GOD'S ICRI. •v i,oKonrixo. I like that ancient Soi> pkrwr. which mils Ths burial ground Hod's moo' It is Just; It consecrates each grave within It* wall*. And breathe* a beniacn on tha alaaptng Just. Hod's sera Ye* that blaaaad name tmpsrt* Comfort to thoaa who in tha grave hava aown Tha aaad that tha? had garnarad in thoir hearts. Thair brand of lifa, alaa' no mora ttiair own. Into ita furrow* ahall wa all ba ess I. In tha aura faith that wa ahall na again At tha graat harvest . whan tha archangel a blaat Khali winnow, lika a fan. tha chart and grain. Thau ahall tha good atand in immortal bloom. In tba fair gardens of that eeooud birth j And aarb Inght blossom mingle It* perfume With that of tlowera which never bhviuied on earth. Wtth thy rude ploughshare Death. turn up the sod. And spread the furiow for the seed we sow j This is the field and acre of our Ood. This is Uie place where butusn hsrvesle grow Mrs. Jon:s' Elopement. Mr Jones came home that afternoon feeling cross and tired, Husitiess hail he*'n dull, AIHI the clerks had lieen pro voking. When he felt out of sorts, as he did that day, a nice supper and his wife's company w ere the host antidotes he knew of. and he hoped to have them eflect a cure in this case, as they often hail in other instance*. But Mrs. Jones was out, the girl said. She had been busy all the afternoon In her room; she didn't know what she was doing. About an hour ago she had put on her bonnet and gone out and had charges! her to tell her husband, when he came home, that she should not be hack until late in the evening. " • t lone out on particular business,' she said." added Bridget. "On particular business," grow led Jones. " I'd like to know what particu lar business she has. I should say it was aw ife's business to stay at home. She knew, of course, that 1 was coming home completely tired out, but that doesn't Interfere with her pleasure In the least. She can enjoy herself just the same—probably all the more—be cause I am out of the way. 1 wish 1 knew where she's gone." He went up to her IOOIU to see if she had worn some ot her best clothes. " Because, if she has," reasoned Mr. Jones, " she gone off to have a good time with some one she cares more for than she does for me." Mr Jones' brow was black as any thuuder cloud at the thought. He was In precisely the right frame of mind to make mountains out of mole-hills. But she hadn't worn any of her new dresses. "It can't be she's gone to a party, then," concluded Mr. Jones, "or she'd have rigged up more. It must be she'.- going somewhere else and wants to keep dark. It begins to look mysterious. A woman dou't generally gooff In this way without saying something to her bushand, and wear her old clothes, without its meaning something, I've observed," said Mr. Joues. solemnly, to the Mr. Jones in the glass. " l*d like to know what it all does mean, any how-." It was just at this juncture that Mr. Jones discovered a letter on Mrs. Jones" writing desk, it was a freshly written page, beginning: 44 DEAR EPWARP." Mr. Jones' hair raised on end w lien his eagle eye caught the sight of tliHt name. What awful thing had he dis covered? Could it IK- that his wife was in the habit of writing letters to gentle men? Perhaps she hail gone out to meet oue now . He read the letter through without stopping to take breath from beginning to end. It read as follows: I>tan EPWAKP: I have read your touching appeal over and over, until every word of it is stamped upon try heart. It ha* caused me to tight a terrible battle with myself. I love you, aud there Is no use for me to deny it. I cannot deceive myself nor you by so doing. But my duty is to stay with my husband. I loathe him—l despise him; he is a tyrant—but be is my husband, and, as such, I suppoe he has a claim upon me in the eyes of the world that yon have not. But, tuy dailing, I lore you, ami I have come to the conclusion to cast my lot with your*. I will do as you wish me to. i will meet you at the oak tree to-night at ten o'clock. I hope I shall— And here, at the bottom of the page, the ieuer broke off abruptly. The other side of the page was blank. "Great Jehosophat!'* That was the awful word that broke Mr. Jones' lips wben he had tlnished reading. It was the nearest to swearing of any word he indulged in. If ever he felt justified in using it he did now. His face was a sight to behold. It was full of anger, and surprise, and complete bewilder ment. "She loves him, does she?" he ejacu lated, faintly. "And I'm a tyrant, am I? The wretched creature! She loathes me. and despises me, does she? I'll show her a thing or two. Let me see —ten o'clock, and I'll learn your ' Dear Edward* something he won't forget. I'll go out this blessed minute and get a couple of officers, and we'll wait for you. I fancy we'll surprise you a little. Great Jehosophat! and she's actually been deceiving me all the time, and let ting some other man talk love to her, ana coax her to elope with him ! I can't believe it, and yet 1 can't doubt it. for here it is in her own handwriting. I wouldn't have believed it if 1 hadn't seen it In black and white. Dear me! 1 wonder if 1 can bear up under the awful blow? What will folks say? 1 shall be ashamed to meet anybody. Its aw fui— awful and Mr. Jones wiped his face with his hankerchief and iooked tie complete picture of grief. Mr, Jones was so "struck all of a heap," to use his own expression, by the terrible intelligence that he didn't stop to reason over the matter. He never once thought that "dear Ed ward " couldn't by any possibility have received this letter, since it hadn't been sent. He only realized that she' was going to meet her lover at ten o'clock. " I'll be there my lady," said Mr. Jones, significantly, putting <>n hi* over coot preparatory tr> setting out in search of the proper officers. " I'll be there and I'll give your • Dear Edward ' some, thing he didn't bargain lor. I'll 1 Dear Edward 'him!" About nine o'clock Mr. Jones and a couple of officers came up the rood stealthily and secreted themselves be hind a clump of bushes near the place where the two main roads crossed each other. " Now you mind what I say," said Mr. Jones. " I'll go for him, and you keep out of the way till I'm done with hiin. I'll make hirn wish he'd never thought of such a thing as making love to other men's wives, see if I don't. I'll pommel him ! I'll trounce him within ail of his life, the eoutemptibl puppy I" and Mr. Jones struck out right and left at his visionary rival in away that tuade the officers titter. They waited and waited and kept waiting. The ten o'clock train caine in, whistling shrilly. And still no sign of either man or woman for whom they were waiting. Presently Mr. Jones