The Farmer's Rank.
The farmer with the nabob ranks,
And with the gilded millionaires;
For he controls substantial banks,
And holds in them the safest shares.
His banks are banks of loam and olay,
His shares are plow-shares in the mold;
The more they break, the more they pay,
In dividends of green and gold.
His face is bronzed with summer skies,
His honest hands are bard and brown;
And there is something in his eyes,
That came with light from heaven down,
He is not of the earth a cloud, :
But nature's child, erect and tree,
Where wood-birds sing, and blossoms nod,
And rivers shout in sostaoy,
The Scarecrow,
The tarmer looked at his cherry tree,
With thick buds clustered on every bough,
“1 wish I could olreat the robbing,” said he;
“1 somebody only would show me how.
“I'll make a terrible scarecrow grim,
With threatening arms aud with bristling
head,
And up in the iree I'll fasten him
To irighten them hall to death,” ba said.
He fastened a soarecrow tattered and tors -
Oh, "twas a horrible thing to see!
And very early one summer morn,
He set it up in his cherry ree.
The blossoms were white as the light ses foam,
The beautitul tree was a lovely sight;
But the scarecrow stood there so much at
home
That the birds flew screaming away
fright.
With heads onlone side and eyes so bright,
Sarveying the monster, began to sar,
“ Way should this fellow
blight.
our propecia
He uvever moves round for the roughest
weather,
He's a barmless, conical, tough old fellow;
Let's all go into the tree together,
For he won't budge till the trait is mellow!”
So up they flew; and the sauciest pair
"Mid the shady branches peered and perked,
Selected a spot with the utmost care,
And alli day merrily sang and worked,
And where do you think they built their nest !
In the soareciow’s pocket, if you please,
That, halt concealed on his mgged breast,
Made a charming covert of safety and ease!
By the time the cherries were ruby red
A thriving family, hangry and brisk,
The whole day long on the ripe {ruil led;
T'was so convenient! [hey saw no risk!
Until the children were realy to iy,
All andisturbed they lived in the tree;
For nobody thought to look at the guy
For a robbin's foarishing family!
— Celia Thaxter, in Wide Jwake.
THE BEST REVENGE.
We were all so happy and cheerful in
our little cot when Aunt Buchan's
Jetter came and told us Jbat Fred Bras
tome had “jilted " my sister Agnes.
Wao were thunderstryck! Agnes her-
sell refused to credit the report. They
and the arrangement was a secret. My
aunt was ignorant of the actual engage.
ment, but when she wrote and toid us
that Brastome was engaged to Sir Some-
body Something's daughter, and had |
just inherited his uncle's property, quite |
unexpectedly, it was a terrible blow to |
us at home. Yet there were his letters
full of affection.
Agnes bore up wonderfully, but at
length even she succumbed, We had |
heard pothing from Fred very lately,
and my injuities only elicited the state-
ment that fie had gone abroad suddenly.
Even our neighbors, the Pendrewitts, at
whose house Agnes had first met him,
were away yachting, and we could not |
get at the truth. 1 wrote to Lis bankers
and got his sddress, and then wrote to
him (a stiffish letter) for explanation,
and then waited.
Agnes got worse. We could not rest
1 vowed vengeance against the man,and
unable to stand the suspense snd loneli-
ness when dariing Agnes’ life was almost
trembling in the balance, I rushed out to
do something, ready to encounter any
danger in search of forgetfulness of our
injury. Only a few weeks since he had
gone, and this was the result! I could
scarcely credit it.
1 went out. It was a lovely night. 1
stood upon the steps and looked across
the moonlit bay, at the southiern side of
which the lighthouse rose disdainfully.
A fash came full upon my face, and
with it came the thought—I will goout
to thie lighthouse.
I descended rapidly at first, and then
more slowly, and be to think; but
still I went down and met Bob Murray,
my boatman, as I entered a shop to
make a purchase.
** Good-night, Bob. Going home?”
“Aye, aye, Master Harry. Home it
is, and time.”
“ Well, Bob, I'm going out.”
“Out to-night! And where, if I may
make so bold as to ask?”
“To the lighthouse, Bob, snd you
must take me there, and call, to-mor-
row's flood, to take me back.”
* But, sir, my lady? Will she?"
Bob always called my mother * my
iady,” not that she, except as every
woman is, was entitled to the courtesy;
but she deserved it, and the compliment
passed unnoticed now, as ever.
1 silenced him, and he agreed. “ I'm
your man, Master Hurry, but I think
you'd better bide a day or two; there's
a look about the sea that 1 dislike.”
“Wind, Bob? 1should like a breeze
out there to-morrow.”
“Aye, aye! Wind is nothing to the
lighthouse. It’s a sea. Suppose an ac-
Sident shoud bappen—suppose a
ship—"
* Suppose you give up croaking, Bob
Murray, and bear s hand with the boat.”
I wrapped up my purchase and went
i
i
i
He responded with alacrity, and said
no more. Somehow his tacit obedience
Hmpressed me more forcibly than his
wel.-meant warning.
*““ All ready now, your honor,” said
Lie at last.
“Thank you. Bob. Will you take
the tiller, please?” 1 knew the coast
almost as well as he, and yet I would
not touch the tiller, It was a tri-
bute to his superior skill and to my
mother’s fears.
We ran out quickly, and in about an
hour were close to the lighthouse. A
simultaneous roar of * Ahoy, there!”
brought my old friend Dobson to the
gallery.
** Boat ahoy!” he cried. What cheer?”
“Dobson, ahay! ’'Tis I—Mister
'Enery” (he alwsge insisted upon call-
ing me nary ™)
“ Never! ell, and what brings ye
here at this time o’ night, sir?”
Th ere was a pause, and at last he said,
as we tossed upon the rising sea.
“1'll come down, sir—I'll dis-cend,
sir, if you please.”
He disappeared, and must have de-
scended very rapidly, for in a moment
or two lie appeared at a small door
opening Just above the rock on which
tue lighthouse was erected; there ne
parleyed:
** Ye see, sir, that is quite out of regu-
lar orders; I daren’t let you in, not now
— keep her off, Bob Murray, yew; ye'll
have her stove in ‘three threes'—so ye
see, sir.”
** Dobson,” I replied, firmly, * it’s no
use. Regulations or no regulations, I
want to the night in the light-
house. Here Iam. You can, of course,
keep me here if you like, but I am not
going now.”
