for a sjieech and, by zounds,
you couldn't mate him nowhere. 1 used
to get him to write my bill* and adver
tisements for me—he'd been a treasure
in that line if he'd only taken w ages.
As for poetrr —well, I'm no judge, but
it he couldn't pump all these here cen
tennial lers, I'm Dutch! Hi* wife was
just the sweetest little lady ever you see,
and could pour out tea like an angel.
Aud now here he w as, gone to seed.
"How come it, Cary !"
It was the war, poverty, sickness,
long struggle- in adversity, long lassi
tude and loss of spirits, chagrin, all
that turned in.
"1 think I'm gone, general, but Mar
garet won't hear a word of it. She toid
me to come to see you aud ask you to
help me."
"Where is the little woman, Mark?"
He named a wretched tenement
house. General Jack drummed on the
table with his fat fingers a moment.
"Not In want, I hope, Cary?" said he,
at last."
"Not quite, general; but the times
are hard; I can't get away, aud there's
no telling how long it will be before
that coiues, too."
"Come, let's go and see her," said the
general, and Cary, without a word, led
the wav to his )>oor lodgings.
The general does not say much about
the interview that ensued, but I know
from other sources that the wife and
children had a good supper that night.
"Come to my office—down town,
here's the number —to-morrow, at 11,
Mark, and I'll talk with you. Madame,
I'll see you again," and the general
withdrew". .. ,
"See here, Mark," said the general,
next day, "you're broke down. The
little woman can't do anything with
vou and your own backbone's turned
to Injun-rubber. You aiu't worth a
CU "That is just about the conclusion I
am coming to myself, general," said
Cary, with pathetic sincerity.
"I know better!" cried Jack, vehe
mently pounding table with his
fist; "I mean to take you in hand now,
and make a man of you .
"I wish to heaven you would!' cried
Cary.
"I mean to! You're the fellow I've
been looking for this year and more.
You're honest aud capable—you know
FRED. KURTZ, Editor and Proprietor.
vol, IX.
all alvmt fpnilogy, minor ilogv and th.it
sort of thing, don't you ? if you don't
you can loam —stop! Uti>u! You an'
up to my diamond invasion—well, there'*
\ here I want you. I want a man an
honest man—a capable man to go to
South Africa for nie, ami tliul urn the
biggest diamond there- a dozen of thani,
if you're so minded! Will you go *
Stop! I'll take care of the little woman
if you do, ami provide for her If yon
lion'l come Ivack. The sea \ov age will
give you ehanee to ta(>er off, drop the
drink, huthl yourself up ami all that;
when you gel there you 11 te all right
again, and then you can use your hratns
in rinding tue that diamond. I'll pay
you good w ages, and all you Ana is
mine. Is it a bargain. Strike hamls
on it If It Is!"
••If Margaret savs yes, I'll go, gen
eral. Ami God blc.-a you. anyhow "
"Come home to luueh with me then,
and we'll ask her she'll likely he
there."
Not only she, hut all the children
were there, and in the new est of clothes,
for Mr. Jack had been at work too, ami
Mrs. Gary told her husband, with tears
hi her eyes, "We needn't go back to
that dream of horror any more."
So It was all settled In a few minute*.
Oary's family w ere to have the cottage
on the General's farm ami an amide
allowance, the eldest boy and girl to go
to school, aud t'ary himself to go after
the big diamond, in aw eek Mark Gary
sailed, with a chest full of book* in
w hicta to study up the subject, and the
little woman and her children were
happy on the farm—happy, at lea-t, as
thev could te with Vary away In quest
of lite big diamond.
How did that quest fare? I most let
General Jack tell it in his own way, as
he takes the key of his safe from tiis
pocket, preparatory to opening it, and
stand* on the hearth before the grate,
warming his stout calves, and empha
sizing hi- narrative with gestures of the
kev .
"Never was mistaken in a man in all
my life, before that. Made alltuy money
by looking iu people'* taoe* to see if 1
eouKi trust 'em or no. And this here
Mark Cary—well, there's half a million
o' diamonds, great and small, in this
here ohist, let alone bonds, and I'd left
him here with the safe open and nobody
else iu the house, and gone off, say to
Europe or the Sandwich islands, t>er
fectly easy. But you see—well, there's
such a tiling perhaps aa tempting people
too far. Cary got along splendid at
first. He w rote to ills wife and me
regular all along the voyage, ami when
lie got t© the (.'ape he sent a photograph,
that we might how he was spruced
np. 1 could see the old curls was com
ing back to his hair, the old tire to his
eves, the old roundness to his cheek—
and the little woman was more in love
with him than ever. He went up coun
try, and by and by his letters iiegin to
come regular again, ami diamonds, too
—■mall ones, hut one or two good-sized
ones, so that iu their sum they might
be taken to be worth full as much money
as I had put up for him. One day he
send* me a real brilliant two-carat fel
low, and simultaneous draws on me for
SSOO, saying he was going to another
place, in the ho|*e to find a diamond
worth the venture.
"After that no more from Mark Cary.
More than a year went by, and not a
word did 1 get from him, nor did his
wife no more than me. The little w oraan
was well nigh crazy, and, a- 1 had no
good news for her, 1 didn't tell her any.
I had written in a private way to a cor
respondent of mine at \atul. and heard
what i was afraid of—that Cary had
gone all to the hail again—and it cut me
deep; but 1 never let on, not even to
my own wife. No news eighteen
months and more went bv, and not a
single word from Cary. 1 kept out of
the little woman's way all I could, for
the sight of her would have distressed a
politician, let alone a stone wall; but
one stormy night she burst iu U|H>U my
wife and me, a wild as she could be.
'General Jack.' she says, wringing her
hands, but never shedding a tear, and
turning on me a face I couldn't I<H>K at
for the pity of it; 'General Jack, I can
not be the pensioner of your bounty
any longer! You are the best mauthat
ever lived and I'm the most wretched of
women, but that's no reason why I
should keep on ini|>oslng tij>on you.' So
1 says to her, "What's up?" for I was
pretty sure now she hail news of Mark,
and nothing good. 'Have you heard
from Cary? 'General Jack,' she says,
solemn like, '1 know my husband is
dead ! 1 know that he has been false to
you, and it killed bim! It's killing me:'
i was struck all of a heap. 'Never
mind, little woman, never mind!' I
was going on to say, when my wife
broke in, 'How did you learn all this,
Margaret?'she akeil. 'ln a dream, a
dreadful, aw ful dryun!' said the poor
creature, and then she broke down,
burst out crying, and couldn't say any
more. So we set to work to console
her the best way we could, but didn't
make much headway at it. 1 told her
that I would be cruelly hurt if she
didn't let me keep my promise to Mark,
but her last words were that she couldn't,
daresn't and wouldn't live on me.
"Jut then the front door bell rang,
and when William opened it, the rag
gedest buzzard of a man broke past him
atiu caine rushing Into the sitting-room
here where we were. He hadn't a
whole stitch nor a clean stitch on him,
that fellow hadn't; his hair was long
ami wild and his beard also; his feet
tiare and hi* face would a won the pre
mium over a Connecticut hatchet for
sharpness. All the same, that little
woman knowed him as soon aa he
stop|ed at the door, turned white as a
sheet, held her two hands together
tight, and jut sighed between her set
teeth, 'Mark'.' 1 thought she'd go over
but she was too true grit for that. He
never noticed tier, nor nothing else, lie
came straight up to me and kind o'
steadied his staggering feet by holding
on to the table and looked me in the
facs and said cool and calm like, but in
a monstrous thin, reedy voice: 'General
Jack, I've been a thief and a traitor, a
sot ami a vagabond, for more than a
year; but I ha*'e lived long enough to
make yon amends. Here's your dia
mond; take it quickly, for I'm dving!'
and he put a bundle of rags as liig as
your two fists iu my hand, ami went
over just like he w as shot!
