*' LMk at Hmm."
Should you feel inoltaed to censure
Fault* you may in other* view,
Ask roar own heart, ere yon rental*,
If that haa not failing, too.
Let not friendly now* b*broken,
Rather atrive a friend to gain ;
Many a word in anger epoken
Find* it* paaeage back again.
Do not, then, in idle jvleaanre.
Trifle with a brother'* fame.
Guard it a* a valued tree wire.
Sacred a* your own good name.
Do not form opinion* blindly,
Haatiiicee to trouble tend* ;
Thoae of whom we'v* thought unkindly
CO become our wanneat friend*.
Suppose.
I Hal thmpose.
Fadette, thai I. instead of keeping tryst
With you to-night, had staid away to dose,
Or call upon MM* llrast, or play at whit -
. Suppose?
[She.] Suppose,
You bad ? Think you 1 should have oared ?
Indeed,
Ain't you a bit ooncsi - don't take my rose—
A gift to me—from wlnau ? WoU, Joseph Mead,
Suppose ?
(Ha] Suppose
It ia? Then I'm to understand. Fadette—
If I must read your words as plainest prose-
Sly presence matter* not to you, and yet—
Suppose.
[She.] Suppose
You are to understand me o ? You'rs free ;
Do, if you wish I And oh! ths river's froa# ;
What skating we shall have ! To-morrow we—
That * Jose
[He.] Aud Joe*
Be hanged. It teem* to me, Sliaa Lowe, that
you
Are acting rather lightly; rumor goes
That he—but *ince 1 *eem to bore adieu!—
[She] Suppose -
[He] Suppose
We say good-night
[She. ] 'Gcod-uight air, and good-bye !
[He] What doe* this mean, fadette ? Arv
you -
[She] Well close
This sc. ne at once My word* are plain, sir, 1
• Suppose ?
[He] Compose
Yourself, Fadette
[She] My name Mr. ii Misa Lowe !
[He] Come, come Fadette do look bsyoud
your nose.
And—
[She] Here's your ring, *ir!
[He] I receive it though
Suppose—
[She.] Suppose
You do, sir ?—you—
[He ] Euoagh, Miss Lowe; Farewell !
Tie beet; I've been deceived in you, God
know*'
Coquette ! a hearties* flirt! a haughty belle
Who chose—
[She.] Suppose
Oh let's part as friends ! I hate you- there !
[He] Fadette '. why, sweet, in tear* ! This
surely shows
You'll pardon me a brute !
[She] And Frank, well never
44 CO."
CHAPTER I.
" Dart, Maitland, Dart k Co."
.So the name stood upon the great
brass plate ; and in these names hail the
business of the bank been piudently and
profitably conducted for as many years
as the majority of the inhabitants of
Highborough could recall.
Trade panics hail laid waste many
another long-established Arm; bank
ruptcy bad swooped unexpectedly upon
many a house where wealth had seemed
as limitless as here ; but the bank of
Messrs. Dart, Maitland, Dart A Co. held
its head high above all treacherous
waters, and stood unmoved and utterly
secure after the heaviest gales hail
passed.
The name of the Arm was a passport
of trust and reliance, as well was a
prompt introduction to the first society
of the countrv ; and the present repre
sentatives were these: Maurice Dart,
the senior partner, a handsome man <<f
fifty-three years, who imagined the
wishes, the weaknesses, and the hopes
peculiar to other meu, could not move
him now ; and Walter Maitland, both in
appearance and manner, a strong con
trast to his senior partner. Though bat
ten years younger, he looked nearer
thirty than forty, and the frankness of
his Blue eyes, and the gay words so
prompt upon hia lips, seemed donblv
frank ami doubly gay, contrasted with
his senior'a reticence and gravity. The
third partner was one in name alone.
His father's death had left him a rich
share iu the bank, bat his only inter
course with it was the polite periodical
acknowledgment of its having swept
sway the debts, which were tbe worst
enemies he had had to fizlit since he
entered thd army. About the "Co."
there was, of course, that vagueness
which is inseparable from the oognomen.
In the outer world it was supposed that
an on limited number of people had in
vested their savings or their patrimony
on purpose to be considered "of the
firm." Bnt among the clerks only one
case was known with certainty. He was
neither the oldest nor the most ex
perienced, though the most cheerful,
perhaps, and the most industrious. He
had deposited in the firm the sum which
his father, through a forty years' course
of valued and profitable managership,
had accumulated to bequeath to him ;
and so, being enabled to draw what
doubled hi* salary as clerk. Tom Leslie
looked upon himself as a partner of no
mean order, but built lofty castles for a
time when his name should stand upon
the brass plate otherwise than as " Co."
Cheerfully and constantly he erected
tbeae edifices ; but to attempt to lay
their foundations on 'crri Jlrma , either
bv saving or speculating, never entered
Tom's head. With hu mother—a little
old ladv, as hopeful, and cheerful, and
trustful as he was liimiilf—Tom lived in
a pretty white cottage 1 eyond the town ;
and here he had flowers all the year
round, and birds, that sang in the
gloomiest weather, and a piano on which
he was no mean performer. And as
regularly as Saturday morning came
around, Tom, taking his hat, would say,
in the most natural manner :
" I think we should like a con pie of
the younger fellows out to dinner to
morrow—shouldn't we, mother? Their
salaries are not like mine; and things are
dear, you say."
True, their salaries were not like his, but
then he wonld not hare the small, bright
house, nor the small, bright mother, de
nied any comfort he oould think of. and
so there was never one penny of Tom's
salary left when the year was up.
Once or twice Mrs. Leslie would in
quire ruefully wbeie her son picked up
the dinnerless clerks whom he delighted
to bring home to supper—or, as he al
ways called it: "to a little music." But
her genial hospitality was, after all,
as prompt as his, and so, though she
kept the accounts, there was, as I said,
never a penny of Tom's salary left when
the year was up.
"He thinks that that £4OO a year of
his is a king's revenue," thought Mrs.
Leslie, one Saturday morning, watching
her son cross the road, drop his gift into
the expectant hand of the crossing
sweeper, and turn at the corner to nod
te her. "He will soon expect me to
adopt a few young men whose salaries
are less than bis own. If be had but in
herited his father's saving nature !"
She tried to regret this dolefully, but
after all she oould not help the warmth
of perfect satisfaction filling her eyes.
Even his practical father had rejoiced
that his nature was his mother's from
the time that nature began to assert it
self in little Tom—" Little Tom " then
to bis parrots; "Little Tom Leslie "af
terward among his school-feilows, "Lit
tle Leslie " now among his fellow-clerks.
On this particular Saturday morning,
as ha walked to tha bank, Tom loitered a
little in one etmt-e quiet street of
FRED. KURTZ, Kclitor and Proprietor.
VOLUME X.
handsome private house*, before one of
winch et*HHi u couple of CM 1M piled witli
boxes. Tom waited loug enough to I*,
aure thut the cnlte Km' uothiug but lug
gage. Then he walked briskly ou, and,
entering tlie bank excitedly, told hie
fellow-eierka of the arrival of tlie
oolooel'a household; and for fully tlve
minutee forgot, iu his excitement, to advt
his genial invitation for the morrow.
Wlieu tlie coming of the regiment had
been diecusaed, and Tom'a pleasant in
vitation accepted, he turned to Ins deak,
iu>t to loiter again throughout the day.
An hour afterwarvl, Mr. Dart drove up,
and with a quiet "good morning,"
passed tlirough the bank to lu own pri
vate room Here presently Mr. Mait
laud joined him, and, slaudiug before
the Are, dismissal various items of town
news—among them, of course, tlie ar
rival of the regiment,
"Colonel Couyugham haa only one
.laughter. We must help to introduce
her. Young Dart, having ouce belonged
to the regiment, gives it, as it were, a
claim upon us."