bade them listen; lie heard steps down the road. The night was dark, and they could not see a rod off. But he was right in thinking lie heard steps. Some one was coming. " It's him, curse him," muttered Mr. Jones. " Now you lay low, and mind what 1 say. Dont come till 1 tell you to. I dare say I shall half kill him. But you keep off, and I'll take the consequences If Ido kill him completely. Great Jeho&aphat! I just yearn to get my hands on the wretch." " He's close by now," whispered one of the men. " I see him/1 answered Mr. Jones, in an awful whisper. " Here, hold my hat. I'm going for him, and may the Lord have mercy upon his soul!" Accordingly, Mr. Jones " went for him." He made a rush at the tall, black figure coming leisurely up the road. He fave it a punch in the stomach with one st, and another in the ribs with the other fist, snorting like a wild bull. He FRED. KURTZ, Editor and Proprintoi VOL. IX. w too axrllail to talk Intelligibly ot first. The unsuspecting recipient ot such an oxfaot-dlitary greeting seemed half Inclined to run at tlr*t. hut on sec ond thought, seemed to think lieller ot it and turned upon his assailant. " Take that, and that, and that! cried Mr. Jones, who had got so he could utter words a trtlle more coherent I \ In this time, dealing Mows right and left. "Run aw at with my wile, will TOU ! You old villain, I'll learn you to swoon round the Jones family try mg to break it tt| Take that— and that! and—sill, gloat Jehosophat!" Mr. Jones'tune suddenly changed; the victim of a husband's righteous wrath had brought his cane to bear upon his foe and was doing gotsi work with it. " Smith—Dobaon! help! help!" shrieked Jours, as the cane fell uttoti bis bead and shoulders In uiimervitul blows. "Murder! help!" 'The officer* came to hit assistance, ami succeed in securing the stranger. " I'd like to know w hat this tueans f" he demanded. " 1 supposed this neigh borhood was respectable, but 1 should think you've all gone crary, or 01-e turned highway robbers." " We'll let you know what it mean*," cried Jones. •• I dont believe you will w ant to run awa\ with Samuel Jones" wife again." '• Is that you, Samuel Jones?" asked the prisoner. " I thought your voice >oumled kind of familiar before, but you bellowed so 1 eouKln't make it out. Are you insane or idiotic—or what?" " Lord bless me, if you ain't Uncle Joshua!" said \lr. J one.-, laiutlv. He felt small enough ju*t then to crawl through a knot hole. " I'm awful -orry tliat this has happened, but 1 eouldu t Itelp it. 1 didn't know it was you. You see Amelia's fell in love with some fel low and 1 came across a letter this after uoon tliat site had w rilten to liiut say ing she'd meet him here at ten o'clock, and i got these men to help me and we waited for him. and 1 thought you were the matt!" " Fell in love with another man and promised to meet him here at ten o'clock ? Stuff and nonsense!" ex claimed Uncle Joshua, indignantly. "You were always t lie biggest fool! You're crazy!" "But 1 tell you 1 saw her own letter," exclaimed Mr. Jones. 44 1 ain't crazy now, but I shouldn't wonder if I was be fore long." " You've lost all the sense* you used to have, and titat wasn't en >ugh to brag of," said Uncle Joshua, rather uncom plimentary. "tome along to the house and we'll ass Amelia what it means." Uncle Joshua led the w ay with a pain in hi* stomach, caused by Mr. Jones* energetic attempt to teach his supposed rival not to meddle with the Jones family, and Mr. Joues followed In his wake with a sore head and a very black eye. There was a light in the sitting room. Mrs. Jones was there. "See here, Amelia, exclaimed Uncle Joshua, bursting In likeatbuuder storm "you're ft>ol of a Imshuttd -ay- you've fell in love with someone, and tliat you wrote him a letter saying you'd meet liitn at ten o'clock to-night ami run away with him, and lie says he's seen the letter. Now I don't believe a word of it, but I'd like to have you explain, if vou can." "You did!" exclaimed Mr. Jones. 44 It's no use for you to lie ataou it Amelia. You've broke my heart, ami you did w rite that letter. 1 found it on your desk and here it i*. It begin*— ' Dear Edward.* " 44 Oh, I know all about It now," cried Mrs. Jones, beginning to laugh. "(> dear me! You -ee, Laura Waue ami I agreed to write a story, and I have got mine half done, ami went over to read it to her this afternoon, and when I got there I found tliat I'd lost a page of it. I must have left it on my desk. It was atiout a woman who was going to elojH tny story was—ami she w rote tliat she would go with her lover, and tliat. when she thought it all over, concluded to stay at home and do her dutv. The page tliat was missing was the one tiiat had the letter on it that she wrote U> lu-r lover. You found it, ami thought 1 was going to run away ! O dear 1 never heard of anything so funny! O dear me!"and Mrs. Jones laughed until the tear* rat: down her cheeks. " I can't sec anything very funny about It,"said Mr. Jane*, feeling rather sheepish. " How was I to know you were writing stories? You've no busi ness to *|>end your time in that way." " Thai's so," growled Uncle Joshua, whose stomach began to teel sore ami bruised. " You're a fool for writing sto ries. and Jones is a fool anyway !" W hlch was poor consolation for Jotie. The story of the whole affair leaked out, and he will never hear the last of Mrs. Jones* elojiement. Alexander U mull lon Alexander Hamilton was, next to Franklin, the most consummate states man among the band of eminent men who hail been active in the Revolution, am! who afterward labored to convert a loose confederation of States Into a na tional government. His mind was as idatic as it was vigorous and profound, t was the appropriate intellectual ex preaaion of a poised nature whose jsiw er was rarely obtrusive, because it w half concealed by the harmonious ad justment of its various faculties. It was a mind deep enough to grasp principles and broad enough to regard relations, and fertile enough to devise measures. Indent, the most practical of our early statesmen he was also the most Inventive. He was as ready with new expedients to meet unexpected emergencies a* lie was wi*e in subordinating all expedi ents to clearly defined principles. In intellect he was probably the most crea tive of our early statesmen, as in senti ment Jefferson was the most widely in fluential. And Hamilton was so bent on practical ends thatio- was indifferent to the reputation which might have re sulted from a parade ol originality in the mean* he devised for their accom plishment. There never was a states man less egotistic, less desirous of lals-l ing a policy as "my" policy; and one of the sources of his influence