"The little woman gave one cry, half
joy, half terror, and had him in her
arms next instant, his head iu her lap,
and she smothering him with kisses,
while my wife, cool :i a statue, turns
to William and say*, 'Have some soup
made,' and first thing I saw she had the
brandy bottie and a S|MX>II. and WHS
down on her knees beside him. "He's
just starved to death, general, that's
all,'says she. Arid I wasn't nowhere
iu that ring, while tliein women was
bringing him round with little doses of
beef tea and brandy, kisses ami patting,
aud calling him ail the loving names in
the dictionary. By and by he sits up—
' Where is it?' says he, and makes me
hand that parcel of old rags out of my
pocket where I'd slip|M>d it in the hurry
of the moment, and unwrapped and un
wrapped until out there shined—but
sho! there are some things you cannot
describe •"
And at this point in his narrative the
General always unlocks his sate and
produces his great diamond. "There
he is! Biggest diamond in America!
Finest jewel in the world ! Iok at it!
That man fetched him for me all the
way from Africa hy way of Australia,
and hadn't a cent in his pocket half the
time! Didn't 1 tell you 1 never was
mistaken in a man's character in my
life? Hadn't hail a bite to eat from
Omaha here, but held 011 to the diamond
and said nothing—only starved.
•'Well, he told me all about it—not
that 1 believe all his sentimental trash,
though. People with his sort of face
are honest because it's their nature, it
they get wrong their nature beats and
kicks them and pulls their ears till it
sets them right again I That's all of It.
TllK ('KM l!K It E PORTER.
His storv was tfi.it he hadn't ltren at tin
new place more than"k week before he
lighted on the liig diamond—Wit ked it
up with Itia toe. lie no sooner saw it
than he knew It was a fortune for hint
If he kept it. Then, he says, the devil
entered into him and tempted him, and
he got on an all-fired bust,and run aw ay
to India to sell the stone to a Maharajah
there. But, just as lie was concluding
the bargain he ran away* again—lie
don't say the devil templed him lids
time, though. Then he lauded in Aus
tria, and kept up tils Jollification until
he hadn't a red left; hut all this time
tie held on to the diamond, tsswusr it
w as mine, not his. So one day he makes
up his uilud to valine home, ami works
his |kasago across to I'aliforuia, ami
then, for tear lest he should la* teuiplde
again, or gel robbed, liegs ami borrow*
his way home. Now, that'! call pretty
much of a temptation for a |>oor man to
overcome, don't you* hook at the
stone— it's w orih |sO,ux) as It '* cut, and
that Mark Vary didn't kuow he wa
goiug to get a penny for it, outside his
wages, as agreed on. But he brought
her on, all safe! It Isn't every man
that would vio it—but the way 1 got
rich was by looking In men's faces ami
seeing if they're honest. Aud i never
was wrong in judging a mail's charac
ter in uylife.''
General Jack will not (ell you. what
Is nevertheless the fact, that, after his
famous diamond was cut, he had It
appraised, and paid Mark Cary Its v alue,
less the advances made to him and his
family. He will not tell you of CaryC
hue plantation and his tine prospects—
ol how he is a temperate man, a good
citizen and the best of fathers and hus
bands—made so by General Jack's min
istry. But he will show you the big
diamond, it you cali upon biiu, with
exquisite pleasure, and relate to you
with much gusto such portions of its
history as do not redect too great credit
upou himself.
I.e Cksrharl
Whcu Louis I'hilippe had been a
year upon the throue appeared the tirat
ouuiter of /.• CWrirari, a daily paper
of four small pages, conducted by an
uukuown, interior artist, named
Charles l'hilipon. Around him gatli
ered a tiuniler of Bohemian draughts
men and writers, not ouc of whom ap
pcara then to have shared in the social
or political life of the country, or to
have had the faintest conception of the
consideration due to a fellow-citizen
in a place of such extreme dittieulty as
the head of a government. I hev as
sailed the king, his person, his policy,
his family, his habits, his history, witli
thoughtless and merciless ridicule. A
|ieriodical which was undertaken to
supply a cloyed fastidious public with
three hundred and sixty-five ludicrous
pictures per annum must often be in
desperatinu for subjects, and there was
no resource to i'tiilipoti so obvious or
so sure as the helpless family impris
oned in the splendors and etiquette of
royalty. Unfortunately for modern
govern meats, the people of Europe
were for so niauv centuries preyed
upon and oppressed bv kings that vast
number* of |>eoplc. even in free count
ries. still regard the head of a govern
ment as a kind of natural enemy, to as
sail whom isamong the rights of a citi
zeu. And. moreover, the king, the
president, the minister, is unseen by
those who hurl the Imrlied and pois
oned javelin, l'hey do uot see him
shriuk and writhe. To many an ano
nymous coward it is a potent consider
atiou, also, that the head of a constitu
tional government can not unuallv
strike tiark
Mr. Thackeray, who w as but nineteen
when Louis Philippe came to the
throne, witnessed much of the famous
contest lietwecn this knot of caricatu
rists and the King of the French, and
in one of the tirst articles which he
wrote for subsistence, after his father's
failure, he gave ihe world some account
of it. At a later period of hi* life he
would probably not have regarded the
king as the stronger party. He would
would probably not have described the
contest as one between "half a dozen
poor artists on the one side, and hi*
Majesty Louis I'hilimie, his august
family, and the nnmberleM placemen
and supporter* of the monarchy, on
the other." Half a dozen poor art i*t*.
with an unserupulou* publisher at
their head, who give* them daily acre**
to the eye and ear of a great capital,
can arrav* again*t the object of their
satire and abuse the entire unthinking
crowd of that capital. A firm, enlight ,
etied, and coai|>etent king would have
united against these a majority of the
responsible and the reflecting, bitch a
king would truly have been, a* Mr.
Thackerav observed, "an Aiax girded
at by a Thersites." But latin* Phi
lippe was no Ajax' He was no hero at
all. lie had no splendid anil no com
manding trait*. He was merely an
overfoud father and well-disposed citi
zen of average talent*. He was merely
the kind of man which free communi
ties can ordinarily get to nerve them,
and who will! serve them passably well
if the task is not made needlessly dif
ficult. Hence Philipon and hi* "half
a dozen poor artists" were very much
the stronger party—a fact which the
king, in the sight and hearing of all
Prance, confessed and proclaimed by
putting them in prison.
Th Gentleman
Every man may lie a gentleman if he
will—uot by getting rich, or hy gain
ing access to that self-appointed social
grade that claim* the exclusive right
to give the badge of gentility— bat by
the cultivation of those unselfish, kind
and noble impulse* that make the
gentleman. It i* too rarely we find
among those who vote themselves the
geutlemen and ladies of the day, any
thing to warrant their assumption.
There is but little of the true ruetal
about them. Personal contact reveals
arrogance and pride, and too often a
meanness of spirit and a littleness t ht
disgraces human nature.
So far as our observation goes— and
it covers many year* of contact with
high and low, rich and jioor— we are
constrained to say that, while among
the poorer clasae* there is, as a general
tiling, a sad lack of external culture ;
of attention to little personal habit*
that are not agreeable to others, and
which ought to Is- corrcted ; there i*
really in the lower and middle ranks
of society, so called, quite as many true
gentlemen and ladies as among those
who claim the exclusive rigid to these
honorable designations.
The aprentice and the errand-boy,
the man who digs a ditch or carries a
hod, the mechanic aud the artisan, the
shop-girl, the seamstress, the cook and
the waiter, may he as truly gentlemen
and ladies a* the richest and most cul
tivated in the land. The qualities that
make the lady and gentlemen are qua
lities of the soul, there is no mouopolv
or exclusive right to these.
Header, no matter what your condi
tion in life, resolve to In* a gentleman
or lady. Cultivate not only the exter
nal amenities and grace of true genti
lity. but the iuncr graces that give
these onter signs of their glory and
i their strength.