" The colonel's daughter will need but
little introduction," remarked Maurice
Dart, quietly.
C&APTKH 11.
" Dart, Maitland, Dart k Co."
The names stood unaltered on the
great plate; jet—except the sleeping
partuer, away in India now—each oue
represented by that sigu was perfectly
aware that a great alteration had been
gTowiutr in himself ernr aiuee Colonel
Conjngham and his daughter hail been
tiring in Highburough. The strong bank
walla no louger limiteil hia hope and am
bition. Beyond them stood rerealed a
home of love, and ease, and sunshine,
bright IT {Kwaible, and in this future the
only mission of the good old bank was to
furuiah the home with luxury.
It was a winter uight. The hank win
dows were bolted and harm!, the great
books were looked in the truatj safes,
and the manager was asleep up stairs,
with the bluuderbnss beside his bed.
But in his brilliantly-lighted drawing
room at home, the senior partner sat
alone—a striking-looking man in his
evening drees, with the hot-house flower*
fading in his coat. The room had been
tilled with guest* up to this time, but
uow Mr. Dart sat alone before the Are,
bnrid in a thought which deepened
minute by minute, until the door was
opened, ami Walter Maitland re-entered
the room he had lately left.
•'I could not help coming back," he
said, beginning hurriedly to speak, as if
the words forced themselves from him
in his nervous haste. " There is oue
thing about which I must speak to rou
to-night—about which 1 have wanted to
speak to you a long time. I feel "—he
was leaning against the chimney-piece
opposite his friend, and looking with in
tense scrutiny into his quiet face—" that
I have been 1 reaming a dream which a
word of yours could a' this moment dis
pel. Tell me if a greater kindness than
your silence, though the kindness is
sure to be the motive of that. Tell me
at once. Dart It cannot be very
pleasant to you to see my anxiety. Ton
are far too good a fellow to feel pleasure
in that"
"What am I to tell you?" inquired
Maurice Dart, withe nt meeting his com
panion's eyes.
" Surely, yon know. I said to myself
when I met Isabel here in yonr house
to-night, I would find out if my fears
were well grounded; and if I could not
discover, I would a-k von for the truth
before I left. Dart, end this wearing sus
pense on me. It has been growing
through all these mouths side by side
with my love, and has Decome unbeara
ble at last."
Maurice raised his head now, and met
his companion's anxious, questioning
eyes.
"I am glad you have spoken, Mait
land," be said. "I have guessed at
your anxiety, while I have felt my own,
and I have often wished to break the
silence we have held on this one point
I fancied yon bad something to tell me.
I fancied so bnt now when I saw yon re
enter the room."
"Indeed, no," exclaimed Walter, with
bis usual frankness. " I wish to Heaven
I had. I wish I dared to say that Isabel
had given me encouragement enough to
make me even hope. And I ooald not
ask her to—to love me while I felt that
yon knew how useless it would be."
" I do not know," returned Dart—his
words sounding very slowlv after Wal
ter's esgerness, yet all his self-command
failing to hide their hew ring of hope.
" Isabel has never heard a word of love
from me. She is gentle and kind, and
willing always; bat I cannot read be
yond."
" To me, too, she is bright and pleas
ant always," pat in Maitland, restlessly,
" and I can disoover nothing more. I
fancied you could put me' out of one
phase of this uncertainty."
" And vou are very glad to find I can
not," said the elder partner.
And then their eyes met, with a smile
which was strangely wistful for snch
strong and manlv faces.
"Dart," said Sfr. Maitland, "you are
the elder man—the richer—the better,
too. Yon shall speak first. Do it as
soon as yon can."
" Seniority has no claim in such a case
as this," said the senior partner. "We
can wait."
"lean wait no longer," put in the
younger man, impatiently. ".Anything
will be better than this suspense. Why
on earth shonld we wait ? Isabel knows
us both thoroughly now. She knows
we are both old for this love of onrs to
be anything bnt deeplv earnest. She
knows enough of ns and of our positions
to make her decision easy to her. So
let us know the worst, or—best. Yon
have the right to speak first."
"I will not take it," said Mr. Dart,
sptaking more quickly than he had yet
done. "Let us write. Let us write—
together."
A tew minutes silence, while Walter
thought this over—leaning his head on
the arm which rested on the chimney
piece.
" Let that be decided," urged Maurice.
"We will write to-morrow. Let her re
ceive the two letter* together, that she
may think of us both together. Promise
me that your letter shall be ready for
to-morrow's post."
CHAPTER 111.
The fire roared and cracked cheerily
in the private room at the bank, but
□either of the partners had arrived.
"I never knew him so late," re
marked Tom Leslie, as if finishing aloud
a puzzling conjecture.
"Who?" Old Dart?"
"Mr. Dart—yes."
" Leslie feels it incumbent upon him
to uphold the dignity of his partners,"
put in another clerk. " His breast
swells proudly with a fellow-feeling."
" What an idle set you are this morn
ing !" remarked Tom, turning from his
desk with a quick, kindly smile which
made his face so pleasant to look upon.
" As soon as I senior partner I shall
give yon all a sweeping dismissal."
The listeners laughed, enjoying the
absurdity of the idea ; and one or two
questioned him, with mock anxiety, as
to the treat he intended to stand them
on the occasion.
Through all the laughter Tom pursued
his work, and Dart noticed this when he
entered the bank, and though it was but
very curtly he answered Tom's quist
nesting, jet before he reaohed the inner
door he tuned and epoke to him.
THE CENTRE REPORTER.
" Cool outside, Ijeslie. Keep up good
Ares." "It is hard," he muttered to
himself, "to pass him without a word."
Then Mr. Dart let tlie spriug door
close behind lnm, and, sitting dowu IU
his oftice chair, leaned on one arm only
—as very calm men do wheu tliey are ill
at ease, as well as tired.
He was sitting so, looking moodily
dowu iulo the Are, when Mr. Maitland
entered the room. The senior part ner
did not turu to greet him, and even
when Walter stood upon the rug liesids
him he did not venture to meet ins eyes.
" Maurice," began the younger man.
' I suppose I may congratulate you. It
is rattier hard, vet no one ought to do
it so heartily as I—l, who know what a
good fellow you are and what—what a
wife you have won."
A glance of surprise into his friend's
face, and then Mr. Dart spoke in a few
words, as was his custom :
"She hss refused me, Maitland."
" Refused you !"
Walter repeated tlie words, though j
not incredulously. Only truth, he
knew, could have weighted them so
sadly.
" She has refused me, too," he said
. " She has never cared for me but as a
frieud—simply and only as a friend." j
"Iu a few kind words to me," said
Mr. Dart, without looking up, "she
told me she hail given her love else
where. I was trying, when you came in,
to prepare myself to tell you, * I rejoice
in your happiness, Maitland,' and uow
Tou —you come and say tlie same to me."
Buried in one long, sad thought, tlie
partners in the good uld Arm sat in their
silent room, while the work and pleasure
of the world went on without But tlie
day's duties had to lie gone tlirough, and
these were not the men to shun them
selfishly.
" I suppose we had better settle with
Leslie about bis holiday." remarked Mr.
Maitland that afternoon, sending to sum
mon Tom to tlie uartuera' room. "He
' will lose every glnnpae of summer if be
waits longer."
"He should not have postponed bis
holiday; he had his choice. Well, Leslie,
when do you wish to start ?" inquired
the senior partner, when Tom entered
the room,
" You said about tlie middle of Octo
ber, and this is the twentieth."
