Jast as of Old.
Just as of old ! The world rolls on and on;
The day dies into night—night into dawn—-
Dawn into dusk--throngh centuries untold,
Just as of old.
Time loiters not. The turbid stream still flows,
sMOws;
Its tide or warm with spring or winter cold,
Just as of old.
Lo, where is the baginaing, where the end
Of this perplexing skein of life, my friend ?
God answers with a silence of pure gold,
Just as of old,
James WW. Riley.
Life,
The following remarkable compilation 1 a
contribution to the San Francisco Times trom
the pen of Mw. H. A. Deming. The reader
will notice that each line is a quotation from
some of the standard authors of England and
America, This is the result of a year's labor.
ous search among the leading poets of the
past and present time,
Why all thus toil for triumphs of an hour?
w Young.
Lite's a short summer, man a flower,
- Dy.
By turns we oatoh tho vital breath and die—
Johnson
— Pope.
The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh.
- Prior.
To be, is better than not to be.
— Newell.
Though all man's lite may scam & tragedy;
- Spencer
But light cares speak when mighty griets are
dumb,
The bottom is but shallow whence they come,
w= Radeigh,
Your fate is but the common fate of all;
w Din sell.
- Longfellow
Unmingled joys here to no man belall,
-— Souikwell,
Nature t0 each allots his proper sphere;
— (Congreve,
Fortune makes folly her peculiar care;
- Churchill,
Custom does often reason overrule,
— Rochester.
And throw a cool sunshine on a fool,
—Armairong.
0
Live well; how long or short,
heaven; - Millon.
They who forgive most shall be most torgiven.
- Batley.
Bin may be clasped so close we cannot see
face, — Trench,
Vile intercourse where virtue has no place.
- Spmerville.
permit
its
is
— Thomson.
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
— Baron.
He rsensual snares let faithless pleasure lay,
-— Smolicil
With eralt and skill to ruin and betray.
- Crabbe.
car aot too high to fall, but stoop to rise;
— Messenger.
We masters grow of all that we despise.
— Cowley.
Then I renounce that impions self-esteem;
— Beattie.
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream.
- Cowper,
Think vot ambition wise because "tis brave;
— Davenanl.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
-— Gray.
"Tis a glorious cheat !
- Willis.
Only destructive to the brave and great.
— Addison.
What's all the gandy glitter of a crown?
— Dryden.
The way to bliss lies not on beds of down.
- Quarries.
How long we live, not years bat actions tell;
- Watkins.
That man lives twice who lives the first lif
well. — Herrick.
Make then, while yet we may, your God your
friend,
What is ambition?
— Mason.
bend. — Hill.
The trust that's given gnard, and to yourselt
be just, — Dana.
For, live we bow we can, yet die we must.
— Shakespeare.
NINA WALLINGFORD.
“ Who is that little girl, Walter? 1
said, carelessly, little thinking the im-
portant role that little girl was to play
in my life drama. She came from Zim-
Music at S——, and her fuce was flushed |
with an indignant, half-pitifei look in |
her proud eyes which attracted my at-
tention.
Room No. 9, I thought, as leaving
Walter Griffith, my chum, I sauntered
off to my lesson. That's where old
Professor Z. tortures his pupils; he is
little better than a ruffian, if he has
such a reputation in his profession ; and
they say he thumbs the ugly girls with
his baton and kisses the pretty ones in
what he calls musical enthusiasm.
However the arrival of my teacher put
an end to reflection of any kind, and
we were soon deep in a sunata which 1
had prepared by hours of steady work.
was a young and enthusiastic
student of both the piano and organ,
and my future fortune and career de-
pended on my own industry. I was
struggling with all my heart and soul,
and, sithough I met any number of nice
girls and gilted women at the different
clubs and soirees which I frequented
for the sake of the good music, I had |
given asecond thought to none of them. |
Now a chance meeting with Professor Z. |
brought that look of the little girl back
to my mind, and my heart gave a mcs’
unaccountable throb.
That evening I drummed like an auto-
maton over the fugue that had been the
center of all my bighest hopes and
aspirations for weeks. Scales and
exercises refused to be played, and I
strayed off into tender little German
love songs, until, Sisgusted with myself,
1 tumbled into bed. There I took myself
sternly to task, and reflected that a poor
art student, with only just enough
money (0 live without begging until
ime should bring the success he must
work hard for—that, in fact, just such a
man as I was the biggest fool in Christ
endom to look at, or think twice of,
anybody or anything but a long-haired
professor of a music score. With these
wise reflections I finally fell asleep; but
for two or three days after a pair of eyes
peeped frem behind the keyboard, and
those eyes were not adorned with spec-
tacles; or the thought of a flushed
cheek lured me for a moment from that
deep consideration of the harmony-
book that should have been my most
edifying mental food, snd that flushed
cheek was not with an unshorn
beard. Still I worked on with only a
scant word of encouragement from my
taciturn professor for months, till the
gpring sun on a certain saint's day
tempted me to take a much-needed holi-
day, and 1 strayed at random out into
the woods, clim a ruined tower and
lazily took in the landscape about me.
1 wondered if the little stone cell on an
island in th2 lake that lay below had
sheltered and immortal hermit whose
memory had blessed us pupils with a
day's rest. I wondered it he was hol-
lowed -eyed, dirty-fingered and toothless;
if, in his youth, he too had loved and
been loved—and seeing at that moment
a little boat at the foot of the Schloss:
berg, I ran down, and, taking posses-
sion of it, brought myself shortly to thie
island, and forthwith entered the her-
mit’s deserted cell.
On a rock near the entrance lay a
dainty, lace-trimmed parasol, a pair of
gloves, some wild flowers and a sketch-
book— queer things for a hermit to leave
behind him, indeed; and, as I stood
smiling at the odd contrasting ideas
called up, a cry for help reached me on
the breeze.
¢ Please, sir, could you come to me?
I have lost my oar,” repeated the voice,
as I emerged, and at a distance in a
boat sat a little girl I recognized at
once.
She was drifting slowly further and
farther off into the lake, and her situa-
tion, although by no means dangerous,
was embarrassing enough.
++] am quite ashamed of myself,” she
said, ss my last strokes brought me near
her. “It was very stupid of me to lose
my oar, and the thought of drifting
|
|
VOLUME XIII
HALL, CENT
RE CO., PA.
OCTOBER
$2.00
14, 1880.
NUMBER 40.
' \
{ about in this lone vy place all night was |
not a chieerinl one.”
* You might have drifted for weeks, |
as this is an out-of-the-way place, and 1 |
am very giad to have been the fortunate
person who spared you a great deal of
possible discomfort o
“And I am glad,” she replied
it has been you who rescued me
The slight and graceful accent on the
{yout was indescribably pleasing to me.