Aae r Minis
The eagle, rsven, swan and parrot,
are each centenarians. An eagle kept
in Vienna died after a confinement of a
hundred and fourteen years, and on an
! ancient oak in Shelborne, still know n
as the "raven tree," the same pair of
ravens art* believed to have fixed their
residence for a series of more than
ninety years. Swans upon the river
Thames, about whose age there can Ist
no mistake—since they are annually
nicked by the Vintner's Company un
der whose keeping they have been for
five centuries—have bean known to sur
vive one hundred and fifty years and
more. The melody of the dying swan
is mythological. Upon approach of
death the bird quits the water sits down
upon the banks, lays Its head upon the
ground, expands its wings a trifle and
expires, uttering no sound.
CENTRE II V 1.1,. ('KNTBK CO.. PA.. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY *2-1. I7.
Auctions all aver the World
HY N. s. IHIIMiI.
"f/iirugeAiUUj/v,' Artrug*/" or sounds
iu*t like lliose, came floating on llie hot
sir to Ned I'aullng last summer, a* In
lay sw ingiiig la/ily in a net hammock,
under an awning, on the deck of the
ship "Betaoy." It was in port, af
Smyrna, where the venael having dis
charged her cargo, was watting for a
home freight ol raisins, tig*, sun olives
back to Boston, Ned bad Wen bard at
! work for six days. The last voucher
had come atx>ard an hour tiefoia, ami
1 hi* accounts being now square, aud
nothing more lor the supercargo to do
ill! Jacohus Brothers, the consignees,
should give notice that the home cargo
i was ready, he had dressed himself for a
stroll on shore, ami was waiting till
early evening should make the heat
tolerable In the streets.
A tlrst voyage as supercargo, no mat
ter how giMd a clerk a boy* may have
lieen, trie- hi* mettle, lie must think
for himself. His decisions must tie
quick ami positive. Yea .INJ No he
in list never say. It is one thing to sell
gvKxls, or to keep books, or to take slock,
or to strike balances, or to average pro
tils every day in a store; but it is alto
gether another tiling to take charge
alone of a cargo consisting of all aorta
of goods, shipped froi# Be-urn to a
foreign port. However, Ned I'aullng
had taken it. He rcuiemtiered his
mother's last word*, many years liefore,
"Straightforward, Ned! Straight for
ward 1* the bc*t runner!" And the
"Betsey'a" accounts were as square as
any day's account* had ever been in
Mate street. So Ned wa- rcadv for a
"Ilaragr! liarui'! harage !' * kept
ringing on the air, at Nod went ashore.
In a -quare, three or four blocks from
the whanoa, ou a platform of rough
isiardt resting on tw o hogsheads, stood
a turbaned Turk, cutting apart a piece
of Tripoli silk shawling, flinging it at
full length over the heads of the sur
rounding crowd, and crying at the top
of his lungt, "llarage!" There were
Hebrews, with flow ing beards and dusky
robes, among the bidders; there were
camel-drivers, just like tlie picture one
sees of Kleaier, tiie Syrian, at tlie well;
tliere were Persians, in their quaint
cajvs; dervishes, in their strange dret.*,
ami muftis, sailors, (ireeks, Armenians,
ltruses, Arahs, Copts, Egyptians, and
people of every nation almost. In the
motley gathering. The auctioneer is
announcing a hid tic lias received, when
Ned arrives. The auctioneer is a lin
guist, and translates theotier into many
tongue-. "Fifty piasters for twenty
yards of Tripoli silk! Fifty plasters!
Clinquatite plaster-! Humst-en grosh!
EIH crnosh!" he keeps crying to his
auditors. "Huuiseen grusli! HUHI-.-.-H
grosli! ( litjquante piasters!" until Ned,
know ing the value of silks, and think
ing of ids mother, bid- !l fly-one piasters
ami the piece of silk is hi-.
Smyrna I- a mart for the whole world.
Everybody who wants to trade goes
tliere. Travelers to the East buy their
horse- at Smyrna. After several months
travel, they often return to Smyrna to
sell them. A- it l the lirst jort visited
in going to Palestine, -o it is the last
that is left before cuiliarkitig for Eng
land, Selling worn out horses bocotnea
therefore, a very considerable business
there, and It gives employment to quite
a number of auctioneers. The moment
a traveler enters the gat* of the town
from the East, lie i aceied by several
of these jversou- on the look-out lor a
job. After nttlch haggling alsait wlist
|>er cent, shall le paid UJMUI the price
the horse sells for, the man selected
vaults into the saddle anil rides off. Xo
sooner is be on hi* way, than he liegins
his cry, "llarage! harage!" looking
around on every side for a bidder.
Some one has said, "One hundred pls
n-b-rs." Tlie auctioneer takes the man's
addr<-s, and crying out, "llarage ! one
huudml!" pursues his ride -lowly
tlirougli the streets. The chances are
that if the owner is strolling tlirougli
the tow n, he w ill encounter his Steed
more than once during the day. Hi
price may have ad\anced to two linu
dred and ten, and "Two hundred and
ten!" his rider 1- crying aloud, w hen a
l urk, who is quietly smoking his pipe,
starts up in hi- shop, eyes tlie animal
keenly, and -ings out, "Two hundred
and twenty." The auctioneer makes
no more to do, but dismounts immedi
ately, throw-s the horse's bridle over its
head, leads it up to the Turk, holds out
his hand, and received the two hundred
and twenty xlter-, after which lie
walks off to tlie owner, ami punctually
pay- the price, minus his own commis
sion.
Auctions in different countries are
curious subjecta of study. In an auction
in Spain, for int*nce, everything ac
cord- with the national temper. There
I# no noise, t ouversalton Is prohibited.
The auctioneer is held to the description
of goods. A bid Is made; lie of the
hammer rcjieal* it; silence follows;
another hid. another announcement of
it. and another silence—all as serious
and solemn as a prayer meeting, until
the mallet falls.
An auction-room In France, l on the
contrary, a (wrfeet 11*1**1. In all noisy
Paris there is nothing so noisy and
boisterous a# a St. Antoine vendue,
where piiminit ami fhifnnier* and "old
elo* " Jews contend for cheap bargain#.
There can Is* no greater contrast to j
this hubbub than that which Is pre
scnted by the dull decorum of an auc
tion sale in Amsterdam or Rotterdam.
There Mynheer auctioneer sits iiehiml
a table smoking his pi|*e. He states
terms of sale, waits for a hid, make# no
haste, creates no excitement, watches
no countenance, takes no nods or winks.
Before him -lands a box filled with
taj*er. If there Is too long delay, he
lights one of these In sllen*e, and
thrusts it on a spindle tixed in tin* table.
When it goes out the last bidder takes
the article.
There is a curious old custom at Bill
ingsgate —the great and well known
flsh-market of I/ondon—of selling tlsli
from the Inrnts a# they arrive every
morning by an auction "of reduction,
as it is called. Every boat-load is sold
altogether. Twenty-five iff thirty sales
are going 011 at nine. This "reduction"
auction occurs in tlo* early morning,
sometimes before light. Men and w
nien Indiscriminately act a# auctioneers
and the buyers also men ami women,
walk up and down the docks scrutiniz
ing the cargoes. A Ih'll ring# ami the
salt's commence. In a large llat gon
dola are bloaters, owned by the strap
ping ti#h woman, who now logins to
bawl to the buyers on shore as she
stands on thelMiw*, "Here's your bloat
ers—line, large Yarmouth bloaters;
five shillings a entitle! Five shillings?
Well, four ami fen|>ence he It tlon!
Four and ten I Four and nine, then!
Four and nine! Four and eight!"
"I'll take 'em old woman, at four
ami eight," cries a buyer from the land
ing place, and forthwith the boat-load
is Ills.