"Thank you, Mr. Dart, bat if it
would make no difference, I would
rather take my holiday from tlie twenty
uinth."
"Then it is to be hoped yon are
going on a visit," remarked Walter
Maitland, pleasantly; "for November
days are not the pleaaantest for a
tourist,"
" I am not going on a tour, air." Tom
hesitated only a moment; then both of
his listeners were conscious of a new
earnestness in his voice:
"I should like to tell yon, gentlemen,
why I want my holiday tlieu. The twenty
ninth is to lieuny wedding-day."
Mr. Dart returned quietly to his
writing. Mr. Maitland arose from his
seat and moved to the Are, turning his
back to Tom. Before the eye* of both
the partner* there hovered a face which
had led them, too, to dream of a puaaible
wedding-day—dreams from which they
had so latelr been awakened.
It would ie hard, with these memories
rising back, to talk to their favorite clerk
of his good fortune; yet it was not in
Walter Maitland'a nature to let any sel
flah feeling prevent him.
"Indeed, Lealie," he said, "I am
surprised; but very glad, of course, to
hear it I prognosticate every happiness
for your wife. Of course I cannot do so
for you until I know who she is."
" You know hw well, gentlemen," said
Tom, flushiug. " Her father. Colonel
Couyngham, is my mother's cousin. We
have rarely visited them, except when
they were alone, because—at my moth
er's cottage, of conrse—we could not
entertain their guests. We hare always
been—as old friends ami relatives should
be; and I have always loved Isaliel.
But it was necessary for tis to wait a lit
tle. Though it would be difficult for you
to realize the fact, gentlemen, a marriage
is an expensive debt"—
"Toucan go, Leslie," remarked Mr.
Dart, without nosing his head.
" And the holiday, sir ?"
" Take your holiiiay when yon choose;
only don't make such o fuss about it."
"And is there nothing more yon in
tended to say to me, Mr. Maitland ?" in
quired Tom.
"I should say,"* remarked Walter,
with a jealous anger iu his eyes, " it is
an irreparable mi-take you are making
to marry on your <>wu income, unless
you had chosen a wife in your own po
sition ami used to snch a life as your
mother's."
" Mv mothei s life was snch a life as
Isabel's, at Isabel's age," said Tom, and
for a moment his face was really hand
some in its flush of honest pride; "and
[aabel has knowu what mr mother's life
is for many a year past. Would I many
her under any false pretenses?"
" I presume, then, that Mias Convng
ham knows the extent of yonr income ?"
asked Maitland, with compressed lips;
"or have you, in yonr foolery, been
representing yourself as a partuer in this
hank ? Her eye* are open to the folly
of what she is iloing, eh ?"
" She known everything, sir," rejoined
Tom, his eyes mnch puzzled, and a little
angrv; " and she does not call it folly."
" Ifon can go."
The clerk left the room, closing the
door quietly behind him.
" Thex must have had liarrassing let
ters," he said to himself, trying to ao
count for the partners' impatieuoa.
j "They have a good deal of anxiety
which we subordinates are sparod."
And thinking thin he took liis sent and
wrote away more diligently than ever,
while hia fellow-clerks wondered over
his mood.
" Leslie ought to go."
Those were the words which at last
broke the silence of the room which Tom
had left
" Yes."
Then the clay's work, went on to its
close, and the partners, separating on
the bank steps, went their several way*
thinking very longingly of one to whom
both had been faithful. This was the
first night for many mouths which either
had spent without these bright, vague
dreams of what his home might be with
Isabel at its head; and their hearts were
filled with resentment against the win
ner of the prize which they hail coveted.
" Yon knew this morning that Bhe was
to marry some oue else; why should
your thoughts lie harder, now that you
know who has won her?" Ho a vote*
seemed arguing with them, but below
all the angry thoughts surged on.
" For him to be the one to gain her—
he a paid servant in the bank !'
CHAPTER TV.
When Mr. Dart reached the bank next
morning, worn and harraased after his
sleepless night, be found thst Maitland,
contrjry to his usual custom, hail arrived
before him.- Though the two friends
greeted each other as nsual, most
unusual silence settled presently upon
them both. Eventually the senior part
ner, making an effort, remarked on the
ooldness of the weather, and his com-
E anion, putting down a letter which he
eld, answered leisurely. But his
pleasant blue eyes were rustles* and
rather dim, and the moment the answer
was given the silence wrapped them both
at once.
For an hour the offloe clock had ticked
a solo in the quietness, when Walter
Maitland rose slowly from his eh air,
CENTRE HALL, CENTRE CO., PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1877.
with the Timet unfolded tit Ilia hand,
and, lotting the paper fall, came and
Blood upon the rug Imvu.lo hie friend,
who had just re-entered from the bank.
Very gently be laid laa hand u|hiu bta
senior's shoulder.
" Dart, old frieud I I want to speak a
few words to you iu great uaruesUieas.
Miuce we met yesterday tuoruiug, 1 have
grown to feel quite certain of one thing
—quite. The time has not iu reality
been very long, but it aeeiued so, anil
gave m plenty of opportunity for
thought; and wliat 1 have grown to feel
so aure of ia this : 1 shall never marry
now."
" Nor I," replied Maurice, meaning it
aa men do not often mean the phrase,
though thejr utter it as Aruily.
"I—fancied not. Now we are both
wealthy men, IHurt," continued Walter,
bravely and gently, " and tins wealth
we offered a dav or two ago, to lsal>el
Couyugham. You guess what 1 am
going to aav ? Shall she benefit by our
—love for Ler ?"
The senior partner looked tip slowly,
questioning. A thought which hail
lwen haunting him all night made tlie
full meaning of these words quite plain
to lum.
"Yea, 1 see you have felt this," re
sumed Walter, quietly, "just as I have
felt it. 1 aee that my words only came
aa an ending to your thought I under
stand how it put it self to you. Leslie
has invested all his father's saving*—all
his patrimony, aa one may say —in our
hank, and spends his whole .lav* here
moat conscientiously, must trust worthily.
All he draws for this cannot keep a
house which we—vou aud I—like to pic
ture as Isabel's Lome, Aud then his
mother has to be provided for. You
think. Dart, that it would not hurt ua,
and could not make any difference to
Captain Dart, who haa no voice in any
bank matter*—if Lealie hail power to
draw what would keep them more com
fortablv. In abort —in short, old fellow!
you would make him equal partner with
me."
"With onreelvesk," said Mr. Dart,
shortly—"with ourselves, you rncau?
If we were all equal partner* "
" Ltd us discuss it this afternoon.
Think it over till then. Maurice " put in
Walter, feeltug that tlie senior partner
should have time to make his decision ;
" we will talk it over again."
The discussion a duly held that
afternoon, in the partner's private room;
then Tom waa summoned to hear the
result of it Though not a long inter
view, it was one impossible to describe
—for how oould any words show the
utter failure of Mr. Dart's efforts to
maintain hia grave reserve through Tom'a
extravagant, boyish, humble, proud,
ridiculous gratitude 1 Or describe Wal
ter Maitland's persistent (though always
disregarded) assurance that, as Mr. Dart
had decided to make this arrangement,
he was very glad to accede to it ? And,
after that interview who oould repeat
the limitless promises Tom made to his
fellow clerks when he told tliem of his
marriage Or tell how he reached home
iu half his usual time, aud put lus arms
around his mother, with his eyes full
of tears—just aa if he had been thirteen
instead of diirty ?
But, above all, who could describe
Isabel's mute, wondering gratitude to
the two men she had given such pain ?