Dobson paused irresolutely; and Mur-
ray said:
“It's all right, Jack; I'l come for
him to-morrow and take him off.”
“Ah. etponded Dobson. “To-
BOON ae be thine eyes, Bob
Ys
urray made no verbal reply
impelled the boat toward the s
rock. The tide was out; a well jud:
spring as the boat rose to the wave, and
I landed safely on the granite, When 1°
turned round again M
pix feet e
. He
ppery
ged
urray was already
my »
a.
n.
morrow Tell them I'm aon
ey nek for me. gal
HAY yer se! ni
VOLUME XIII
RI ONIN
PA.
I
15,
NUMBER 27.
:
ray ran for home with the sheet hauled
well aft, and lying as close to the wind
as the flattoned sail would draw,
I turned and found Dobson at my
{lebow. He had heard my parting
| words, and commented upon them as
{follows, in a tone that chilled me
{ throngh : |
| “If he gets ashore much inside of a |
{ week I mi a Duteliman, and saving your |
| preseny, Master 'Enery, you's another,
| prome in now—the flood's making—if
i Cou please.”
i We entered the lighthouse together,
{and as we ascended the winding stair.
| way, Dobson said: i
{ ‘Did you bring aught with ye, sir?" |
“Any spirits? 1 declare, Dobson, 1
quite forgot. But I'll make it all right.”
Dobson's repiv had a disdainful ring
init as he replied: “Iain't thinking of
| spirits. Have you brought any cloth-
{ ing or anything?
“Just enough for anight,” I veplied— |
| “a toothbrush. Why?" I produced my |
| late purchase as | spoke
* Because look ve here,” he said, sud- |
| denly changing his tone. He led me to |
| the windward side of the gailery, which
we just then reached. * D'ye see yonder
line upon the seaf"
“Yesa--what of it? It's a breese com-
| ing up-—all the better.”
““ All the worser! Last time I see that |
with this moon and after these warn-
ings was when the Cg'tiliy Castle went
down on yonder reef and on'y filty was
saved out ©’ nigh toree hundred on
| board.”
1 confess I felt a dull sensation of
| dread. That some calamity was pend-
fing I felt sure. 1 shivered, not with
cold, though, and looked steadily at
Dobson. Then affecting a cheerful man-
ner, I replied:
‘But there's no prospect of a storm
ship to get an
| readd the sky
{ rate I'm quite safe herve.”
“Aye, aye, for that matter, safe
enough. Bat you see, Mister 'Enery—
well it's all right—come inside.”
{| We went in again and descended the
{ spiral stairway in the solid basement tg
the storercom and thence to the kitelien. |
Everything appeared clean and tidy. A
stovepipe passed through the cetlirg,
doing duty for a chimney, as a small
stove did for the kitchen range, and 1
knew that we would not starve. But |
{ Dobson's remark respecting the ap-
| proaching tempest had affected me in
offing if the skipper can
as well as you. Atany
i
{spite of my determination to see the
adventure through. I was anxious to
have something to wean me from the
somber retrospection 1 had been lately
indulging, and so I shook off the feeling
of strangeness and tried to feel as il
everything was just as 1 had in my
imagination pictured it—which every-
thing was not.
We ascended through the bedroom.
| There were three beds between the win-
| dows, a cuckoo clock, an almanac, the
nautical necessaries were visible at a
glance. The bedroom was pisinly and
rather scantily furpished. Some books
were on the single table, and in a cup-
A pair of
were also noticed by me, and 1 won-
the firearms were Kept
there.
As 1 gazed room the
around the
ten times, retreating again, only just in
time to escape a blow from the door.
A sailor was descending from the
upper floor He was rather astonished
to see me, I think, but in a moment he
touched his cap. and professed himself
glad to see “*a friend ot his mate's, who
Naa friend of Lis and welcome "--s0 he
FAIL
** Mister "Enery’s going to take a berth
here to-night, Judkins,” said Dobson.
You and me will arrange about a shake.
down. It's my watch at midnight, so
hie can turn in as soon as he likes.”
“I should prefer being up with you,
Dobson,’ Isaid. “1 want to see the
sea and how things look in the dead of
night. It must be very weird and very
grand here in a storm.”
‘“ Aye, aye, sir. You'll have storm
enough. Better sleep while you can,
and let the sea take care of itself.”
“ But I came here to sit up, and un-
less you object"
** Me, Mister 'Enery! Not a bit of it.
Come aloft if ye like; I'll keep you com-
any.”
We went up to the gallery again, and
I stood leaning over, gazing steadily,
half dreamily, at the rising water. The
sea was evidently rising, and yet the
iong, heavy, booming swell rolied in
without breaking till close upon the
rocks. Then the roar arose, the spray
dashed u» in vain attempts to reach the
gleaming beacon, and fell back ex-
hausted on the whitened sea.
As 1 continued to look across the
moonlit waves a strozg sensation of un-
reality of it all cams pon me. I counid
fancy it was all zares!. I knew and
feit that I was ia the lighthouse, and all
was right, that I was in good health
and spirits, and yet all the surroundings
appeared as if I were in a dream. |
could see a shape in the water beneath,
a dark form, and lo! suddenly it wus
clad in white, a female shape, ascending
to the gallery. I knew the tage in the
iantern light. It was'Agnes. Strange
illusion!
I called out; the form vanished; the
gpray splashed heavily down to the
water, and Dobson approached me
quickly and anxiously.
“Did you call, Mister "Enry?”
“Yes, I did,” I replied. *“ The spra
very nearly came up into the gallery.
frightened me.”
“That's nothing,” replied Dobson.
“You'll have it over the lantern afore
to-morrow. Hold up your hand—d’ye
feel the sait on it?”
Iput my palm to the wind, and then
touched my tongue with it. It was quite
salt to the taste.
“You'll excuse me, sir, but you's
looking pale and worn out. Turn in,
and come up at daybreak. That's the
time to see the sea, and sunrise, too.”
J knew the well-intentioned sailor
was quite right. I was overwrought:
my nerves were highly strung—I wanted
rest.
“Will you call me early, or if any-
thing turns up?”
“I will, sir; you shallknow. Oneof
my mates is goin’ ashore at dawn; I'll
hail you then for certain shure.”