Ami so It goes on for an hour, amid
chaffing and scolding; screaming and
swearing; the word# "Maek'rell,"
'"Allboat," "Stih*," "Salmon," "Coil,"
'"Aililock" shouted a hundred times all
together; the boat* unloading; porters
struggling; boys and girls counting
the "hundreds" by themselves; fish
monger# from the West End selecting;
touters skinning eels and cleaning ctd;
errand boys running; flsh women flout#
ing each other, and everybody blowing
up everybody else, until the great befi
rings, which ends the auction hour and
Opens the morning market.— St. Mirho-
UlB.
The Jwiruwra.
The jaguar (/eft's unca) is the largest of
the carnivora found on either of the
American continents; aud its size,
strength, and ferocity are such that It
is often called the South American ti
ger. It is found both in North and
South America, generally between the
troples, and as far north a# the Red
river, 1.a.; and the larger specimen# are
but little smaller than the average tlgi-r
nl Asia. Ihe bright at the shoulder I*
frequently tieaily three loot. The *klu
i beautifully marked w Ith black circle*
enclosing grayish poi, on a ground
color varying from light brown to ashy
yellow , nut the configuration of the
lualks valie* w Idclv oil different #|K*Vl
ineus, ami sometimes even uu the same
animal. Humboldt -tales 2,000 jaguar
skin* are annually exported from line
no* Ayrea, ami liiey are ttiuelt value*!
for their beauty.
The habitat of the J.ignar I* generally
a thick forest, es|e< ially lit the neigh
borhood of a river, a* the animal *w iuit
well, aud will catch llsli for its llieals
w lien flesh Is scarce. \\ lien driven by
hunger, it doc* not liesilale lo visit the
alxHles of man, and If* strength enables
it to kill and carry off a borne or a cow
with ease, lu favorite mode of attack
Is to leap on the victim's Itaek, and, by
placing one paw on the head and the
oilier on the muscle, to suddenly break
its neck. It, however, rarely attacks
man, ami then Its hunger and ferocity
are such as to make it terrible. It is
verv fond of turtles, and extracts the
flesh from the shell with great skill.
A writer asserts tlul the variation of
the marks on the skin of the jaguar is
due to climate influences, the s|>ccie*
lieing found over territory ranging from
deg. south latitude to 'iit deg. north,
from the Argentine Kepubltc to Texas.
Like Its Asiatic cousin the tiger, the
Jaguar cannot be tauied, long confine
ment, ample food, and kind treatment
doing nothing to check its ferocity. It
is therefore a constant source of alarm
to the neighborhood where It lives,
which alsrm l> not diminished by the
tact tiiat its predatory excursions are
always made at night. It Is exceedingly
subtle, approaching It* prey noiselessly,
and walking behind bushes or other
screens till near enough for action ; It
then uiakrs some slight noise with its
tail, which alarms the victim ami sel
dom fails to induce him to move to find
the cause of the disturbance. The jag
uar then springs ou the neck of the
tirey, tear* the throat to pieces (or
ireak* the neck, as above described),
and carties off some portion of the car
cass; next day it probably return tor
another meal, and this gives an oppor
tunity of tracking (tie least to his lair.
Itut although the jaguar* are numerous
in the region which we have mentioned
as their home, their sagacity enable*
them to keep weil concealed and out of
t tie range of the rHte.
The Old Irian Hn<r
A tall, fair-hatred rata? seem in remote
tilue* to have gut the up(>er hand ill
Ireland, ami to have pors-ed them
selves of tile greater part of the Country,
the west and southwest becoming the
home or the retreat of a shorter, dark
Jieopie —the rem.Uti*, as some tiave con
octured, of the pre-Aryan slock of tu
roje. The same characteristic* were
oka ! *• I 1!I Km !ri-h |*>pula!loll b) the
KiigUsh wilier* in the country, and
after Intermixture of ra.-es, emigration
ami other disturbing agencies, they so
continue to a large extent yet.
l>ul>altacli MacKlrhisigli, a leartiwl
Irisli genealogist, whose work was com
piled in I'ihO, i* no doubt recording an
ancient tradition when lie tell* us that
every one w ho i white-skinned, brow n
haired, iHiiintlful in the liestowal on the
liard* of jew els, wealth and ring*, not
afraid of a battle or Combat, is of < lautia-
Miled the Irish native lioliillty, tin*
"Milesian*" of some writers); every
one w ho is fair-hatred, big, vindictive,
skilled in music, druidry and magic, all
these are of the Tuatha lb- l>aiiatin;
while the black-haired, loud-toilglird,
mischievous, tale-loving, tnhospttahle
churl*, the dlsturhera of assriiiidles,
who love not music and entertainment,
these are of the Feru-Rolg, tlie Feru
iHnutiann, ami the other conquered
people*. It wilt l>e seen that 111 this
iardn enumeration of Irish race* Mac-
Kirhislgh places between the hlg-hodled
ami fair-haired people am! the hlack
haired st.iek a sort of Intermediate tvpe.
Ki-fiTi'iHTf to Ireland iti clawit'al
writer- art*. a* l w *ll known, Ipm ami
meagre. In Ptolemy *f luvw a bare
11*1 of name* of trH*r ami tow no, and
of aoinr leading natural feature* of the
country. Here and then* ore find a
name that U Identifiable with a modern
on. Of■kit, for example, I# probably
the river Avoca, ami the trltc name of
the Krdlnl perhnp- survive# In that of
IxM-h Kirtie. No the Boy tie, Irish lioind,
was known a# the IL-r-rirda nearly tan
thousand years ago. The people of the
neighlmring continent had little tnnre
than heard of a remote island where the
legion* of Koine aeeui never to have
been, known a* Invrrna. lerne, llil>er
nia, variant# of the native AVia—or
ratlier of an older form—a name signi
fying the Western land. It.# inhahitanta
called themselves, at a very early period,
as their descendant* do to-day in their
own touttue, tiaidel; but it is not bv
this name that they ttr#t flrurr promi
nently on the page of reliable history.
It Is In the year Ski, and in years imme
diately following, that the Sootl, mar
auder# from Ireland, perhaps some
dominant trile or tribe# there, are tlrat
heard of, ravaging the portion of Nor
thern Britain south of the Forth of
Clyde, in the company of tattooed I'ictl
and ferocious Attacot*. A generation
later t'lamliaii, ill well-known lines,
makes Britlannia tell how "Stlllcho
came to her aid when the Scot moved
all lerne, and his hostile galleys lashed
ocean Into foam." Porphyry, too, as
quoted by St. Jerome, group# the Irish
clans as "Scot lea* gentcs." While It Is
thus possible to form an idea who the
Scot! were, the |x*ople with whom they
are found associated in the page# of
Atnoiianus, the Picts, who have l*ecn
the subject of such long and acrid con
troversy, are in some resjiectsan obscure
race enough vet. They seem to have
lieen the old Celtic Inhabitants of Nor
thern Britain, called Caledonians by
the earlier Roman writers. It Is cer
tain tiiat In the fourth century they
punctured the figures of animals on
their bodies; hut their name, though
thought by the Roman# to designate
tlie Painted People, Is, probably, a*
little Roman in its origin a# that of
their barbarous allie#, the Scot), or that
of the Plctones or Pletavl In the modern
Pol ton.—Eraser'* Magminr.
The Neven Wise Hen.
Most people have heard of the "seven
wise men of Greece," but very few
know who they were-or how they came
to la* called so. Here is the story ol
them, and the moral of It Is worth re
inemlH'ring If their names are not:
The seven wise men of Greece are
sup|M*#ed to have lived in the. fifth cen
tury before Christ. Their names are
I'itUieus, Bias, Solon, Tltales. Chilon,
Cleobulus, and Prelander. The reason
of their being called "wise" is given
differently by different authors, hut the
most approved accounts state tlmt as
some Coaus w ere Ashing, certain stran
gers from Miletus bought whatever
should la* in lite nets w Knout seeing it.