Our chat that day was but the beginning
of a friendship that quickly ripened;
| circumstances favored it. We were
both Americans in a foreign land, both
interested in the same studies, and our |
pursuits threw us constantly together.
it was not long before [ acknow edged
myself to be deeply in love with Nina
Wallingford. How muoh brighter the
world looked to me at that time! My
every-day occupations seemed one round
of delight, and study was play: even ny
reticent teacher complimented me offen
{ on my progress. 1 made great stridesin
| a concerto | was compoding, and when
it was finished and played before the
arbiters of the conservatory, a prize was |
unanimously awarded me,
» * »
- -
A
URL
"
Td
=»
Tf are of shimmering lights, per
{ fume of flowers, the gleam of statues |
| irom their leafy bowers. In honor of |
the birthday of her majesty, the queen,
a special musical performance was be.
| ing conducted, and my concerto was the
original feature of the evening, I felt |
pale from suspense, while each familiar |
note sounded through the hall, and at
| it was over. Royalty itself con- |
{ descended to applaud warmly, connois- |
seurs shook me by the hand, and, giddy |
{ from triumph, I went out into the night |
to take deep draughts of the calming air. |
| Everything seemed possible to me in |
{ this the first flush of my youthful sue- |
| cess—and Nina Wallinglord had looked |
{ down from her box at me and smiled!
{ To-morrow 1 would go to her and tell |
| her that my triumph was nothing with. |
out her love.
| Walter Griffith's friendly voice almost |
| jarred upon me. i
i “Hallo! old fellow!” he called out,
| linking his arm in mine. * You are
{ ahead of us ail! By jove, I am proud of
ivou! How 1 used to deride all our
| dreams of ambition when you and I and |
{ poor Harry talked of the future; all the |
| poor old chap prophesied of you has
| come true. Do vou remember he al-
| ways said you would bea great success? |
| How thororghly the dear boy believed
{in you!"
y
ast
i
i
{
i
i
§
i
{
| “Yes,” Ireplied, “1 would give a fair |
| share of to-night’s triumph to bring
| Archer back azain.” And we talked of
{him as we sauntered homeward. He |
| had been almost a brother to me, and |
{ the thought of his generous, trusting |
| pature, and the loss he bad been to us,
brought tears to my eyes. He had had |
{ genius, but an erratic and unstable will;
{ he worked only by fits and starts, and |
| seemed at the last to have some deep |
{ trouble that took all ambition from
{ him. Busy myself, I have often re-
| proached myself since that I did not
| urge him to speak openly to me about
iit. Then one day l found him in an
{ alley of the royal park with the cruel
| sun glaring down on his dead face. He
| had shot himself, and I never knew the |
{ secret of his terrible death. I had been |
| his sole mourner, and he lay in the little
{ English cemetery among strangers.
| He had had great faith in me, and had |
| cheered many a lagging moment in my |
| musical career. *‘ Yes,” Isaid, “Archer |
| would have rejoiced to-night.”
| * As usual,” said Walter, lightly, “a
| woman was at the bottom of his de-
| struction.”
{ “A woman?” I said. ‘Curse her! |
| But, Walter, how did you know of
| this?
| “ Why, Archer wrote it to me when I |
| was in Leipzig—wrote me of his despair |
| when the girl he had loved so long jilted |
him. To tell the truth, oid friend, I
have often wondered at your intimacy
with that girl. Can it be possibie you
are trying to avenge Archer?” |
“ Walter Griflith, what in heaven's |
name do you mean?’ my agitation mas- |
tering me—*of whom are you spesk- |
ie :
“Nina Wallingford,” was the fatal |
answer.
“ (Good-night,” I said, abruptly, and, |
turning up a dark side street, stumbled
on and on, I never knew where or how |
ong. 1 only remember to have reached
the country, and to have felt the cold
dawn creeping over a hazy earth, and
the smell of grass and trees, and the
sognds of morning. I fell asleep frem
sheer weariness of the flesh, and awoke |
late in the day stiff and wretched.
When I had drageed myself back to my
rooms, the famiiiar sights brought all
my grief more keenly to my mind; there
lay Nina Wallineford's photograph, and
on the wall above it hung Harry Arch-
er’s dainty, embroidered student's cap;
a pair of Nina's gloves, the very pair i
had seen in the hermit’s cell, and had
stolen as a souvenir of our first meeting,
the pistol Harry's trembling hand had |
raised to the true, loving heart, lay side
by side in my cabinet.
There must be some terrible mistake
some explanation that Nina can give;,l
determined to ask, and as soon as I could
collect my thoughts, | went to her.
She met me with frank congratula-
tions on the success my concerto had
met with. **I heard every note,”
she said; and what would bave made
me happy to intoxication before, feil
now upon my ear like blows on a naked
nerve.
** You are quite pale,” she said, look-
ing at me wisttully, and the tone for a
moment tempted me to forget all I had
heard, but Harry's face, as it lay that
day in the sunlight, came up to check
my hot words.
“ Miss Wallingtord,” I said, “I have
come- "' but how to ask her? It seemed
such an insult to speak of dishonor
while that calm, steady glance rested on
me. ‘Did you"—I stammered, * did
you know poor Harry Archer?”
The girl's face blanched with a lock
ol horror that went, alas! far to con-
vince me of the truth of Waller's story.
“ was his dearest friend, and i loved
him,” I added, with what must have
seemed wanton cruelty; but Nine’s face
flushed, and, seeming like a flash to
divine my thoughts, she said, with a
proud glance of contempt at me:
“May I ask why you wish to learn
the fact of me having known your
friend ?” she said,
“Oh, Nina!” I cried, ““ tell me it is all
a horrible, torturing mistake!”
“J am at a loss to gaderstand you,
she replied, rising. ** I knew your friend
Harry Archer, and having now answered
your only lucid remark, you will, no
doubt, excuse me if I retire.”
With a stately bow and a steady step
she left me, while I reeled drunk with
despair to my rooms.
For several days I was ill; a low,
obstinate sort of fever kept me, after the
reaction of so much exciteraent, weak
and depressed. Then, after hasty pre-
parations, I sailed for home,
That time I had so often looked for-
ward to, that day that was to bring me
back with a record of work done and
reputation established, brought me no
happiness. More work I sighed for,
and it alone gave me rest. I slaved and
spared no nerve or muscle. A penalty
must be paid sooner or later for such
overtaxing of brain and body. I fell ill,
and all was blank.
. » »
A placid, kindly old face, in a Quaker
cap, looked at me when I awoke from a
long, feverish dream; of course I tried
to speak, but my voice failed me, and
the y laid her plump hands on my
head and said: * Wait a little, you will
grow stronger, and then we will doa
vast amount of gossiping.”
1 let myself be petted and soothed
like a baby, and before many days I
could ask how I happened to be in what
seemed to be a hospital.
“This is not quite like a hospital,”
the kindly old lady said, * but a house
. -. » -
*"
“But you are not a hired nurse, I am
sure,”
“No.” answered the lady, smiling
‘1am Mes. Penthwiok, an idle old body
who amuses herself by looking in now
and then on the siock pt apie.
them a li
brought
write for
friends, w
dictate.”