"I am very, very grateful Tom, alie
said, appealing to Inn with tears thick
upon her laahea ; "bat I would rather
not talk abont it—yet. Let me have
time to think of it"
Quick to understand her wiah. and
delicate in carrying it out, Tom left
Isabel, delighted that his news had
moved her so, yet wondering over it s
little, too—because the secret of the
partners was so safe in the keeping of
the girl whom they had—not unworthily
loved. But hardest of all would it be to
dr-seribe how brilliantly before Tom's
eves that night there came a vision of
tiist identical brass plate, which really
met him face to face, when, after his
•• holidays,"be flrwt reached the heavy,
familiar door* of the Highborough hauk
' Dart, Maitlaml, Dart k Leialie."
" Co." was no mum.
TlUt Awfal Bat.
There may l>e people into whoae bod
room windows bats liave not down this
summer, the summer lusfore, and all
the other summers as far back as they
own remember; but we doubt it We
doubt, further, that there be people
who, when the bat arrives, have not
risen in their night garments of sum
mer style, and turning high the gas
pursued tliat bat with pillow and canes
and even chairs, arousing the family in
terror of assassins and giving the man
on the other side of the street , who is
up with the toothache, a strong suspi
cion that Kirkbride has established a
branch asylum in their honae. Bats
have been knocked down under these
circumstances; also have thins been
smashed and shins skinned ; but man,
in the ead, hna been victorious over the
bat~-n6vcr. If he picks him up with
bis finger* he lets him go again imme
tw " an< * drops him out one
windfftkbe bat soars into the air and
flies in" at auotlier. The bat cannot lie
Esraoa led to go away. He can't takes
ink Let bun alone an l he'll go home
and carry, etc. The bat, they say, is
good for eating the night hugs which
are always so much interested in what
one is writing about But whether the
huge were made so long before the bat,
and increased so much ahead of him
i that ha hasn't had a fair show, or his ap
petite is not powerful, there are plenty
,of bugs yet to transact business. Let
the bat look at the sparrow and liow
. nobly he fulfilled his contract with re
gard to the measuring worm. The
! sparrow, too, is nn etoellent bird, with
• only one bad habit, that of getting up
too'carly in the morning, while the list
is afflicted with every wickedness, ami
doesn't get up early <>gly because he
doesn't go hi bed.— Philadelphia Prct.
A IMIc of Antietam.
After the battle of Antietam, F. B.
Reynolds, of Company F, Eighth O.
V. 1., from Clyde, Ohio, was reported
among the missing. Nothing ww ever
heard from him, and hia friends gave
lum ill) for dead. Recently a man in
Sharplumrg, Md. t who is something of
an amateur antiquarian, and is getting
up a muneum of relies of the Indian and
other periods, had brought to him a
eioket looking-glass, which hod been
und in the grave of an unknown
soldier on the battle-field of Antietam.
The caae was made of laurel, and on the
inaide oontained Mr. Reynolds'name and
former residence. The gentleman im
mediately communicated with the post
master at Clyde, and sent the relio home
to the friends of the deceased, accom
panied by a very feeling letter.
The Newspaper.
What a comfort is the newspaper! says
a writer. How small ia the sum that is
required to patronise a paper, and how
amply remunerated ia ita patron, I care
not how bumble and unpretending the
gazette which htdtakes ; for it is next to
! impossible to fill a sheet with printed
matter fifty-two times a year, withont
inserting weekly some information that
in itself is wortn the subscription price.
' A newspaper is a history of current
events as well as a copious "and interest
ing miscellany, and which youth will
I peruss with delight when they will read
nothing else,
A ROMANTIC MATCH.
a Feer Utafrr Win. ■ Ulrb Il**(h.
ler The Father's Kaas t ll***i taSli*.
A aeorot courtship, an elopement, an
al*luction, a narrow csemjie from a trage
dy au.l a happy ending the story of all
tliia, which haa juat happened at North
A.lama, ia another of uioac romances of
real life, which are etnuiger than Action.
Mr. H. P. Goodrich ia an old c'tiaeu
of North Adama, Maae., aud ia highly
respected. He haa a handsome proper
ty on which he live*, having retired from
buaiucaa. He has also a haudaome
.laughter, Mies Nellie—cultivated, at
tractive, a great favorite in all the vil
lage aud her father'a idol.
Home weeks ago a young mail named
Moury came into North Adama aa a
workman on the railroad. Ho far as
j known he was a man of good habits, but
J lita social positron was, of course, that of
anv .lav-laborer. Iu some way he aud
Miss Nellie met, aud an attachment
1 sprang up lietweeu them, which for
some time was kept a secret. Hut it
I soon became known that this railroad
laborer was tlie accepted lover of one of
| the belles of North Adams.
The girl's father wa* very angry. He
. told Moury, with much excitement, that
he must cease all further attentions, and
he also told his daughter that she must
no longer Lave anything to do with
Moury. Hut the only effect of his warn
ings waa to make the meeting of the lov
ers more and more secret Mr. o***l
- kuew that attentions were still be
ing paid clandestinely, and meeting
Moury one day in Ryan's grocery store,
threatened to shoot him if he persisted
in them.
A few davs after this meeting Muu
Ooodrteh told her parents that she u
going to spend the day with an aunt
who lived a ahort distance from North
A. la inn. She dul not return ia the eve
ning, and growing anxious, the father
went to the aunt's house and found that
liia daughter had not t*en there at all
that ilar. Suspecting what had hap
peued, he rushed to the railroad depot,
aud found tliat Moury, too, had been
away that day. The father waa almat
frantic. He oould not learn where hia
daughter had gone; there waa nothing to
do but to return home and wait. It ia
aatd that in his frenzy he had determined
to about both Inn daughter and the
young wan when they returned.
It appears that the girl, when alia left
her home, took the can for Pownal,
Vermont, and that Moury followed her.
They were married that day. A day or
two after, Moury took hia bride to a
relative's, who ltred in Cheshire, Massa
chusetts, and leaving her there, returned
to North Adaraa, and to hia work, do
ing back to Cheshire, a dar or ao alter,
he found hia wife gone. Her father hail
learned where she was, and going there
one evening, bad forced her to return
home with him. He did not take her to
hia own house, however, and Moury was
unable to (bid her. The husband did
not know what to do. He was satisfied
that hia wife was somewhere in North
Adams, and that, aa she was of age when
she married him, he liad a right to her if
he could find her. The father, however,
was unyielding, and matters continued
in this condition for several days.
At length the father aaw that he cotild
not permanently separate man and wife;
he was, moreover, rather pleased with
the manner in which boUi Moury and
his wife conducted themselves. A few
days ago he relented, and yielding hia
daughter to her husband, gave them hia
blessing and atarted the jur in life with
very material assistance.
The Chinese JSM and Temple.