When the nets were drawn In they wore
found to contain a golden trl|*od which
Helen, as she sailed from Troy, Is sup
posed to have thrown In there.
A dispute arose between the fisher
men and the stranger# as to whom it
belonged, ami as they could not agree
they took it to the temple of Apollo, aud
consulted the priestess as to w hat should
fie done with It.
She said it must Ik* given to the wisest
man In Greece, and It was accordingly
sent to Thales, who declared that Bias
was wiser, anu sent It to him.
Bias sent It to another one, and so on
udlll It had passed through the hands
of all the men,afterwards distinguished
by the title of tlm "Seven Wise Men,"
ami as each one maimed that some one
was wiser than he, it finally was sent
to the Temple of Apollo, where, accord
ing to some w rlters, It still remains, to
teach the lesson that the wisest are the
most distrustful of their wisdom.
rite of IMet la amiability.
G.HSI digest lon ami goo! humor In
variably wall upon each oilier. A*
there la no one more ill-natured than lite
con Armed dy*|>e< He, ao lliere is no one
more jolly and genial than the habitual
eupepllit. No man rise* from a hearty
and satisfying lueal to revile ami Injure
his neightror; this comes, if at all, be
fore dinner, or If after dinner, a* a |rr
tial result of something partaken of
that doe* not agree with film.
lx-t any Intelligent ainl thoughtful
philanthropist make luliiuslr acquain
tance with tlii* lovn-r Kriili 1 ) <tf reatao
ranla ainl eating-houses In our business
centers, let It tut try to nour *h hia own
frame with the br<-n<l ami meat ami veg
etable* there tertinl to the hungry, ami
no one will m-ed to tell htm why
there are an many lienor aaioona ami
tobuit) thuut In our large cities, or why
there la such an inaatlate crating in the
lower classes for unwholesome stluiu
lua. The rei-onla of crime ahow that
our |ieulU*ntiariea are Hilled chiefly froui
thoaeclaaaea who are inauttlcieiilly nour
iaheit. Hunger in the atomach or in the
liaauea ilrivea iliem into crime. Though
"matt iloea not live hy bread alone,"
ami It la possible lo rise superior U mere
physical want for a time, vet. In the
main,good cheer ami cheerfulneaa are In
ae|>arahle.To aatiafy the hunger that suc
ceeded Christ's forty day* of fasting In
the wilderness no human vlamla could
aulllce. Angelic liauda had prepare Ilia
food and miuiatered to Him. It la piti
ful to think how few of the millions in
our country, abounding a It dura in the
necessaries ami luxuries of life, are
really well fed. How many families
suiter every day for the want ol nutri
tious ami excellent food, and thla not
liecause of any lack in the raw material,
hut from ignorance of the w ay in which
the material they may have lie advanta
geously prepared for ihe table. It would
astotiiah many a housewife to be told
that the Irritability of her children, the
petulance of her hushaml, and her own
low spirits, are due ill whole or In |*ri
to that starved condition of the tissues
resulting from imperfect nutrition; that
if site would mix and hake her bread
with care and skill and brains, that if
she would have her j*iUU<k*s mealy
and while, instead of water-logged ami
soggy, tiiat if her llieala were delicately
boiled or broiled or baked, instead of
having all their Juiciness and flavor
drowned In a sea of boiling tat, that If
she provided only foods for her house
hold, rejecting condiment* and all dys
peptic provocative*, harmony ami peace
and sunshine would reign at tier fire
side. .surprising a* such a statement
might be, would it not in many and
many a <-*ae ire true? If tender calve*,
allulrrials during the day, were fed
corn ami meal and oat-, instead of milk,
would tliey not die? Itut tender chil
dren are given meats and sweetmeats
ami camly ami cake and pie. at all sorts
of Irregular timet, ami when, under
tills monstrous treatment, they cry ami
sicken and die, their fond mother* won
der what in the world ails them, and
talk about lite mvsierioua dis|<etisatiotis
of I iivine Providence. But those mo
thers w ho exercise the sauie regularity
and discretion and aelf-oontrol In feed
ing their children that they use toward
the young of inferior animals, have
small complaint to make concerning
fretfulliCM, decayed teeth, waulofap-
I .elite, ami delicacy of health in their
families. It I* not possible when the
stomach is in flamed by unwholesome
stimulants, such as black pepper, strong
tea and coffee, alcoholic liquor*, pun
gent pickle*, ami the like, or w hn it I*
loaded with rich pastries, highly sea
soned di-lies, ami composite culinary
alximinatioiiK, for the temper to remain
uniformly serene and uiihi. Continual
indulgence in such fare wilt bring on
some form or other of physical de
rangement that wilt manifest itself In
infirmity of temper or nervous depres
sion, or falling health, thus showing
that errors on the side of superfluity
ami uuneeded stimulus are a* Injurious
as those resulting from scanty and In
sufficient nutriment Next to tlie mo
ral training of children, and as foun
dation for it, the food they cat. a* to
quality, quantity, and regularity of *u|-
plv, I* of prime importance, and those
who will exiM-riment carefully in this
matter will flml that In a large degree
it is iMwtslhle to diet children ami grown
people also into amiability and g*d
ties*.
Clothes.
W hen our woman relates to another
the history of some eventful turiiing
|siut or crisis iu her life, say* the Um
tlou H'orfJ, it is ten to oue if the lallter
do not interrupt the story h.v inquiring
eagerly, "W hat did you wear?" Ciitil
tiiat question ia answered she llmls it
difficult to identify herself witli her
friend's adventure*, or, indeed, to take
any particular interest in litem what
ever.
I kmbtleas llelen of Troy never forgot
the color of the rol*e she wore when she
passed for the last time# Paris' sighe
ere leaving hitu for ever; and Ninon de
I'Kuclos could have told you the prvcist
fashion in which her hair was dressed
on the day the Abbe de Bern's fell in
love w Ith her. seventy-two years of age
and a grandmother; or IHana of Putc
tlers the shape of the dashing riding
hat that shaded her handsome face
when Henry saw and loved her so des
perately. So that after all the question
Is true to human nature, and, indeed,
the formula, "What did you wear!*" or
the still more interesting one, "What
wilt you wear?" may la* looked u|k>ii a
tlie only two certain forms of speech
that can Is* safely reckoned on to pro
ceed out of the mouth of that most lin
es'ruin tiling, woman ; for, ts* #he chaste
as Lucre! ia, cold as I Ban. or tickle as
Apa#ia, she la neither cold nor indiff
erent nor tickle to her clothes.
Some one has said that dress forms
the delight of one-half of aw oman's
life, ami the torment of the other. Then*
Is a grain of truth in the remark, al
though the originator of it blinked the
fact Uiat dress is not outside her life; It
Is part and parcel of It as much a# the air
she breathe*—no more to la* put away
from her than Iter own Individuality,
to Im* slighted than her own dignity.