“There is no one who would care par.
ticularly to hear of my welfare.” 1 said,
sadly, :
£ too, occasionally; 1 have
you these flowers, and oan
you, if you wish, to your
) \
lien the doctor allows you to
Lie,
themselves
§ »
Penthwick seemed to set
this time to
* When you are able,
said, **1 will take you for a little
jaunt to my quiet old house in the coun-
try.
ve a, » 3
don't protest; I am abe, thank God, to
Good Mrs
herself from
she
low-creatures. 1 have inquired about you
you will neither steal my spoons nor
run away with the pretty girl who is
now my one guest. Here is your beef
SLrong as foon As you can,’
I began to take pleasure in seeing the
wnt over
and when we went by slow
Penth wick cottage, 1 found
ginning to hope and for
of life again.
The second day, after a siesta tn a
cozy, chint>-hung room, 1 went, leaning
on Mrs. Penthwick’s arm, to be pre-
sented to the guest whom she spoke of
as ‘my daughter,” but was really only
a much-loved friend. /
“My daughter" arose from a dim
corner, came into the light, and Nina
Wallingford was before me!
I was sti k
1 80 weak
overcame me, i
stages to
myseil be
long the battle
5
and I sank back in a
chair, for a moment unable to speak,
and 1 dare say looking half dead. Nina
the heppiest one in the world. She
her hands and cover them with kisses.
“Oh, Niza!" I cried, 1 have often
could explain
espioable doubts of you."
she answered. * My
espicable pride prevented
ay my d
a r " »
os, stil
my
WR @
made in my life; but my punishment
my iault. Your lack of trust in me tha
day wounded me ail the more that I had
brooded over the affair and grown mor-
ily sensitive; but I will tell you all |
about it now. Harry Archer loved me |
when I was quite younz—too young to
ing that prompted me to |
He was, you know, of so peculiar a tem-
not
He |
ngagement, and gave me
to time the wedding day. I know I
was ill. hen she was sufficiently re-
covered to allow ot it, I wrote to her,
confiding all of my great wretchedpess, |
ot the certainty that, if I ever had, 1 no
longer loved Harry Archer.” i
“ Poor child! Whatadilemma it was |
“At the same time I wrote in reply
to a reproachful letter from Archie a
vene to induce him to forget me. Fate |
would have it that I misdirected each
letter, and Harry learned the true state
You know the rest. Of
fruit,
current
Can you ever
you, too, believed the
opinion hurt me deeply.
forgive me?”
But my head was already leaning very |
wick, who had gone in search of a phy-
entered the room. The good |
dames face was so utterly ridiculous in |
its bewilderment, that we were both |
feigh to laugh and relieve our over-
strained feelings.
Later, as we all sat on the vine-cov- |
ered veranda, a happy family picture
for Mrs. Penthwick adopted me at once,
she said, laughingly:
‘I have been mistaken in you. You
are going to run away with my daugh- |
ter; you shall have the spoons as well |
for a wedding present.” i
A Humorist’s Devotion to an Invalid
Wife. i
The wife of Robert J. Burdette, the
celebrated humorist of the Burlington
Hawkeye, has long been an invalid, and |
the husband's devotion to her has been
very touching. All his writing is done
in her room and read to her before it is
sent to press. In declining an invita-
tion to attend a college society reunion
recently, Mr. Burdette wrote :
Mrs. Burdette’s health—if the poor |
little sufferer’s combination of aches and |
pains and helplessness may be desig- |
nated by such a sarcastic appeilation—
has been steadily failing ail winter, and
come down to this sea-girl
island to see if old ocean snd its breezes |
may ¢ 0 what the doctors and mountains
and prairies have failed to do. And
here we are waiting, “Her little se-
rene highness,” in utter helplessness un-
able to stand alone (for years she has
been unable to walk), her helpless hands
folded in her lap; she must be dressed,
carried about, cared for like a baby, suf- |
fering from countless pains and aches, |
day and night, and I cannot leave her |
even for a few days. No one at Chau-
tauqua will feel the disappointment as
we do, for we had planned to go there
together. If she could go with me, I
would be glad enough to creep to Chau-
tauqua on my knees. Her life has been
a fountain of strength to me. In her long
years I have never seen the jook of pain
out of her eyes, and for more than half
#0 long | have seen her sitting in patient
helplessness, and I have never heard a
complaining murmur from her lips
while she has served as those who only
stand and wait, never questioning and
never doubting the wisdom and good-
ness of the Father whose hand has been
laid upon her so heavily. The beauti-
ful patience of her life has been a con-
stant rebuke to my impatience, and in
her sufferings I have seen and known
and believe the * love thet knows no
fear,” and the faith that * knows no
doubt.”
IAN 505555
How Burns Looked.
~ So far as we can form any correct
judgment, Burns was one of the
noblest-iooking men of his age. Walter
Scott, at the ase of fitteen, saw the poet,
and it made an enduring impression.
He describes Lim as follows: “ His body
was strong and robust, and his appear-
ance rustic, but not elownish. His man-
ners, though plain, were marked by dig-
nified simplicity. His countenance was
more massive than it appears in his por-
traits. His eyes were on ana dark,
and glowed (I say literally glowed)
when he spoke on any subject with feel-
ing or deep interest. I never saw such
another eye in any other man, though I
have seen the most distinguished char:
acters of the age.” T je above-mentioned
interview is interesting as the picture of
one great poet given by another. It oc
curred at a social dinner where Scott
was merely a spectator, but he attracted
attention by replying to a question
which no other person in the room could
answer, and his rew:rd was a smile and
an approving word from the poet. How
little did the inspired plowman imagine
that the lame boy who then attracted
his attention would reach such distine-
tion—still less that they two would di-
vide the highest honors in the literature
to which Doctor S—, who was called
of the r native land.
FUK THE FALR SEX.
New Wool Materials,
The new camel's hair stufls
{thick as Ilady's-cloth, but show
i Are as
their
many new red-purple shades, quaint
bine and green, with olive, maroon,
| and many drab shades. The fine quali
{ ties are £3.50 a yard, There are others
| with mummy- cloth weaving that show
| the same range of colors, and cost $2.50
| a yard.
red and olive shades.
revived again, and commends
{ from the fact that its lengthwise reps
are easily brushed clean. The Cheviots
for making the entire suits in tailor-like
fashions are similar in style and colors
{to the materials chosen by gentiemen
| for their business suits. Brown in the
pheasant shades prevails among these
fabrics, and is interwoven with threads
{ of blue, red or green in broken plaids
| and checks. These are double width,
| and cost from $1.10 to $2.85 the yard,
| Some are provided with n larger plaid
| stripe or border along the selvedge.
| quaint colors are combined in small
i
| border is added. The handkerchief de.
| and widths, costing trom $1.25 10 $4 a
| square; the more costly ones are
yards square, but the smaller squares
are more effective, and are more easily
arranged inthe costume.
prefer buying the plain fabrics, and
iecting rich plaids ot
a
large size and
{ Plum-colored handkerchiefs with pheas.
ant brown |!
stylish. For underskirts are Bayadere
stripes of mixed silk and wool similiar
to the cotton goods used in the spring
| for lawn tennis and yatching suits. In.
