The Centre reporter. (Centre Hall, Pa.) 1871-1940, April 13, 1876, Image 1
Nt VAIN WE WAIT. And (till thsv wait, and atill will wait. While month* and ywar* are circling by, Oaring, tho while. far ont and straight To where tho wator moot* tho sky. Ah mo' they know not that thoy stand Ho noar thoir troaouroo, that thoy might Kind thom almoot in reach of hand •liiot hy tlio rook, there, hid from stghl I. too. onoo atood n|>on tho shorn, Aa now thoy *Un<l and g**ed far ont To aoo my Itoantoono ship come o'or ; Ihit I. alaa 1 1 turuod about, And jnat around that l>ond 1 wont. Beyond that rook, no grim ami lono. And Hope, that angel hoavon aont. Forever from my hoatt wao thrown. Tho ahoro all 'long was atrown with wreck* Of ahi|ia a* grand and fair aa luiuo , And far at sea, Uko liny sjiecks, Ttto smiling. unmoved auii did ahmo >n naught hut wreck*. and 'mongat tho root 1 aaw what all my hfo to mo Hint loon life's ireasure. rhnrahid bent, Tho whip I watched from o'or tho aoa MY FRIEND. isrraa raa oaaa**.] Die friend who holde a roirrv-r to my face. And hiding none, is not afrwol to trace My fault*, my smallest blemishes. wiUnn ; Who friendly warns. reproves me if 1 am Although it seem not so—he is my fneud. Hut he who. ever flattering, sires me praise. Who ne'er rebuke*, nor censures nor delays To come Willi eagerness and grasp tnv hand. Ami pardon me, ere pardon 1 demand - He is my enemy, though he seem my friend. —.SmSacr'* Jf.isA.V Vandevere's Body. •r dtVHV lII'MCIIKKY. On March 30, 1866, the B Medical college (in which I wa> then a students received an addition to its faculty in the jwrsou of l>r. Abel Fair Held, ail emi nent physician from an Kastern state. I well remember his arrival ami tin first impression regarding Idm, w hioii w ere not favorable. He came on horse back from the neighboring town of 1$ nus of the railroad. He was a tail, gaunt round-shouldered man, and 1 recollect, presented a ludicrously aw k ward appearance on horseback. He was very dark, with long, shaggy black hair, very heavy overhanging eve brows, and an immense benixl. His features were large and coarse, hi eyes intensely black and piercing. His manner was very brusque—scarcely civil—and lie soon became very unpop ular with the students. Oil April 2, three days after I>r. Fairfield's arrival, I had occasion to visit B on business. On my way back to the college, along the dusty country road, a voice hailed me. "1 say, Mr. Wltioughby!" I looked lip and saw that I was pass ing a liut erected a short distance from the road, and occupied by a man known as old Diogenes, and that it was this in dividual who tiad addressed me. The man, old Diogenes, as he was called by the students and tlie towns people, for want of a knowledge of his true name, had twenty years before ar rived at this snot and erected the lint in which he had ever since lived. His name, or whence he came, noone knew. He would answer no questions, and would encourage no intimacy either with his afTairs or himself. He seemed a victim of profound melancholy, and the popular tielief was that tie had been disappointed in love, and had for this reason eschewed the world am! its vauities and chosen a life of solitude. But whether this supposition had any foundation in fact, no one was able to learn, for old Diogenes quickly resented the slightest appearance of an attempt to penetrate hi* secret. Certain stu dents of the college, myself among the number, occasionally visited him, and found him a rarely intellectual man, thoroughly educated, and wonderfully well informed on all subjects. His perso nal appearance was very prepossessing. He was tali, very straight and well pro portioned, with fine Grecian features, and clear olive Complexion. His hair and beard were very thick, and of a dark brown color. His mode of living was not, as one might have supposed, productive of slovenly or filthy habits. The interior of hi* little cabin was as scrupulously neat a- the college lecture halt, and himself as neat as auy of our professors. "Good morning, sir; what can I tlo for you?" was my response to old i>i ogites's salutation. * "You've got a new professor at the college?" he said. '♦Yes." "He rode ;<ast her** the other day on his way from the railroad station to the college. He's a very peculiar looking man. His name is— "Dr. Abel * airfield," I replied. "lie is front a Massachusetts city, and is very eminent in the profession." "Dr. Abel Fairfield!" replied old Di ogenes. "Ami so he's a great physi cian, eli ? A shining light in the pro fession s"' "He is, undoubtedly," I answered. "Well. Mr. WiHoughbv. 1 want you to tell this eminent physician that 1 de sire him to visit me at this place to night at Bo'clock." "You wish him to visit you!" I ex claimed involuntarily. "I wish him to visit me Whynot?" Tell him that—that Mr. Vandevere de sires to see him." "Mr. Vandevere?" "1 said so," was the reply. "Good clay. Mr. Willoughbv." 1 was too well used to the recluse's ways to be offended at this abrupt dis missal, so bidding him good morning, I proceeded on my way. When near the college I met Dr. Fairfield. I gave him old Diogenes's message. When i men tioned the name of \ andevere he ex claimed— "Vandevere! Vandevere, did you gay. Mr. Willoughbv?" 1 fancied that his fare turned a shade paler, and that his voire trembled. 1 replied in the affirmative. "I never heard the name before in my life," he quickly added. "What sort of a looking |iers>n is this Vande vere or Diogenes, or w hateverthe name is?" I described the recluse's {iersonal ajs pearance. "Really, Mr. Willoughby," Dr. Fair field said with a laugh when I had fin ished, "1 ain quite curious to see the fellow. I'll go to him. But what can be want of me?" "I fancy he wishes your professional advice, sir, 1 replied. "He suflVrs from the heart disease. lie ha* had two very severe attacks, the last of which came near ending his life. As he Is aware that you are very eminent in the pro fession, 1 conjecture that he desires jour opinion and assistance." "Very likely, very likHly" Dr. Fair field said; "I'll see him to-night." The next morning when al! the stu dents were assembled in the lecture room of the college, the president Dr. D , arose and said: "Gentlemen I, have an announcement to make. The man whom you have all known as old Diogenes is dead, and—" "Dead!" exclaimed Dr. Fairfield, who sat upon the platform near the president, "dead!" He seemed laboring under great ex citement. Dr. D. frowned slightly at this Inter ruption, but replied : "He died of heart disease, a complaint to which he was subject. He was found dead in his hut at an early hour this morning by one of the villagers." "Ah ! he was In a had way last night, Dr. Fairfield said, quickly and ner vously. "I visited him last evening, at his own request, and found hiin suffer ing intensely. I promised to call again this morning. And so he is dead? Dear, dear." Our dignified president was evidently by no means pleased with this inter ruption from his subordinate but he continued: •'This morning a paper was brought to me which one of the villagers found in the old man's hut. It is a will dated several years back, and is signed with his true name, Richard Vandevere. In it he leaves his body to the college, re questing that it be used as a subject for dissection, it being his desire to—" FRED. KURTZ, Editor and Proprietor VOI, l\. "Hl* IHKIV to IH DLMET'InI luw !" gasped Dr. ritrtlrlil, rising from hi* seat. "The IKHU will la- lion' In the course of the day,' % continued tlio (itr-iilont, not noticing the Interruption. "It will la- dissected to-morrow morning Iti the (irrwiiooof oti'li -undent a- •" Dr. Falrllsld ottered a piercing cry ami 101 l to the tloor insensible. Hew a* soon re*u*eitou, ami ft plained that lie had from laiyhotal tiecn uibiot'flo attacks of vertigo. The body of Richard \ aiulevere ar rived late that afternoon, and waa placed In the dissecting roout, whleh w is situated on the tlr*t rttnir of the building. The next morning, Ju*t In-fore the hour ap|>olnted for (he di**ecUou, the janitor of the college rushed, jale and hreathle**, into the reel tot ion-room, and whi-pered a few word* in the ear of our president, who Immediately roue ami said: "Gentlemen, the janitor informs me that the tasty of the man Richard Van devere has diap|a*areil from the prem ise*. Do any of you know aught f this y Xo reply was made. l>r. 1> orvlercd a seardi to Ik- im mediately couttucnced. But the body could not l>e found. IV hen a week had passed, and no clue to the mystery had been obtained, the president sent to New \ ork for detectives, w horn lie paid from ids ow u jiooket, ami who w ere employed for several week-; but who dually ahaudoned tlie search in despair. We then gave up all ho|w- of ever solv ing the mystery. A few weeks after the disappearance of Richard Vandevere'* body I visited his former home, which had hy this time gained the reputation of tieiug haunted, and was consequently let se verely alone by the country people. The place had assumed an Indescrllia ble air of desolation. Most of tlie mov able furniture had been stolen; the door stood open, the little window - were darkened witli innumerable cob web*. the door wa* dusty, ami covered with beetles, which ran in alt direc tions at my approach, ami a homeless dog vv hich had taken ri'fuge in a cor ner ot the hut made a hasty exit as I entered. My motive in visiting the cabin was to search for some clue to Richard Vandevere'* past history. 