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 <iII t Isli.
Fish may divided Into CIASSO
codtlsh and fresh llh. The pmprictt
of dividing them Into classes will lie at
once apparent when we tcil-Hi that
they are ii-nalli found in schools.
The mackerel is not exactly a eoiltUh ;
but In* comes so tuuch nearer being a
codtlxli (ban a fresh iMi that he is for
the present classed with the former.
Fish exist In sites to suit the pur
chaser. from minnow stow hales - w filch
ale not tl-h, strictly speaking, Neither
Is (he alligator a fUh; but il we attempt
to tell what are n it flh, this article
w ill far exceed its intended limits.
The herring is not absolutely a tish;
lie is a suggestion ofdepailed tlsli. Hill
the strongest suggestion of departed
tish are smelt. The herring sustains the
same relation to the itunx tribe a the
Fgvptlati mummy to the liumaii race.
Fish ai e caught by measure and sold
by weight—that is, they are caught by
the gill and sold by the jieund. Hut
they are sometimes caught by weight
till you gel a bite.
Contentimeui Is the chief respite to
the successful lishermati.
Surveyor* are apt to !>• 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 ar<l the land of the I'huraoh- j
and Ptolemies for a description and il
lustration of this mode. As late as the
sixth century of the Christian era thi
proeess of preserving the dead was the j
custom among the peonle, w hen it wa
superseded bv the modern rites, which j
have remaimsl to this day. The He
brew- buried their dead, though from
certain passage- of Scripture it would
seem that they occasionally practiced
incineration. A feature of their burial*
has come down to us, namely, tlu>t "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<re also cremated. In India
huruing ami burying were and an.* IMIIII
practiced, ami until tjulte reoently it
was the custom lor the widow of the
deceased tt> 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|<eii-faesl casket* are <piite
coinuioti among American*. I'heorlh
otlox Jews -till retalu the mourning
ceremonies ol their ancestors, w hi!e the
others eon form more to the custom of
the nations among whom they dwell.
In England, Franc*, and other Eu-
ropcuu countries the beautiful service
prevail* of sir,-wing the grave* with
flowers, and the anniversary which Is
celebrated here a* "Ibrcoration I'sy"
shows how this lovely practice has
fotinud favor with American*. For
centuries the thrUtaui burial places
throughout Euri-|*' w - re in the church
es, and ill cemeteries adjoining place*
of religious assembly. In France lu the
*<ai 1777 Ihi* custom was discontinued,
which' example was very generally
adopted ,-lsew here.
Japanese <Mtlll!ea
The Japanese turkeys do not <juite
come up to tiio*,- of their kiu-l in Amer
ica. Their flesh d-s-s not become so sucw
culcut and tender U|K>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
lo<m 1. Toiling a* tiiej do for dally
wage* tbal would not purchase the food
ot a child lu our country, cheap food i*
the necex-lty of their live*. Hence it i*
that they feed largely U|K>II 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<H-* tan go eight mile* and a
half twenty-one and a ipiarter English
miles) hence the nanx-s. Notwithstand
ing w-hat seem* to u* to he the weak ami
insufficient <y,-t of the Japanese labor
ing men, their endurance and strength
ate truly wonderful. 1 have ridden
sixty miles between sun ami sun In a
jynrickitha drawn by two coolies, and
the day after that 1 went about forty
miles more with the same two men. At
the end of the llrsl day's Journey they
did not seem to la- very fatigued. 1 m
mediately after stopping at a tea-house
for the night they took a hath in water
so hot that I could not have washed mv
li:iiid in it, ami after eomfortahly par-
Imiliug themselves got out, took a heavy
tm-al of rice and -tried ll*h, and then
*at up almost all the night gambling
and drinking saki. On the coldest days,
and even when there Is snow- on the
ground, you can see these fellows on
the street with no clothing save a thin
cotton shirt, a pair of pants of the same
material reaching to the knees, and
straw sandals. Nor do they *>-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 < lo<bt C
It I* a favorite maxim with city
mothers, aayn ."vrlbner's Monthly that
children are warm-blooded, and need
leas clothing, than adults. Kspeclally
i* this held true of hahie* ami girls.
Hoys are warmly protected by cloth
leggint, kilt suits and stout shoe*,
w bile their little sister* defy the w inter
wind lit bare knees and embroidered
skirts. There is a poetic faney, too
that girls should la- kept in white up to
a certain age. A doaeu little girls, of
from three to five, were assembled lite
other day, and the universal dress was
an under vest and drawers of meriuo,
a single embroidered flannel petticoat,
and an lubuiuheut airy mas* of muslin,
ribbons and la<e. Meanwhile, their
mothers, w'omcti of culture and ordinary
intelligence, were wrapped In woolens,
skins and fur*. In consequence of this
under-dreasitig the children are housed
except on w arm days or when they arc
drivrn out In carriages, and ibrrelore a
chance cold wind brings to theac
lender liut-houir l)<mrn, instead of
health, (ItM'.tM.' and death. It it abso-
I utely folly to try to make a child hardy
by cruel exposure, or to protect it frutn
croup or pneumonia bjr a string of am
ber head* or br ahutung it up in fur
nace heated house*. Ur away ita
muslin friiia until June; put woolen
stocking* on Ita leg*, flannel (not half
cottou woven vesta; on ita body, and
velvet, ailk, merino— whatever you
think yon can afford—on top of that, lie
on a snug little hood and turn Uie baby
out every winter's day, unlea* tlie wind
be fr<n the uorth-cat and lite air foggt
and before spring lu bright net and
rosy cheek* will give it a different
beauty from any purr robe* of white.