From the very cradle a woman child Is
impressed with the importance and re
s|K*oubillty of her "clothes." "Yes,
Miss Mary, you may go and play for a
Utile while, but If you tumble your
clothes you'll catch it." This exhorta
tion, with variations, has probably l**en
addressed to every well-brought-up lit
tle girl since the deluge, and wUI doubt
less continue to In* fashionable long af
ter we and our great grand-children
have departed tills life, l'he mental
struggles of Miss Mary during the pro
teas ol her early Initiation into the sa
cred rites of the religion of dress are no
less plU*otlM than ludicrous. A deep
sense of depression w eigli# upon her
childish spirit as she see.# her brothers,
fortunate In the |ioaession of Jackets
and knickerbockers, jumping and rac
ing in an ecsUcy of enjoyment, deterred
by no aueh fears of "tumbling" them
selves as lie heavy uihui her. If she Is
a little prig she will work this feeling
of envy ott In a 111 of spleen, affecting a
contempt for her brothers' romping
games, pretending to prefer a talk with
her doll—an idiotic sham that at heart
she thoroughly despises; if she has a
spirit she will lling prudence to the
winds, and dash into the melee heed less
of rent* and damages, enjoying herself
keenly, though she knows all too well
the awful punishment that awaits Iter
when the powers that be dis<*over the
disrespeet she lias dared to show her
"clothes." As she grows bigger -lie
will show more sense, connecting Sun
day with the day when she wears a li
lac-silk frock, and a hat with a white
feather, looking forward to a children's
party as an occasion on which she w ill
be able to shine forth in white muslin
aud rose-colored ribbons, eclipsing
other little girls, whose mothers are not
so particular about appearance as her
own. .She will even have a mild con-
Terms: $2 a Year, in Advance.
tempt and pity for Tom, IMrk, ami
Harry (whom a short time ago ahe >
bitterly mi tried) in that their utmost at
tempt at aelf-bedlzeiituenl can go no
farther than daneing-hoea ami white
glove*, if Ml** Mary's mother ia friv
olous, ami addicted to the ooininou
weakness of ftriring to outdo her neigh
bor* In the magiillh-enee of her apparel
(only lo tie beaten herself at the next
pas* age of arm*) Mary wilt grow up one
of that terrible class of women who
*lemi their lives in decorating the jxx>r
lierlahable lasiie* that were originally
made—lf they only knew It—to lutdo**
a aoul, instead of being turned litlo
slgiiltoards, on which to display every
caprice, absurdity, and extravagance
the heart of milliner can oooceive.
Yet, If the care and consideration she
IM**4OW* oil dres* were devoted to • uie
ennobling pursuit or useful occupation,
*he might tie transformed from a mere
walking to a reasoning, sensible human
la-lug; but tliisahe can never lie until
she lias renounced the overmastering
|ta*aion. and by so doing purged her
xrlf of the tie basement slid deterioration
of mind that are Its inseparable hand
maiden*. It might surprise her tokuow
that one tpiarier of the time she daily
ex (tend* on her toilet would suffice to
teach Iter at least one language thor
oughly in the twelvemonth, or thai by
using lite hours the formerly frittered
away in hesitating over this color or
that, she might educate In-rself so thor
oughly a* to have some ground to go
upon should she ever elect to advocate
woman* rights, which we should
atronglv adtise Her not to do. It might
*haim- her to know that site was not en
dowed with life Ui make herself simply
an object for tueu'a delectation and wo
men's jealousy; for to thl* end does site
presumably seek to atlaiu when she
spend* her whole existence ill seeking
the most becoming modes of arraying
herself, although, ala*, she often falls
lamentably short of her purpose, since,
man, who arc neither fools nor puppies,
like simplicity of attire; and among
women of fashion U is next to lm|*>#
sible to be Aral In richness of clothe#
fur any length of time.
If Miss Mary only knew It, men do
but ask to see their mothers, si*ters, and
w eethearl* daintily clean and fresh in
all their arrangements and appoint
ments. a* pleasing to the eye as modes
ty and muderatlou permit; but they hate
liiis loud, gtewdy, all-absorbing demand
fur admiration' and pre-eminence in
dre- s that appears U> have fastened upon
the girls and w omen of our day like a
deadly disea-e, lni{osible U> be shaken
off or eradicated. They couhi tell her
Uiat more pallid hard-worked fathers
and husband* are killed by this same
love of "clothes" than by any sicklies*
or hurt of body, and that it tnake* them
marvel a* to w list uiauner of men the
future getieratioM w ill be with such ex
amples of levity and extravagance be
fore them a* tiieir mother* bid fair to
set. t*o far a* we can remember, our
grandmothers were not bitten with this
ex-e*iie mania for fine taim-nit.
I nallsb Wants.
We dud uieu advertised for who arc
well up in frying t!li and |teeling pota
toes ; w ho are accustomed to mind baked
potatocan*; who are pie maker*, need
to the pie and eel; wbo are <xmifil mak
ers, used to steam pan*; who are accus
tomed to ojien oysters; who are vegeta
ble cooks. Accompanying these are
uien used to corks: who can get up
clubs; who hate ■ thorough know ledge
of dressing; who are doilymeri. or ex
je-riemed in washing by liand-piiiich;
who can push the sale of hxi.ttns.lt
Uiasgow hiM-nits, or have no objection
to nu-hlng that readier article of pro
pulsion— a truck; who can rub down
and flat; who are used to the round
knife, or the ground-off saw ; who can
do a round; w ho can stuff well; who
mre milkers; feeders; used to boiliug
room: to cart war-work: to lumpier and
shovel; ami who can kill. Sdme men,
l<e it known further, are clickers. ~ine
are w vbbcra, some are rougli-stuff cut
ters, nunc are 1 asters, some are paste
titter*, children's pump men. flowerers,
military heeler*, leather-*!rap binders,
stahlN-rs. and finisher*. Some are sew
round hand*. Some arc operator* on
-ole-newers, some are needle-aud-Uiread
hands; some, again, are cleaner*-up.
Kach inenitier of thl* last group lielong#
hi the hoof and shoe trade, the lilviskm#
lieing further sectioned off. In a by-way
sort of manner, into finisher* on wo
men'*, finisher* on light women'#, fin
ishers on children's, finisher* on light
children's, and—a little more bravely—
finisher* on men's. Remarking upon
the *ani divisions and suislii isioti*. it
must Is- said that they are undoubtedly
very odd. Turning the Inquiry, for the
present, on this one pivot, is the term
boot-maker a delusion ? Can one man
no more make a jmlr of boot.*, than an
<Hher can make the symbolic pin? It
would aopear *o. Boot* have—nay, a
solitary boot ha* —to he clicked, to be
rough-cut, to be lasted, to be riveted,
to tie w cbted, to is- paste-fitted, flow
ered, military-heeled, sewn round,
IMMUUI at the strap, stahlied, fliilshed,
cleaned up, to *ay nothing of chosen,
tried on. nited, sold; and a small bat
talion of men would be required for It.
No blame to the British workman for
quailing, single-handed, from the un
dertaking. ami rejecting it!— All the
Ymr KOIUHI.
SflMsi*
The love of self I# the root and centre
and animating spirit of all evil. But
It* forms and aspect* are indefinitely
diversified. It exi*t and operate# on
many different plane* of thought and
life. Sensuality t# It* lowest, inoal gen
eral expression. But it also takes the
ap|H'srance of covetousue**, or of some
oilier of the gros* and vulgar form# of
vice. It Is, however, coni|*lible with
all excellence of external behavior. For
a man may sliun all open sin, and give
aim*, and be very u#effl, and do all lhl
from the love of self, lie may expect
hi* reward in Hie applause of men, in
the advancement of his position In the
world, or ill promoting hi# success In
life. He may find full recomjiense for
lit# self-restraint in the complacent be
lief licit, oi Ids own strength and by
hi# own unaided effort*, he ha* become
better than other men. lie lias done
the work, aid he give* himself the
glory for it. He is a god unto himself,
and hi# apparent virtue* are the morn
ing and evening sacrifice upon the altar
of self. This is the last, and it is the
worst, form of self-love.
Krllrr Ininllmiln Srll In Rail
rmxl Arrldrnlt.
The KnglUh accident did, however,
establish one thing. If nothing elae; it
showed the Immeasurable superiority
of the system of Investigation pursued
In the case of railroad accident* in Eng
laiul over that pursued in thU country.
There n trained expert after the wx*ur
renoe of each disaster visit* the spot
and sifta the affair to the very bottom,
locating reA|on*lbliity and pointing
out distinctly the measures necessary
to guard against its repetition. Here
the caw* goes to a eorotter's Jurv whose
findings as a rule admirably sustain the
ancient reputation of that august tribu
nal. It Is absolutely sad to follow the
course of these investigations, they are
conducted with such an entire dUre
gard of method and lead to such inade
quate conclusions. Indeed how could
it be otherwise? The saute man never
investigates two accidents, as for the
one investigation he does make lie is
competent only in his own esteem. —
The Atlnntir Monthly.