1 thought it (HVsslhie tiiat some book some scrap of pa;>er might exist by which I could learn sometliing of the man's llle and of the motives which had prompted him to sever his connection with the world ami retire to this lonely sjx>t. After an hour's unsuccessful search 1 noticed that the hearth stone seemed loosely dited in it* place. I lifted it and found under it a number of hook*, which 1 eagerly examined. All but one were medical and scientific works; upon tlie cover of this one were the words "The Diary of Richard Vande vere. M. IE, of London, England." The entries in this tM>k extended over a period of three years—from 1545 to IS4S; twenty years before the date when they drst met my eyes. I make such extracts from the diary as are es sential to a clear understanding of my story. M*v |. I4S t mirrml l.s|w i.. Miriam l"r rvii. uir pitrwat uxl lrvi w>>mau in the orli * • iHBWBMrI Ant MOoNttaC w. >ntlrrfuily wrll in my m. Have n<v imUrtiU than 1 can ftlDl} Altrud to. Hayr rvur*i lr Artin#t<*u of Qvtrpoot a# a j'ftrtuc*r lie i votum i>hvt tad f muarfcaM# Al.uity. • • • • fh- k<*ue*t j-lcm ure ilutt my brtaipt with it i* the ih-m* lit tbftt Miriam. my dear wife, t* placed bryoitd Ihr rrmch t jwiYrrty or want. JftiAiftry iMft I luff ft bltad dotinjr fool! That vtirwsJ viiiiftu. Itftlph Arlington, ha* from me my wife. Miriam, In whom ! hatyefod 1 briirYr ID heaven ami the angel*. ha ilewrtetl me* • • • Ka. j>ti Arlington ha* forced my mime to a draft on the bank of Hug lam! ami stolen altm*t erenr ahlllin* 1 pamtm to the woriil * • * Hal 1 wtij hnut them down. And when we meet n< power ufi earth < Ai 4ft\r thetu • • • • May 3P. It U uwirtu to continue the ararrb. I cmn rfnd no trace of thnu. 1 will leave them to the punukhment of heaven 1 AIM weary, worn and heart nrakeii. • • • • Never attain will I plana nouf. deuce in any human being • • • • W *ridiy hwor. oner dear to me. 1 value n- knifffT. •• • • 1 will leave Knglau 1 at once and forever ; I will eod tuy day* tu a foreign land. • • • • stay 31 To-day I wure! [smurr in ft Atrwiuer whwu on* for New 1 <>rt t> morrow. The followed entries described hi* voyage, arrival in the new country and settlement near B . The last words in the book were as follows: July I, I*4* Have been In this piacr two ream now ; and am mugm-d to my fate. 1 carried the diary to President D . He read-it, then said: "Mr. Wiilougbby, let the poor fellow's sad story remain our secret—for the present at least." A year passed. The mysterious affair of which I have written had long since lost its interest to the students and the townspeople and had ceased to be the one all-absorbing subject of conversa tion. On the morning of June 4, 1867. President I> summoned Walter Clay ton, a student, and myself to his room. When we had entered he closed the door. His face wore an unusually seri ous expression. "Gentlemen," he Iwgan, "you have heard of the death of old George Garri son ?" "The sexton of the Episcni>al church ?" I said; "yes, sir, he died three days ago, did lie not?" "Yes. Gentlemen, just previous to his death he sent me a message request ing me to hasten to his bedside, as he had a secret of importance to communi cate to me. 1 obeyed the summons at once. With his dying breath George Garrison cleared up the mystery sur rounding the disap|>eararice of Kichard Vandevere's body." "Is It possible!" Walter Clayton and I exclaimed, simultaneously. "Garrison told me," continued the president, "that he himself removed the body from the dissecting-room and buried it at midnight In a spot which he designated in the churchyard; and that he was hired and assisted in his ac complishment of the deed by Dr. Fair field." "Dr. Fairfield!" I cried. "Gentlemen," the president resume*], "I have caused the remains to be secretly disinterred and placed in the dissecting room, where they now lie tinder lock and key. 1 wish to make an autopsy of the body in your presence. Couie with me." We silently followed hirn to the dis secting-room. There. u|*>n a slab, lay the rude box in wldeh Kichard Van devere's body had been brought to the college a year before. The atmosphere of the room was stifling. Dr. 1>- threw ojien the window, after which we removed the lid of the coffin. We found the remains in an excellent state of preservation. Dr. D 's examina tion disclosed the startling fact that the Ktomach of the dead man contained a large quantity of arsenic—enough to have killed half a dozen men. "It Is as I suspected!" exclaimed the president excitedly, throw ing down his knife. "The man was poisoned. How the deed was done I know not, hut I am |Msitive that Kichard Vandevere was murdered J" "By whotn?" I cried. "By Dr. Fairfield, otherwise Ralph Arlington," replied Dr. D , who seemed in his excitement to have lost every particle of dignity w ith which he bad been accustomed to awe us. "Ralph Arlington!" 1 exclaimed. "Yes, Mr. Wil lough by. When i read that diary of poor Richard Vandevere's which you found, I recollected having met Arlington, the false friend and seducer, w hen in London, where 1 lived in 1845. it suddenly occurred to me that Dr. Fairfield bore a wonderful re semblance to Arlington. 1 at once caused inquiries regarding Fairfield's antecedents to be made, the result of which confirmed my suspicions, though 1 still possessed no positive proof of the correctness of my supposition. But little could be learned of him, save that he arrived in New York in 1846 with his wife—or a woman he called his wife —and soon obtained a lucrative practice, and later an extensive reputation. He had'always given evasive answers when questioned regarding his life previous to 1846. and his fnends soon learned THE CENTRE REPORTER. that the "tiltjivl WA* a disagreeable one to him. 111* wl(i' died two year* after their arrival hi America, ami " riii< ri>urt of a pistol sounded in Hie garden wiUlilf. Wo ruahoil to tho \\lml>\\. Dr. Fairtiold lay II|HIII tho ground, groaning torrlhly. "Good lleaven!" e\claini<*d Dr, D ; "he ha* shot himself!" "He ha* teen outside the window listening!" Clayton cried. He leaped Into the garden, and lw>re Dr. Fairfield Into Che hon*e. lie was bleeding profltaely from a Wound ill the aide. "He canuot live!" announced Dr D , alter a hrlef examination. "You were right, Dr. D " the dying man said; "1 am that wretch Ralph Arlington, who for twenty years led a life of torture, w liicli tie thanks Heaven 1* almost an end." Aider a hrlef pau-e he resumed: -"I w isit to confess all Ik- fore 1 die. 1 murdered Richard Vandevere. II hen I passed his catiin on my way to this in stitution lie recoguiied me, although 1 did not see liiiu. lie sent for tnc by Mr. II iltoughby. 1 dared not ilisobey the summons. I went loliiui. A* 1 entered (he lint lie closed and locked the disir, crying, 'Ralph Arlington, false villain! you're In my power at last.' He gra*|ed my throat ami bore rue to the ground. I was utterly powerless in liis hands; lie seemed endowed with the strength of a dozen men. 1 had abandoned all luqie of ever leuviug the place aliic, when suddenly his grasp relaxed, ar.d he fell hack gasping for breath and cry ing,' Water! water!" i saw that the terrible excitement under which he tailored had brought on a severe attack of heart disease. He might die then and there ! But soon it liecante apparent to my practical eye that he was recover ing. A terrible thought occurred to inc. Why allow him to recover? Why not kill him J it 1 spared hi* life 1 was ruined! 1 could poison him; in my iwwket was a package of arsenic, which i had purchased for the purjio-e of making certain experiments, lie would be universally lielieved to have died of heart disease. If a doubt arose on the (Miiut a word from me, one of the most eminent medical men in (lie country, would remove it. 