So we bade each other good-night,
and I ¢escended to the sleeping-room
in semi-darkness. In ten minutes I
must have been sound asleep; the noise
of the waves dashing outside, and the
rushing of the wind. far from keepin
me awake, were soothing to my troublec
epirits. I slept, nor did the restless
cuckoo in the clock, that whirred and
chirped the hours through the stormy
mgt, wake me from my dreaming.
was half aroused by a touch on tbe
shoulder and opened my eyes, but the
semi-darkness was still before them.
Then a voice I knew said, *‘ Tom's just
off, but the morning's wet and stormy,
gir. Be advised and stay below ; you—"
lain down again and wus asleep
once more before he had completed the
sentence.
I must have slept some time when a
dull sound aroused me. I looked about
and it was not till the clock door burst
open and the bird came out that I re-
collected where I was.
“Cuckoo!” I counted six strokes,
Then the dull and distant sound came
down upon the wind and I began to
wonder what it was.
A third time, louder, and now *‘flat-
ter,” so to speak, as if the wind had
caught the noise and borne it against the
stone pillar wherein I lay, I could hear
Dobson and his companion hurrying
to and fro and in a few moments, as the
former passed the door, I ealled aloud
and he came in hastily.
** What's the matter, Dobson”
t
" Vessel drifting in, disabled. She'll
don't ve hear the guns?” :
{e wus gone Guns! A vessel
tress! Here was an adventure, indeed
in dis.
my toilet, from time to time looking out
upon the angry, tumbling sea, driven in
of water,
I ascended to the gallery, and the
grandeur of the scene beneath took my
visible to windward,
“ Now, mate,” said Dobson,
We'll
and save the poor fellows.”
You can bear a hand on
not both turn up
why"
Without another word they
hands solemnly with me and with each
lines they had secured about
waists, The sea was now sweeping over
whizzing of an avalanche, which few
it.
The men disappeared round the rock
and left me standing at the door irreso-
lute, a life-line in my hand, a buoy at.
tached to it hanging ready for use.
A loud cry attractea my attention—a
crackling, grinding noise—the vessel
had struck, and as 1 looked over the
rushing, swirling waves 1 could see,
though indistinctly, three white faces
ahd three pairs of arms struggling in
the water. 1 was fascinated—1 could
only stare. Help was yet out of.the
question, but even as I ganed one swim-
with the waves toward the lee of the
lighthouse to a spot where ina momen.
tary eddy he might be saved
I saw this now. and ‘pulling myself
together,” step: ed cautiously just with-
out the veach of the Lissing waves
the rocks and slid in smooth layers of
water, like thick glass, into the boiling
surf beneath, When I had reached a
coign of vantage the poor swimmer was
still bravely battling with the undertow,
and in a few moments [ hoped to be able
to heave the life buoy to his assistance,
It seems so unreal to look back upon,
and were I not sure of all this sad
mornings's work I could almost believe
it fancy. But there was no time to
thiuk what to do. In another moment
[ bad grasped the line and was about to
swing the buoy to the struggling,
drowning man, when I recognized his
fertures, notwithstanding the wild
spray and the disheveled hair that was
matted by the salt water around his
forehead.
The swimmer was Frederick Bras-
tome—the man who had ail but killed
my darling sister—the traitor!
My arm fell listlessly by my side.
Agnes was dying, poor darling, almost
within sight of ¢
bore her faithless lover on its angry
hosom ; amd should I'save his life when
he has wrecked hers? No!
was complete. I had him in my power
The demon tempted me to let him bide
and die, and yeta strange sad compas.
sion for the heartless destroyer of my
sister's life in his dire extremity
my heart.
{e recognized me and called gasp-
ingly for help; help for Agnes’ sake!
For hersake! Did he dare to teade his
safety on her blighted life? And yetal
the sound of her name the thought that
she had forgiven him his trespasses
against her now prevailed.” 1 ealled out
and hove the NE hany close to him.
He was almost spent, but clutched it |
with the grasp of drowning men. As-
sisted by the waves, | hauled him al.
most senseless to the rock alive! (The
yacht drove onthe reef just then, and
the crew were rescued after.)
Thank heaven, I had saved him! Now
that he was free from danger 1 felt more
at ease. The black cloud of revenge
had passed away, and Agnes’ pure in-
fluence had worked a wondrous change
in me. He lay insensible, but in a
short time Dobson and his mate, having
hauled the others out of danger, came
to my assistance, and they carried Bras.
tome in and laid him on the bed.
I could not see him, though I savad
his life, but afterward I beard the facts
from the other young men, who over-
whelmed us with thanks, and their ae-
count was this (we were sitting in the
gallery when they told the tale, and how
they met their companion—him-—my
enemy, as I judged).
They bad borrowed Mr. Pendrewitt’s
yacht, and had saiied to Cherbourg. At
that port they had encountered Bras.
tome, who was very anxious to return
at once to England, but had missed the
steamer. Knowing wiio he was, for
they had met at Mr. Pendrewitt's house,
they voluntegred tc bring him to our
little port, as he said he had received a
most urgent letter from a friend. My
friend. his own sailing master, had
managed to get good anchorage about
ten miles away at six o'clock the pre-
vious evening, but the storm increasing
the yacht dragged her anchor about
three clock next morning. Thus
they had drifted, and although they had
managed to keep off shore, the set of the
tide carried them to leeward and the
yacht bore down on the reef, struck and
sunk in eight fathoms.
I listened to this narrative with very
mingled feelings. The letter he referred
to must be the one [ had sent. Why
did he not telegraph his reply? 1 was
debating on the course I should adopt
when Dobson came up and said that the
other gentleman wished to see me. 1
followed the sailor, and in another mo-
ment was in Brastome’s room.
He held out his hand. I hesitated to
aceept it.
“* Why, Harry,” he said, * how have
I offended you? Your letter puzzled me
considerably.”
** Can you nsk how? You have jilted
my sisver and blighted her life, and, 1
fear, caused her death by your dastard|
conduct. I saved your life, but I a
most regret it. I have a long reckoning
to settle with you »
“But listen to me. You are quite in
error. I never injuted your sister; I am
as true to her as even you could desire.
I am, indeed.”
** Are you not engaged to he married
to Sir William A——'"s daughter?”
** Certainly not. My cousin, who has
come into the title, is going to mary
her. I hope to marry Agnes, your
sister; and I can't really understand—"
I did not permit him to finish. I
wrung his hand nearly off, begged his
pardon, and almost cried in doing it.