{ gold, or blue stripes. Sometimes sal-
mon stripes alternate with brown, or
with maroon red, or peacock blue with
j cardinal.
{ rial costs from $1.75 to $3 a yard,
| plain velvets shown for dress trimmings
cost from $2 to $4 a yard.
| twenty-two inches wide, and $ia yard
| The wide velvets, measuring three.
{ fourths of a yard, and of pure siik, are
| shown in all the new shades for evening
and dinner dresses, and the dark stylish
shades for costumes;
Woman Architects,
im
ia
university, is the first woman
tt
*
118 professio
branch of building, for in order to Liave
a useful and convenient hous
must be first drawn
2 1}
tt Lid
most comfortable and to save steps.
the *’
~unlike many of the architects who
nave sent plans to New York for which
ight and
air, closets and bedrooms. Exchange.
News and Notes for Women,
Philadelphia, sixty-five years,
}
Edmund Yates, the Englis
says that the only rival
womanhood is American womanhood,
Miss Eliza Jane Cate was recently
New Hampshire historical society —tl
first woman who ever received the at
honor.
Perritory, ranging from sixteen to
people.
The Philadelphia Herald says that the
women of that city are busily engaged in
getting up political clubs,
long, and only appear on
parade when the husbands of the women
i
5
A young lady of Kingston, N. Y., be-
tion, superintends a large farm, and is
quite successful in its management,
health for that reason is excellent.
Jennie June says that the fli
ot 4
1g 4)
on Broadway and Union square, New
ork. between three and six o'clock in
the afternoon, may, from the freedom
with which it is fearried on in publie,
it 1s
characterized by unspeakable vulgarity,
which conveys a very bad impression to
outsiders.
A young Japanese lady of sixteen,
Miss Minei Yabu, daughter of an ofli-
cial in the empe ror's household, has are
rived in the East from San Francisco,
h school
America to perfect her education. She
is a poet and a landscape painter, and is
as being extremely petite.
binek eves and na bright, cheerful coun-
g
tenance,
AR"
Results of Thrashine Editors,
Mr. Flood, Jr., of San Francisco, has
thrashed an editor for publishing a re-
port of the rupture of a marciage en.
gagement between his sister and Mr,
Ulysses Grant, Jr., as well as the whys
and wherefores of such rupture. In
this account there was nothing, so far
as reported, disrespectful or scandalous
rating to Mies Flood. The news
geems to have been current gossip in
San Francisco. To be consistent young
Mr. Flood should set to work and thrash
every man who verbally spread this re.
port. What is gained by this thrashing?
Five ey papers which might
otherwise have never noticed the matter
will now publish it with every style of
comment. Five hundred paragraphers
will let themselves loose on Ulysses and
the young lady. Five hundred thousand
tongues which wagged over the occur-
rence will now wag the more, and 5,000,-
000 tongues will wag which never wag.
ged before. Buch aresome of the results
of thrashing editors.
The great gain in thrashing editors is
notoriety of all parties concerned. Usu-
ally such notoriety, if properly handled,
benefits the editor. it gives his paper
an enormous advertisement gratis, ex
tending through all the States and Terri-
tories and sometimes to other kingdoms
and countries. It sometimes causes
the name of the editor to be published
in French, German, Spanish, Italian
and Russian journals and read in all the
capitals of kurope. This is another re-
sult of trashing an editor.
Then it seldom redresses the evil for
which the thrashing is done. It bruits
it abroad anew; it distorts, magnifies
and misrepresents it.
The murder of the editor of the San
Francisco Bulletin by a ruffian twenty-
four years ago placed that paper ona
firm foundation of repute and prosperity.
Such are other results from thrashing
editors. If young Mr. Flood’s aim in
thrashing an obscure editor was no-
toriety, he has attained it for himsell
and family. Or if it was intended as a
blessing in Qisguise, to lift the obscure
editor to the public gaze, he has attained
that. For these are certain results of
thrashing editors.—New York Graphic.
Several undergraduates of the German
university of Marburgh have been sen-
in a fortress for dueling.
RELIIGOUS NEWN AND NOTES.
{| Chief Joseph, of the Oka tribe of In-
| dians, has transinted the four Gospels
{into Iroquois.
Thirty-seven natives of New Zealand
have been admitted to the ministry of
{ the Episcopal church.
t is stated that within three month
fifty Christians have been killed by
Mohammedans within a few miles ol
Robert college at Constantinople,
There are in California fifty-three
Episcopal clergymen, thirty-seven par
shies, and 3,368 communicants. There
were 459 baptisms the past year, ol
whieh ninety. four were of adults,
The Archbishop of Philadelphia has
| received a letter from Cardinal Nina,
| desoribing the straltened circumstances
of the Pope, and urging liberal con
tributions in the shape of Peter's pence.
Mr. Talmage returned from the Wes
with this opinion of dishonest Indian
| nents: “In the day of resurrection
would rather be a Modoc chief than
| plundering United S.ates officer un
| reservation,”
It is reported that the First Baptist
| ehiureh in Poiladelohia has a Sunday-
school teacher now in the school who
has been in it since ils organization,
sixty-five years ago. She was then
| eight years old.
Dr. Blaikie, thirty-four years pastor
| of the First Presbyterian church, Boston,
land fifty years a minister, who has left
his pulpit, will remain in Boston and
| edit the Annals of Presbyterianism in
{| New England.
The death is announced of the Rev,
| John Newton, J | M. D ’ of the Pres.
byterian mission in India. His aged
| father, the Rev. John Newton, also a
| missionary, read the Scriptures and de-
| livered an address at the funeral, which
| was largely attended bv soldiers.
‘ie receipts of the Protestant Epis
domestic and foreign mission
boards for the year ending September |
were as follows: For domestic missions,
| $160,000: for foreign missions, $158,651
Of the receipts for domestic missions,
$28,662 was designated for work among
| the Indians.
Professor David Swing, of Chicago,
says: As the American can out-chew
and out-spit and out-talk the rest of the
world, so can he out-swear the residue
of humanity. Sitting behind two gen-
| tlemen for a day as our train glided
| siong from St. Paul toward Chicago,
i the words ** By God " came back to me
| 700 times, when bedtime made me quit
counting.
|
|
n
hn
| copal
57
A Petrified Human Ear.
I was ina lapidary's shop, looking a
i some curious specimens of rock and
| crystal.