'Water! water! water!' the prostrate man cried, this time in a tinner voice, for he was fast recovering. In an instant 1 had emptied the arsenic into a tumbler, w hlch I then half tilled with water and gave to Van devere. He drank it and fell hack, cry ing out: "Bitter, Idtter!" I cannot, I dare not tell you all that followed. Suffice it is to say that I remained with him till he died. Then i removed all trace of the poison, and hastened to the college. The next morning the an nouncement that aw ill had been found in which Vandevere left his body to ihi institution, tilled me with horror. 1 knew that the presence of arsenic would lie immediately discovered in the stom ach; 1 was certain that suspicion would |N>iut to lue, and that my life would be forfeited. These thought* so affected me that, as you remember, I fainted. All that day 1 racked my brain for some means of escajie from the terrible ex iKi-ure w itfi which 1 was threatened. Finally I decided II|MMI the plan which i put into execution, and which has concealed the evidence of my crime from the world until to-day. I jiaid George Garrison, the sexton, fifty dollars to remove the body at midnight and bury it in the churchyard." One hour later Ralph Arlington died. The Vu.lrin. on UrMnai Cicero, Plutarch, ami other ancient auihorn, have preaerved the following anecdote: "Siuion id*. having met with the tlc.nl body, on the highway, of a man who wit* a stranger to him, had it buried. Ashe was about to em- Iwrk. tie dreamed that the man whom lie had buried appeared to hun and in formed him that if he persisted in em totrkiuir in his voyage lie would iwrish. Tliis warning induced him to alter Ids mind, and it appeared subsequently that the vessel was wrecked." Says Kernadin St. Pierre: "The opinion that truth is aometinea presen ted to us during sleep prevails among all nations. The greatest men of an tiipiity believed in it. among others Alexander. l';eaar, the Scipios, the two Catos, and Brutus, none of whom were weak-minded men. The < 'ld and New Testameut furnishes n* with numerous examples of dreams that have lieen realized. For myself, 1 need nothing beyond my own experience, and I have more than once found that dreams may be warnings, giving us some informa tion interesting to ourselves alone, and that it is not possible to combat or de fend with reasonings thing* that sur pass human reason." Cicero, (l>e Divin. lib. I.) tells of a famous dieam. Two friends arrived at Mcgara and lodged at different pla ces. (ne of tile two, was scarcely asleep when he dreamed that hi* com panion announced to him with a me lancholy air, that his host had plotted to assassinate him.aiid entreated him to come as quickly as possible to his suc cor. this he awoke, but con vinced that it was oulv a dream, he went to sleep again. A seeond time his friend appeared and conjured him to hurry, as the murderers were about to enter. Much disturbed be was amazed at the recurrence of his dream, and prepared to go to his friend, but reason and fatigue trained the mastery, and he returned to bed. His friend then appeared for the third tim\ pale, bleedintr, distitrured. "Wretch, said lie, "you did riot come at my entreaty ! It is now over ; nevertheless revenge me. At daybreak you will meet at the city frate, a cart load of dung ; stop it. and have it unloaded; you will find my body concealed in the center ; inter me honorably and pursue my murder ers." Such tenacity, such consistent details allowed no hesitation. The friend arose and repaired to the irate indicated ; found the cart, stopped the driver, who was disconcerted, and on searching discovered the body of his friend. Th* Timidity of Orator*. A writer of tin* Fortnightly /ferine asks whether artists, and especially or ators, are peculiarly liable to the sen sation of pain and to fear. He thinks that they are, and attributes it to an un usually sensitive organization. Peel is believed to have owed Ids death to l>e irifC unable to hear an operation which a less sensitive man might have borne. An eminent operator described Bishop Wllbcrforce as a "bundle of nerves," ami as the most sensitive patient lie had ever know n. Orators, as a rule, show a painful anxiety aliout their own speeches, ami toilsome uneasiness seems a condition of their success. A junior counsel Otiee congratulated Sir \\ illlam Follct on his perfect composure in pros pect of a great case. Sir William mere ly asked Ills friend to fed bis hand, wliieh was wet with anxiety. The late Istrd Derby said that Ill's principal speeches cost lilm two sleepless nights —one In which he was thinking what to say, the other in which he was la menting what he might have said bet ter. Cicero, according to Plutarch "not only wanted courage in arms, but In his speaking also; he liegan timidly, and in many eases, he scarcely left off trembling and slinking even when lie got thoroughly into the current and substance of his speech." ' MiF A Deep Well. Thin well, which in over four thou sand foot in depth, is in the vitiligo of Sperenberg, about twenty mile* from Berlin. It was begun about five years ago by the government authorities, to ascertain the existence of rock sail be neath the strata of gypsum occurring in tiie locality. At a depth of two hun dred and eighty feet the salt was reached. The lairing was prosecuted by steam until the linal depth was at tained. At the lowest points, the sal deposits still continue. CENTRE IIA I.E. CENTRE CO.. I'A.. TIUKSHAY AERIE 13. 187(1. TKR * MMsra of IHWHII) Dr. clou-ton t'hystclaii Sii|Mirinb :;d cut of the Royal Kdinhurgh A*ylum. In Id* annual rejsirl, say*: "Glancing over tfie suuiutary of unsigned cauzca, il is at once seen that lutem|>erance j stands out a* I• * far the must frequent. It alone causa* the t* ot the 2<-u, or almul SU |>er cent in willch the cutl*c* were known; and along; w illi olhel al lied exce--e* for W'hicll the patient* liad t heinseive* IM-CII rcsjainslhle, it accounts for T3, or 28 JMT cent, of the ca*es. Much is proiieriy *aid about the pre veulloit of diseu-es nowaday*. Most I uii<|ucsUonahly the *uui total of the mental iliseaaes in our cllv might lisle ' US<II lessened hy that amount if the 1 laws of nature had been better obeyed. Fifty of the cases thus resulting from drinking and exce*-e* twing paU|er, each costing t'27 aicar to the public rate*, over A 1,300 will have been paid for one years production of lunacy from very preventible cau*es, and, of course, liiis lakes no account of the cost ,of the old incurable case- already In j the a*yium from the same cause. I i am quite sure that intemperance wa* ' tlie remote cause of the disease in more of the cu*e*; hut e\eu allow lug for these, we cannot put (his down a- accounting in auv way for more than one in four of all ca*es of Insanity. In a**lguliig i intemperance a- the cause of in-anity ; in a uumlier of cases, two tiling- must | not t>e forgoten. The lii-t is, tliat the taking of stimulant- may not be a cause at all, but merely a symptom of the brain disorder ! and, a* a matter of con r*. i it Is olten one of the early symptom* in many cases. The second tiling to !• kept in mind i* thai there are many jcases in which it is the real caii-c of the mental disorder; hut (lie mental balance had always tiecu so unstable, and the brain working so easily overset, that a very little alcohol in Joed will bring on an attack of insanity in llie | iwrsoii*, just a- in those same jM-ople a fright of a little over-excitement will 1 upset their sanity. This 1- the cla* of 1 jiersons who, in my experience, get up set by religiou* revivals. The rescuing and recuperative power that is really an essential part of a healthy uervuu* -y *tem, w hereby tlie eifectsof not 100 long continued over-eating or over drinking, over feeling over-work are at atone recovered Iroiu, i- wanting in these people. It is a jMsir sort ol laiiler that bursts whenever the exact pres sure needed for it* daily work is ex ceeded. And before I leave this subject I may mention thai 1 have not reckoned in any way tlie mere drink craving, or tlie inability' to resist it, as constituting insanity. I believe that this may or may not Is-a real insanity in different cases, but it was from dcvelojied and unmistakable mental alienation that all my patient* suffered. When the eau*e of the insanity of our vS private |>ati<-nt are compared to the 2i~i pau|s rs, tlie difference I- most striking, and entire ly is-ar* out the general law already