Chen I rushed out and wanted Dobson
to signal for a boat, which Le very prop-
perly declined to do; so I sat with Fred
and talked about Agnes till I began to
think I had carried my affections quite
far enough.
All was explained, and I was happy
again, and then the next day! Oh,
what a happy day it was! The sea for-
tunately abated. Murray came out
with the weloome news that darling
Agnes was better, and that evening we
all went ashore in the highest spirits
The glad intelligence of her faithful
swain’s return was gently conveyed to
her, and she at once got so bright and
happy that we declared she had been
“shamming " all the time, and when,
three days afterward, she and Frederic
were allowed to see each other—wecll,
the meeting is beyond the power of my
pen to describe. ;
Nothing now presented any
to their engagement being announced.
About three months afterward, on a
cold January morning, my dear sister
was united to the husband of her choice,
“for richer, for poorer, till death do
filled
obstacle
| Voars.,
buoy al Frederie's head from the oid
| Chiannel rock that stormy morning just
fifteen years ago. And that was my re.
Yonge
ATR ————
| Inthe Mountain Wilderness of Virginia.
The journey occupied a day and a
hall. They rode Indian file along a trail
which oniy Jerry's eyes could follow;
i it crossed heaps of rocks, swamps, fallen
trees; it led through an unbroken
forest of gigantic pines, oaks, birch, ash,
and sugar-maples; even the nut trees
and bisck cherry had had time here to
reach the height of a hundred and fifty
feet Evergreens and deciduous trees
| grew alike leafless and branchiess side
| by side, spreading palm-like at the top.
The journey was, in fact, a passage
through interminable aisies of huge
black pillars under a flat, leafy roof.
{ The sides of the creeks were banked
i dendrons heaped up walls of dark green,
| searlet, and creamy w hite; in the sun.
| lhine late azaleas lifted wands of shell.
Sometimes the Lorses liter.
ially broke the path for miles through
| waving forests of fern, whose delicate
leaves, Sarah fancied, touched Lier hand
| as she passed with a shy caress. The
girl's heart was full, Her life hind be.
| fore now been filled up with sewing and
sweeping, and the petty matters of a
| little village, It was the first time that
{ she had looked upon the great solitary
| face of nature. It seemed to her that
{ the sky and water and trees knew that
| it was the first time, and were glad that
i she had come, and whispered to her, as
| did her old home to Mignon: * Poor
{ child! where hast thou staid so long?"
| There was no sign that man had ever
| passed this way bétore. Huge trees
fallen a century before, lay in gigantic
i round furrows on the ground;
tof deep moss, of fretted and fl
lichen, gray and golden, bronse and pur-
pie, and of trailing myraids ol pink
{ ike rose
| the ridge; but when Jerry put his fool
fon it, the whole furrow crumpled like
a pufl-ball into a cloud of red dust.
twas a dead body, which,
had made all this false show of life
Very few song-birds had made their way
into this solitude. There
near towns,
| strange and oppressive at noonday. Na-
{ ture dweit sione here, and kept silence,
Ler UnAWAres,
and rode apart an uietly. The judge
led Sarah's horse, which could not kee
its footing.
a hed of feathery
nothifig, and
mire them.
i
MOSS,
Mr. Morley rode up once,
in a grave and patronizing
Bai
ists. Miss" Davidger as ented civilly,
but pushed on. Human voices were an
eanipgs of the woods.
to descend to the Blackwater.
thickets grew more dense ; red and black
spiders
trees, and more than once
lobed, clawless track of a panther in the
wet black mold. The thickets of laurel
and scrub oak on the banks of therivers
pervious shelter; they have the best
chance there, too, of catching the deer
as they come down to water, Brown-
ing pointed out a dark green shrub,
which he said was “elk browse,” and
* had been made by the Good Man to
grow just that high to reach the muz-
zles of the young elks.” No eiks had
been seen in this region for fifty years,
though some might yet be hiding back
in Canaan.
The party camped the second night
on the bank of the Blackwater, a stream
which empties into the Cheat, making
huts of birch bark, and beds of hem-
lock boughs, set on end to give an elas-
tic spring. The doctor and Morely set
out with their best white flies, reels
and lines to catch trout for supper in
the coffee-colored, gloomy creek.
Browning took a few worms from a rot-
ten tree trunk in his pocket, and his old
rod; the judge built up the fire, and
Mrs. Mulock and Sarah cooked some
flitch, and scoured the tin plates in the
stream. Things went the usual way in
such cases. he scientific fishermen
came home dripping wet, and swearing
that there was not the fin of a trout in
the river, to find Jerry placidly frying
forty in a pan. They ate their supper
by the lightof the roaring fire, a great
horned owl hooting in the thicket.
Every man had a hunting story to tell.
— Rebecca Harding Davis, in Harper.
Ee
Doing Right,
A man who loudly calls attention to
the fact that he Las resplved to ** turn
over a new leaf” in his life is not
always to be trusted. . He who perpetu-
ally makes good resolutions is pretty
gure to break them. People should re-
form, if necessary to do so, at once, and
without parading their intentions be-
fore the eyes of the world. They should
go to work silently, and with a firm
determination to carry out, no mattter
how trying or hard it may be at first,
those virtuous designs which they deem
necessary for their welfare. They should
not look tor applause from the world;
their highest reward will in due time
come for the good they have done for
themselves or other 3 meanwhile they
will enjoy that which nssuredly is a
sweet and precious possession--the cons
sciousness that they are worthily ful-
filling the object for which they were
brought into this world. A more odious
form of conceit than this bragaing about
gelf-reform does not exist, and no effort
should be spared in order to stamp it
out. Let those then who wish to im-
prove, labor to that end in silence and
in sincerity; success is sure to crown
their efforts, But they should not flaunt
their excellence in the eyes of the world.
Sand-Showers in China.