“ 1f you wish to see something that to
you will be a rare curiosity indeed,” said
| the proprietor of the piace, “look at
LUIS,
As he spoke, he tossed me something
| that fell upon the counter with a loud,
{ sharp sound, much like that which any
| ordinary stone would have made,
1 picked the object up, turned it over
and over in my hand, and examined it
| with close attention. It was very hard,
| of a greenish color, containing here and
there particles that sparkled brilliantly
in the light, and were very likely iron
| It was the size and shape of an ordinary
human ear. Every part was preserved
| with marvelous accuracy.
“ Wel,” said the proprietor, by-and-
bye, ** what do you think of it?"
“1 soarcely know what 1 think of it,"
answered 1, ** exoept that it bears a won.
| derful likeness to a human ear, and
| whether so formed by an accident of
| nature, or earved by man, it is remark.
| able for its fidelity to life.”
He laughed and sald:
“ Why, the thing actually is a human
{ ear.”
“Impossible!” I exclaimed.
“Not at all.” he replied. ** Itis a hu.
| man car, petritied.”
And so it proved to be. And further,
quite frequently received, among the
rocks and stones and crystals in which
| he deals, parts of the human body in a
state of petrification.
1 had often heard of the transforma.
tion of flesh into stone—and of wood
| also, specimens of which I had seen—
but never before had I seen It exempli-
fied. A lucid explanation of the change,
upon a scientific basis, would certainly
be of mterest.
I strove to buy the ear afterward, but
was so unfortunate as to find that it had
| already been sold for the paltry sum of
fifty cents —Golden Days,
| Mules,
| Previous to 1783 there were very few
| mules in the United States, and those of
| such an inferior order as to prejudice
| farmers against them as unfit to compete
| with horses in work upon the road or
| tarm. Consequently there were no jacks,
| and no disposition to increase the stock.
| But Washington became convinced that
the introduction of mules generally
among the Southern planters would
| are much less liable to be injured than
| horses by careless servants.
i
i
i
i
i
|
|
| patate with mules, the king of Spain sent
| him two jacks and two jennets trom the
isiand of Malta. The first was of a gray
co or, sixteen hands high, heavily made,
and of sluggish nature, He was named
the Royal Gift. Tue other was called
the Knight of Malta. He was about as
high, and lithe and fiery even to ferocity.
The two sets of anim: Is gave him the
most favorable opportunity of making
improvements by cross-breeding, the
result of which was the favorite jack
Compound, because he partook of the
best points in both originals, The gen-
eral bred his blooded mares to these
jacks, even taking those from his own
stables for that purpose, and produced
such superb mules that the country was
agog to breed some of the sort, and they
soon became quite common. This was
the origin of improved mules in the
United States. Though over eighty
years ago, there are now some of the third
and fourth generation of the Knight of
Malta and Royal Gift to be found in
Virginia, and the great benefits arising
from their introduction to the country
are seen upon every cultivated acre in
the Southern States.
Words of Wisdom.
Proud hearts and lofty mountains are
always barren.
With the wicked, as with a bad dog,
silence is more formidable than noise.
It is no vanity for a man to pride
yimself on what he has honestly got
and prudently uses.
In taking revenge a man Is but even
with his enemy; but in passing it over
he is supe: jor, for it is a prince’s part to
pardon.
The dedire of power in excess caused
the angele to fall; the desire of knowl-
edge in excess caused man to fall; but
in charity there is no excess.
True courage is cool and calm. The
bravest of men have the least of a
brutal, bullying insolence, and in the
very time of danger are found the most
serene and free.
Turkish officers, long unable to get a
cent of pay from the sultan, are offering
their services to Greece. Whole regi-
nients are ready to desert on the smallest
encouragement.
——TI OS ———
The Railway Age says that the exam-
inations of railway employees as to their
ability to distinguish colors has failed,
both in America and in Europe, to dis-
cover a single one whose ** color-blind-
ness ” was such as to unht him for his
uties.
!
i
THE CARE OF THE EYES,
Some Useful Directions Concerning Pres-
ervation of the Eyes ght,
A really healthy eye possesses in a
wonderful degree the power of adjust
ing well to the viewing of objects at
different distances; i, lor example, you
hold up in front of you between your
eye ae the distant Lison any sm
ohject, such as a penholder, you will
find that no effort of yours will enable
vou to see both well at the same time;
if you gaze at the one, the other imme.
diately becomes indistinct, This is
called the power of accommodation. and
depends upon the elasticity of the erys-
taliine lens. [Its convexitv is increaced
when we fix our eyes and attention on
a near object, and diminished when we
look at something turther off
age there is considerable curtailment of
this power of accommodation, depend-
ing upon a hardening of the crystalline
lens, Things close at hand ean then not
he discerned so well as those farther,
This state is called presbyopia, or long.
sightedness. It usually commences
froma the forty-fifth to the fiftieth year,
and 1 would here strongly urge those
who are only even slightly presbyopic
to commence the use of suitable specta-
eles forthwith, and not to forget that the
glasses must be strong enough to be
quite effectual
You need hardly be afraid of gelting
wo strong ones, they cannot be so if
they suit the sight. And again, in
course of time, when even more power
is needed, stronger ones must be worn
although for some time at first the old
ones will be found powerful enough in
the daytime.
There is a condition of the eyes from
which many people suffer, generally
known by the name of weak sight; it
may have been produced from overstudy
or fatigue, There is entire inability to
and even headache, palpitation, ete. In
such eases altention to the health and a
due portion of rest may do good, but it
cannot be too well known that hundreds
of people who have been sufferers from
weakness of gight have 1 only been
relieved, but even cured, by the wearing
of proper SpecLacies But let me here
remind sufferers from this complaint
that even the cleverest opticians are not
as & rule the men to be advised by as to
the kind of spectacles to be worn. A
cure is never immediate, but indeed
often tedious, anc the advice of the best
oculist or ophthalmic surgeon should, if
possible, be obtained.
Short-sightedness is often hereditary,
and the worst of it is that
tendency, if its influence be not quickly
counteracted, to increase as the child
gets older,
never be neglected, and spectacles should
he worn, especially when reading, writ
ing, ete. The apartment, too. in which
studies are conducted should be airy,
well lighted, aad clean, and the desks
high enough to prevent a stooping posi-
tion being at all necessary. Plenty of
out-door exercise, by strengthening the
body, will tend to prevent the increase
ol the ailment, and if these instructions
are followed to the letter, it is not al
all unlikely that upon attaining the age
of twenty, or a little over, spectanies
may be gradually dispensed with,
the eyes of infants and children. From
its birth the eves of a baby should be
the first part washed or cleaned; the water
of sponge used of the finest quality.