was the subtle way in which he insinuated into other minds idea* which they apiieared to originate. His moderation, ids self command, the exquisite courtesy of his manners, the persuasiveness of his or dinary *[x>cch, the fascination of his extraordinary speeches, and the mingled dignity and ease with which he met men oi all degrees of intellect and char acter, resulted In making his political partisans look up to him a- almost an object of political adoration. Ills diffi cult to say what this accomplished man might have done as a leader of the Fed eral op|Kisition to the Democratic ad ministrations of Jefferson and Madison, had lie not, in the maturity of his years and in the full vigor of ills faculties, been murdered by Aaron Burr. Nothing can better illustrate the folly of the practice of dueling than the fact that, by a weak compliance with its maxims, the most eminent of American states men died by the hand of the most in famous of American demagogues. A flan's friends. It Is very certain that a man's inti mate friends are often the last to sus pect his possession of unusual abilities. Tills is a trite observation, but one is constantly being surprised at some new proof of its truth. It was not long ago that a gentleman told us that he did not believe a certain celebrated poet had any real genius, because he once lived in the same town with him, and knew that his family were no better than they should be. He had never read any of hi 6 books, however. It was the old 6tory over again. "He is a great man!', "Nonsense! I knew him when he was only that high!" THE CENTRE REPORTER. %n l asny • gmnl fisher men because their line- and angle* are apt to l>e all right. The mermaid and fisher w oman may aNo te mentioned in this connection. The former is a good illustration of what I* meant hy the ideal, and the lat ter s thiy represents the real. M.owhiiii animaN ate reproduced in the sea. 1 tills We have the dog-fish, the eat fish, sea-lion* and sea-horses, hut no sea-mules. None of the above have hind legs, ami any manner ol mule without hind legs would IK; a con spicuous failure. It tuay not IK< out of place to men tion Jonah in litis connection. He was not a tl-h, hut was once included among the inhabitants of the deep. There lias been considerable dispute as to the name ol the ti*h tliat swallow tat the gentleman, above mentioned, some person- arguing tltat the throat of a w hale i- not large enough to swallow a .nan. This objection seem- to IK- in consequential. Jonah might have la-en made in a -mailer mould than other men. More over. it is certain tliat he was cn*t over befoie lieing swallowed—cast over the rail of the vessel. There has IMH-II much -peculation, alno, a- to the catt-e of Jonah's expul sion froui-tlie w hale's interior, but the theory most generally accepted i- tliat he soured on the w hale's stoma It. He was very fortunate in reaching laud, since lie had no pilot. If he lia-l taken a pilot into tin- stomach of the w hale he would doubtless have selected I'auncheotis Pilot as the proper tuan. Jonah was the first man who retired from the Department of the interior, ami Delano wa> the last one. But vve digress. Let its return toour fish. The codllsh j, the great source of all salt. In this respect Lot'- wife was no where; however, it would IK- well to "remember lt* wife." The *a||ne t|talltie- of the codfish |iermeatc and percolate the vasty tleep, and make the ocean as -alt a- himself. Weighed in hi* own scale*, he is"found wanting considerable freshening. He is by nature quite social, hi- principal recreation U-utg halts—tlsli IMIIS. The codfish was worshipped ly the Greeks: but lie i only half a* well treated hy the luliahitaut* of t'aj>e C ( HI —he Is simply shipped. Hence the dif ference betweeu tiie Greek* ami the in habitants of l'aj*- <'•*!. Small ti-l. are usually harmless, but {tarent* ea:i"t be too careful about |>er niittiiig their cliildren to play w here large ti-h abound, as it I-an established fact that the big tl-li frequently eat up the little ones. The jell v fi*h is. perhaps the Is-st un derstood ol all tin* finny tri!*-, lecsu*- being translucent, it is easy to sec through him. The greatest nutnher of ti-h is eaten tm Friday, ami the next greatest num ber on Saturday, because th-e that are left over are w armed up for Saturday'* breakfast. Argumentative per-on* ;tre fond of stating that it is grammatical to *a\ tiiat the five loaves ami three Ashes j were ate. since five and three were at- i ways eight They should Is* treated with silent contempt. Fish are provided with air bladders, so that they can rise from the depths of the sea by simply tiding tin-• hladdrr wlth air. If any one is disposed to a-k where they get the air for such liifl.i tion, let him understand in advance that this article is not intended for tin solution of |ietty conundrum-. There are many iu'erv-ting rumors about ti-h which might Is- mentioned, ! but the foregoing facts may In* consld- I ered as of fi-h-al. Nallonal Mortal t'astom*. These several methods were practiced in the earlier age- by* all the eastern i nations. The Egyptians have become j so identified with the first that we now turn tow art "f locating cemeteries without the walls of the city. With them the days of mourning numbered seven, although when a jierson of eminence died they continued sometimes thirty days. Dur ing this period, fasting, mourning, and other sacrifices were kept up by Un friends of the deceased. The Greeks, as the next nation in ]mlnt of early in terest, were accustomed isith to burn and to bury their dead. When it was intended to inter the remains, the I* sly was placed in a coffin of baked clay or earthenware, ami de|H>slted, as with the Hebrews, out of the city. Ituriat with in the city was forbidden. The funeral was succeeded usually with fa-ling that was more or less prolonged. During the days of the republic in Home interment was general, ami even In the early years of the empire the custom was held, lull later burning w as the practice, which, however, fell into ill-favor in the fourth century, when Uhristianily was gaining a strong foot hold, ami tin- Emperor liim-elf Is-camc a disciple of that fa'th. In the latter days of the republic ami the earlier of the empire,when Incineration was intro duced,it waa the custom, if the deceased w as rich, to w ash t-hecorpse, w hicli W-K then anointed with oil ami perluinery by t lie slaves of the undertaker. A coin was placed In the mouth to pay the fer riage into Hades, tlie abode of departed spirits. The ltody was well dressed, and placed with the feet toward the door of the house in which the deceased had expired. The funeral took place at night. If the station of the dead war ranted it, tlie Issly was conveyed through the forum, where an oration was pronounced. It will IK.