in dicated. t>f tiles*- V private path-nts, mental cause produced the disease in atHiui S-. physical la-iug only 12 |r cent under them, while in the pau]>er lliey have just one third as mime ions. These facts tend strongly to show that tlie higher ill the social scale we go tlie more strongly do purely mental and moral -hock* act in upscttiuga healthy mental balance, amk that those cases oiierate more pciwerfully on the lower claase- of a low n population than an ag cultural." A Musi rule --At Montr." This is an afternoon "AT IlilMK." These words, you will observe, are printed in very large type. In a cor ner of the card w gather from the -iiiall word "mu*lc" the quite mixed and genial nature of the whole enter tainment. Signor Roreo titiffaw, the well known baa* singer, is ex|iectitl to h*>k in ; a few amateur* have promised to help if necessary, and every one who know* Mrs. de l'erkins Is aware that thi* i one of those two annual assemblies in wliicli that well-meaning lady endeav ors to pay off the various dinners and "At Home*" which win l may her-elf Imrc l**en CXIKWII to during t)** |al year. l>e IVrkln*, who is elderly, en gagi-d In the city, ami not wealthy, won't give dinner-; he does not like these "At llume*," but he Is toll that they are necessary—and then Guffaw, who taught Mr-. l>e I'erklits la-lore she was married, is very good-natured, and so is every one;and the moins, not vert large, are soon full, the staircase soon ceae to be navigable, and Mrs, I*- Perkins, who really is rather nice, stands at the door, and does her U-st to catch every one's eye, although, by a certain wild and anxiou- hok in her face, we know that she i- wondering why Guffaw does not la-gin. Jammed into a niche w hlch Jut flt tne if 1 hold my arms quite -tiff and stand up stark and straight, 1 presently hear the eminent foreigner ls-gin "In questa Tom ha scura." L>o 1 enjoy this song? In the tirst place I am ill at ease. 1 crane my neck to look round the cor ner. 1 can just see the portly basso with his thumbs in his waistcoat poc kets, but Just oppo-ite me stands my home— receiving more guest*, and the consequence is that Guffaw's "Tomb*" is mixed up with all kinds of mcr —"So glad you've come" "How's ? "You musn't talk,'' "Tea in the next room"—while in front of me conversa tion, momentarily suspended, recom mences, all about smne garden party and some one being lost, and where tliey were found, and who they were with, and so on. Ik I enjoy the music? Whether Ido or not 1 Intend to get out of this miser able niche—away to the other room, where there Is tea. The song is over, and there is naturally a pause in con versation; at last I tiud some one that 1 wish to talk to. lam just explaining with unequaled lucidity the new scheme for tioring the channel—attracting, in short, more than one attentive listener —when untrips my anxious but smiling hostess, "Vou must really listen to this gentleman who is playing; a clergyman, you know, most gitled; he plays noth ing but the oldest masters —Bach, and that sort, you know. Hush! tinah!" and site glide- off tapping and silencing people right ami led, just they have got into a nice chat and are beginning to make way—as i was, in fact. I look around me. I'isiippointod, cross, irritable-looking lm, which a moment In-fore were Mulling and ani mated, and from tin- distance tin- hard tinkle of the |erfcctly satisfied musi cian grating II|MUI every one's nerves why? Not In-caiise It is so bad, simply because it is not wanted then and there. (iraduaily, as the everlasting fugue goes on and on, or runs into another fugue, people begin to talk feebly. 1 In-gin about the Channel again, but by tlii tlme my audience baa dispersed, my most devoted hearer—a lady who suf fers frightfully from sea sickness—does not seem to remenilier where I left oil. I can't quite reiuemlter myself—we drop the subject. I have got to Is-gin all over again, but something different, to some one else, then at last, t lie fugue leaves oil. Hid any one enjoy the music? Then (iuffaw is put on to sing a duet just as I was telling that capital story about tin sparrow in church. Well, of course it was no good, all tin- |sdut was taken out of it liecauae I had to hurry over the end in a guilty kind of undcrhrcath. I did not stay to hear the new amateur tenor, Mr. Flutuloo, who, 1 am told, sang with an eye-glass tlxed rigidly in one eye, while he jM>sitively wept with the other. I can believe that the sensa tion he created may have !>een consid erable, 1 was a great deal ts> sore about the Channel tunnel and the sparrow, etc., to care; in short, 1 left Mrs. de Perkins' At Home in a very had humor, after, I regret to say, hearing some mu sic, but certainly not enjoying it. The moral of this: 1. la't it lie either music or conversa tion, hut not both. 'J. If illicit*, lt*( all thf audience IM< musical, ami all tin' mush laic gvxsl, 3. I Han't cram tlif room ami suthvciito llit* singers, hut ak a moderate coui|>a ny ; Ifl thfiii all la' sealed. ami |t*i tlit* conversation In Itflvtffii lw lliiiiii'd lit llit- merest Interchange til courtesies, 4. Avi>lil tin- current musical "At llniiif." Tlif IN* Perkins' melius I never j answers; it oltcud* the real musician*. I encourage* iiii|Mnttfra, ami bores thf company.— Umhl H'tirt/*. ra* Tkara In thf I trait A krrntuu In ■ Msg Mis*. lii thf range ttf tmr common history we t'atuiol lail tti we thf prwiriiif of this thorn hi thf greatest ami oohifai lives. It may lira thing likf Hvron's Cluh-foot; it shall torment, a* It 5 there wtTf no (•n-nit-r misfortune* possible to •n.in than to go halting all Iti n tlaya; or it mat Ih- a* great a thing at 1 tattle's Worship o( Ileal riff, a- Itf app< ar In thf picture, with that faff aa<l beyond expression, looking up to thf lifautlful -alut whwtf "Mini it a likf a i*tar ami tiwflt apart." Or It may be a great vie-, likf that whieh seized ami tiehi i "olfrltlge ami Helplines ami put them <lowii in the duugeou •! despair. Or It III.C IN* like the dy spcp*ia that ilarkeua the whole vision of t'arlyle, turning lii afleruooiia into a grim ami lurid Mlll-et. In l.uther it wa a blackm-** of dark ness that would come, defying both ptiyslcian- ami philosophy, ami In-ating •low it the soaring toul a- a great hall stone beat* dow it a bird. With one man it In every now and then a hlaek day, like those that fame to l.uther; w Itii another It U the hitler memory of a great sin, or a great wrong or a great mistake. It In a pain in the citadel of life with another, which can not la* removed, ill spite of all that the doctor* eau do. With men like Kdward Irving and Itotiert llall, ami Johnallieii Swift it is the line edge, * sharp a* that over which the Mussulman dreauis he w ill pa-- into l'arailise, dlvdlng trail seen daut genius from Its saddest ruins. There is a uian, whose name will stand high In our history, of whom it might tie said, "he must tie one of the happi est of UICII." Hut there is a pain which follow s him like his shadow ; not a IMMI ilv hut a menial jutlTJ, which he will carry with him to his grave. Nothing can reveal a more lieautiful uianlitie-- or womanliness than quiet ness ami steadiness through intense physical or mental pain. To ee the pa tient taee on which sorrow has graven its lines, reflecting an uttconqtiered soul, is a royalty, to which lite purple rota- ami acclamation are a vain show. West trine In Anrlrnl l4)|il Elver*. the taerinno arch.cologist, has made an interesting discovery of what Is naltl to IH- n JMirtloll of one of (lie lost Hermetic 1100ksol medicine. Ilitlierto all attempts to trace the origin of the reputed Hermetic writing have failed, ami it has IK-CII assumed thut the great "Hermes" was a mythological person age invented by the earlier alchemists to credit the acquired knowledge with the authority ot antiquity. The in ami script. when thoroughly deciphered, may throw sonu- light on thin doubtful |is 11 it t ; hut, even It It fails to do no, tlie fact that a fragment ot tlie hint Icar ti I rig of the t'.gy ptiatin tia IH-CII tii,.v ered i- a matter of sciclitllic iuts-rent. The mantiscrip! was discovered among the latiien of a mummy nome year* ago tiy an Arab, ami on Inn death it wo* of fered to lr. Elvers, who eventually purchased it at a considerable price It consists of u singh- sheet of papyrus, alniut sixty feet m length, and the cha racter* are in ml and black ink. .liidg ing from the character*,(he date of the manuscript may In- placed aiiout 1 y < am It. t'., making it over yearn old . and, it written in tin- earlier pait of the century, it