A traveler writes : We enter a temple
whose outside ts adorned with gilding
and lacquer, nisi quaint designs of birds,
siuinals and unreal monsters. They
have a religion of some sort, a Wang
Heug i a very intelligent Chinese with
whom I am acquainted) assured me, with
churches ami endowments as in England,
that is to say, thev have the syetem, but
not the faith. I iiad suppoeed all along
Uiat the curiously constructed temples,
sacred to Joss, had more or leas of a
religions character almnt them, but I
was now undeceived. My habit on pass
ing thcee edifices was to call in and sea j
what was going on, and one day found
out that Joss was nothing more titan a
fortune-teller, after the manner of the
Oracle of Delphoe. When inaide the
temple we see the figure of Joss placed
on nigh, with ornaments of peacocks*
feathers, whilst long stnvuucrs of colored
ribbons, pictnrea ami flowers; presents
of tea, oil or opium ; lighten! tapers m
colored warn ; joss sticks burning slowly
and sending their perfume around;
heaps of joss paper smouldering in trays ;
hsinbuo boxes with biuidlea of small
sticks on one end of which are itiarnlied
certain calialistic characters, surround
the figure. At certain hours in the
morning the temple becomes sacred. It
is the hour of divination. Any one now
about to undertake a journey or make
a purchase, and deaimus of knowing if
he will arrive in safety or make a profit
able investment, ootuea to Joss. He
pays his obeisance by profoundly bowing
and salsaining; then lights a certain
numlier of matches or tajiera and makes j
a present. After a while, when it thought
Joss is conciliated, the suppliant takes a .
box of marked sticks, and, after ahakiug
tlieni alxnit. selects half a dor-en, and pass- ,
ea them to the priest or Bheong-to (son of
heaven) in attendance, who refer* to the
lxiok of mysteries and there read* the
will of JOSH. If he is warned of misfor- j
tunc he forliears the journey or declines
the bargain, and waits for a more
fortunate ilay. If Joss advise* otherwise,
and a good profit the result, the happy
merchant makes a substantial present j
Joss is, therefore, as will bo seen, a
fortune-teller and nothing more, and '
Sheong-ti is only a sensible, cunning
fellow, who prefers to live by the credu- ;
lity of his neighbor rather than by the
labor of his hands.
An English Astrologer,
An aged astrologer was convicted in
North Devon, England, about the mid
dle of August. He was charged with
" using certain subtle craft, moans or
device by palmistry ami otherwise, to
deceive ami impose on certain of her
majesty's subjects." Elizabeth Saunders
hail been ill. Doctors bad been of no
avail, and finally her hnahand sent for
*'The White witch." He went to the
house, felt her pulse, ami said ho did
not know whether he could do her any
good, as he was only au humble instru
ment in the hands of God. He gave
her four or five roils in succession, with
which she tapped a pieoo of iron held by
her in the other baud, while lying in
bed. At the end of the rods were the
names of different planets, such as
Jupiter and Mercury. He also aaked
the age of the woman, and the hour alio
was bom, saying he wanted to find out
under what planet she was bom. He
gave her some bitters to take, bnt she
died a few days afterwards. The defence
was that the rods and piece of metal
were a rode means of nsing electricity,
by which means the defendant had made
many cures, but no explanation was
given a* to the meaning of the names of
the planets. It was stated that " The
White Witch" charged the woman
twenty-five shillings for his services,
stayed in the house five hours, and hail
a glass of rum and some biscuits. He
was sentsooed to a month's imprison
! meal.
FA KM, HARDEN AND lIUThEHOLD.
I'r.Bl.blr tars UrtwlM.
The average yield of the corn rn<j> is
about twenty-seven bushel* per acre
fur the whole country. Thu lucludea
the large yield of the rich prairie Htate*
where *ll average of forty to flffjr buali
el i>er acre i* usual. la the Eaatero,
Middle Mild Southern Htm lea, the yield
ia very low aud on the whole due* not
surpass fifteen huahele per acre. Yet
in isolated cases in theae State* many
good farmer* produce • seventy, eighty
or even one hundred huahela per acre,
and many ambitious farmers are trying
to reach a higher limit yet. This ia not
at all impossible; it ia not eveu improba
ble. It ia reasonable to go further aud
asv that the very high yield ia not at all
{ difficult to attain. Indeed it ia very
i easy to figure out a crop of one hundred
bushels of shelled corn per acre, and
we do not think it much leas easy to
reduce the figuring to practice. Thus
if we can grow three stalks to a hill,
with the hills three and s half feet apart,
we have 3,700 hills and 11,100 stalks
per acre. Xjf every stalk should bear one
good ear there would be 11,1(10 ears per
acre. One hundred good eara weighing
twelve ouucee each would giTe one
bushel of shelled corn. There/ore tins
crop would amount to 114 boahele per
acre. The only requisite for this pro
fitable crop then, is that we should
raise s variety of corn that produces no
barren stalks and that will carry one
good ear only upon every stalk. This
seems to be a very simple matter, but
many fanners would be surprised to
learn how small a proportion of stalks
in their fields cany even one ear.
We have been selecting seed, and by
all other means have been endeavoring
to grow ourii that should produce two
good ears per stalk, and yet we hsTe not
succeeded w growing any that will on
the average produce more than one ear
tor every two stalk*. With the caay
possibility of reaching one hundred j
bushels per acre if only fertile stalks
were grown, yet fanners look upon one
who talks uf such s crop as too eutliuai- -
aatic, if not foolish. It seems as though
we had I>eeu all this tune pursuing a
wrong nlea, or following* wrong course,
aud neglecting the most palpable and
plain i*th to success. It ia not to fer
tilise our ground so richly as to grow
luxuriant stalks with two or three cars
each in place of one; but to grow mod
erately sued stalks, each having an ear j
ui place of those with none.
In passing through s fair-looking
field of corn s number of stalk* with
out esia will slwsrs be seen. It ia
these that dilute stu*l lessen the value of
the crop. Can we get nd of these by
any means ? It is certainly our busi
ness to do it if possible,*] u*t as we
should weed out of our yards hens
which lay no eggs, sows which produce
no litters, cows without calves or milk,
and mares without foals ; or cut out from
our orchards trees that yield no fruit. As
no farmer would tolerate such worthless
stock so he should not tolerate barrenness
in hi* cornfield. Am<g other manv use
ful suggestions made by Dr. fe. 1*
Sturtevsut, of Massachusetts, who ia
one of our most scieutiflc and practical
farmers and agricultural investigators,
we owe to him an idea that we think '
may be turned to the greatest advantage
in improving our corn crops It is to
change the present character of this
grain by a course of selection sad breed
ing similar to that tltrough which we
have brought our lire stock to such a
high degree of profitable excellence. It :
is suuply to discontinue the growing of
barren stalks and prevent them from j
fertilising the seed of the prolific ones. :
To do this, all those stalks which show
no sign of an ear or silk (which is
tlie female flower) when the tassel or
male flowers appear, should be topped
so as to deprive them of their powers of (
reproduction, should be emasculated in
fact We should lose nothing by this,
because we should at leaat have the fod
der, which is all we should get under
any circumstance*, but we should have ;
the very important advantage of fertilis
ing the other plants with pollen from
prolific stalka Hence, we might ex
pect in a very short time to so change
the character and habits of the com sa :
to have every plant prolific and prod ac
tive of at Intuit one ear. If in time we
could give the plant the habit of bear- (
ing twin ears, or three, four or more;'
and by the required system of fertilis
ing the anil secure so vigorous a growth
as to mature these ears perfectly, then
what s gain should we have made. To
grow five acres of corn yielding 500 ;
bushels would cost no more than tt now
codts to grow five acres yielding one
hundred bushels, excepting the increased
labor of husking and storing the ears,
and only a fourth as modi as it now
coats to grow the 6(10 bushels on
twenty scree. It is a very trite thing
to say that the greatest profit lies in
firoducing the greatest yield with the
east possible labor and expense : yet
farmers do not seem to look at it in that
way, or else they are contented with
very small profits, for it is plain to be
seen tliat the small crops grown do not
pav any adequate price for the labor of
raising them. And so spend one's labor
in growing fifty barren corn-stalks out
of every hundred we grow, rooms, un
questionably, to be a very poor btisi
noes. We hope our readers will give
this matter the thought and attention it|
deserves. There is nothing to lose by
adopting the means of improving pro
posed, and there is a vast gain possible 1
from it.— New York Time*.
lUMfktli NUv.
To CUAN PAU*T.— Take one ounce of
pulverized borax, one pound of small
pieces of best brown soap, and three
quarts of water. Let it simmer till the
soap ia dissolved, stirring frequently.