PlfSMßlr}.
There is as much merit In catering to
the humorous side of our nature as to
the sober and sedate. Men and women
were made to laugti and indulge in
pleasantries just as much as to pray and
fast. Because a face Is uncommonly
long instead of wide, it docs not follow
that its possessor is a first-class saint.
We would as soon trust a countenance
got up on the broad as the long guage.
NO. 8.
rot mir rotrn*.
A Str liny to sleep.—Many of yon,
children, hare your maida who go witii
you when uuture tolls yon that you
need a nap, while your little brother
and aiatei have their nurse*. or per
hapa the kind mother aomefituee. to
"iiuah a-bye" them to aleep. How do
you suppose the little one# are put to
aleep in the mountainoua district* of
India t Years ago I saw It and it la a
tuoal curiooa diatom. Wherever there
ia a Honing atreaiu of water conveni
ent, a alied ia built and under it troughs
of atone tilled from the stream. From
theae (tough* there are liuie hollow
ieed* which ap<nit out the water with a
gentle and light fail, and under theae
■prays of water the children are placed
juat an that the water play* on their
foreheads. It pat* them to sleep in
stantly and they aleep aotiudly and
well, too. aud don't wake np every few
minute* with a little whimper, like
some children do whom I have heard
of. These little Indians never catch
cold in tiieir heads sud they grow up
strung and healthy men. Whether the
water-eleep does (much to make them
healthy. 1 do uot know, hut I have seen
dor-en* of children sleeping this way
and they all MM*UI UI like it. 1 never
saw one who didn't. Tell your uid
family doctor about it, and see if be
think* a* much of the process a* Grip
doea.
Little /feefle/iew.—< n of the great
est or German musical composers was
Ludwig Yon Beethoven, who was born
at Bonn, on the. If blow, the 17th of De
cern tn-r, 177 U.
While quite a child, be would leave
his plays and Ins ptrture-books when
ever his father sat down to the piano
to practise, and would stand by bis
side, and listen to the tnuaic with de
light.
When his father woold take him on
his lap, and show turn how to strike the
keys with his finger*, Ludwig would
pay the chmeat attentiou; ana. when
his father roue to leave the instrument,
the little fellow would cry, ".Show ne
more, dear papa: please show me
mote."
Ludwig began to take regolar lea
son* in music when be H only five
years old. At the age of thirteen, he
published several compositions, which
showed that be had been a diligent
scholar. He soon proved himself to be
a musician of the highest order, and
n*>k rank with Haydn and Mucart.
There is a fine bronze statue of Beet
hoven in the Boston Music Hall. He
lived till the year The study of
his music in this country, within the
last few years, haa greatly extended.
lU* ft rating Provtrla. —One day, the
little school ui a'am asked the children
to select a proverb among themselves
for illustration. Tbev didn't quit# un
derstand thia, but, nevertheless, they
settled upon one and handed it in :
"lt*a4auoa* l tt UuJudm IfcMS."
''Good!* said she. "Now I should
like to have you each bring on Friday
a composition or a quotation, or an ob
jeeW of some kind, or whatever you
please, illustrating this provarb."
Welt, they did so. Some, lam told,
brought little *torte; others brought
< <>igpo#:tion*; "tie little girl brought a
warm but faded siiawl; and ooe home
ly, clever little chap audaciously
iu ought his owu photograph ! Ooe and
all came off with honors, but the
crowning illustration of all was Tom
McC'lintock's -, lie simply brought a
picture of a camel's bead, looking aa if
it had iust leen saying "prunes" and
"prism, and knew quite well of it*
own excellent qualities. Not a word
did Tom Mrt'lintock writ#, beyond the
proverb. He knew his camel could
speak for itself.—Nf. A itkoUufor Fe
bruary.
Calahath tret. —One of my turd* bus
{uat Ix-en telling me about a tree that,
ie said, "grew dishes."
In hi# native iaiands— of the West
Indies— be has seen a tree, in height
and size resembling an apple-tree,
calletl a calabash-tree. It lias wedge
shaptKl leaves, large whitiah, fleatiy
hloMMuus. that grow— where do you
think T—not like those of moat other
fruits, on the smaller aud outermost
branches, but on the trunk and btg
branches. The fruit that succeed# the
flower is tunch like a com ntmi gourd,
only a good deal stronger, and it often
measure* twelve inches in diameter.
Tbe hard shell of thia fruit is cut into
vat ion* -hape* bj the natives, and ia
sometimes handsomely carved. It ia
made into dripking-eops, dishes, pail*,
and even pota. lea. they aay that
these calabashes actually can be used
over the lire for boiling water, lust aa
yon would nse a pot. But the calabash
pot gives out alter a few such trials,
and i unfit for further service.—Nf.
\irholnt for February.
Flourrt >m sew (Wore.—Well, well!
What will your Jack hear n#rt T The
bird* tell liini that a Professor Gobha
has succeeded in changing the colors
of cut flowers to suit his own fancy.
Bather an unnecessary piece of work,
one wonld say, as Mowers generally
choose their own color# pretty wisely.
Still you may like to hear about it:
The Professor simply pours a small
quantity of common uqu a ammonia in
to a dish, liver tins he places a funnel
ihig end down), in the tube of which
are inserb-d the flowers he wishes to
to change.
What happen# then t
Ah. my ruicka, that'# just what your
Jack wishes to know! Wonderful
change* take place, I am told. The
first time you have a flower to spare,
just huv ten eeuta' worth of aqua am
monia at the nearest drnggist's, try
Professor Gobha'# experiment, and re
port to Jack.— St. Nirhoht.
,1 Fine-hundred-dofhtr (3 at. —"Yes.
sirs,—a five-liundred-dollar cat," said
lVai-on Green yesterday to three little
chap* who were walking with htm.
"Lately, at the Sydenham Palace,
near London, was held a Cat Show ,
where over four hundred were exhib
ited. Thepriw eat won a premium of
A's—twenty five dollars. He's a splen
did fellow. nam>d 'Tommy 1 >odd'—
nine years old. and considered worth
Tilth or five hundred dollars. Tbe
Heaviest specimen in the show weighed
.# few- ounces over eighteen pounds.
There's s cat for you, young gentle
men !"— St. Skhohut far February,
A little oil iM VM once asked how WHO
came to he a t bristiau, aud answered:
"Why, I just aaw the uoor open, and I
wont in.
I hf Trlrirnpb In lb* Afrlcnn Dfwrla
A correspondent writing from Berlia,
in iropieabnifHca. says; "It was singu
lar to meet willi the telegraph 'u the
heart of the desert beiweeu Aryab and
Herbs; not the telegraph put up In
working order a* we see It In Europe,
but all theappurtenHiioesof that Instru
ment of civilisation carried on the hacks
of hniidredsof camels, which l&deu with
coils of wire and hollow iron josts, trod
their toilsome path through the burning
sand. Kvcrv now and thou we met one
of tiiese poor boasts,which overweighted
and broken down by the weight of his
load, hud fallen 011 tin* ground and been
abandoned a victim totbe vultures. All
this telegraphic gear was marked "Se
mens Brothers, London, and was en
route to Khartoum, from which town it
will he forwarded 011 to span the desert
between Kordofan and Darfour. A good
many lives will probably be sacrificed
las fore the line can be considered open,
as the Arabs, who eagerly steal every
piece of iron they can meet with for
their spear points, have to be very se
verely punished before they leave off
cutting down the poles. How ever, this
difficulty once got over, the telegraph
will IK* ns easily w orkea as one between
Khartoum and Cairo, which when it
was first laid down was continually be
ing interrupted. -London Times.