would have In-rn contemporaneous with the (veriod of Mosen' residence at the Court of l'lta raoti. (Inly n pot turn of the document has at present been translated by Elver*. including some of the headings of the various chapters, such as "the secret bMk of the physicians," "tlie science of the Iveatiug of the heart." , "the knowledge of the heart a* taught by tbepr u-st - physician Nebscc I it," "me dicines for allev luting the abdomen." I'here is every teanoii fo suppose that the Egyptians attained a high degree of scu-ntitic knowledge at a very early pcriiHl of tlu-ir history. At the present day it in still called, we believe, by the Copts the Land of kemi. Lindas has suggested that a knowledge of this art wan mtrivduced into Europe by the Ar goiiniits. who nailed to t 'olclii* to carry off the tiolden Fleece. The Colcliiaiin. according to Herod otus, were an Egyp tian colony, ami l.indas supposes the lioldeu Kfccce to liave been a lunik written on sheepskin, teaching tin- me thod of making gold by the chemical I art The date ot the Argonautir expe dition was. according to moat rhrntio grapheis, lAV) 11. or :wn> rears later than tlie siippoM d date ot Elvers' man- | script. It is to IH* ho|N'd that future researches may bring to llglit further evidence of the scientific history of the past, and so enable us to estimate the degree ot civilization and scientific attainment reached by the early races of mankind.— /.*>n</<>n /siviccf. Mite liny In Jnpnu. A letter from Xagaski, Japan, printed in the New Orleans rrn l*rr*hytrrinn says: "tin the l.*th of April was the great kite day for Nagas ki. The Japanese are very fond of kite flying, and display a great deal of -kill. The kite* have no tnil like ours, and are made of two pieces of bamboo crossed, covered with the thin hut very strong Japanese paper. The people all assembled on tin-top nf'Kompira," a hill about eleven hundred feet high, and the air was thick with kite*. Several hundred kites were in theairat the same time, and the great aimof each o|erat<r is to maiKi-tiver hi- kite so as to cut the string of the other*. For this pnr|>o*c the first couple of hundred feet of string from the kite is covered with rosin am) pounded glass. Sometimes four or five kites would get foul of each other, then the thing was either to get your kite clear or cut the string of the others. Then again, having cut the kite siring, it was wolidefui to see tliein catch this detached kite, away up in the air, with their kite and capture it, the universal ly accepted rule Is-ing lll.it a kite IH-- longs to you just as long as you can keep it out of somelHaly- s else hands. The Japs never get angry at such tilings, it would have been bard hi llnd -JO.tHHt or Jn.tHHi people anywhere else In the world U> enjoy themselves so miu-h and with nothing disagreeable attending it. .XlKlit Killrmt<l KIIIK. We have sometimes heard it re marked iiy timid persons that they would not travel at night upon a rail road—their impression being that there is more danger of accident* in the dark than there is in daylight. I' |MIII first thought it would seem to be the tact.— There are many circumstance* which make night travelling comparatively sate. All work upon tin- track is stopped. Comparatively few other trains are on the road.—Switches are more likely to le right titan at any other times, as they are not in use for other trains, and are locked. Tin- sig nals for night trains, IM-ing made at night, would scarcely fail to lie ob served and oheved; and what is more important, would IM- seen at a greater distance than if made at daylight. The engineer lias less to attract his atten tion than in day light. While after all. n rock or tree falling across the Item! in the track in broad daylight, or an intended obstruction, is nearly as much a "hidden danger" its if encountered in the night. There are many place* in nearly all road* where the range of view i* les* than the reflecting head light at night. So, after all it would appear that one could take a night'* re*t in a'.rnilrond car with comparative safety. aortal n kitl Mrllgtona t'uslotMS lu A Istli* ilo se Indians imlieve in evil -pints who live in llie water, and m ml *ick lies* among tlie people a lie|let to which tile occasional disaster* eaunrd hv miiiwM-l oi lisli |m it miii I iig liave doiihlleaa given riae. I'liey liold rom luunleatlou Willi these apllila tbrougli their Mtreereia, but do uot worship theui in any way, or try to propitiate (hem w itli offering*. \Yhcii a Kolosh ■ lies his IMMI> la 1 Ml rnod, and a rude niolillllH-lil plneed where (lie aalies are buried. They beliero that the spirit li.es forever, hut have no idea of any reward for virtu* or punishment tor vice. According to thetr lu-lief strict distinction ot tank is preserved in Hie other world, all tlie riiu-t* U-ing 111 one place, the coin moo people lu another, and tin- -lates in a corner hy themselves. Duly wlo-n slaves are killed at the fiiueial of their chief their souls remain in eternal atten dance on tliair master. This eruel cusioui was said to U- atKilishcd under the Russian rule, but it always ha* ex isted and is kept up to the present day, (hough tile coremnnie* are performed out of reach ot the ant hoi it u-s, Seve ral cases of tlie kind have <M-curie*l since tlie transfer of the territory in spite of tlx- vigilance ot tlie autliort tica, and no wonder, as our govern lias done nothing to aupprcs* slavery where It exists rigid under the very eyes of military rule. When a child is lairn it is carried and nursed by the mother until d is able to crawl and munch away on dried naltuou; then the scauty clothing of fur with which i It was covered at first is removed, and | to strengthen its constitution the child i immersed in the river or aea every tuorniug; but as their owu parent* would IM- likely to yield to the pit* otl* cries of tlie little martyr* to discipline, tlds duty is geiieiallv entrusted to an uucle or some oilier relative who stop# all weeping or screaming with a lds-rai application of aw Itch. The ciilldrru implicitly obey their parent* at all ages, ami great care is bestowed upon the old and disabled. Orphan* are provided for by the community, and tare a* well as any of Hie other chil dren. When a young man wishes to marry lie first ask* the consent of his parent*, aud wlien that is obtained he goes to the village w here his intended lives, aud sends a pioposal through some "mutual friend,' and if the an swer is favorable he M-pair* to the house at once with so tut presents for the parents aud relatives of tlie giri, and Uu-li takes immediate possession of lii* new chattel without any further ceremonies, A short time after this tlie new ilettcdick pays a v isit to his wife's relations in company with her, and if she has uothitig to complaiu of then, presents must ite mailt, to Itim and his bride, exceeding in value (hose he made at first. The Koltrski only regard relatioiishipon the mot tier's side and (lie succession and inheritance are roufined to llie female line, i'olygamy is tlie general custom and exists even among Hie Christimti Ki-naiUe. wlu-re it is tolerated bv Hie native and half breed prn -ts in the families of chief*. The wi\ i-* often quarrel, and stall* witli knives and daggers are uot of very ian- occurrence. IIo to Mlir Marriage Henullfal. In tin* !lr*t place, let pnipli' ilefrr l< the ItiwK of health,of sanity, hereditary Miujiduix; let thriii obey restrictions, consult wholesome hamuli, rt>pw*t llir limit- m-i u|> by the *cne of nature. Mutual Ignorance on Uunr jxiint* I* til ling marriage with tttttioc*ary evils; they not only *|>il the well Ix-ing of a family, luii |>oil Itj. dU|MMiiti<Hi. I-et the work in every house l* reduced, hjr a reduction of lambition*, lilt alt lis table*, all the clothe*, exactly rc|ireenl the current condition of every laiuily; not a bracket or a rihlton lor exaggera tion, not a single rouoi Ibr |>aradc, nei ther *-wing, washing,rating, scouring, company giving lieyontl actual needs, and all done tiy the h-a>l elaborate method*. Tlien. in the second plate, retlucc to the lowest jMMudblc point the disturbances w liich *ri*e from Ignorance and vanity, froin artificial training; you siniplv lilieratc marriage for more t-flectlvr (Uncharge of it* ipirtuil pur |M>*e. I'he men and women might *ll*- nccl tliat tlicji uere ill-mated till life itself pronounced the haiiti*. Teach children tliat marriage only prolong* their Helmut liour* into tlie future or Sterner dinciplltie and lew* |>cri*liahlr attainment*. Warn tliem again*! those affectionate extravagance* hich under mine re* pec t, again*! the pliy *icai er ror* which *o -ap the will that it i* hiiintded and enslaved by annoyance which health and freshness laugh at. And teach them simplicity, make vul gar habit* and ambition* ap|rar odiott* to them, ply their imagination w itli au *lerv and noble form*, tempt tliem to fall in love flr*t with *piritiial beauty, whose service make* tliem free, then they will !