Every year witnesses curious sand-
showers in Chiha when there is neither
cloud nor fog in the sky, but the sun is
searcdly visible, logking very much ss
when seén through smoked glass, The
alr is filled with a fine dust, entering
eyes, nostrils and mouth, and often
causing serious diseases of the eye. This
dust, or sand, as the people call it, pene-
trate houses, reaching even apartments
which seem securely closed. It is sup-
posed Lo come from the great desert of
Gobi, as the sand of the Sahara is
taken up by whirlwinds and carried
hundreds of miles awny. The Chinese,
while sensible to the personal discom-
fort m ising from these showers, are re-
signed to them from a conviotion that
they are a great help to agriculture,
They say that a year of numerous sand-
showers is always a year of great fer-
tili*y. The sand probably imparts some
enriching elements to the soil, and it
also tends to loosen the compact allu-
vis] matter of the Chinese valleys. It is
possible that these showers may be
composed ot microscopic insects, like
similar slo wers which have been noticed
in the Atlantic ocean.
a a
At Ortonville, Minn,, a hailstone fell
that just filled a pint bowl by itself. A
girl thirteen years old died of fright in
them parts" and judging by external
a thunder-storm there.
A ROMANTIC CAREER,
A
[Sketel of the Life of General Su
the Man on hase ara in (
fornia Gold was First Discovered,
| The following interesting account is
given of General John Augustus Sutter,
| who died in Washington a short time
ago: General Butter, whose original
| name was Suter, was born at Kandern,
| Baden, February 15, 1803, In his child.
hood he evinced an aptitude for the mili-
tary profession, and his ambition was
| gratified by his parents, who were un-
{doubtedly well off
fler
‘alle
itary school at Berne, Switzerland,
| where he was graduated in 180 He
went to France and joined the army of
i king as general.
{of July, 1830, however, he became
| weary of his military life, and, casting
{his eyes about for some country in
which to seek adventure and fame, he
chose the new world as offering the best
| field for his restless spirit, and emi-
grated to this country, He had but lit
tle ready money, but America was but
| sparsely settled then, and brains and
| courage were more in demand here at
{that time than fortunes, The young
emigrant settled first in the western part
of Missouri, but as the population of
that State increased, he moved further
| West, always flying before the advance
| of the pioneers, and determined, as he
said onoe, in telling his story, to be the
{ pioneer of pioneers. He finally, in 1837,
{ reached what is now New Mexico, and
established himself at Santa Fe, where
be began trading with the Indians. His
gentle manners and strict honesty in
{ dealing with them soon won the hearts
| of the savages, and General Sutter pros.
{ pered in his business with them. He
| learned their language, took an interest
| in their welfare, and taught them many
t usefulthings. The result was that they
confided in the man who trusted in
them, and told him of the wonderful
{ the mildness and salubrity of its climate,
| Fired by these reports of his dusky
friends, Genera! Sutter finally deter.
BR
Gseneral Sutter first went to Fort Van
couver, and from there, spurred on by
| characterized him, he sailed to the Sand.
3 > - +
{ wich islands
idle and unambitious Kanakas, and he
i soon left the islands, salling for Alnska
{ From here he engaged in a trading trip
ended July 2. 1839, by his being ship-
fit out for another trading voyage, and
ging
with bh
is old friends, the Indians,
saw the advantages of the locaation, and
pitched his camp at once, He
in the Sacramento walley,
i
New Helvetia, settled
there with the intention of staying.
treatment of the Indians; instead of
Lie
them.
agriculture
which were
In a remarkably short space
settlement, and General Sutter, by rails
ways a ready market in Yerba Buena |
was rapidly becoming a + ealthy man.
It was the only white settlement in |
that section of the country, and the in-
and wide. New Helvetia was the stop- |
ping piace of all white men who crossed |
the country, and its commander was |
very popular with the Russians of the |
North and the Mexicans who surround.
ed him. In 1841 his influence with the
Indians had become so great that the
Mexican government found it advisable
to secure this Swiss farmer as a kind of
ally. They made him a formal grant of
eleven leagues of land near the junction
of the Sacramento and American rivers,
on condition that he would keep the In-
dians in check, and punish them if they
interfered with the settlement. By
this time he had gathered several white
men aronnd him, all of whom worked
either for him or on shares on his land,
When he received the grart of land he
transformed his farmhouse into a fort,
which soon became known all over the
country as ** Sutter's Fort,” and was the
haiting place of all expeditions crossing
the country. It was here that General
Freemont was entertained with the lav-
ish hospitality of the frontier at the
time of Ins expedition across the Rocky
mountains. The fort was surrounded
with a wall of brick twelve feet high,
and mounted with twenty-four cannon
purchased from the Russians. It was
General Sutter's province to protect the
entire northern frontier of Mexico, not
only from the Indians, but from the
marauding bands of trappers and hunt-
ers who visited the valley for purposes
of plunder, and he did bis work so well
that the Mexican government felt per-
fectly secure in that part of the State
under his charge. In 1845, in recogni-
tion of his eminent services, a further
grant of twenty-two leaguesof land was
made to him.
General Sutter was now at the height
of his power and glory. He was proba.
bly the wealthiest man on the Pacific
const, his landed estate embracing, in
round numbers, 150,000 acres. He was
military commander and Indian agent
of a vast territory, and almost literally
monarch of all he surveyed. Houses,
shops, mills and other evidences of ciy-
lization had sprung up around him,
and he was the center of a prosperous
community. The Hudson Bay Solupaily
endeavored to undermine his credit with
the Mexican government, in revenge for
his having encroached on their trapping
business, but the effort failed, and after
a long investigation that government
pronounced General Sutter vindicated
completely, and trusted him more im-
plicitly than ever. From 1845 to 1848
he was a veritable king, and feelin
himself at last perinanently establishe
for life, this roving adventurer sent to
Switzerland for his wife and family,
who soon joined him, and prepared to
settle down in the home which he had
made, All these plans were frustrated
by the discovery of gold on his land.
In the fali of 1847 General Satter was
building a large mill at what is now
Coloma, on the American river. He
had laborers at work cutting logs, and
early in the winter of 1848 he set about
constructing an extensive mill-race.
Among his laborers was a man named
Marshall, who was engaged in superin-
tending the work. In February some
children picked from the dirt thrown
from the race some shining particles,
and carried them to Marshall to look
at. He recognized them as gold, and
rushed to the tort in a state of intense
excitement to communicate the dis-
covery to General Sutter He warned
the general to keep the secret, but with
his characteristic frankness and geners
osity he made it known to several of his
friends, and through them it was pub-
lished to the world. In that same
month of February, 1848, the Mexican
war closed, and California was ceded to
the United States. A tremendous rush
for the new gold-diggings followed,
The soldiers of the two years' war and
adventurers from every State in the
Union Poured into the new El Dorado,
General Butter was unacquainted with
|
|
| nal value of his property. Instead of
| doing this he sat still while the arm
{of gold-seckers squatted upon his land,
They staked off their claims, taking his
houses, milis, everything that he pos
sessed, and he had absolutely no redress,
{ They took his cattle for food, destroyed
| hisorops digging for gold, and in three
| short years this Creosus of the Pacific
| const was almost as poor ss Le was on
| the day when he first set his foot on the
soil of Missouri,
During the Mexican war, the Mexi.
can government, realiging the advan.
| tageous position of Butter's fort, had
{sent an ambassador to the general,
| offering him $100,000 in cash, besides
| yaluable lands further south, for the
establishment of New Helvetia, includ.