- remem bered how Marc Antony spoke over the body of ('near w hen his remains were taken to the place of public assembly, 'i'lie Issly was then burm-d, the flames were extinguished by wine being potir : ed on them, and the bones and ashes j were carefully collected and placed in j an urn. to be preserved by the relatives I and friends. The Germanic races at one time prac ticed what lias been known in recent years as cremation. Tin* remnants ot this old custom are Keen even now in their torchlight processions in honor of their departed princes, wbich point unmistakably to the lire-burial once so prevalent. The views of Sir Henry Thompson on cremation are accepted by the descendants ot the Germanic races, which may serve to show that the relics of the fire-burial still exist. The Saxons CENTRE IIAI.E. CENTRE <'<>.. TA.. THURSDAY. MARCH 'J, l7li. and Frisian* of the olden time were let lilted al its darkness, when the nuitow grave wa* Introduced among them a the successor of their burning burials. With the Northmen cremation followed the iiiotiud burial. Cicsar, when he was in Haul, ohscivod that the natives practiced creiualloii, and Tacitus-peaks ot tin- il i • burial as a tier manic custoui, special kinds of wood being used for < hit-Haiti*. The Northmen hurled the aslies of their dead alter their Incinera tion and planted flowers over the Hunt). I'lu- imtivri of lli island* of Heliring Sea urn- In tlit< liable of mummifying till' Ikklh'n of tlll'il' dead. 'l'tlU Cllntoill iloi-i not appear to have evi-r existed among tin- trilK'i inhabiting tin* main land on vltlii'r tin* Amor li'iiii or Anltllc ide of the sea. In Hit' Ctiukohe* I'en lunula, on tlio A "la lit - shore, tlu - n* i no noil iii w liifli to Iniry tlit* tii'atl, ami ere matloii in tni|o> —ll'lt* for VTANT til MOINI, lu'liiv the nation* expose their dead, t< tlio tnt'rt'v ol the bear*. dogs, ami foxes. in tin' Yukon Valley, Alas ka, tlio noil in aluiont alvtays fro/en hard, ami excavation in extremely ilif fioiilt, but tiuilier abounds. ami tlio re luaiim of tlio tloail are boxed up in MIKHI on t'olllnn, ami t-|i*\atfl on pot*. The Indian* ol tin' great Xoriltweei employ a -miliar mean* of dl*|MM>iug of thair tleail, >II IHE island* ntiil In not |-r --llianettllv Iro/eli, ami grate* might be easily ii|i-f, lull MLHKI in nearee, ami an ihere are no wilil anlmaln, the native* lay itieir ileail away among the nook* ami eranuien of tin* roekn The hanl ag* ami Aleutn preserve their ileail by muiuiiiily ing. ihe Intliaun of the Vi'oM take great eare of tlio remains of the papon**- ami young men Anil wo men, whom they wrap securely in rot*** ami blanket* ami place ill tieenoron rainetl platloruin, \Aieretliey rest, some time* tor a IIUIIIIKT of year*. They, however, would leave with the utmost unconcern an aged woman to die or to In- torn to death bv ravenous Ik-ant*. He- iiU' ine Indian hi- pony i* killed, ami lit* utensil* arc tlepociiitl with him In Ui pouch, with liia i!tnt and steel, ami favorite weapon*. I'he oltl N',>r*e war rior HU burned, and hi- dog and often his horse w place herself on the tuneral pyre with her hushand's remain* and ie binm-d alive. The Turk* and other Eastern nations treat their dead with great reverence, and bury them in cem eteries w liieli are given a religion* keeping. i lie modem Hreek* usually hint their dead with their fares un- covered .and o|II a diet of rice a* u|kiii tm-al and coru. The Japanese have ait odd name for (hi* bird, signify ing the "seven-colored face," from the • hanging hue* ot the gobbler's gill*. In the same way their name for the crab, the animal that walk- "seven wax*." Speaking of curious name* reminds me Of what the coolies *ay slnmil chestnut* ami sweet |*tat,'s. These |ssr fellow*, w ho |M-rform the most toilsome and pro longed ta-k- for a mere pittance, who "Ix-ar tin- burden and the heat of the day," in the fullest sense >f the expres sion, have a hearty appreciation of rixxl loII w,*-t |>ota toes, the cheapest of all etlibh-s ill Japan. < best nuts, which are known a* "nine mile nut*," while not exces sively dear, are generally beyond the mean* of the coolie*. But they delight to fancy that sweet |*>tatoo* arc almost a* good a* chestnuts, o they ac- ordinly -luti the |a>tato "eight mile and a half food," wldch makes It only half a mile short of tliechestnut. A man who lives on chestnuts can go nine Japanese miles al*out twenty-two and a half English miles) in a day, while he who eats sweet |M>iat-ein to he parth-tilttriy cold, although a foreigner would consider their enstuiiie barely sufficient for a warm Summer day.— (JorTts[*mtlrnrr Clrrrland Urnihl. A t.vrk) Itsn. Twenty clerks in H store, twenty band- in a printing olllce, twenty ap prentice* in a ship-yard, twenty young men in a village ail want to get along in tlie world ami expect to do HO. One of the clerks will become a partner, and make a fortune; one of the compoHitorH w ill own a newspaper, and tiecome an influential citizen; one of the appren tices wtll liecoine a master builder; one of the young villager* will get a hand* some farm, and live like a patriarch— hut which one IH the lucky individual! I. nek '? Therein no luck alHiut it. The tiling is almost as certain as the rule ot three. The young fellow who w ill dls tatice Ids competitors is lie w ho masters his business, who preserves Ills Integrity, who lives cleanly and purely, who de votes his leisure to the acquisition of knowledge, who gains friend* by de serving them and who saves Ids spare money. There are some ways to tor tune shorter than this old, dusty high way ; tint the staunch men of the com munity, the men who achieve something worth having, good fortune good name, and serene old age, all go in Ids hard, dirty road. Origin of Nnliiigsn) furniture. About the eighteenth century a West India captain (nought some imihogany logs us ballast for his ship, and gave them to his brother. Dr. Gibbons, an eminent physician, who w as then build ing a house. The wood was thrown aside as too hard for the workmen's tools. Some time afterward his wifo wanted a candle box. The 1 r. t bought nf the West Indian wood, and out of that theboS was made. Its color'and polish templed the l)r. to have a bu reau of the same materia), and this was thought so beautiful that It was shown to all Ids friends. The Duchess of Buckingham, who came to look at it, begged wood enough to make another bureau for herself. Then the demand arose for more, and Honduras maho gany became a common article of trade. kuiur urloiia Way a MI Oktrrilai Bl Valsalla*'. lis) Our own ancestry in England and Scotland