*• letter prepared to discover that marriage withiiobl* felicity until it has tieen earned. iirlrstsl Vkikfs. Tiie Oriental* area* fond of calling people by nickname* a* Westerner* con id po*lbly l>e. and the-e name*. sug gested by *ome |>eculinrllv of feature or manner are often exceedingly appro priate. Six-lingered, halMnustaehe, shovel nose; liquor jug, a drunkard; catch-no-jackal*, an unsuccesrfTul hun ter; son of golden hair, a red-headed man; son of the niglitiugale, laughter, come and go, busybody; son of a fox, *on of a cat, son of a wolf, a sheep thief; son of thunder, *Oll of the devil, and many similar, are but examples oi the appropriateness of thoae name*. The designation* of girl* are supposed to bo expressive of those charm* which will aid them in securing a fortunate alli ance in matrimony, the chief end of an Kastern woman's life. Often the names of the ntost brilliant stars are given them, a* Ventts and other*; the word Esther mean* a star, and was the favor ite name for Jew isli girls. They were named light, dawn, twilight, moon light, and the names of favorite trees also given them, such a* the txuiiegran ato, almond, and date |alm. fiiey were also called after precious metal* and gems, and given the names of fleet and graceful animals and birds, as well a* of moral nualltics, 1 Hantond, emerald, |>earl, brilliant, gem. sugar lip,princes*, gaaelie, dove, sparrow-, and among the moral attributes well-spoken, love, af fection, and the holy one. mml Manners. 'TIs a rule of manners to avoid exag geration. A lady lose# as soon as she admires too easily and too much. In man or woman, the face and the person lose |K>wer when they are on the strain to express admiration. A man makes hi* inferiors htftsupcriors by heat. Why need you, who are not a gossip, talk a* a gossip, and tell eagerly what the nelghlatrs or the journals say 1" State your opinion wit bout apology. The at titude is the main |Mint, assuring your companion that, come good news or had, you remain in good heart and mind, which is the Ix-st new# yon can |to*sihly communicate. Self control is the rule. You have in you there a noisy, sensual savage, which you are to keep down, and turn all bis strength to beauty. For Instance what a seneschal and de tective is laughter, it seems to require several generations to train a squeaking or a shouting habit out of man. Some times, when in almost expression the Choctaw and the slave have la-en worked out to him, a coarse nature still betrays itself in his contemptible aqucals of jov. The great gain is, not to shine, not to conquer your companion—then you learn nothing hut conceit—but to tlno a companion who knows what you do not; to tilt with him and be overthrown, horse and foot, with utter destruction of all your logic end learning. There is a defeat that is useful. Then you ran see tlu- real and the counterfeit, and will never accept the counterfeit again. You will adopt the art of war that lias Terms: $2 a Year, in Advance. defeated you. You will ride to I tattle horsed on the Very logic which you found Irresistible. You will accept the fertile truth Instead of the solemn cus tomary He. W hen js-ople conic to see u* WC f<M*|- Isliiy prattle, test w be inlios 111 table. Rut tilings said for eouversatlon are chalk egg*. Don't say thing*. Wliat you are -taud* over you the while, and thunder* ao that I cannot hear what you -ay to tlie (xintrary. A lady of ray ac ■piaiiitance said "i <lou't care ao much for what they amy as 1 do fur what make* them say il." 'The law of the table i* beauty—a re*pe*t to the common soul of all the guests. Everything is unseasonable w hlch is private to two or three or any portion of the company. 1 act never violate* for a moment this law ; never Intrudes the order* of tlie house, tlie vices of the absent, or a tariff of eijieiiaca, or professional prlvacie*; a* we say, we never "talk shop" before company. Dover* abstain from i-aroa aoa, and haters from iusults, while they sit lu one parlor witii common friend*. Would we codify the law* that *hould reign in household*, ami whose daily transgresalou annoy* and luortilie* us, and degrade* our household life, we must learn to adorn every day with sacriiiott*. Good manners are made up of petty sacrillcM.—M'uhfo I.Wr •UN. Kotnr Train ml ■nllinia. Bwtliovfii used UI ait for hour* at the tdauo, Improvising the thought* w hk-b he iftrrairdi Jolted down on paper, ami sulwqueutly elaborated into the music with which he astonished the world, if he discovered thai he had been overheard at auch time*—as hap leued OIK* when Clprlana Potter called upon the great eout|toM*r and was shown into an adjoining room—he was incen sed to the highest degree. In another tnood, especially after he had become deaf, wnile working out a subject in his mind, he would leave his house at night or In the early morning, and walk for many hours lit rough the most remote sod solitary place*, through wood* and by lake* and torrent*, silent and abstrac ted. In this way he sometime* made the circuit of Vienna twice In a day, ! or, If he were at liaden, long excursions across the country. When engaged in his uiaguiliceut SomiUt Apa*imaUt lie one day took a long walk with Ferdi nand Hie*, his pupil. They walked for hours, hut during (he whole time Beet hoven spoke i>(4 a word, hut kept hum ming. or rather how ling up and down (lie scale. It was the process of Incuba tion. On reaching home lie seated him ►elf at the piano w ilhout taking off his 11at, and dashed into the splendid finale of tlist noble work. Once there he re mained for some time, totally regard less of tlie darkness, or the fact that he and Hie* had had nothing to eat for Imur*. Hi* ap|>caraucc became perfect ly well known to people of all clauses, who exclaimed, "There i# Beethoven,' w lien they saw him; and It is related that once, when a troop ot charcoal I turner- met him on a country path, heat Hy laden as they were, to let him |tas, for fear of troubling the great mas ter's meditations. When cotii)ioing in ids own room at home, he would some time* walk about in a reverie, (louring • old water over his hatuis alternately, from jug after Jug till the floor of the room was inundated, and the people came running up-stairs to know the cause of the deluge. At hi* death bed he left, lie*ides hi* finished works, a quantity of rough sketches, containing doubtless the germ* of many more works, which never passed tin- stage in which they ap|>eared there. The first draught* of hi* well-known composit ion* -how tlia successive alteration* which their subjects suffered before they pleased him; and these form a tnost interesting study, as exposing his manner of working. One of hi* sketch (took* have been published i* exieaso, and besides a host of matters of minor interest, it conlaine* three separatc draught*. at length ef the finale of his Symphonic*—a *triking proof of the patience with which this great and fiery genius perfected hi* masterpiece*. Kven when completely finished and perfected to hit own satisfaction, hi# manuscript presented many dfflculUe* to t lie reader,and hi* copyists and engra ver* are said to have had a hard time of it. In one of hi* letters, in which he give* hi* publishers the correction of some proof of a stringed quartet, he conclude* tiy saying that "It Is 4 o'clock. I must post this; and I am quite hoarse w Itli stamping and sw earing."