{ing the fort. This offer was declined,
| because General Sutter had many
Amerionns in his employ and in the
| set
over to the
cans,
| operation were on the side of the United
| States in the struggle, aud his fort be
| came the nucleus for American military
| operations in that section, so that Gen
{eral Sherman hind good cause to say of
| him, as he did a short time since, tha
| “to him more than to any single person
jare we indebted for the conquest ‘of
| Californian and all her treasures.” By
{ the treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, which
| ceded California to the United States
§
{owners of property therein should re-
{tain the same without being subjected
{to any contribution, tax or charge
| whatever. One board of land commis-
| sioners, appointed for the investigation
{of land titles in California, confirmed
| Sutter's claim to the two tracts granted
| him by Mexico. The squatters appealed
ito the United States district court,
| which affirmed the decision of the board,
| The squatiers again appealed to the
| supreme court, and that tribunal af
firmed the grant of eleven leagues, but
{to the
| leagues
warranty deeds,
used up the sma
himsell utterly poverty-stricka,
ago. Sinoe
Congress ‘o iodemnify him for Lis losses,
and it was this business that called him
General Sutter left California in 1854,
retired with his family to Litiz, Penn,
He
“Old Californians,” who celebrals d the
discovery of gold in California by an
in New York city.
How He was Subdued.
for the wife, in the following humorous
sketeh: s
“My dear,” said Mr. Spoopendyke,
my gold collar button?"
cheerily,
Mrs, Spooupendyke,
Why
“and 1 thoughtit very prelly
responded Mr. Spoopendyke, running
and shaking it as if it were a carpet.
“You don’t suppose it is up there,
do you asked Mrs. Spoopendyke
“ Where did you leave it?”
“Lait it in my shirt. Where do you
suppose I'd leave it—in the hush?” and
Mr. Spoopendyke tossed over the things
in his wife's writing-desk and looked
out of the window after it
“ Where did you lmve your shirt?
“ Where did I jeave my shirt? Where
Where does a
leave his shirt, Mrs
Think 1 left it in the
jdea 1 left it at
Wefl, 1
I left it off, Mrs. Spoopendyke
[ jeft ft. 1 left it off.
man
Spoo
fer y
generally
pena yke?
oat? Got an
didn’t.
that's where
Hear me?”
And Mr. Spoopendyke pulled the
winter clothing out of the cedar chest
that hadn't been unlocked for a month,
“ Where is the shirt now?” persisted
Mrs, Spoopendyke.
“ Where dc jou suppose it is? W. ere
do you imagin: it is? I'll tell you
NOTES,
Great revivals are going on among the
Methodist churches in Sweden,
The Baptists have 118 churches in
Jamaion, with 22,767 members,
Last
added to the
Sweden,
Robert Raikes’ Sunday-school scholars
number 12,000,000, at the end of the
first hondred years,
The Book of Common Prayer has been
translated into more than sixty lan.
| guages, and & million copies of it are
printed every year,
The Hindoos are imitating the mis.
sionaries in circulnting religious tracts,
Their tracts are devoted to accounts of
the exploits of their gods,
The Bouthern Preshyterian church
has a presbytery among the Indians,
with twenty-four organized churches
and over 1,000 communicants,
| Tue Presbyterian church in England
| has 10 presbyteries, 2490 ministers and
54,950 communicants, The receipts
for all purposes the past year were
£000,000,
| The German population in Philadel.
phia is estimated at about 130,000, To
meet the spiritual wants of these there
are forty-four Evangelical German
churches.
The late Methodist general confer.
ence passed a rule allowing the mem-
bers of annual conferences in mission
lands to be returned indefinitely to the
same station.
The Pope has sent a jetter to the so-
cieties composing the Catholle Total
Abstinence Union of America, in which
he grants the organisation the same
{privileges and indulgences already
| to the like associations in Eng-
Baptist churches in
i
| granite
| land and Ireland.
i It is said that the salvation army in
| England now consists of 5,280 men and
: tains, Mr.
ily exer.
cising abso.ute authority overall. There
were collected and expended in its labors
penny of
or.
The Rev, Dr. Hoge, of the Southern
narrowly eseaped
to cross Litany
and the current much stronger than ne
being swept down into the sea,
The Pedigree of the Dog.
While considering the problem of the
i
where it is, Mrs. Spoopendyke; it's
gone to Bridgeport as a withess in a |
iand suit. Idea! Ask a man where his
shirt is! You know I haven't been out |
of the room since 1 came home last
night and took it off.”
And Mr. Spoopendyke sailed down-
stairs and raked the fire oul of the
kitchen range, but did not find the
button.
“ Maybe you lost iton the way home,”
suggested Mrs. Spoopendyke, as her
husband came up, hot and angry, and
began to pull a stuffed canary to
pieces, to see if the button had got in.
side.
“Oh, yes! Very likely! 1 stood up
against a tree and Jost it. Then I hid
behind a fence so I wouldn't see it.
That's the way it was. If I only had
sour head, Mrs. Spoopendyke, 1'd turn
loose as a razor strop. 1 don’t know
anything sharper than you are.”
And Mr. Spoopendyke got up in a
chair and clutched a handful of dust off
the top of the wardrobe
“It must have fallen out,” mused
Mrs. Spoopendyke.
“Oh, it must, eh! Ttmust have fallen
lout! Well. I declare, I never though
of that. My impression was that it
took a buggy and drove oul, or a bal-
loon and hoisted out,” and Mr. Spoopen-
dyke crawled behind the bureau and
commenced tearing up the carpet,
“And if it fell out it must be some-
where near where he lett his shirt.