have observed some very funny customs within the Inst three Centuries. At one time valentine* were fashionable among the nobility, and, while still selected by lot, It became the duty of a gentleman to give to the lady who fell to Ilia lot a handsome present, l'leor* of jew elry costing thousand* of dollar* were not unusual, though smaller things, as gloves, were more common. A gosslppy old gentleman named I'epv*, whose private diary has come to afford great interest and amusement to our times, tells how he sent hi* wife silk stocking* and garters for her valen tine. And one year, he says, hi* uw ii w lie chanced to be his valentine, and he gruiuliles that it will cost him the pound*. There was a tradition among the country people that every bird chose Its mate ou \ alenliite'i day ; and at one litue it was the custom fur young folk* to go out before daylight on that morn ing and try to catch an owl and two sparrow* In a net. If they succeeded, It was a good omen, and entitled them to gift* froiu the villagers. Another fashion among them was to write the valentine, tie it on an apple or orange, and steal up to the house of the chosen one in the evening, open the door quietly, ami throw it in. The drollest valentine I ever heard of belong* to thoae old tliues in Knglaud, and consisted of the rib of a small ani mal w rap|>ed in white satin ribbon, which was lied in true lover's knots In seieral places. This elegant and sug gestive gitt was sent to a bachelor, and accompanied with verses: " Cfro <*>utrtupt*U< t hi* l.iTrij •ItfL ' llMlr IllrC • lO aitriUf, Alut ilaia-U U hf VO Cft . Uftorr illtt'ltt Lstr. l UIUt, To Ufl M*ir lhi I • | njtlrut cfeutre " So far, it is uncertain whether or not the lines refer to the pleasure* of eating, suggested to modern minds) by a rib. itul they go ou to explain : M Tul Aviftiu hftsl ft (ftrtavr fli. Ma* L ft* r*tr Uru lm Used like b Hu I4)M ftftft lt*rotkl}4elft ; So fts'Ui friehit llirsv jojft t itirr, OkVr tbo !{•) aw etoe ft Vfta *Ut ftlr ' HUc Cattle lan*,! rrjirtr'' w hlch leaves nothing to be desired, I'm sure. Those were the days of charms, ami ] of course the rural maidens had a sure am) Infallible charm foretelling the fu ture husband. On the eve of St. Valen- I tine'* day, the anxious damsel pre|i&red • for sleep by pinning to her pillow tlve bay leave*, one at each corner and one ( 111 the middle which must have been j delightful to sleep on, by the way l . If , she dreamed of her sweetheart, *he was ! sure to marry hint before the end of the year. But to make it a ''dead sure" thing, the candidate for matrimony mu*t Iwiil an egg hard, take out the yolk, and till Its place with salt. Just before going to bed, she must eat egg, salt, shell and . alt, and neither speak nor drink after j It. If (hat wouldn't Insure her aviv id dream, there surely could he no virtue in charms.— St. .Viclolsi for Fchrmtuy. lirrsiaa lirnllrwru, It has been said that the well-born Herman Is distinguished for Ills usury wa ami disregard ot those in a lower sta tion than himself. This was, and is, his chief reproach in the eyes of his middle-da*- fellow -countryman. He does not conceal that he desplsoa their want of manner, their glariirg sole cisms, their extraordinary coarseness of behavior .and absence of tact. They,who ]**rhap* know a lunch a* he does, are richer than he is. are unconscious of all that Jar* and grates upou one of a flner til ire than I liem solve*, and are ant to to declare that lie trade* on Ills nobility, aud assumes a merit that he Is far from |MMse**liig. Not from the so-called "lower orders'* I* resentment ever like ly to Iws-ome dangerous, but from the well-educated, underbred middle claa* ; the very middling—lf retluemeiil of •prech, suavitv of inauuer, and gentle ties* of utterance count for anything. The middle cla* a* we understand It one brother a merchant, another In the guards, the eldest son of the bouse heir ! to a baronetcy, the youngest walking the earth In an M. 11. waistcoat, and waiting for the family living—ls almost Incomprehensible to the ordinary tier man tuind; hut let u* liojie that the day may not lie far distant w lien the arro game of the aristocrat may hi* tsnprrwl ami the tone of the cltl/en refined. Su long a* commerce means here hop keeping, every petty grocer writes Aiiw/rrunn merchant) over hi* shop j door, and every Jew usurer sign* him self itmyMier, it i* to lie feared that a commercial career will not prove very attractive In the eyes of. or draw many recruit* from, the up|ier ranks of soci ety. It I* not given to every tnan to lie what In common parlance Is called "born a gentlemanbut If his birth he not gentle, his manner* may make him so; and we all know that a "cotton lord" may be a truer gentleman than the descendant of a "hundred earls." The modest Independence ami self-re liance which bring about suavity of manner* and an abseuoe at once the servile or the arrogant In a man's 111- { tercouree with those of another rank is ■tint at a premium in Germany, where self-assertion or olwequlousnese strikes the outsider with a sense of |ialned sur prise. The Herman gentleman, the man of noble birth, of iplendhl pres ence, of |Mill-hed If of cold and arrogant manners, tails where we might expect hluitofail. "Without love," say* our great humorist, "I can fancy no true gentleman"—love that Is, not of the In dividual, which may be but mere sub limated selfishness, but that chivalrous devotion which high-minded manhood ever bears to gentle womanhood. The Herman gentleman may be gallant, lie may be a tnan of pleasure, a lady-killer, a grtind rir/er; a* a rule he la perfectly ready to flirt with any pretty woman, to make daily Frtintrr parades before her windows, to whisper soft •entlmen lal nothings to her during the course of the cotillion, it may lie even slightly to "compromise" her. She I* of course, a married woman (for these attentions would mean marriage to a girl,) so she knows, and ought to know , how to take care of herself. He w ill go away ami laugh over his little social successes, when his comrade* banter him on his Mnne* fnrtunr*; ami she w ill la* backbit ten in the "Knflees," and a tolerant so ciety will view the matter with Indiff erence, unless. Indeed It comes to such a climax a* makes Indifference, no lon ger possible; and even then, an easy going temper di*|>o*e* the lookers-on generally to be tolerably lenient. Their tiark is much worse than their bite In these matters, and, alter all, one must not draw the line too tight. Marriage is la-set with ft thousand dHflctilllee; life Is tnore amusing la-hind the scenes of a theatre than in the dull, domestic round. One likes to have one's moment* of relaxation, and eternal