Cheery and Basy. Who so cheory as the iarmer, Gathering in his ripened sheaves, When autumnal winds are sighing Softly "mong the falling leaves? All the gorgeous Indian summer, Whistling at his daily toil; Who so happy at his labor As the man who tills the soil ? Who 80 ensy as the far mer, When the sullen north winds roar? He has not a fear that famine Will bo knocking at his door Oh, the farmer’s barn and cellar Have a gool supply on hand, For our God sends rain and sunshine On the farmer's truitiul land, AT TS PI. CASTLES IN THE AIR. BY PAUL N. RORSELL. They say it is foollsh for mortals to dream Of bliss more completa on life's tarbulent stream Than that they enjoy, did they use it aright, Nor cover Sols rays with cerean blight But I think that the man who ne'er dreams of a day When his name shall grow great and his sorrows de ORY Ir unworthy the form that be bears and the mind That was made to explore in the mists fined, For, when the dark hairs of the dreamer ave gray, And his totering limbs speak of * passing away," the aasties he built were but aasties of alr, Yet pleasant it was when he built them { And the memory of days when his fanoy ! Will soften the shadows of swift-eoming And he'll eagerly turn to that beautiful land Ww the castios are built, but pot bulit on sand. ABINGTON, Mass, THOREAU OUTDONE; OR, How Jessie and 1 C mped Out Jessie and I were not sisters, OQ, no, Pretty pink-and-white Jessie lived af Beechwoods, some miles out of historie C , while I was Cousin Nan, down from the city to spend the summer holi- days in the grand old place, where we two worked our own sweet will through the long bright days; for was not “ Brother Fred” in a distant city practio- ing his profession, and was not Aunt Kate the most induigent of hostesses? It would be hard to imagine a greater contrast than Jessie and | presented in outer aspect. She, with her flufly, blossom complexion and pansy-purple eves, beside my glossy jetty braids, my tawny olive face, with a smothered red burning in either cheek, and my large dark orbs, was no more striking differ side my own goodly stature, But, despite all this, our tastes were very much in common, and our minds wont to run in the self-same grooves, though Jessie would persist in looking up to ** Cousin Nan" as a very prodigy of learning--a walking encyclopedia, in fact, to the uncalled-for detriment of her own well-stored little head. 1t was I that brought Thorean dowa from the city—the whole set—deeming them suitable mental pabulum for our country summer. We had been reading “ Walden,” and became thereby so im- bued with a love of nature, pure and simple, and such a distaste for the artifi- cial refinements of civilized life as to look with disdain uwpon such modern appli- ances as cushioned chairs, lace curtains, and temptingly cozy couches ; even turn- | ing away from the dainty repasts where. with Aunt Kate was wont to regale us, with muttered exclamations such as these: “0, the ‘hurry and waste of life,’ ” ** We are ® lost in the whirlpool of a dinner” ” and refused the wounted sol- ace afforded by the morning paper, al- leging, in excuse, that ‘“‘all news, so alled, is gossip.” And Jessie began to | pity hes father openly for having ““in- | herited houses and lands,” and for be- coming, as she was pleased to style it, “ g serf of the soil,” until genial Uncle Ned lifted hands and voice comical amazement, crying oat, * What ails the girls, pray tell?" * They read altogeth- er too much,” was Aunt hate'srejoinder; “they mus: have ompany.” Whereat I : atrically, “ Company ! a that can bring two minds nearer t: 1 And Jessie chimed in with the assertion of having ‘ *“ known many coats but few men.” Awd what was there for Aunt Kate to do but leave the field in despair- ing silence ? One morning we received a that — Tho un, potwithsianding — was * worth paying the postage on,” for was | it not from certain other cousins of oars, and did it not contain glowing accounts of their delightful * ecamping-out” ex: | periences? This communication was | the metaphorical *‘last straw,” and we sat in gloomy silence—a silence broken, at last, by a triumphant exclamation from Jessie : “J have it!” Then, seeing my in- uiring look, she proceeded to a more orough explanation of her plan, “You know that litile cottage down by Clear brook, Nan, where Jim, the gardener, used to live? Well it is in good repair, not fat away, but quiet and secluded, and just the place for us to camp out.” Seeing the gloomy delight in my face, she went on : ‘* We can take our books down there and study ss well as not. There is my German and your English | literature that we've scarcely looked into | ~what with oor drives, our sails, and our toilets "—which was literally true, for Beechwoods was known far and wide for its hospitality, and the **fair women | and brave men” of C—— were well | content to sojourn there for days at a | mn aid are “rrr letter course I gave enthusiastio assent, | but queried doubtfully, * What will Aunt Kate say ?" ! Jessie shared my look of doubt for | an instant, but guickly added : ** Never mind ; I can coax her over.” | Which proved to be the case, for | hard, indeed, mnst be the heart that | could withstand the pleading look in those pansy-purple eyes—though for one | instant the prospect was rather dark, | until Uncle Ned came to the rescue with his hearty, “Let the midgets go, Kate ; the old hut is safelenough, and they'll enjoy it.” And I think the memory of certain of his boyhood pranks rose very pleasantly before him just then, prompting a h wish to share our retreat. i So