— Mticmil- Ibr Isskisl Mlsrsrj Witmrn An exchange says: Very intellectual women are seldom Iteautifiii; their fea tures. and particularly their foreheads, are more or less masculine. But then are exceptions to all rule*, and Mr*. I.andon was an exception to till* one. She w as exceedingly feminine and pret ty. Mr*. Stanton likewise is an exceed ingly handsome woman; but Miss An thony and Mr*. I.ivemiore are both plain. Maria and Jane Porter were women of high brow* and irngular features, a* wa* also Mi* Sedgwick. Anna Dickinson bass strong mascu line face; Kate Field has a good look ing, but by no mean* pretty face, and Mr*. Stowe i* tliought positively homely. Mr*. Burleigh, on the con trary 1* very fine-looking, Alice and Pho'be Cttry were very plain in feat ure*, though their sweet uea* of dlspo sition added greatly t< their personal appearance. Margaret Fuller had a splendid head, but her features were Irregular and she was anything but handsome, though sometime* In the glow of conversation she ajipeared al most radiant. Charlotte Bronte had wondronsly beautiful darkbrowu eyes, and a perfectly slia|ed head. She was small to diininutiveness, and wa* a* simple in Iter manners a* a child. Julia Ward llowe I* a fine-looking woman, wearing an aspect of grace and refine ment, and great force of character in iier face and carriage. Olive lsgan is anything but handsome in person though gay and attractive in conversa tion. 1-atira llolloway resemble* Char lotte Bronte both in |M-r*onal ap|earauce and in tho sad exterieiice of her vouug life. Neither Mary Booth nor Marlon ilarland can lay claim to handsome faces, though they are splendid s|ecl tnett of cultured woman; while Mary I 'lcmincr Ames is just as pleasing in features as Iter writings are graceful and jMipular. IW-reels In W orki nf lientus I have thought an interesting and instructive essay might In- w rltten on the delects in the celebrated works of genius. Not for the mere purpose of iMiinting them out, —Heaven forbid!"— but ui show of how little consequence t hey are. < hie might think such a lesson altogether trite and unneoeaaary; hut every once In a while the community is subject to t tie disturbance of some noisy tyro who lias found "defects" in Haute, or Shakespeare, or Milton, or Michael Angelo, or Raphael, or some other man not so famous, but whose artistic per sonality the world likes, and likes for g<ss| reason. The fact Is, that there are lew or no jierfect works of art; and the grander the work In physical and spiri tual dimensions, and in its impression upon mankind, the more apt an- defects to show themselves. In a sense, surely the mightiest creation we know any thing alsuit—the tliilig that we call Creation Itself—ls full of and loaded down with defects. Minds that dwell unduly ujK>n the defects, great or small, in works of art, la-tray thereby their own narrowness and lack of power. Tint successive generations of gentle and discriminative souls that we eall "the world" find no stunibllng-hloek in the defects of genius, and take no In terest in those of mediocrity.— Scribner't Monthlu. Envy is more irreconcilable than hatred. NO. 16. forms' roLt xa. How h>H'j it biles to moke a Slid* 4/ ftriad.—"tib, I'm so hungry!" cried Johnny, running in from play, "give me some bread and butter, quick, mo the. !" "The bread is linking, so you muat be patient," said mother. Johnny wailed two minutes and then asked if it was not done. "No," answered mother, "not quite yet" "It scftna to take a long while to make a slit* of bread." said Johnny. "Perhaps you don't know. Johnny, how long it does take to make a slice ot bread," said mother. "How long T" asked the little boy. "The loaf was begun in the apriog.*' —Johnny opened hia eyes wide—it was doing all summer ; it could not be tiuished till the autumn." Johnny was glad it waa autumn if it took ail that while ; for so long a time to a hungry little boy waa rather dis couraging. "Why T" be cried, drawing a long breath. "Because God is never ia a hurry," said mother. "The farmer dropped bis seeds in the ground in April," she went on to aay, partly to make waiting-time shorter, and nan perhaps to drop good seed by the wayside, "but the (armor could not make them grow. An inge nious man could make something that looked like wheat, indeed, you often see ladies' bonnet* trimmed with spravs of wheat made by the milliners, and at first sight you can hardly tell the dif ference." "l'ut them iu the ground and aee," •aid Johnny. "That would certainly decide. The make-believe wheat would lie a* still as kits of iron. The real grain would soon make a stir, because the real seeds have life within them, and God only gives life. The farmer, then, neither makes the corn nor makes the com grow ; but drops it into the ground and covers it up, and then leaves it to God. God takes rare of it. It is he who set* mother earth nouriahing it with her warm juices. He sends the rain, be makes the sun shine, he makes it spring up, first the tender shoot, and then the blades; and it takes May aad Jane and July and August, with all their fair and foul weather, to set up the stalks, throw out the leaves, and ripen the ear. If little boys are starving, the corn grows no faster. God does not burrv hia work: he doea all things By Una time Johnny had lost all his impatience, lie was thinking. "Well." he said at last, "that's why we pray to God, 'Give us this day our daily bread.' Before now I thought it was you, mother, that gave us daily bread; and now 1 see it was God. We should not have a slice, if it weren't for God, would we, mother T" Tkr Pmras attack* <is old Sag/tag.—l like Deacon Green. He goes straight t<> Uie heart of things, and ia not Ted off by moonshine. The other day, when a venr oositive and load-voiced lady waa talking with the little school mistress and himself about a certain troublesome child, the loud-voiced la dy exclaimed: "I'ooh good influence isn't what she needs. A bird Uiat row sing and wouf sing must be made to sing; that's my doctrine." With these words the lady glared at the schoolmistress who made no reply, and then with an air of conscious vic tory she turned to the Deacon. repeat ing : "Yea, air, that's my doctrine." "A capital doctrine."said the Deacon with a bow, "but Uiere'a a flaw in your illustration, ma'am." "But'" almost screamed the lady. "There's no bat about H. I tell you there's no other way. A bird that can slug and wont sing must be wasde to sing. You'll admit that I hope f It is true as gospel. "Granted," said the Deacon, with a voice as soft as the swtsb of a water lily, "most certainly, a bird thai can sing and wont sing must be made to sing; but how are you going to do it T "The fact is, my dear madam'" con tinued the Deacon, "some of these old sayings sound very well, but there's nothing in them. I'd like to see the person who can take a bird that wont sing and make him sing. Now, yoar bird that can't sing and will aing, is easily dealt with. You can at least quiet him. But, for my part. I'd rather undertake the management of all the brass bunds in the country than to force music out of the tiniest canary when lisrhnse to be silent."— Bt. Aiek oku. A Talk will the Yommg Folk a about heap )"eur.—As a year has 365 days it should lie divided into 7 months of 30 days and five months of 31 days each, but instead of that it has 4 months of 30 days. 1 month of 3* days, aad 7 of 31 days. But the veat is nearly six hours lon ger than 365 days, so in every four years a day has to be added in Febru ary to make all right, and that day has come this year. But the year is not quite three hun dred and sixty-five days and a quarter. Enough minutes are gained every four years to make one day in a hundred years, and therefore there ia no leap year in the years 1800 or 1800 or any even hundred year*. This is a pretty fine calculation, but onlv think of the wonderful skill which make* our earth go round the sun eve ry year in exactly the same days, hours, minutes and seconds, without making any mistake* at all. We could not make the best watch keep time for a year without losing or gaining some hours or minutes. "7lx> mock Work."—John wanted a kite: nobody gave hint one, and it was too mock work, he said, to make one for himself. So he went without. He wan ted to have hi* examples in arithmetic done ; but it was too mock work to ci pher them put, so be copied them from nis class-mate*. So he never knew much ahont figures. It was the same way with bis grammar aad geography; "too mock work" he thought, to learn "them hard lessons." So they went unlearned. letter he tried to carry on a little business. Hut his old complaint "too mock work" came on. He soon got tired and gave it up. Still later on an old man could be *-en in the country poor house. It was John. Three little words brought him there. Do you know what they were. llarplMg mi Kssfklsr. We expect young men, young wo men, and old Frenchmen, P> write mostly about love; but this everlasting "harping on my daughter" on the narl of mature fathers of families in Eng land and America is simple effeminacy. A mail who comes into contact with the world as it Is. —with all it* great, social, religious, and political questions its saints and it* scamps, It* grand re alities and shains, its needs and it* strifes, and still can find nothing of in terest to write about but petty things and pretty things, and the relations of young lite from which he is forever re moved, —may conclude that the ele ment of virility is seriously lacking in hi* constitution, and that the best thing he can do is to wipe his pen, put the stopper in his inkstand, lay away his paper, and go into the millinery busi ness.