Never expose an infant to a bright or
dazzling light. nor allow it to sleep in
such a light. Exposure to draughts and
cold, on the other hand, is highly detri-
mental to the sight, and so is impure air
from whatever cause,
Purulent ophthalmia in children is
very likely permanently to injure or
even entirely destroy thesight. Medical
aid should be obtained at once; no do
mestic remedies should be tried ; simply
keep the little suflerer in a quiet, warm,
very clean, and moderately darkened
As often as any discharge
gathers ft is to be carefully washed
water, poured
from a small soit sponge. Afterthe eves
are softly dried, a folded linen rag dip-
ped in cold water may be laid over each,
and changed when it gels warm The
nurse should take exce not to touch her
own eyes until she has well washed her
hands
Parents ought to put themselves to
some little trouble with regard to ther
children's eyesight. Never overtask
them, and see that they do not sit at
normal vision be noticed, surgical advice
should immediately be had. The hand-
writing children are taught ought to be
large, the books they read to have a
wide margin and clear good type, and
the light be amply sufficient. Again,
the tasks they have to perform should
not be of a kind to distress the eyes,
such as lengthy writing exercises
—whieh strain both brain and eye. “All
work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy.” So runs the proverb, but it might
have gone further, and added, “and a
J weakly, and often half-blind
boy."
Grown-up people should be careful of
their eyesight if they would live long
and be happy. We should all remem-
ber the things which are likely to cause
injury to the eyes, such 18 working or
in bad light. Daylight is an
eye-tonio; it is as necessary to the eye
as food to the organs of digestion. Ex-
posure to cold is hurtful, or to impure
air and to atmospheres impregnated
with dust or vapor. Anything tha
tends to weaken the general health will
also prove injurious to the eyesight, or
anything that causes a determination of
blood to the brain,
But while, on the one hand. the eye
shou'd never be strained, or worked to
the verge of fatigue, on the other, exer
piso is just as beneficial to them as to
any other part of the hody.
should be cultivated of studying small
objects carefully, keenness o sight de.
pending so much upon the mental atten-
tion one is in the habit of paying to
visual impressions. Exocesses ol every
kind tend to the injury of the eyesight,
and 80 in a very great degree does the
want of good and proper spectacles,
when such helps to the eyes are really
needed. And they really are needed by
very many who do not, through mis.
taken pride or some such folly, now use
them. Itis the greatest mistake in the
world to despise the triendly aid of a
y hook or by crook do without them.
In choosing glasses or spectacles re-
member that the eyes should
throngh the centers of the lenses; the
the proper width, and no more.
tacles to fasten behind the ear are more
generelly useful than the pince-nez
which is balanced on the nose. The
latter, however, is less liable to be lost,
as it is usually worn attached by a very
fight chain or cord to the dress, and can
be used in 8 moment; but for reading or
writing, or any kind of work that takes
up time, spectacles are infinitely to be
preferred. In purchasing spectacles a
puarantee should be had from the op-
tician that they are properly ‘‘cen-
tered;” that is, that the thickest
or thmnest (as the case may be)
portion of the lens is really in the cen-
ter. If they then fit your sight,
you can try them on in front of a
mirror; if your pupils are right in the
center, the glasses are properly framed,
it for distant sight. If only meant for
reading, the pupils should be a little
nearer the nose than the center of the
lens. The frames themselves should
always, when the wearer can afford it,
be made of gold. Pebbles wear better
than glass; hay may, too, be simply
wiped with the handkerchiet, but a bit
of wash-leather must be kept for glass
lenses. Spectacles, if you have man-
aged to procurea really good and useful
{they should, when not in use, be put in
their conse, and the case in the pocket
{ Bpectacles with colored lenses should
never he used unless under the advice of
un medion] man, Harper's Weekly,
—— -
The Story of a Rat,
A colored man whom 1 shall eall
Elias, who serves as a conchman lor my
friend Mr. M., says “the Philosopher”
of the Syracuse Herald, was once em-
ployed in a boarding-house which was
He devised an ap-
paratus, consisting of an empty banel
with an inviting but untrustworthy top
which he put to effective use as a trap
for the sleek mauraders. The landlady
was delighed, and paid him a cent for
every rat he caught—and the name of
his victims was Jegion. Each morning,
after he had counted the spoils of the
take his rats in a bag to the proprietor of
a sporting «stablishment down town,
and turned them
account in his
one day was a
] to profitable
pit. Among his eatch
imndsome remale speci-
men to which Elias took a decided
fancy, and he resolved to tame her,
She responded kindly to his advances,
and became in time so gentle that she
would est out of his hand and play about
sleeves, and so forth. Her affection for
once proved in a notable way. Some-
body carelessly let her out of her
intoone of her accustomed holes in the
wall and was glorying in her freedom.
Weeks passed, and, as she did not ap-
pear again, she was given up for jost
One evening Elins was smoking a quiet
pipe in the laundry, when he saw a rat
put its head out of a chink in the wain-
scot. By way of experiment, but
scarcely hoping for success, he called
softly the name of his old pet: *Jinny!
Jinny™
emerged from its hiding-piace, ap-
proached him cautiousiy.and then ran
up his trousers-leg into his inp and com-
posed itself for hs caresses. IL was in-
deed his missing Jinny. Ste allowed
him to carry her back to her eage, and,
when there, went straight to the saucer
from which she ba been aclustomed to
eat her food and drink. Fora longtime
after that master and rat were insepar-
his quarters, and in his new home had
no convenience for keeping his little
lars to a rewsil liquor dealer, who put
her behind his bar for the entertain.
ment of his customers and grew very
One day Elias was passing the shop,
and its owner called him in. “I have
ean recover her.
I will give you fifty cents.” The chal.
lenge was accepted on the spot, and the
colored man tried the magic of his voice.
It was as efficient as betore. Outofa
hole near by trotted Jinny, apparently
overjoyed to see her Iriend once more,
and surrendered herself to his hands
with ingenuous confidence. From that
day to this, if 1 recall his story right,
he has never seen her.
Indians’
as a teacher,
the equal of the whites,
their children: and in every wigwam,
fathers and mothers schemed how they
should gain like advantages for their
boys and girls. Just a this time the
proprietor of a traveling circus visited
the reservation with his miserable worn-
out horses and performers, and being
struck by the bright, eager face and fear-
went to her father and offered 1o educate
fier in the Kast and serd her home a
him
went with it. IL was two days before
the story reached the agent ana mission
ary, who sent for the girl's father, and
told him bow he had been uped by
the showman, whose purpose was un-
doubedly to train her for the ring. The
Indian stood silent for a moment; then,
raising hoth hands to heaven, he cried:
“ Oh God, visit not my ignorance on
my child!™
Without a~other word he started in
pursuit. He had no Lorse, nor money
to pay his fare on the railway. He
traveled four hundred miles on foot be-
fore he recovered his child, uninjured,
though worn to a skeleton from ex-
haustion and hunger.
We, to whom education, as a rule,
have little conception of the hungry de-
spair with which these copper-co ored
brothers in Indian wigwams covet the
opportunity which we hold so cheaply
knowledge which will make a man of it
instead of a brute,
An Omaha teacher tells us that the
children of that tribe came last winter
toschool, walking from two to six miles.