Do not let it boil Use a piece of old
flannel, and rinse off as soon as the paint
ia clean. This mixture ia also good for
waaltiug clothes.
WATKRi'Booruta Ouoth. —Imbue the
cloth on the wrong side with a solution
of isinglass, alum and soap, by means of
a brush. When dry, brush on the
wrong side against the grain, and then
¥1 over with a brush dipped in water.
his makes the cloth impervious (for a
long time) to water, not air.
WATERPROOF Iloofs AKD SROR*.—
Linseed oil, one pint; suet, eight ounoes;
beeswax, six ounces; train, on# ounce.
Mix together.
C'-AUOO MADR TRAWSPAHSNT AKV WA
TKKPBoor.— Take six pints of jmle linseed
oil, two ounces of sugar of lead and
eight ounces of white resin ; the sugar
of lead must be ground with a small
quantity of it, and added to the remain
der ; the resin shonld l>e incorporated
with the oil by means of a gentle heat.
The composition may then be laid on
calico, or any other such material, by
means of a brush.
Fashionable Emulation.
Lady (speaking with difficulty)—
'• What have you made it round the
waist, Mrs. Price ?"
Dressmaker Twenty-two inches,
ma'am. Yon couldn't breathe with less."
Lady—" What's Lady Lemina Jones'
waist ?"
Dressmaker—"Nineteen and a half
just now, ma'am. Bnt her ladyship is a
head shorter than you are, and she's got
ever so much thinner since her illness
last summer!"
Lady—"Then make it nineteen, Mrs.
Price, and I'll engage to get into it."
Prefer loss before unjust gain; tot
that brings grief but euoe, this forsret,
TEHMB: 02.00 a Year, in Advance.
*l*l, JOHN OF ETHIOPIA.
nfc.lrk ml mm Afrtraa Hl.*'. NplaaSer Ifcl i
O.I.SIMF. Iks irsMui Nl*kt*--A Mai -
kartr M*a*ai.
trnaa Ik. LuaSoa ■■*.!nr)
King John of Ethiopia is a sinking
and picturesque j •craotiage. As Kaaaa,
Priuce of Tigre, claiming equal descant
with Theodoras from King Koiomua, he
figured largely in the Blue books which
, formed an exceedingly interesting but
i little read history c 4 the *Teut* which
S receded the Abyasiuian expedition; and
tat impression is deepened by the ao
■ count gl ran by Mr. de Cuaaou—who, to
company with' the late (Jen. Kirk ham,
visited king John at his camp, near Goo
ihr, the ancient capital uf Abyssinia, in
187S—of th* king and his surroundings.
> The country, it* people, their wives, aud
their faith, are not like any uf the Alii
. can type* ui other portion* of the con
tinent. They remind us of the Ok! Tes
tament Scriptures; the whole picture ia
like that of the tribes and the feuda
which we find in the book of (Jeneais
and the book* of the Kings. Long be
fore the king is reached, the traveler
hears tales of him--his *tmigtlf, his
nudum, and his prowess in war. At
Aium, the former capital of Tigre, be
is shown the great monolith, seventy
feet high, aud told how Kaaaa used to
cast Lia heavy spear over it—a great feat
;to do with an ordinary lance—and still
practises this exercise when he comes to
Axum. There is little disposition to
" forward " a traveler, the disposition to
keep their country free from the stranger
being as strong as ever in the Abyaaiaua,
but the king promises his help sod pro
tection to all who shall be properly
recommended to him by the French con
sul at Maaaowah, and the reluctance of
intervening personages has to give way.
Wiieu Mr. de Cueaun had taken pus
araaioo oi his tent, near the monarch's
enclosure, the king sent him two jars
full o( s dreadful drinkable called ledge,
fifty " breads," an antekuie'a born full
of salt and pepper, and a live ouw, which
was killed and cut up before his eyes,and
I the meat piled up inside the tout. He
subsequently visited the house of Mar
cher, one of the king's interpreters,
which was, like all the Abyaaian houses,
constructed of wood and branches, and
there he saw s pretty sight, that of Mur
cher's horse forming one at the family
circle. The beautiful, intelligent animal
was lodged in a little thatched stall open
ing into the bouse, bis neck adorned
with a handsome chain, his food and
drink given him at regular intervals in s
clean earthen dish, the oorn being the
same as that at which the household
breed was made; he was regarded sa a
cherished friend and comrade. After the j
rivihUe* of the king's interpreters, oame
the good offices uf the lung a cook, who i
sent the honored guest four dishes of
curry. The king's cook, who also acts
aa taster, ia a great personage; he must
lie a priest, must hare always led an irre
proachable life, and is never permitted
to marry.
Next day at dawn oame cine at the
officers " Liaamanguaa," splendidly
dressed in a robe of flowered silk, with j
an India muslin tuaru, and silver
mounted pistols in his a**h, to inquire
after the traveler's health in his majesty's
name. He was one of those who have
tlie privilege of wearing the same drees
as his sovereign, and the dangerous die- j
traction of going into battle similarly j
armed, ao that the roval person may not
lie distinguished, Early in the after
noon came Maderakal. another interpre
ter, attended by an can aire, bearing the
royal sward and shield, to conduct the
stranger to the brag's banqueting hall.
Drams and trumpets rounded; a astute i
was fired from s battery of brass bowit- j
sera ss tlie guest entered tlie wooden,
rush-roofed building, of oblong form and
vast extent, with a double colonnade of
tree trunks leading to the oenter, where,
on a divan, raised high aud draped with '
purple velvet,sat King John of Ethiopia, '
cross-legged, a pair of English rifles, ;
cocked and loaded, resting on the cush
ions to left and nght of him, and his
slippers of solid silver filagree on the
carpet before him. By his side was a
beautiful sword, with a sheath at velvet
and enamel; on his head the great triple
crown of Ethiopia flashed with gold and
jewels; his robe was a cloth of silver,
sad over bis brows hong a long veil of
crimson silk, worn under the crown and
falling in heavy folds ronnd the face.
The barbaric splendor of that scene was
perfect in every respect. Here are Mr.
de Ooasun's words, which fall, he aava,
far abort of hi* impress ma*: •' On either
aid# of the throne stood two gigantic
eunuchs, clad in shirts of purple and
green silk, and holding drawn sabres. ,
A swarthy guard of honor, dressed with 1
equal magnificence, stood also with
drawn aabrea. behind; while all around
crowded the great officers of stale and
noted warriors, in long robes of silk and
velvet of every color, the scarlet scab
(tarda of their swords gleaming with gold
and silver filagree, and their necks
adorned with the skins of the lion and
black panther. The air shook with the
wild notes of the trumpet# and the roll
of the drums."
When Mr. de COM* reached the
throne and bowed. King John shook
hands with him, and bade him waloome.
Then the whole company seated them
selves on the carpets (some which our
queen had sent to Kosso, Ponce of
and the next arrival was of special in
terest It was that of Has Wsrenia, who
bail ruled over all Amhara as an abso
lute prince until subdued by King John.