Now he always throws his shirt on the
lounge, and thie button is under that,”
A moment's search established the
infallibility of Mrs. Spoopendyke's
“Oh, yes! Found it, didn't you?”
panted Mr. Spoopendyke, as he bumped
his head against the bureau and fina ly
climbed to a perpendicular. “ Perhaps
you'll fix my shirts so that it won't fail
out any more, snd maybe you'll have
sense enough to mend that lounge, now
it has made so much trouble. If you
only tended to the house as I do to my
business, there'd never ve any difficulty
about losing a collar button.”
“It wasn't my fault,” began Mrs.
Spoonendyke.
“Wasn't, eh? Have you found that
coal bill you've been looking for since
March?
“Yes
“ Have, eh! Now where did you put
it? Where did you find it?"
“In your overcoat pocket!”
Miles and Milestones.
The mile is not an original Englishjor
Teutonic measure of length, but was
borrowed from the Romsns, with
a considerable amount of lati.
tude in its application. All our
native land measures start with the
perch. This has been fixed by statute
at five and a hall yards, but originally it
differed in various parts of the country.
The Lancashire perch was seven and a
half yards, the Cheshire perch eight
ards, the Irish perch seven yards.
Fort of these on end constituted a ** fur.
row-lon rs," or furlong, and eight fur-
longs were a mile. Taking the standard
perch at five and a half yards, this makes
the English mile 1,760 yards. The Ro-
man mile was 1,000 paces, of nearly five
feet each, squaling 1,614 yards. The
English mile of 1,760 yards was the
nearest approximation which our univ
of measurement could give to the Ro-
man “mille passum.” The mile was
"
"
ginning was
uch a
solution was easy if a
made upon a solid basis of fact.
known of the origin of dogs in North
The Indians of the north-
western parts of Ameriea were all in
sssion of halt-tame cur-like d
g in the same way as the dogs in
Egypt—in a semi-independent condi-
tion, In the same oouniey there exists
a wild animal--the canis iatra, or prai-
It was somewhat difficult to
understand how these wild and fierce
knew their habits it was Busy
enough. The smaller wolves and jac
als, aithough predacious and fierce, were
endowed with singular curiosity; that
it caught youns—
whether jackal or small woif—could not
be tamed and made as attached and de
voted to man as any ordinary dog. It
was not difficult to understand, there.
fore, how these ani e ao.
quainted with man, how they became
trained, and how from them sprang a
race of domestic animals which, curi-
ously enough, were far more attached to
their masters and the animais with
which they were brought up than to
members of their own family. If they
could depend upon the fact that this
one domestic dog originated in the tam-
ingof an indigeneous wild animal, then
the general problem of the origin of do-
westic dogs would take this form— could
they find in all parts of the world in
which domestic dogs were known wild
stock so similar to the existing race o
dogs that there was nothing unnatural
in supposing that they had the same
origin as the Indian dogs? They might
trace dog-like animals further and
further west, until, in Northern Africa,
they had a whole series of kinds of dog-
like animals, usually known as jackals.
He believed that these wild stocks were |
began to tame |
dogs had derived their stock. This
view was confirmed by archmological
researches. They ~ preser tw
them, on the mountains of sntiont
Egypt, a great variety of forms of dogs,
—it Was a es that the further
back they went the fewer were the va-
r eties, until, at the time of the third and
fourth dynasties—that is about 6,000
years ago—there were only two well-
marked forms of dogs. One of them
was a comparatively small cur-like dog,
similar to that which was to be seen in
the streets of Cairo at the present day,
and the other was like a greyhound.
The cur was, no doubt, a tame species
of the wild jackal, which was still to
be found in the same country; and with
respect to the greyhound, there was in
Abyssinia 1 very lon -headed dog,
which was very much of the same form
yhound, and which, it could
doubted, was the source from
which it sprang. Assuming that there
was no doubt that the origin of dogs
could be traced to these sources, the
more modified forms of the domestic
animal were simply the result of the
selected breeding, which had given Yise
to the same modification in dogs as it
had done in the case of pigeons.—
Scientific Amervoan.
Ear Troubles,
Nothing is more common than ear
troubles, such as slight deafness or a
buzzing in the ear. Blessed are those
who are ignorant as to what deafness
is. Perhaps it were better to be blind
than deaf. Who has not seen aman at
church, with eyes intent on the preacher,
trying to supply one sense ry means of
the other. He sees the prayeriormulated
on the lips of the ciergyman, but hears
nothing. There is a great deal of sound
advice given in a recent article in the
proceedings of the Medical society, of
the county of Kings, New York, on
deafness and its cure. It seems that
ople who have a tendency to trouble
n the ear, often arising from illness in
childhood, usually preceed in two ex-
actly opposite directions. In one case,
they are forever tinkering with their
own ears in the most ignorant kind of
way. By using syringes, they inject in
the most delicate of organs a volume of
water under high pressure and at a
wrong temperature, and the chances
are many that they injure their ears be-
yond a chance of a cure. In the other
case they do nothing at all, for,strangel
enough, they retain the idea that deal-
ness 18 incurable, which absurdity has
been taught them by physicians of a
past age. The advice to betaken in the
commencement of deafness, even in the
confirmed stage, is to make no experi-
ments upon yourself. *‘Itistrue,” says
an expert in diseases of the ear, “that
no one can use such an instrument (a
syringe) satisfactorily and safely on
himself. The very best physician, one
who devotes himsell exclusively to the
cure of deafness and diseases of the ear,
as the
hardly
vourse; dictates this, hut what should
be prevented is the stupid, habit 80
many people have of Bs their ears
forever by using syringes for them in
perfect ignorance of the risks they run,
LB ————. Ts
We meet a great many
fixed at 1,760 yards by a statute of Eliza:
our laws, or he might have protected
himselfby taking up mining claims, and
beth, — Noles and
during the heated term.
a
Animal Patience,
sary to perform a surgical operation.