—Scritmtr. A mountain of Malt. A mass of 900,000,000 tons of pure, solid, compact rock salt, located on an island 185 feet high, which rise* from a miserable sea marsh on the route from Hraahear to Iberia, up the River Teche, in lxmisiana, is one of the wonders of the world. How this island, containing over 300 acre* of excellent land, ever came into existence in such a locality ia a matter of conjecture. Vegetation is prolific, and the scenery ia beautiful and varied. Here is an immense bed of pare rock salt, whose extent ia aa yet only estimated, and scientific men are puzzled to know what produced ti. FOOD rot THOUGHT. We own only what w* use. Adriee ft* (he Now Tew.—Think before you link. Be who IUM health la a rich roan and dm* not know It. MatcMuaa taiterv—Having a cigar anil nothing to right It with. "DWgrnes command* aucoass." But auereas doea not alwaya obey. To know how to wait la th great secret of anccaaa.— iHMaUtn. Poverty (a the teat of civility and the touch-stone o 1 friendship.— Hailut. The human mind abould be a globe of humanity moving on pole* of truth. Water doea not remain In the inoun talna, nor vengoaaoo In great nalnda. Kt en in war moral power hi to phya leal aa three paru out of four.— Jfapo- IMB. Nature glvea u volume* of fruit, which ahe alwaya preface* with (low ers. , No heroes at all for in If their hero ism la to oonalat In being not men.— , [A'.-apalry. There la a German proverb which eaya that Take-It-Easy and Live-Long are brothel*. Master hooka, hut do not let them master you. K-ad to live, not live to read.—Casbm, The greatest men live unseen to view while thousands are not qualified to ex press their Influence. Earthly pride It like a passing tower that springs to fail, and McMaotn* but to di *.—U.K. H'ktu. Orthodoxy is the Bourbog of the world of thought. It learns not neither t an It forget.— Hajtitg. Aa th Greek aaya, "Many men know how to flatter, few men know how to praise."— WctvitU I'kilUp*. A man hi IttO times as large aa the common hooey hoe, and yet Tt fa use less to try ana argue Use point with the bee. It fa no great misfortune to oblige ungrateful people, but aa unauptmrta ble one to be forced to be under obliga tions to a scoundrel.—. lUuUg- The strawberry takes Its nasse from aa ancient custom of putting straw be neath the fruit when It begin* to ripen, lu delicacy was praised by both Virgil and OvM. In cycles of ft.ooo years the earth bas alternate period* of beat- and oold, either of which la said by the scientist* to superinduce on its surface an en tirely new and different set of animals. Fortunately we are not at the ck>ae of each a cycle. The latest fraud la a sum who makes a regular business of deserting bis wife and children among strangers. The Utter usually give them money and neeled article*, after receiving which the family Joins the husband and they repent the game in BOOM other place. Why wilt people whisper In a sick room f home one has said, "It la better to slain stove doors, rattle shovel and tongs, or make similar noises then to whisper In the present* of a sick person." Quiet ways are preferable, and very neeeeaary, but Inveterate whisperers should be totally banished from the sic k-room. Good nature la the best feature in the finest face—wit may raise admiration, judgment may command respect, and knowledge attention. Beauty may in flame the heart with love, but good nature has a more powerful effect—it adds a thousand attraction* to the charms of beauty, and gives aa air of ben I licence to the BM homely face. The Greek* characterised human fol lies and absurdities by such phrases as "He plows the sir;" "He is making clothes for flshes." "He catches Un wind with s net;" "lie rotate snow la a furnace;" "He holds s looking glass to a mole:" "He Is teaching iron to swim;" "He i* teaching a pig to play on a flute;" "He seeks wool on aa ass;" "lie washes the Ethiopian." Good humor is the clear blue Hey of the sou! on which every star of talent will shine more ciearlyi and the tun of genius encounters DO vapors in his pas sage. It Is the most exquisite beauty of a fine face; a redeeming grace in a homely one. It la like green In a land scape, harmonizing In every color, mel lowing the tight, softening the hues of the dark, or Uke a lute In a full concert of instruments—a sound not at first dis covered by the ear, yet filling up the breaks In the concord with It* feed mel ody. A Swim paper reports the discovery of Wecikon of the most ancient evi dence of the existence of man. It con sisted in a kind of net work or pointed fur poles covered with wicker-work. The slate-coal in which It was found belongs to the period Intervening between the two glacial epochs. According to pro fessor Geikie, In "The Great Ice Age," the last glacial period began 240,000 years ago, and lasted 100,000 yean dur ing which time it covered ' Northern Europe with a sheet of ice something leas than half a mile in thickness. The San thai a In India are greatly ad dicted to the use of intoxicating drinks and their country is studded over with places for the sale of liquor*. When these people, however, are converted, every Santbal understands atones that be is no more to toocb the accursed thing. All the Christians among them are total abstainers. There la another gratifying feature in their conversion. As soon aa they have found fotglv—eta tbev feel themselves constrained to tell the' Gospel to others. In this way the number of convert* la very rapidly In creasing. How bravely a man can walk tlw earth, bear the heaviest burdens, per form the severest duties, and look alt men square in the face, if he only bears in bis breast a clear conscience! There is no spring, no spur, no Inspiration Uke this. To feel that we have omit ted no Just act, and left no obligation unfilled fills the heart with satisfaction and the soul with strength. Conscience it U said, makes cowards of us all—but only cowards when It reproacher us with some un manliness, some shrink ing fTom truth and right, and the com mission of some wrong. Arsene Houssaye tells of a plebeian who went to Rothschild to borrow S3OOO. "Here it is," said the Baron, "but re member that as a rule I only lend to crowned heads." M. De Rothschild never dreamed of seeing his money agaiu, but wonderful to relate at the end of s month the borrower came hack with his S3OOO. The Baron could scarcely believe hisgyes; but he fore boded that this was not the end. Sure enough, s month later the borrower re apiteaml, asking for the loau of S4OOO. "No, no," said the Baron; "you disap pointed me once by paying me that money. 1 not want to be disappointed again." The old historic Continental Con gress will lie sure to attract much at tention during the year upon which we have entered. Its first session be- Fin on the sth of September, 1774, in hiladelphia, and until 1787 it held regular sessions In the following places May 10, 1775, in Philadelphia: Decem ber 30, 1776, In Baltimore; March 4, 1777, In Philadelphia; .September 27, 1777, in Lancaster, Pa.; September 30, 1777, in York, Pa.; July 2, 1778, in Philadelphia; June 30, ltß3, in Prince ton. X. J.; November 26,1783, in An napolis, Md.; November 1, 1783, in Trenton, N. J.; January 11, 1785, and until the adoption of the Federal Con stitution, in New York. Capital punishment has engrossed the attention of the Swedes greatly of late. Formerly deliberate murders were almost unknown there, and it rarely happened that even casual quar rels had a fatal result. By the law mur der was punishable with death under all circumstances and sentence rigo rously carried out. During the last tew vears a more lenient interpretation has been given to the criminal laws, and the King commuted even capital sen tence passed by the judges to imprison ment for lite. The result was that the number of crimes in Sweden alarmingly increased, and a month ago no fewer than three sentences of death were laid before the King for confirmation. His Majesty has this time departed from the former practice, and confirmed two out of the three sentences submitted to him. One of the murderers upon whom the sentence of death will now be exe cuted has, during the last forty-six years of his life passed forty-one years in prison for various crimes.