He presented a moat striking figure as
he walked nn the center of the hall, a
rifile in one band and a richly ornament
ed ahield in the other. The conquered
Has, tall, stout, very handsome, wore a
splendid tippet of black panther skin,
enriched with clasp* and bosses of gold
filigree, which the king bad just given
him; a robe of the rtebaat silk; on his {
right wrist a silver-gilt gauntlet, studded
with gems—an especial mark of the
king's fsvor; a splendid sword, sad his '
carefully plaited hair was covered with
a thin piece of white muslin, attached
by a golden pin. His feet, like those of
all present, were bare. Among the wild j
ana splendid crowd was a veterau war
rior, the oldest of the king's personal
attendants, whose ninety years had not
dimmed the fire in his' dark eyea nor
bowed the gaunt, tall figure, almost as .
straight as the silver matchlock in his
hand, whose gray beard mingled with the
tawnv mane of the lion's skin thrown
over his shoulder, and whose looks were
bound with s silver crown. It is difll
oult to imagine this splendid assemblage
sitting about the throne of the king, who
is a great soldier, a just judge, and a
powerful ruler; of distinguished and re
fined appearance, a fine horseman, a
master of all athletio exercises; alike
learned and practical in his religion, in
terested in other countries, and unques
tionably the ablest prince who has been
allotted to his own; and after an Arabian
Night-like incident—i. the peeaing of
a long line of slaves bearing on their
heads baskets covered with red cloth,
containing flat cakes called " tef," of
of which they deposit one before each
of the principal guests—all the effect of
the beautiful ana poetical scene being
dispersed by the follotring proceedings.
Meanwhile several cows had been
slaughtered on the threshold of the hall,
and large hunks of the raw and smoking
meat were placed on the baakets, the
stranger guest being first served. Two
attendants then went round, one dis
tributing knives from a oase be carried
at his side, and the other offering an
antelope's horn full of mixed salt and
NUMBER 35.
red pepper, for tu to season the meet
with. All the company then set to, end
began to devour the raw eow'e finch with
the greatest avidity." Thia barbaric
banquet, with all its sooeaaoriaa of silken
i robes, lmautiful weapons, delicate
fabric*, rich gems, dark, handaomc faces
with gleaming eyes and teeth, and braid
ed hair, the aoans a camp, and the guests
fierce warriors, a conquered chieftain,
and an English officer. la a combination
; whereon to exercise the lireliaat fancy.
ftnlaad.
Finland, which rightly handled,
might be one at the oar's richest poa
sessions. in now after urerly seventy
years' occupation, as an profitable m
ever. Throughout tlie, whole province
there are only 898 miles of railway,
i'ust-roads, scarce enough in the South,
are abaolutely wanting in the North.
Steam navigation on the Gal/ of Bothnia
extends only to Uleaixwg, and is, so far
,as I oan lean, actually non-existent on
the great lakes, except between Tanas
thstu and Taimnerfava. Such is the
state at \ land containing boundless
water-power, <* witless acres of fin#
timber, oountleas ship loads at splendid
granite. Rut what oan ba expected at
an untaught population under 2,000,000
left to themselves in an unreclaimed
country nearly as large as France?
Hdaingfora can now he reached from
81. Petersburg, via Viborg, in fburisau
and a half hours ; but what la ana each
line to the boundlees emptiness at Fin
land ? The fearful leasee at 1800 will
not be easily forgotten, when all the
horrors of famine wen let kmee at ones
upon the unhappy province. Heed-corn
was exhausted; bread became dear,
dearer still, and then failed altogether.
Men, women and children struggling
over anCwy moon and fsoxen lakes to
ward the distant towns m which lay
heir only cbanoe of life, dropped one by
one on the long march at death, and
ware devoured ere they were cold by the
pursuing wolves. Nor did the aurvivora
fare mncfa better: acme reached the
haven at refuge only to fall dead in Ha
very street*. Others gored themselves
with unwhohaaau food, and died with it
m their months. Fields lying waste;
villages dispeopled: private houses
turned into hospitals; ferer-parched
.keletona tottering from the doors at
overcrowded asylumn; children wan
dering about in gaunt and squalid naked
ness ; crowds at men. framed by pro
longed misery, and ripe for any out
rage, roaming the streets night and day
—such were the scenes enacted through
out the length of Finland during two
months and a hall But better days are
now dawning on the aflMslH land.
Beads and railways are being pushed
forward into the interior, aad the ffl
] judged attempts formerly made to Bus
maniac the population have given place
to a more conciliatory policy. Lectures
are being delivered at Heiungfore. and
extracts from native works read, ir the
aboriginal tongue; that it is betug
treated with special attention in the
great schools of Southern Finland ; that
there has been some talk of dramatic
representations in Finnish at the He!-
idngfors theater. Bueh a policy is at
onor prudent sad generous, and far bai
ter calculated to bind together the
heterogeneous raoea of the empire than
that absurd " Pan-Slavism," which is
heat translated as " making every one a
slave. "•— lAppinaotf* J tayaims."
Last far Twenty-eight Tears.
It does not often occur that hrothera
\ live twenty eight years in ignoranoe at
each other's wbereabonie and then are
brought together bychanns. Dr. Stark,
who uvea in Cincinnati, waa bora ia the
city of Tnrnowiu, Prussia, where has
mother and relatives am still maiding.
Twenty-eight years ago his younger
twother, Henry Hermann Stark, for
nome misdemeanor, was chastised by his
father. Henry waa eight years of age at
that time, and boy-like took the punish
ment so mnch to heart that he ran away
from borne. No cue could obtain a
trace at the muwfng lad, though diligent
search was made. Ten yean later hia
folks beard that he was living in IVris
with a family named Pappenhetm, who
had adopted him and were educating
him as one of their children. A few
years later all trace of the runaway was
■gain lost, and when the elder Stark
■bed, about sine years ago, hat widest
found herself, under the law at Praams,
unable to aril any of her deoamd haw- j
land's property on account of the last
son. Meanwhile Dr. Stark had grown to
manhood, came to Cincinnati, and began
the practice of medicine, mace which i
time he has, by his skill and energy,
built up a lame business. About ten
months ago be fell in with a gentleman
from Loo don, who waa vuutiag Cincin
nati. In the oouree of their oonveraa
tiun, one day, the Englishman acked
him if he had a brother bring in Lon
don. Dr. Stark answered in the nega
tive. The Englishman said that, he
asked, for the reason that he knew a
physician in London who locked as
mnch like Dr. Stark an though they were
brothers. When the Englishman went
back to London he earned with him a
photograph of Dr. Stark for Use purpose
of showing it to the London physician,
whom he employed professionally in hia
family. Thia physician's name, by the
way, was Henry Hermann, Three
months ago Dr. Hermann wrote to Dr.
Stark and asked for a history of hia
family and pedigree. Dr. Stark replied,
setting forth in fall his family history,
and among other things, narrated the
story of jits l°*t brother. By return
mail he received a letter from Dr. Her
mann in which he stated that he waa the
lost brother and that he would imme
diate lv visit hia mother in Prussia. That
visit has been made, and he ia now est
route to this country on a visit to Dr.
Stark. After he left home he dropped
hia family name and retained only
Henry Hermann, by which hei was ever
after known.
A Inel with Rawhides.
Dueling, grave a subject as it ia, haa
its absurdities that provoke a smile. None,
however, strike us more strangely than
the singular mode of dueling among the
natives of Kordofaa, Africa, diving
satisfaction the.e iaa serious matter.
When two men appeal to tfie code to
settle a quarrel, it ia not an affair of
awuids and pistols. The two repair to
the place chosen, generally some open
ground. The friends and kindred as
semble, and all is made ready for the
combat The preparations are simple.
They consist in an angareb, or crib, an
either aide at which the duelists are
plaoed, each armed with a lash made of
hippopotamus leather. Then an at
tempt is made to arrange the matter.
If thia fails, the one who has drawn the
first fire lays on his rtral with all hia
strength. *He receives it without wino
l ing, and deals as good a blow as he gets.