With a heavy heart we took the ani
unconscious of what was to ensue,
the Royal V
fearful as to what might be
ings and its consequences, The
tion occupied a quartet of an
though no doubt painful. was
with a wonderful degree of quietness
and patience,
-
ent vas rather dull, but recovered
is spirits and is as lively a8 ever,
the remarkable d
often demonstrated
gical treatment, the
number, makes the following
* We have often struck
tonishment while witnessing the
submission of animals, especial
large, hard, fibrous tumor on the
with deep and far-reaching roots, The
operation for its removal was very skill
fully and flottin iy. executed Ms
FOOT veterinary surgeon
the or Lilo Guards. During the
operation the animal displayed an
smount of patience that would have
been creditable ina human beirg. Even
during the most painful part of the pro-
ceeding, that of i sutures, she
never flinched, The same
was displayed when the time for dress
ing the wound came around. The pa-
tient received tha surgeon with an air of
preparation, and even put herself into
position for being dressed,
In the cnse of a similar operation of
another dog some years , Strong re-
sistance was offe attempt to
give chloroform; but the animal sub-
mitted to the surgical precedure as we
have described above. Such acts sub-
mit of a partial explanation in the men-
tal theory of pain, according to which
suffering hat ln. not anticipsie_ asd
mentally apprelien : n
acuter sense of the word. weshould
be sorry tosee this ex
so fur ss to deprive our dumb fellowr
creatures of ail credit for the submission
they show under surgical trestment. We
should go further, and say that they
are vastly more sensible than many
hum: ngs in their estimate of the
medi profession, snd have instinet
enough to see that even when pain is
infleted on them, it is for a good and
kind purpose.— Chambers’ Journal.
Se
The Crater of Hilo.
We stood on the brink of the meiten
jake. And here the pen fails to von
what the mind fails to comprehend,
describe a scene of fesrfal, terrible sub-
limity—a vast pit, a Wh feet in
circumference, with black walls forty
feet high, rising perpendionlariy, and at
the bottom a mass of ever-moving, ever-
heaving melted lave: now crusted over
with a thin crust, which was cooled by
the skmuspliert. now swelling and] ata
ing through the crust, thro 8
mass of red hot lava, spouting and beat-
ing tumuliuously; now g one
way, now another, su against the
sides, to be dashed again into the
ever-moving mass; seams opening,
showing the lurid mass beneath. The
sight was awfully grand. The mind
was forced back, and probably none of
the party that stood and gazed and won-
dered but felt constrained to compare
the terrible sight before us with that
iake whose fire burneth forever and
ever. There has evidently beena v
great change in the whole chamscter
appearance of this crater since it was
visited by Mr, Stew rt in 1825. Its ac-
tion must have bern then much more
geperal and extended throughout the
whole floor of the crater, whereas the
only portion now active is the small
lake iv the southwestern part. There
is something strangely fascinating in
lingering near this mighty display of
creative power, and many persons
pose themselves to danger in the excite-
ment of procuring good points for a
view, or specimens as mementoes of the
visit: and some of our party who seemed
a little timid in approaching it, were the
last who to leave. We were
much surprised to find or see a mass of
lava. like an island, in the molten inke.
It may have been thrown up by the
action of the voleano—or it may be a
mass detached from the side of the cliff
and fallen in. It forms quiteas
feature of the lake, and the question o
how it withstands the action of the
molten mass that washes its base is an
interesting one. At our right was a
steam escape, which, at short intervals,
emitted a loud. protracted blast, like a
high pressure steamboat.
Four Rich Men.
The Liverpool Courier gives some
rather interesting particulars as to the
four men who are supposed to be the
most wealthy living Of these the poor-
est is the Duke of Westminister, whose
income is set down at £3,000,000 a year.
Taking it at that sum, the amount
which the duke can spend without in-
trenching ou his capital is $10,000 a
duy, $450 an hout, and $7.50 al minute.
The next man in e
is. Senator Jones, of Nevada, whose in-
come is valued at exacl 000,000,
iving him the right to spend, if he
fies. £10 a minute out of revenue.
head of the Rothschild family comes
next, with a yearly income of $2,000,000,
and the expenses which he can defray
thereout are, of course, double as great
as those of the senator.
At the top of the list comes Mr. J.
W. Mackay, with a revenue ot $10,750,-
000, which enables him to disburse $35,-
000 a day, $1,500 an hour, and $35 a
minute. The fortunes of the other three
are insignificant if comps with this
gentleman's wealth. For they were the
rowth of many years, either of success.
fal toil or lucky speculation, or both
Courter remarks, was thi
a penniless boy in Freland.
sars ago he was a bankrupt; and now
i is the owner of the richest silver
mine that has ever been discovered
There is, therefore, hope for all the pen-
niless boys in ‘‘ould Ireland.” e
commend to them the example of Mr
J. W. Mackay, who, it appears, is now
only forty-five years old, and if he gots
on at the same rate as during the
sixteen years, will have ample time to
treble his foriune and possess an income
ten times as Jarge as that of the Duke of
Westminister, ; Already fhe ital.
ized value of his property 18 own
at $75,000,000, against the modest $80,
000,000 of the duke. Such figures are
pleasing to the eye
Liverpool ricr does not by any
means vouch for the accuracy of the
totals it publishes.
Lightning Traius of the Future.
The gap between New York and
Philadelphia is a stretch over which
American engineers puzzle
is er a
trains, just as the run ee Liverpoo
and London, in Eng and. has been the
one to which railroad enginecrs have
given their attention since the days of
Dn An prose the Loins
utchman,” the express from
to Liverpool, is a faster train than any
GR oD Ae rade ghia. In a recent
ork to e a.
aper read in Philadelphia, Barnet Le
an, a railroad engineer, predicts that
in five years the two American cities
will be but nin:ty minutes
speed ‘which will require a |
than a mile a minute. But
Le, EY Smiter to bo
e ex m
by the Hudson river tunnel,
years ago
Aad al} 1 spralfaina ii
Yet in the sky, "mid smile and sigh,
‘The sun shines ever lovingly, i
—Cassell's
-
1 think the song that's sweetost
1s the one that's never sung;
That lies at toe heart of the singer
Too grand jor mortal tongue.
And sometimes in the silences
_
Is the one that haunts the painter
In all his golden dreams,
And 10 the painter oaly
A real picture seems.
The noblest, grandest poem
Liss not in blue snd gol!
Among the treasured volames
But in bright, glowing visions,
It comes to the poet's brain,
And when he tries to grasp it
He finds his effort vain,
A fairy hand from dreamland
And when we strive to clusp it
It vanishes into sir.
Fiouts always jost before
Reach for it evermore,
The
=] want to besn
Paul Gill, died at Newsr NJ
a
v Ie, Tess and in the snake's
was 0
presentment of a chiid's face.
nt akon of this :
and is on exhibition at
“Wouldn't
naturs,
gate
OR
turn out a
5
31a
1
gE
Srisoed the hair of negroes.
on the traveler's head was not
4