Love Is shown by actions, not by
words.
m
FOOD FOR;THOOOBT.
Kit in yoor own place, mid no man
can inake ju rise.
Hoft hoarta often harden, but soft
head* never change.
Talent and virtue are #a frelequantly
hereditary than the gout.
In deception. Faith diet; Happiness
l* more ciedulou# than misfortune.
To confide too much la to put your
lemons Into another man'* squeezer.
No one ran he happy without a friend
and no one ean know what frlenda he
haa ontll he La unhappy.
A good action is never tlirown away,
and tliar la why ao few of thorn are
neei) lying around Jooae,
We all are at una*t the lieauUful
colors *t reaming all over the weatern
sky, but no one oo caq behold the hand
that overturn* the uru# whence these
*tream* are poured. '
The great t*ll of China, at IVkln, la
thirteen feet in diameter. The daughter
of ita founder la raid to havo thrown
herself into the molten ma** lit order to
aeeure through huineti sacrifice, a per
feet eaatlug.
!n a collection of tan* la London, la
one made by a lady of Normandy. The
beautiful lace work (a woven of her
golden hair, and the *tlek* are inlaid
with delicate |o|Dhed crescent* made
of her finger nail*.
The successor of Lord Kortbbrook a*
Governor-General oi India, Lord Lyt
lon, ia Liter known by hi* how Jr plums
UVB Meredith. flfe entered diplo
matic service In lit* eighteenth year, at
Washington, and haa been in sendee
ever 4ncy. lie la how forty-live year*
of age.
Wllkie Collins i* aald to he the author
of till* valuable hint: "No other human
pursuit I* so hostile to the influence .of
the fenisle *ex as the purult of athletic
sports. No men are so entirely lieyond
the reach of women a* the men w how
lives are passed in the cultivation of
their own physical strength.'
Candle liglit Is generally considered
to en hams- the beauty of oue'a face and
com|dexion, and we are told that It will
he the ia*hiou this winter to use wax
candies at |*rlie* instead of apt*.
Young ladle# who have more freckle*
than they know what to do with, wilt
read thl* with gratification.
There are now eight pin factories in
the United Slates, which make 47,000,-
UOO pins daily. In addition to these the
importation* of (tins reach J5,000,000
dally. A* these are easily sold, it D
safe to ssy that 71,010,000 of pin* are
kt dally, or &2,OU> every minute.
Where they all go is the wonder.
"Healthy I**l v. healthy appetite,
healthy feelings, though *< come oiled
with weillor-rity of talent, unad rned
with wit and imagination, and unpol
ished by learning and science, will o#t
rlp In the rare for happipes* the
splendid irregularities of genius. anl
tne mo*t dazzling success at ambition."
—Greet lie'* Mr mole* of Grortft IY.
In some exquisite hints on "every
thing," Goethe remarks, "that the best
composition In picture# ia that which
observing the usual delkata law* of
haruiuuy, so arranges the objects that
tlsey by thr'r position, toll their own
story.'' A d the rule thus applied to
cosiposStio i lb |ialnting applies no las#
to composition in literature*—{Bulw
Ifffia
The gam- at love is the same whether
the players he clad in velvet or In hod
den gray. Beneath the glided ceilings
of a palace, or the lowly rafters of a
cabin, there are the same hopes and
fears, the sane jealousies, and distrusts
and drqiotidiug; the wiles and strata
gem* are all alike; tor, after all, the
stake l human happiness, whether he
who risks it be a peer or a peasant!
A custom observed In many old
French castles at this epoch Is the fete
of the first fire. After dinner an Im
mense bowl of punch Is introduced and
the ho#tea invite# her gnests to sit
around It; it l set on fire, and Hie blue
flame# nerve to light a piece of pajx-r
which In turn Is atqded to the logs, and
soon the chimney Like* the bright as
pect it will retain for seven month*.
It ia Mary Murdoch Mason who di
vide- her sex Into three classes—the
giddy butterflies, th<- busy bee# and the
woman*# fighters. Ttw Am are pretty
and silly, lite sacond plain and useful,
the third mannish aud odious. The
first wear long, trailing dresses and
smile at you while waltzing; the second
wear apron* and giro you apple dump
lings; and the third want your manly
prerogative, your dres* coat, your
money and your vote.
Sir John Bennett, the AM>-rutan and
well-known watchmaker in the city at
London, <Miver*d a lecture the other
day, during w Inch he weir the follow
ing happy metaphor: "You ean slop
a nock at any moment," He said, "but •
you cannot *top a w atch. So it la wllli
the talk of men and women. Man i- a
great, ugly, coarse machine, imt you
can silence him. H omau ia a beauti
ful, fragile. Jeweled thing—but ahe
will run on till she stop# of herself.
Imagination I# central; faocy Is su
perficial. Fancy relate* u surface, in
which a great |*rt of life lie*. The
lover I# rightly ald to fancy the hair,
eyes, complexion of the maid. Fancy
is a wilful, imagination a apontaneou*
act; fancy, a play a* with doll# and
pup|iet* which we chouse to call men
ami women ; imagination, a perception
and affirm log of a real relation between
a thought and some material far*.
Fancy ainu-e*; iinagiuatioti expands
and exalts us.
St. Andrew the a|***tle 5s the "patron
saint" of Ncotlaud. He was tir*t a dis
ciple of Hi. John the Ra joist, and ap
pear* to ktft been the first to follow
Christ. For tiii* twon it Is supposed
that the place of honor hat boon riven
!to him In the Anglican praver book,
where he come* fir-t of all tbote com
memorated. But little it known of hint,
although he is believed to have suffered
martyrdom at the Patra, In Greece, A.
D. 70, by being rradfltd on a cross in
the forni of an
What folly la it, that with such rare
about the body which la dying, the
world which is perishing N*re our
•yc. time which is perpetually disap
pearing, we should so little care about
that eternal state in which we are to
live forever, w'heu this dream la over!
When we shall have existed ten thou
sand rear= in a net tier world, where
will be all the can and fear- and en
joyments of this f In what light shall
WE then look U|HMI the things which
now transport us with joy or over
whelm us with griet?—J. lea*.
Longfellow was at one time a profes
sor in Bowdoio College, and the college
paper, 7V Orirut, recalls an amusing
anecdote of him. I taring a French rec
i tat ion he called a pen a student who
had evidently made Utile or no prepara
tion and w a-'prouipted by liis classmates
very audibly. The professor gave no
heed to the prompting, but let the stu
dent blunder through his paragraph,
and w beu the reugg man was seated
quietly said: ' Your recitation reminds
tne of "the Stuuiish theatre, where the
' prompter plays a more, important part
than the actor,"
Sir Edmund Deuiaon the designer of
the Westminister clock, recently gave
a sort of "clinical" lecture upon it at
Ixmdon. The oloek-room, a lofty
chamber, 28 feet by 18 fleet, waa well
tilled. The cluck was made in 1854.
The lecture delivered from behind
the clock itae-if—the frame of which is
nearly 18 feet long by 4 feet 7 inches
wide, the flies revolving some 20 feet
overhead. The winding or the striking
part, which is done by band, is con
tracted for at 4500 a year. It takes
place twice a week, and lasts bve hours
at each operation. The first stroke of
the honr is given when thecluck reaches
the 60th second of the last minute of the
hour preceding the fourth quarter,
being let off about twenty' seeouds be
fore the now;, so that it has finished le
--fore the hour begins.
Never put off until to-morrow what
you can do to-day. Never trouble
another for what you call do yourself.
Never spend your money , before you
have it. Never buy what you don't
want because its cheap. I*ride costs
more than hunger, thirst and cold. We
seldom repent of having eaten too little
Nothing is troublesome that we do will
ingly. liow much parti the evils have
cost us that never happened! Take
things always by the smooth handle.
When angry count ten before you
speak; If very angry count a hundred.