parade, civil as well as military, Is rather a gilding of the Illy. Women arc well enough to lie "a moment's ornament," hut life Is easier en garcon. One has a thousand egoisms and ambitions to occupy one's time and thoughts, and a man galloonod all over with gold, atnl staggering un der orders, cannot Ik? expected to sit like llcrcule* at Oinpliale s feet. Her man ladles are not accustomed to the entire and untiring devotion which En glish women accept with all the un consciousness of a right. No man rises to open the door for you when you leave the room ; if cups of tea or coffee have to la- handed about, it is the lady of the house that will carry them round; she will la- rewarded with n t 'TauawiiMtnk, nuine OnadtgtU ," but the "most gra cious" w ill lie allowed to trot about all the same. A man need not wait (in that happy land) for "pain ami anguish' to "rack the brow" before the minis teriug angelß apja-ur upon the scene. You (one of the angels ) may search an hour for your sortie de Ml In a cloak mom, before one out of that group of glittering being* assembled round the door will put out a helping hand. When at l**t you emerge from your difflctlltlc* and pans down the stairs they will draw tliernselvea up ill itnimmr tnillUtnrk linltung, cllek their lieela together and bring llielr heads to the level ol their •wort)-belts; and If that is Is not devo tion, chlvalrie liehavior, and splendid reniKM't, the world has none to show, and you are an exacting and Irrational malcontent.— Eraser' i Viiyiifss. i|* si lb* I rssra Us(ss(* It will lie one of the most remarkable discoveries of the age If there i* really ground for thinking that the Kreueii tongue WA* sjMikett In Gaul lit the fourth century Ik-fore t hrlt. and iliat it was afterwards su|tereded by lailiii. As much seetus implied In a late review iu the 1 lUut of M. Vinllel-le-lluc's "All nals of a Fortress." In that book the imaginary history of a fortress is traced from the earliest times to the march of the Allies on i'arU. In the review we read: "In the fourth century before the Christian era this position, then known A* the Vaid'Avou, wa* occupied by A tribe of Gauls." lu due time, "when Gaul bad become a Human pro vim*, the Val d'Avon, with the high land above, was transformed into lite camp of Aboitla." If there is any mean ing in words, this clearly trupiirs that the Gauls called the place Val d'Avou, and that the Human* changed the name to Ahotiia. That Gauls in the fourth oeulury before Christ should s|ieak such remarkably good French is cer tainly surprising. Hut, if auything could make us believe it, it would be the authority of one who has studied the revolutions of Gaul so minutely a* M. Viol let ■ |e-L)uc. It is poaaihie, how ever, tnat the translator or reviewer mar be answerable for the statement ratlier than the author hlmsell. M Viollet le-Duc, writing in French, would naturally call hi* valley Val d'Avon, whether he was sneaking of the fourth century before Christ or of the nineteenth century after Christ. He would uaturally say that the Komaus planted their camp of Abunia iu the Val d'Avon. But it is a hasty conclu sion from this that lite Gauls called the place Val d'Avon, and that the Homans i banged tlte name to Ahouia. l>r. Guest, writing iu Kngli*h, might say with |>erfecl correctness that Attlus I'lauilus founded Indinum in the valley of the Thames. Hut it would he rash t<> argue front this that even ITau tius hltunelfever used the words "Valley of the Thames," and still more rash to argue that form* of words was usual among the Briton* ot the fourth century before Christ. tWilder* ■ Winter < loh< A very prettv amuaeinent, especially for those who have juat complete*! the study of botany, ia the taking of leaf photograph*. One very simple process is this: At anv druggist's get a dime's worth of bichromate of jxwaah. Put this in a two-ounce bottle of salt water. When the solution heeoroea saturated that Is, the water has dissolved as much a* it will—pour off some of the clear liquid into a shallow dish; on this float a piece of ordinary writing paper till it Is thoroughly moistened. I jet It become nearly dry, in the dark. It should be of a bright yellow. On this put the leaf; under It a piece of soft black cloth and several sheets of newspaper. Put these between two pieces of glass (all the piece* should tie of the same slxe) and with springclothepins fasten them together. Ex|s>*e to a bright sun, p'.aciug the leaf so that the rays will fall ti|ioti It as nearly |ier|irndicular as possible. In a few minutes it will he gin to turn brow n, but it requires from half an hour to several hours to pro duce a perfect prii t. When it has be come dark enough, take it from the frame put in clear water, which must lie changed every few minute* till the yellow part become |>erfeotly white. Sometimes the venation of the leaves will lie quite distinct. By following tin-so directions it is scarcely possible to fail, and a little practice will make lerfect. The photographs. If well taken are very prettv as well as interesting. A "Secret Blow" to frnrlna Very silly is the belief of the exist ence ol secret blows, whose magic defies the most consummate skill. "The com mander's blow" and "the Italian blow" are the most famous of these secret blows. They are simplicity itself, and cannot lie successfully executed If the adversary lie a tolerable aw ordsinan and carefully on his guard. To explain them here would oblige me to enter into technicalities, which would lie tlreek to the majority of readers. The only secret blow which Is certain of success is "thegendarmes' blow.'' The gendarmes are the rural police. When your adversary is about to attack you, assume a horrified expression of coun tenance, cast a terrified glance at the horizon hack of him, shout; "There comes the gendarmes!" As lie turns his head to look, run your sword through him, exclaiming, as you do so, and this artfully, that the whole sen tence may aeetn to be one ejaculation: "laa's make haste!" It wrings my iieart to be obliged to add that judges and Juries are not disposed to consider "the gendarmes' blow ' as a legacy of the Chevalier Bayard.