I.c*r I'holaf r|>h<
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
:ill<l may lie at the young one's hack.
Review the time you nave misspent;
think upon it and lament.
Sloth is an argument of a mean and
degenerate mind.
Evil company makes the good bad,
and the bad worse.
Oood men are safe when evil ones are
at variance.
In a thousand pounds' worth of law
there is not a shilling's worth of pleas
ure.
Recreation should fit us for business,
uot rob us of time.
He that can do ua an injure may at
one time or other do ns a kindness.
Terms: $2 a Year, in Advance.
A fat tier's Beer tiler A Btry stfrssffc
I Msrrtytlss.
l ii four flight* of stair* In a house in
I'aris were three snug little room* lu
habltated by the family Koiiintlle, They
had only peaked roofs, chimney* and
the blue sky to look out upon, but so
pleasant were the rooms wltlilu, and ao
neat, and tasteful and sunn) . that there
was small temptation to turn the eyes
away from them.
It was evening, and the family were
assembled at supiier. They were ob
serving a/rte. and the test gilt china
glittered on pie table,a little bouquet of
fresh tJower* stood by each glass, and
an Iced cake, surrounded by a wreath
of rosebuds, distinguished the center.
Around the hoard sat the jolly, affec
tionate old father, the delicate and lov
ing mother, their brave, handsome bov,
and one other not now belonging to the
family, but soon to be eallotl daughter
hv the parent*, ami wife by the son.
She was a gentle, lovely young girl,
harking with affectionate rr|M-ct upon
the old folk,and with fond, modest eyes
upon her lover.
".Sou," said the mother, "for twenty
one years this night ha*t thou horn the
delight of my heart. Thou hast glad
dened my eyosevry da# ihou bast lived.
Ah! that thou wert out a few years
younger, that 1 might Ire sure of thee
longer!"
••Wife, dost tliou not we that Mar km
ULet thy won! a* a reproach tulwrf"
wid th* father. "Thou would'at have
thy ton all lor thvaelf, thou wjrnt"
"1 do not tneau that I would not have
my child Marion for mv daughter," ah*
replied. "No, no! Ble*s her heart,
•he need not hluah to. And site need
not fear. I think even my Robiuet hap
py to be her husliaiid. But the conscrip
tion, fattier! Our hoy Uof age."
The old mau'a happy face grew pale
and uneasy.
"Wife," he said, "our boy la affec
tionate to tie, true to Marion, and loving
to tjhal. If heaven ia but just, he w ill
not draw tlie fatal lot. Iteaveu blesses
the good."
•'Whom (Jod loveth he chasteneth,"
•aid the mother, with a nigh, and Mari
on'a cheek grew whiter.
"t'oroe, do not darken a tunny day
bv cloud# of fear," raid t he young man.
"To-night I ant free. To night I can
be the happieat follow alive. Kven if
to morrow i draw the wrong number,
and nit cut go to tight, I mat return to
von covered itli honors. Will you not
be glail and proud then?"
"My aou, my aoti, 1 have known many
a brave bov join thoae rank* dreaming
aa thou do*t; but lew catue back to their
mother*. Oh, HoJiuet, thou art mv
only one, and if thou art killed I thai!
be childless."
"Ah, wife," maid the father, forcing
hack hia teart, "Could'st thou not be
almost happy to tie aw idow f The con
scription j area the only *ona of w idowa.
If thy uaeh-aa old husband were gone,
thou could 'at keep thy brave young Kn.
"Ab, all," cried the w Ife; "atop the
old man'a tongue. I'ut thy hand ou hla
mouth, Marion. 1 cannot bear to hear
liim talk ao."
"To-night let ut Is* happy,"said Robi
net- "1 am not yet a coiiscrlpl.nad 1 be
lieve 1 shall escape to-morrow . So, "be
gone dull care!" Father, shall 1 cut
my birthday cake ?"
"Yes, my boy," said his father. "Let
us not borrow trouble. It would kill
me to see thee among the diaxolute sol
diery, driven to slaughter! 1 will not,
no, I cannot think of it. Yes, cut thy
cake but do not harm those pretty buds.
Marion placed them there in token of
how she will round thy life with pleas
ures, Kb, Marion? Kach bud for a
kiss or kind word, eh V
Marion wined her eyes and smiled
bluhingly. Cheerful lies* w ss restored,
sad the hsppy foully gave themselves
up toenjovuient of each other, the secret
thought that perhaps It was for the last
time, making every voice tenderer.
On the next day the drawing was to
take place. Fattier ami son proceeded
to the place of decision. The son, with
white cheek and dilating eye, drew,
while the father stood liy, hi* usually
jovial form trembling with agonizing
apprehension. It was a fatal number!
and witii a groan of dcs|islrltie old man
fell upon hi* sou'* neck.