The hunt last year failed, and they bad
no moccasins. Their bare feet marked
their way on the ice and snow with
bioody prints.
How many white ¢
this of their own accord?
hildren would do
Two schools
went. one at Carlisle, Pa., and the In-
dustrial training school at Hampton,
Va. Itistheobjectof the government
to send back these educated youths as
{ribs — Youth's Companion.
Elegant Journalism,
The Boston Globe replies as follows to
a young man ambitious of becoming a
ournalist: It is hard to tell from this
That is the oniy question to be decided,
may have finished reading your private
Lunch is always paid
kinds of wine—some
papers stand three, includi ;
pagne, but they are the exceptions
At 2 P.M. you
are expected to read the morning papers;
h exhausted
by the effort, you can have a game of
billiards. for no weil-regulated news-
billiard room. At P.M. you are
expected to tell the city editor where
call, and then you ean go to the theater,
opera, ball or dog fight, to which
tickets and carriage will be provided.
If you think you can stand such labori.
ous work, come on and we will see what
we can do with you; but you must un-
derstand that there is none of the luxury
to which you have been accustomed in a
newspaper office. Plain velvet carpets
are good enough for this class of
laborers; lounging chairs are, of course,
ndispensable, but they are upholstered
in plain satin, with no tidies. Only one
ie desk and four gold pens are fur-
nished by the office; if You need any
more you will be expected 10 buy them
yourself. Only one sofa and one silver
drinking cup are allowed to each man,
$0 you can see that there are some dis-
comforts to be put up with
John C. Fisher, ot Ottumwa, Ia., has
some pear trees in his garden that for
the last three years have borne two
crops each season.
EC
SOMETHING TO LAUGH AT.
What this country wants is less poli-
tios and more pumpkin pie.— Elmira
Free Press.
An exchange says that pumpkins are
considered quite the style this year, be-
cause they are genuine “old gold.”
What is the reason that a man cross.
ing a muddy crossing always walks on
his toes and a woman on her hes?
To «ll whether an egg is good or not,
open it yuickly at the breakfast table,
and you are sure to find out.— Boston
Globe.
A Berkshire county hates red so
that he ran three miles to bull a gor.
geous surset which he thought rested
on top of a hill.and he was mightily dis-
gusted when he got there to find it was
just us far off as ever — Boston .
A meddiesome old woman was sneer-
ig at a young mother's awkwardness
with her infant and said: “I declare, &
woman never ought to have a baby un
jess she knows how to hold it,” “Nera
— Yonkers Gazelle.
“ Bill, you young scamp, if
your due, you'd gel a gool wh pping..
“1 know it, daddy ; bills are not always
| paid when they are due.” The agonized
| Iather trembled lest his hopeful son
| should be suddenly snatched from him.
| = Lowell Bun.
| “I wish I could settle this confounded
| coffee,” said an impatient traveler at 8
{railway restaurant. “Try a
| stick,” said a nobby man with a
| scratched nose. *“ Tuat is what every-
| thing is settled with at our
| Boston Bulletin,
* If this coffee is gotten up in board-
{ing-house style again to-morrow morn-
ling. I think I shall uave good gr.unds
| for a divorce,” said a cross husband, the
| other morning. “I don’t want any of
{ your saucer,” retorted his wife, ** and
| what I've sediment.” Kokomo Tribune
A young eel, that had been rated a
| nuisance and told by its reiatives two or
| three times one morning to * get out,”
| tied a knot in its body snd slid part way
| through it Its mother’s sisters coming
|up and exclaiming, * What now!” the
| young Malscoptergian observed: *
ped’nt concern yourselves about
I'm a noose. aunts.” This fable
hes whatever you like.~— Fond du
Reporter.
|“ Well, I'm getting about tired of this
| ‘ere life,” said an ultra specimen of the
genus tramp * Going haif-starved one
| day and drenched to the skin another;
| sleeping one night ina barn the next
| night under a hedge, and the third in
i the Jovigp: this life ain't what it used
| to be. ell yer what ‘tis, boys, if 't
| wasn’t for the looks of the thing, I'd go
| to work." — Boston Transeripl ‘
Jou had
i —
.
| you n
| me;
| tence
| Lae
i
One of the mest heartrending sights
is the young man who affects delicate
| shades of clothes, cloth gaiters, immaeu-
| late cuffs and bosom, © necktie ot
| dainty colors, and stands on
| steps and hotel verandas, nibbling and
i cribbing * the head of a small cane.
| We always feel like packing him in ex-
| celsior and sending him home to his
| grandma. — New Haven Register.
i The season's late
For loving male
| To spoon soft nonsense over gate.
! We'd not berate
Ought foolish pate
For breaking hinges “Jong with Kate,
For the aggregate
Will never sait
Of moonshine fly at five-barred rate;
But ere it's too late
Bewnre the weight
Of the old man's cowhide—No. 8.
— Petroleam World.
| Says the master of the house to his
| servant as Le prepares to lock himself up
| in his studyand work: “Iam not ip if
anybody calis—mind?® A quarter of an
| hour later he rings the beil. No answer
| He rings again. Still no answer.
| opens the door furiously and eries to the
| servant in the ante-chamber: * Didn't
you hear me ring. you idiot? “Yes,
| ir; but you had told me you weren't
in. nnd 1 cou dn't think of tacings bell’s
| word before yours, sir.”
3
Perils of Coal Mining.
At the recent meeting of the Social
Science association at Saratoga a report
was made by Joseph I). Weeks, editor of
the Irom Age, on behaif of the committee
| on casusiities in coal mining. a subject
| to which public attention bas just been
| palled by the recent terribly fat casu-
| alty in England. The report states that
in Pennsyivania one man was jost tor
| exch 84 000 tons of conl raised in the
| anthracite region in 1868 and in 1879
tone for 105.000, a much gre«ter mor-
| tality than in Engiand, notwi hstanding
| the greater danger of explosions and in-
undations in the latter country. In
| Ohio the figures, contessedly imperfect,
give one death to 142 253 tons of coal
raised in 1874, and in 1878 one death to
255.000 tons raised. While some aoci-
dents are unavoidable, there is no doubt
that a great majority of the explosions
come from the carelessness of miners,
who will not hesitate to open a safety
| lamp surrounded by fire damp to light a
pipe. The peril from th’ falling of roof-
ing and slate is greater, however, than
uny other. being about forty per centum
of the total; and of these the public
Lears the least, because they are so com-
mon. These ar: too often the rosuilt of
forgetfulness, rashness or neglect. And
again, workmen are more at fanit than
employers. In fact, carciessness and
neglect are common among miners to a
degree which seems incredible.
EE ————————————
Hot Speech and Cold Type.