— Srribntr'M Monthly. Old Haas. A motif; the wise sayings for the year are the following: A blind man's wife needs no paint ing. Death is before the old man's face :illoor old father, lool ir.es thee, boy. Ah, Rohlnet Roumilie, there is another—a poor young girl— u hose bitterest tear* w ill he secret oue*.' The youth, almost stunned with de spair at his fate, returned to tell hi* mo ther and Marion. They awaited hi* arrival, kneeling at the feet of the Holy i Marv's Image, and prariug with agoni slug fervency. Kobinct entered quietly, and Mood 1 rigid aud pale behind liiein, hi* eye* large, and hi* nostrils quivering. The j mother turned aud looked at him, then fell hack in a swoon. Her son raised her, and laid her upon a sofa In slow re covery. Marion clung to hi* arm. and held one of his hand* in hers, weeping bitterly. None a*ked for the word* they could not bear to hear. "Ah, thy poor father!" the mother murmured, "I know he Is weeping in secret, lie was ever slow to -how hi* grief. Hi* heart Is broken like mine. Gh, that I had thv father here! We would mourn together."' There was a stir below, and a sound of many ste| coming up the staircase. It paused at the door. Rohlnet o|>cned It. They were bringing home lit* fa ther—dead, lie had killed hlin-elf that Rohlnet might IK- exempt from con- 1 sci'iptloi). He had fallen a sacrifice to an insane idea of duty, lad us not judge him too harshly, lie meant well, his brain gave w ay, he died that hi* son might live, (iod Is more merciful than man! Thus the widow kept her son; but the memory of the father was held In a tender depth of regret, in the forever saddened heal U of both mother aud son. Origin •( Phrnwea, The origan of phrases and some of our common word* presents an interesting study. The term "sub rosa"' is said to have originated as follows: Cupid gave a rose to Hippocrates, aud from this legend arose the practice of suspending a rose over the table when eating, when it was intended that the conversation should be kept secret. The explanation ol "by hook or by crook " is that in the olden time persons entitled to get firewood in the king's forest were limited to such dead bran ches as they could tear down Willi a " hook or crook without hurt to his majesty's tree." " In suite of his teeth" originated thus: King John of England once de manded of a Jew the sum of 10,000 marks, and, on being refused, ordered that the Israelite should have one after another of his teeth drawn until he gave his consent. The Jew submitted to the loss of seven, and then paid the required sum; hence the expression, "In spite of his teeth." The word "derrick " is an American ism, and yet it had its origin in Kng land. Early in the seventeenth century, when the oftice of hangman iu Kngland was no sinecure, one Derrick held the place, and, among I'urltans and Calva -1 Hers alike, his nuine became associated with the gallows. The Puritans brought ! the worn hither, and gradually it was j applied to hoisting-cranes, by a very natural process of metonymy. The word appears only In Auieriean dic tionaries. NO. 9. votrrav coumi. The Shotrrr of UoUl.— lt Win a bright afternoon in midsummer, and the jew -1 eler who live* in the ana m shower ing everything with gold. Hid you ne ver hear of the Jowefcrwhotivaaja the nun f It ia bo who in the morning turn* the dew drops into sparkling diamonds, and at noonday makes rainbow brid ges of the seven precious stone*, and. when aunaet cornea, builds ca*ties of rubjr with gates of pearl. A wander ful workman is h*,aud now he wabetnl)- tying great bushel-baskets full or void dust out of his shop-windows, and tbe lake was all smooth gold, as far as tbe ryes could see, and tbe green tree* were all covered, and So were tire blue uiouuUtus, and one could see it coming softly dowu through the air from be yond the white clouds. One could see at Ue edges of the clouds, too, h<> w it bad fallen upon them, and had lodged among their fleece* and there stayed. It was as if there had I teen s snow storm in summer, and all tbe snow flakes were pure gold. Four men were in a boat on the lake, and one said to the others: "Jmokat tbe gold !" < rue was a poet, who ssu to hearts of the golden agr , ad one was a miser, who boarded the yellow gold so that no one but be could see iL or use it, and it could do no good: and the third was a batterer, who bought and sold it, and thought of it only ; snd the last was an artist, who bsd golden visions, siul painted pictures thai made tolks joyful with longing. &• they all looked at the gold, and each one thought to himself; "What may I do with It V And the miser thought: "I Will get on shore a* soon as ever I earn and 1 will hurry and get all t he latgust trunks that ever I can, and be first to gather up alt the gold, and nobody shall have any of it but nr." Ho be got to laud, and found suuteti trunks, rath m large as a bureau, hut w hen be got them to tbe place, the gold was nowhrw- to be *eru. and not the smallest gold-flake did the miser get. And the bartere? thought: I grill fill my Buckets with the gold, and carry it to the ciiv, and buy and sell, and make more." 80 be opened all his pocket* as wide as he could, and the geld fell in. and bo buttoned and stirhpd. and double-sticbed them up, as safe as safe could be. But when he got to tin- city and opened them,—it had all vanished, —there was no gold iu them ! And the artist thought: "1 w|l let it tali upon my palette, and <-*!!< it iu tuy brush, luul thus I will mix it with uiy colors and paint pictures that will make people joyous and me great." So he did. anil painted sea and shore and sky so wondettully that utrn fur got their sorrows snd were joyulis, and praised the artist. And the poetf The poet's heart was so full that he could do nothing, lie could not think what was so beautiful that he might use mi beautiful a thing for it, lie could only open hi* soul to the beauty of it and pray that hf- might give its ticauty also f ft others. Then it lay, till one time when he Was sad and in trouble, and then it shaped it self into strange, sweet music, by and by the poet wrote a wonderful poem. : so that all tbe hearts #f the prople opeued to turn, and they listened when : be sang to them of bappiucas, ana ' how to know and to be (be good, the ; true, and the beautiful—that wa it. And the miser and the harterer wished: "Oh that I were tbe artist!" snd the artist wished: "Oh that 1 were j the poet!"•— iff. Xirkolas. H'iafer osW Spring.