"Oh, my boyl" he said, "I cannot let
thee go! 1 can pot see thee driven to
slaughter! Thy mother's heart will be
desolate. I cannot, no, tost forgive me,
1 cannot."
He wrung hi* son'a hand, and, sha
king hi head at the few brave, consol
ing words Kohiuet'a trembling 111* tit
le rug. he stopped Iheui -liort by kiseiug
hiiu tenderly. He then went out, with
a gvaturc lorbiddlug any one to foilow
lilm.
"The mother will weep over her son,
•aida by-#under—Marlon's father;"but
an old man, like an old dog. goes alone
to grieve. He thy |>oor 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<iMtrm Fret Frr-tt.
When we look around and see the
large number of able-bodied men who
spend their money and their lime at tin
beer saloons, while their wirea are
stitching at home, or go out washing to
earn money to keep themselves and
their children from starving, we natu
rally wonder why more young men
don t get married—and marvel more
that so many young ladles do.
Observe a young person profusely
decorated with what by custom is called
"jewelry." Does the presence of jew -
elry entitle the young person to ooiptid
eration ? Or does the presence of the
young person entitle the jewelry to
ivmsideraUou I*. it is well to know about
these thing*, lor we don't like to divide
our admiration and thus rob an object
that la entitled to the whole of it.—
Fmifm Ttmrt.
No couple In Prussia according to a
law paased ia*t year, out get a divorce
in a legal court unlet* they have the
genuine document* to *h*r that they
js-rsoually appeared before their pastor
or curate "for the purpose of a fatuity
reoonci liatiou through the fool olßees
of such religious officer*. If theae con
feaa to stertiUtj of effort, then the court
consent* to take the application in
hand. Thine* are serioa- in Prussia—
always a matter of life and death.
If spriug came but once in a century,
instead of once a rear, or burst forth
with the sound of au earthquake, and
not with silence, what wonder and ex
pectation there would be In all hearts .
to behold the miraculous cbaage! But
now tin- silent suooeaaion -c.ggesU
nothing hut iiwueiljr. To tawt men
only the cessation of the miracle would
be iniraculnu*. ami the jierpetual exer
cise f trod's power seem* leas won
derful than it* wlilnirawal would be.—
iloagfcileie.
The National Mutrum of Bucharest
ha* been robbed of its principal treas
ure. the golden hen and chickens. The
group—which was of pure gold, was pro
fusely adorned with precious stones,
and weighed thirty-four pounds—was
of ancient workmanship, and was dug
up some year* ago at Peiroaa. The
robber also carried away the massive
golden amphora and pedestal which
i amc from Petrosa: A portion of the
broken head of the golden hen was
found In the snow, ontside the Museum
building.
Among tiie public houses of London
there are Si King's Arms, 23 Queen'*
Arms. 4'J King's heads and 00 Queen's
Heads. The sign- of the Royal Oak
number 3d. of the Royal Standard, 12.
To the Prince of Wale* 4V tavern- are
dedicated; to the late Prince Albert 23;
pi the Iron Duke, 2C, and to I-ord Nel
son, 22. Among the Hons are 74 red,
2 white, 17 golden, and innumerable
blue ones. The number of Saracen'*
Heads, ticorge and Dragons, White
Swans, Bull*, black and white. Bull's
Heads, Ac., ts almost beyond computa
tion.
An Kuglish journal of recent date
says: "A family journal is a thing vet
iiukuown to Musaulmau readers, and it
i* as assuredly a sign of the progress of
idea* that a publication of this class is
announced as being about to appear.
The Inmate* of the harem have not,
hitherto, as a rule, been distinguished
for their literary ta-tes; but as in his
prospectus the editor appeal* mainly to
the support of that section of Ottoman
society, there is reason to believe that
the intellectual culture of Turklsn
ladles has of late years undergone some
Improvement.
Arttvtty ts nt Always Knergy.
There are some men whose failure to
succeed in life is a problem to others as
well as to themselves. They are Indus
trious, prudent and economical; yet
after a long life of striving, old age
finds them still poor. They complain
of ill-luck. They say fate is always
against them. But the fact is that they
miscarry because they have mistaken
mere activity for energy. Confound
ing two things essentially different,
they have aupuosed that, if they were
always busy, they would be certain to
be advancing their fortunes. They have
forgotten that misdirected labor Is but a
waste of activity. The person who
would succeed in life Is a marksman
firing at a target? if his shots miss the
mark they are a waste of powder. So
in the great game ot life, what a mau
does must be made to count, or it might
almost as well be left undone. Kvery
body knows some one in the circle of
friends, who, although active, has this
want of energy. The distemper, if we
may call it such, exhibits itself iu vari
ous ways. In some cases the man has
merely an executive faculty, when he
should have a directive one; in other
language, he makes a capital clei k, for
himself, when heought to do the think
ing of the busluess. In other cases
what is done Is not jlone either at the
right lime ol iu the right way. Energy,
correc'.ly understood, is activity pro
portioned to the end.— Scientific Ameri
can.