Lash follows lash, on neck, dhouldera,
sides—but not on the head—drawing
blood, and lacerating the flash. But,
intense as the pain may be, mo expres
sion or groan ia given. The spectators
is equally silent, and th# buttle goes on
till the rawhide dropa from the nerve
leas grasp of one of them. Hie victor
then throws his down, they shake hands,
declare themselves satisfied, and the
?[ carrel ia ended. Friends men care
or them, wash their wounds, and drink
deep of martita. or bear, in hoc or of
the uaflinoblng duelists,
Wiirdisi n# WlaiiftM
vv ePs WW milHwWs
That thee mavwt injure ao SMB. deve-kka ha,
And aarpsat-ttka, that aooa may Injur* ttwa.
Choose jwtr friend early because
Ufa {* aboil
Of all the paths that lead to a woman's
lova, pity is the straightest
History makes haste to record great
deads, hut aftea neglects good onea
Provision ia the foundation at hospi
tality, and thrift ia the fuel of magmfi-
OffiOcS.
There ia nothing truer than phyakig
aomy, taken in connectiou with
misuar,
What ia becoming ia houaal and
whatever ia honest, must always be be
coming.
The flights of the human mind are not
from enjoyment to enjoyment, hut from
hope to hope.
The seeds of repentance are sown in
youth by pleasure, but the harvest is
rasped in age and pain.
Would they oould sell us experieuee,
though at diamond prioes—but then no
one could use the article seooud-hand.
Frequent disappointments teach ns to
mistrust our own inclination*, and
shrink eran from vows our hearts may
prompt
Happiness is in teste and not in things
audit ia by having what ws love that wa
are happy, nod by having what others
find agreeable. *
There is ia every human countenance
either a history or a prophecy, which
must sadden, or at least soften, every re
flecting observer.
The world ia ail title page there ia no
enu touts; the world ia all lace; the man
who allows hi* heart ts booted for bis
nudities, and scorned
The bird of wisdom flic* low and seeks
his food under hedges: the eagle himself
would be starred if he always soared
aloft and against the sua.
Teo much atenatiun cannot be be
stowed on that important, vet mnch
neglected branch at teacniag—the knowl
edge of man's ignorance.
The raaeooabkoaas of a project ought
to be its foundation; and hope, the lad
der cniv which oeaduetf the architect to
the heights at the budding.
Msskitw and aunrteay will always
rsoonusend the first address, but soon
fall and nansrsta, unless they are asso
ciated with more sprightly qualities.
It often depends on a trifle, not more
than the toes up of a penny, whether a
BUD raise bhnaaif to riches and
boodr, Wptoe away in misery and want
mike (ties.
It k a secret km to few, y* of no
■mall M in tl># conduct of life, thai
when you fell into • man's oouveraa
tum, thv fin* thmg yoa should consider
ie, whether he baa a greater iariinaiion to
hear yoo, or that you should beer him.
The lore of display which results
in vulgar ostentation ia the remit of
selfishness, of • <han to tto
MTT of other* rather thee the wiah to
•hare beoefita with them —an effort to
appear greet, without striving to be
greet is reality.
How often do wc eontradirt the right
ralea of raasna in the whole course of our
hvea! Beaaoo iteelf ia true and joat ;
bat the reaeaa of every particular men ia
weak and wavering, perpetually swaying
■ud turning with urn interwli, l>i pas
sions and hia vires.
A maa'a first difficulties begin when
be ia aMe to d as be likaa. So long aa
a meet ia struggling with obstacles, be
bee an excuse for failure or i^<trt -e <mi up
hot who* fortune remove* them all, and
give* him the power of doing aa he
thinks best, then oomea the trial.
there ia no doubt that memory, al
though it may be cultivated, ia originally
a gin of nature, aa, also, application
in oat be regarded ea a natural endow
ment; fur there are some men, however
well disponed, wbo can never bring
themselves to grapple closely with any
thing.
Whatever expends the affections or en
larges the sphere of our sympathies,
whatever make* us feel our relations to
the univerae and ait that it inherits, in
time end . eternity, to the great end
beoeffesot cause of all, must unquestton
ably refine our nature and elevate us in
the scale of being.
Oaat en eye into the gay world;
what see we for the fitoel part bet a set
of qnarttkiua, emaciated, fantastical
beings, wont oat in the keen pursuit of
pla—nre aroatursa the* know, own,
condemn, deplore, yet still pursue their
own infelicity —the decayed man amenta
of error, the thin remains of what is
called delight
Knowledge of the world k regarded as
a useful. If not' an elegant accomplish
ment. bat thin advantage, like every
other good, ia, mixed with acme alloy ;
the acute ohaerrer of men and manners
cannot bat be disgusted with the scenes
the* take place around him, and hia
knowledge may at laat have the effect of
■oaring hie own. dispaemon.
flame feelin ere antrenalatable ; no
language has "t been lound for them.
They gleam upon us beautifully through
the aim twflignt of fancy, and yet when
we bring them cloee to us and hold them
up to the tight of .reason, lose their
bsanty all a* ansa, m glowworms which
gleam with anrh a spiritual tight in the
shadow* of evening, when brought
where toe ceadka are lighted, are found
to be worms like aa many others.
iot * 'yqrt s4i o*
A Sleux War Hence.*
A war dance is dencribad in a western
exchange, which eayn: A day wee set,
and the.DTUUIIMX and White Shield re
turned to fhair camp to tell their war
rior# to get reedy. At noon of one of
' the wsrmeA days a horrible pounding
and acraaohtwg was heard in the dis-
Uoce, and going out we aew bedlam ad
|rs tying : 100 Indiana, painted red, yel
low, blue, ami green, ornamented with
feathers and strings Of small bells, were
■ adranrinfL beating a tom-tom, screech
| iag with till their might, and stooping
over, danced from one foot to the other.
Arrived in front of the house they
stopped and walked on to the parade,
! ranged themselves in a semi-circle, put
their blankets under them and waited
for the muakseaa to begin. The six or
eight members of their band, wrapped
| in gray blankets, were huddled around a
hare arum, eafch armed with a substan
tial drum stick, and as they began their
pounding the dm eera set up a strange
: chorus of shrill, chirping cries, and
then darting to the middle, began danc
ing beck and forth, around and through
l in a confused mare, themselves still
Kinging, their bells mttling" mud feathers
moving. The step consisted in raising
the faou straight up, baUtnoing np and
down on the other, and then changing
positions, carrying it on to the end.
Two pauses were n lade to give a
1 chanee for breaking, and toey began
with redoubled vigor. A feathered ar
row was stuck in thegroiunlUnd around
it they enroled and hopped more madly
than ever, and at toe second interlude.
White Shield, a magnificent savage over
six feet ih height. * HNM&triiouMered
and muscular as.a Herouiea, atepped to
the centur ami related some of his own
glorious deeds. As his speech advanced
his hearem grunted their approbation,
and when he had finished relating the
destruction of his flbemy in the open
field, an applausive **Hdw!" came from
: the red coryphees/* ■' & "
■* t
f. . , t . jjital amaytp^.
The ladustrleaa Chinese.
! It ia remarkable that China, with a
J wall defined nationality of four thou
sand years, and one of toe most densely
populated countries in toe world, has
never had oaqaa to complain of the
misery or distress of |ier people. Virtu
ally ane has no paupers, no poor. Her
infirm or unfortunate are generally pro
vided for by the State, while her masses
! have been and are generally th# hap
. piest people on too earth. 'The reason
of this, doubtlesM, lie* in the remarkable
1 industry and love of peace of the Chinese.
They till the earth in every available
■pot; they drain marshes and earth over
waste places, turning all the riches of
the earthtotoe most careful and pro
fitable account, Tht living peacefully
indMrtaply laey have emfort and
**'■ 'rwp! f ,