It would astonish some of our best
orators to see their speeches verbatim
et liberatim in the next day's papers
| It would disgust them, also: and they
| would denounce the reporter. Nor
would any such reporting be fair to the
paper's readers. Only those who know
| nothing about a reporter's business
| thinks he reports just what is said,
| They don’t know that he finishes sen-
| tences which the orator, in his hurry
{and excitement, has left unfinished;
{that he disentangles metaphors, sup-
| presses repetitions, corr ots gram-
| mar, remedies slips of the tongue,
| rectifies errors in names and dates,
| patches up half remembered quotations,
| and the orator, readine his effort in the
| next day's paper, thinks he did pretty
{ weil, and so he did; but there is a great
| difference between hot speech and cold
type, and what would have sounded
| very well in the former, would have
looked anything but well in the latter,
| Yet the alterations are only just to the
[reader and to the orator. The only
| thing we would r mark is, that where
| reporters make one mistake, speakers
| make a hundred, which the reporter in-
| stinotively, or as a mere matter of busi-
| ness, corrects and says nothing about.—
| San Francisco Chronicle
A Postoffice Romance,
Romances may be developed even in
the dull routine of business in the gov-
ernmental department. Complaint was
made to the postoflice authorities by a
gentleman that his letters to * Miss
O'Leary” were unanswered, and he
charged that they had been neglected or
missent. Word was sent to the post-
master of the village where the fair ad-
dressee resided, to investigate. His re-
port was as follows:
*Respecttully ieturned, with the in-
formation that 1 Jesterdny called upon
Miss O'Leary, and it is a somewhat sin-
gulac tact that she informed me that she
had received all three of the letters. I
would state further that I was invited
by the lady to stay to tea, which invi-
| tation 1 accepted. and had a very fine
| time, as Miss O'Leary is a ¥ fine
young lady and is the very best of com-
pany.” The complainant in the above
case was a rejected lover, whose letters
| the lady had received with silent con
tempt. The sequel to the affvirwas th
| marriage of the gallant postmaster and
the young lady abont four months ago.
Pale and elear, the evening star,
All in doabtfal shadow quavers;
Up and up the slow mists ere0n;
Down the lake, ‘mid deepest darkness,
Mirroring darkans +, lies asleep.
On the eastern sky appearing,
Lo! the moon, bright, pare and clear;
Slender willows’ waving braochos
Sport upon the waters near,
Through the playiul, fitting shadows,
Quivers Luna's magio shive;
Through the aye this reshness stealing,
Steals into this heart of mine,
«= From the German of Goethe,
(TPNS OF INTEREST,
A thief steals in a fit of abstraction.
A dressmaker should be careful of
ber habits,
Extreme gravity is oftener the result
of stupidity than of wisdom. —Seribner,
It is better to have Joved a short
than never to have loved a tall.—
ern Argo.
It was the man that fell downstairs
who spoke of his extended trip.— Sales
man.
What is the difference between a fixed
star and a meteor? One is a sun, the
other a darter.
A gnod many Chinamen in San Fran.
elseo have {nto the manu ‘acture of
rooms Tuere sre now sist nn broom
fatories managed by Chinese in San
Francisco. th
* Life, liberty pursuit of
pine is ms American's inal ie
sirthright. keeps pursait
apopiness, but hss to eatehes him.
Each citigen of Edwards, Miss., is as-
jessed three dollars annually for the
“1m cement of Lhe streets, and in de-
of payment Lie has to work on the
streets for ten days,
Boston has not to-dsy a single vessel
on the way to that port from Calcutta.
over ber head and the toy | away
with it, and it was seen no more.
The Swiss government is to send as its
contribution 10 Washington's monument
a suitabl stone from the
chapel built on the spot where William
Teli escaped from the tryant Gessler.
Captain Gerard de Niswe, of the royal
Irish hussars, was kilied in Inds ida
stone, dislodged by a goat on a
striking him on the head while he
taking ride on
Y
“Bat it’s as black as a cosi!
~~ Well, p'raps it's a conlscuttie fish!”
There will soon be at least 300 Eng-
lish families located in Dickinson
county. lows, and each Jamily will bring
from $10.000 to $100,000 in cash,
ssock-raising
{ understand that Dr. Jones is
a * said Brown; “is he traveling
for his health?" * I suspect,” said F
“that he is traveiin or his patients
health. I know one of them who has
im on his traveling,” added Fogg,
with energy.
Sir Alexander T. Gait, the Canadian
Jesently
. London
registering at a hotel as “Sir A.
Gait, and fifteen children.” the latter,
mostly giris, creating a sensation in the
dining-room when ushered in by their
The largest lathe in the world has just
peen erecied at St Chamond steel
woi ks, in the departuen’ o* the L dre,
France, where it will be employed in
the turning of one hun re - on guns,
The lath wes made at the Whitworth
works, in England.
agents in Italy
by
the chances
“Things in those days were about
they sre now.”
More than 125000 children die in
France before reaching the end of their
first year. _ One-fifih of the entire pum-
ber are in Paris dissement
of Nogent-le-Rol, where baby
farming is common, there are
deaths in every 104 children under one
eat of
3 The burning of widows has not wholly
The Russians have at last figured out
bow much ammunition they used in
their late war with Turkey. The ine
fantry fired 14 396,342 shots the cavalry
1,017,096. and the artillery 187 793. m «&k-
ing a total of 16 431,161. These
indicate that in order that one man ma
he hit about 150 shots have to be .
Pe enormous
er's park, Chicago, in excavating for
sewer. The indications are that the
huge animal perished in an ancient
marsh or quagmire, and there is hope
of the recovery of the rest of the skele-
fon. The curved tusks are about seven
eet long.
A ruralist came into Tallahassee, Fia.,
and finding a news stand ordered a lot
of papers, which he took from the clerk
with profuse thanks. He was aston-
ished though when the clerk asked pay-
ment, as he “never heard of charging
be He had been
reading his neighbor's paper for nothing
and never knew they cost money.
If a man ever realizes the inequalities
of this world and feeis like joining the
beetsteak, chops and
wafted to him from ic kitchens,
and finds when he sits down to his own
repast that it consisis of yesierdav's
meat pie warmed over.—Rome Senlinel
Poison to be palatable
Just be sugared ull ifs sige,
Never woald '
When they get so awiul sweet,
ae a ei
Ne Sleube vwitle Herald.
——————
They All Paid.
The late Judge W —, on a visit to
Niagara, when the car wasin use on the
inclined plane, raised and lowered by
steans power, went into the starting-
house to witness the descent, too timid
to go himselt. After the car s
the dan
a coun
a single eye on business, replied:
Oh, they all paid before they went.”"—
Harper's Magazine.
Size of New England.
The following table stows the area of
the New England Sites sid shesumber
hi oo
of miles of railroad in en RE. Miles.
Ng. Wiles.
Maine. ..orso0nr1s 000 :
V rmont... ..... 9612 8343
New Hampshire. Le 2
Massubueetis. B00 189232
Rhode Island. .... mr.
Connecticut. “ran