— An old woman, dim-eyed and bent, sat on a bench at the door of a hut in spring time. Above her head rose a tree that had juat put on its first leaves. Behind bet ran a river, down which a vessel was making SIT in the directum of the sea. On the ntof of the little hut, binds were reattug in the fresh, warm air. Near the old woman's teet sat a little girt who had been reading. Tne book lay open by her side. The little girl looked up at the old woman with wonder and child-like pi ty* "Shall lever be like that V thought the little c*uld. "t an I do anything for yon, granny ?" said she. And granny, dozing in the sun. thought to herself. "Ab, my viioe was once like that, and my teet and hands were swift to help; but now lam old." The wind blew softly, - the birds chirped, and she dozed off into a dream of her own childhood. Tbetiekls were green around her. for it w as lull spring; the doves were cooing; and she was playing with a hall by the side of hey mother. River, river, where are you doming to? The river, which came Irom the mountain*, is going to the sea. where it will be loat tu the great world of wa ter*. The tree* and bill-side* will put on a deeper green, for the summer will fol low the spring. But the summer, too. will put; the browu autumn will come; the leaves will fall; the wind* will blow ; and some night, when the little girl ia aaleep. a frost will kill off the !aat straggling dower. Good bye, flower! good-bye, leaves' But you will come again in the spring. And what will the little maid do? She also will paas through spring to summer, irom summer to autumn, and soon, through the failing year*, to the wintry days. Then some one shall give her back the love aud aare she cave iu hei own early springtime to the old aud feeble grandmother. TTK H iw old Hart.— There wna g lit tle dog whose name km Dart. He wg* owned by a lady, and she took great care ot him. One day she put a nice red ribbon, for a collar, around his neck, and said to hitn'".\ow. Dart, this is Sunday ; and I want yon to keep still at home, and not soil this nice new i ribbon." But no sooner had this tadv left tin- j house to go to church than I>art crept 1 forth, and went into the sw amp for a frolic. Soon he started a bare, and j took a gnat leap after him. But the j hare was not tuueh afraid of such a young dog. The hare knew of a hole in the trunk of a tree that lient over a pool of mud dy water; aud there be ran while Dart ran after him. But, just as the hare ran into the hole, the dog lost sight of him, and made a leap into the pool. He yelped and barked ; aud it was some time before be conld get out. Then what a sight he was. with his hide all dark with mud, and his nice ribbon spoiled! When the lady came home from church, and fouud that Dart had not minded her, she had him chained up in his little house, aud did not let him go with her when she went to walk that afternoou by the side of the sea. 1 >art was very sad because he could not go. He liarked and cried a good deal: hut he had been naughty, and so was made to know, that, when he was told to stay at home, he must sixy, and not run after hares, and jump into I tools. Unifies and Nleam. A bundle of muscle-dbres (a* a recent German writer puts It) 1* a kind of ma chine, oonsDtlng of albuminous unite terial, just a* steain engine is made of steel, iron, bras* etc., and, a* in the ■team-engine, coal is burnt iu order to produce force. *o In the muscular ma chine, fats, or hydrocarbons.are burned for the same purpose; and just a* the constructive material of the engine— iron, etc., —is worn away aud oxidized, the constructive material of the muscle Is worn away, aud this wearing away Is the source of nitrogenous constituents of the urine. This theory, it Is asserted, explains why, during muscular exer tion, the excretion of urea Is little or not at all Increased, while that of ottrlioiiic acid is enormously augmented; for, In a steam engine moderately fired and ready for use, the oxidation ofiron, etc., would go on quite equably, and would not be much Increased by the more rapid firing necessary for working, but much more coal would be burned when it was at work than when it was stand ing idle. ► FOOD m THOUGHT. A Mil has been Introduced lnt lha legislature of Mfcudmln'i to make edu ■flan tawpatoory throughout the State. Woman dictates be Mrs inarri tgr in order that she may have an appetite for submission afterward*.— (Cramps KIM. Most of the rule# and precepts of this world run this way—to drive us out of ourselves into the world, for the bene fit of Noetety.—[MnntniffHf. Growth. Thlrty-alx years ago the first white child was born In lows, and he Is living now. To-day there are over 500,000 Hawkeyes by birth. It Is stated that the so-called camels' hair brushes are mads from the hair of the tails of squirrels, the demand for which is increasing very rapidly. ill is said that Charles Frgoct* Adams it worth more th*u #2,600,000; and be sides, Mrs. Adam* Is very rich by In heritance. This fortune Is hefng con stantly lnores>M-d by Mr. Adams' pru dence, economy, and attention. A piece of wood cut frotu a tree Is a good conductor. Let Hbe heated and • tried, It become* an Insulator. Let It be baked to charcoal, It becomes a good conductor again. Burn It to ashes, and it become* so Insulator one* again. Meat list been scut from Buenos Ayres to France In a perfect state of pr< -ervatlon In a pickle otmposed of two parts of W-borate of soda, two of boric add. three of saltpetre, and one of muriate of soda to lUU parts water. Women, so amiable in themselves, are never so amiable as when tliey are * usefbl: and as for beauty; though men may fall In love with girls at play there Is nothing to make them stand to their love like seeing litem at work. — (JobimU. Iu the vegetable world tbe reed runs up in s season, and is frail; the oak in century, aud is as solid a* the bills; so tbe slower the human laxly Is In reaching its maturity the more durable Is the constitution, and longer the Ufe. This life will not admit of equality; but surely that man who thinks he de rives consequence and respect from keeping others at a distance, la as base minded a* the coward who sbuns the enemy from the fear of an attack.— (Besms. The old settlers and Indiana up in the iMkota country assure us that the beavers and inuskrat* have constructed their winter-houses very lightly, and this indicates a mild winter. They say tills sign never fails. One old fellow saya b has w aUtbed (hem forty years. Kentucky ought to be bappy. Iu debt amounts to only #1*4.304, of which only #1(1.240 is due for about twenty years. Tbe Governor says that the State la able to pay it many time* over whenever it L tattled for. What ia more, the United States government owes it more than the amount of iu debts. Heath ia Infinitely unlike sleep iu that a* wo contemplate It, our sense of the emptiness of the casket grow* every instant while we gsae, whereas, while we watch one whom ws love in slumber we feel drawn nearer to him moment by moment. The living, sleeping friend Is our friend indeed. The dead form Is only the garment which he has left be hind iu our keeping. Be careful how you nstae your baby "Centeiiuiai J. Smith;*' It sounds welt, we admit, ami patriotic beside, but line first tiling you know be will be nick named "Only" .winith, from which to "Penny" Smith is but a step, and then that child will only pray that it may live long enough to whaliop its fond parents before it Joins the angel throng. —E