it was settled, and Jessie and I de- | voted the remainder of that day to am | ins ion of our new home. he cottage, which we christened | ’ Walden ” at first sight, in honor of | our illustrious protot , was a small | one-roome edifice, datitate of paint, but mantled with a most luxurious | wth of woodbine. A fence, with di- | apidated palings, inclosed the small | garden spot which sloped down to the | banks of Clear brook, with the stretch | of beech woods on one hand that gave name to the place—said bit of wood- land having been left in the earlier days | for convenience, but in these later and | more degenerate days for ‘‘effect.” But | whatever the cause, the result was one to us, namely, that of produc the re- quired air of retirement as well as the wherewithal to build our morning fire, for we refused all such modern con- veniences as oil-stoves, classing them among the snares of civilized life, and turning in preference to the more-primi- tive de . . : Clear brook was, as its name signifies, a limpid streamlet flowing with dimpling laughter past our SYRvaD Tonio, and hid- ing itself in the shady woodland depths, “Walden” was scarcely a quarter of a mile from the house, but, owing to the fact that one was obliged to ascend a considerable rise of ground, and descend its opposite slope before reaching it, gave it an air of complete seclusion. Jessie, taking command at once, de- tected the latent capabilities of our newly-acquired possession and issued her orders with the air of a General to the “‘neat-handed Phillis,” our attend- the doorway, wreathed about with a bine tendrils, as pretty a picture as need be seen, adding, as one spray, more dar- ing than the rest, tangled itself in her fluffy crimps, ““I must have John come down and trim those vines away.” The next day was given by the ser- vants to the cleansing of the little cot i by us to the ransacking of the VOLUME XIIL CO., PA. A A AS i A TY a NUMBER 45. ings therefor, Wide, dim and low-raft- ered was the Beechwood's garvet, and fillod with relics of bygone days—a very treasure trove, where one might while away the hours, There was many an old arm-chair with moth-eaten cushions and carved framework. that I woald fain have tak. en, but Jessio was a stern disciplinarian, and met all my proposals with “Simpify! simplify! Nan, remem. ber Thoreau!” until our outfit at the {ast was Dh d anough to suit even ou oracle, The badstead anaient device, and was to be graced by a most amazing patch-work quilt of the pattern yolept by imothers, the ** rising san,’ wherein luminary is seen dis played in ti gorgeous reds and vellow a 1 had unearthed rom an old ¢ SAYING : “ This will brighten the room up, as well as bang more primitive,” Then there wore the two * rookers™— a Windsor one, with ragged pateh-work cushions, and a sor was of hat treacherous 0 respechiy < ly christened fon and friend- ship,” while i less] straight-backed afl dedicated to umph of our “s found in ‘““the threc-legged table,” which we persuaded ourselves to be an exact counterpart of the one possessed by our prototype at the other, and more famous, “Wald " and prised accord- the a8 unanimo . v But the tn. was to be It was a somewhat late hour that af- ternoon that found us ea route for our new home, fore us, down the shaded path, went faithful John, driving the wagon, loaded high with our household possessions, while Jessie and I followed er, heavily laden with the numerous of reference that we proposed ing dur r retirement wi by outfit a was right when he has of such eyes fasten before us, said, ‘The more a n things, the 1 : To which J might be « ited as well as nt with the united en- s bravely making to carry 18 volumes wherewith she was , and at the same time keep those sunny, wind-tossed crimps from quite blinding her, But our journey was soon ended, and all our possessions heaped upon the grass, ‘‘like the contents of a gypsy's pack.” Nor was it long before order was brought out of chaos, and the faith- ful John departed, leaving we two girls alone in the forest-shadowed dell, with the echo of his lusty singing fleating pleasantly back to us in the low after noon lights that flooded the spot, Ve the little ! is 4d S1¢ (Ss0X 5 ARON with , dark « s at win- dow, for we were not quite up to ** Wal- den” usage yet; its table and chairs, and the neatly-made bed, with its brilliant covering, and very well con- tent were we as we drew forward that self-same table and proceeded to spread upon a half newspaper the daintiest of lunches, and with quickened appetites to discuss the same, “Make the most of this, Nan," langhed Jessie, “for to-morrow we bid farewell to g h-pots of Egypt,’ and return to life pure and simple.” It was growing late, d two very tired i “resolved to defer all senti- mentalizing in the moonlight until some future occasion, as they locked the door and fastened the windows, thereby dis. obeying one of the first tenets of Wal- den ” law, but obeying Aunt Kate, who, utterly oblivious to our reiterated assur- ances of ample courage, saw to it with her own eyes tha ks and “catches” of modern contrivance rendered our little 4 : a GOIV WL POO 100K 3 1 ii ¢lther gry Weary ns we were, however, we were long in wooing slumber to our eyelids, for the sounds of the night were about us, all, from the chance erackling of a dry twig to the rippling of the little stream, sounding strange to our unac- customed ears. We were aroused next morning by a full flood of sunlight strik- ing across our closed eyelids and awoke at once to the fact that we were too late for spectators of the regal advent of the king of day—that one scene of our lit- tle theater had been played to the music of bird songs while we slept. Regrets were unavailing, so we made a hasty toilet, and Jessie, standing in the open “Oh, Nan! this is delightful ; come on!” and the little rogue, kilting still shorter her short gray skirts, sprung down the mossy bank to dip her fingers in the sparkling waters of Clear brook, and, as we wandered up the smooth green slope again hand in hand, Jessie Bala “ No wonder Thoreau came out in the Nowhere else, I am sure, can one front y 0 i" ‘«Fasential facts!'"” quoth I dis- dainfully, *‘ ‘essential facts!’ fact do you suppose life holds for most of the girls of our acquaintance more essential than the adjusting of their erimps, or the snaring of some knight in ¢ Essential facts,’ in- deed fds To ali of which did Jessie assent, her own yellow tresses meanwhile rippling yurple eyes a maze where many a heart ad been lost all unrecked of by their owner, Arrived at our little domicile, how- “essential fact” that breakfast must be prepared by our own hands, and not past must be laid from the very begin- ning. There was our gypsy fireplace. John forked sticks with a third one laid across in these natural angles, upon which a kettle swung suggestively over the cool, een sod as yet unccerred by any flame, it in the light of long, delightful rambles in that same woodland which now lay white and dewy before us, rambles wherein we would collect dry twigs and lichen-covered bark, wherewith to build our morning fire. But now? “distance lent enchantment to the view” in this as well as many other cases ; but there was no time for dallying, for al- ready our aj petites were quickened be- yond their wont, and Jessie, gathering her skirts about her, cried : ““ Fill the kettle, Nan, and go after the roasting ears. I'll get the wood and build the fire,” adding, as she vanished in the dewy depths, * You'd better get some potatoes, too, while you are about it; they'll roast with the corn.” The little witch, what did she mean? Had she forgotten that my city training rendered me all unfit for such a tusk, and was she even now langhing st ny perplexity ? But there was no elp for it ; 80, taking basket and hoe, I staxted for the field of action, namely, the sorn- field, where, nothing deterred by the showers of dew that fell from the broad leaves, I gathered a goodly quantity of that esculent viand, and then turned my attention toward the potatoes, Here, owing to my inexperience, I was not quite so suceessful, but, after numerous struggles with the unwieldy (at least in my hands) weapon, I came off in some degree conqueror and returned in tri- umph, bearing my sheaves with me. The scene, however, which met my eye was by NO Means al encouraging one, ea881e had returned from her woodland ramble, aad the evidences of her toil were to be , Boon 10 the fow dry, knofty twigs soat tered ab her a8 she Kn it before a joky tongue of flame that the socket and threatened to itly, Hearing my footsteps i up & : hor pretty toar-fille the eddying ud a half quiver in her voice as she oried : “(, Nan, what shall I do, this fire won't barn?" “on 4 ¥ You expire ii red and SHIORO, ry, oyos more kmdling, ** Here, th n, twill not ra few more ploke ping basket and hoe, [seized the hatchet in 4 ii the aud, drop 1 TREN De IAC ta " and soon reduced one of the aforesaid pickets to suitable size, through which timely aid the aspect of things was changed to h an extent that our ket tle was soon boiling and bubbling mer rily away in the most approved gypsy fashion, We consigned both corn and otatoes to its depths, being too | or any slower method, and una s decided it was too late for any further efforts in the culinary our three-legged table to the open doot way and prepared to discuss our sorely needs 8 past, Naver, i think, did arn and potatoes taste better than th eaten with langh and jest that qui summer morning ; albeit many an ear the former, to my lack of knowledge, WHS deculedly youn and “green,” and many of the latter tubers, owing to the same cause, were in a state of miancy, ““ But, Nan,” said Jessie, ruefully, in a pause of our merriment, as our morn. ing troubles came back to her; *“‘we can't have all this trouble every day about a fire, What did Thoreau have for kindling?" ickory, split fine ; don’t you answered I, promptly, tell you what we'll do, though: ) night ; damp grass and leaves will be just the thing; then rake 1 open in the morning, and start it with some of this old fence." iid, and Jessi Ril, BU line, a8 we drew Ody at of owing r the Ire every successfully, too, ral ] time 3 what have for dinner ?” “Pinner |” echoed I, in “dinner ! are we never to be free from that not even in these sclemy woods? What did Thoreau have # “ Corn bread and molasses ; the bread simply meal and water kneaded hard, and baked before the fire,” answered the little puss, demurely. 1 winced slightly, epicurean my r I'm in witeh knew ip ii aramat tones ; somewhat wtes, and the i *) hought that would be pretty dry, though, so I'll make ours and bake thew fresh every time, Sea! I've borught a griddle.” “And, SHOW You f t t I've something else te said, triumphantly lead ing the way down to Clear brook, wher she displayed a small butter jar sunk fo more than half its depth in the coo water, and I, firm disciple though I was of Thoreau, uttered no word of protest at this daring innovation against Walder rules, After this our days slipped quietly, sweetly past ; the three-legged table was well laden with books—s0 well, that, as meal-timo circled ronnd an removed them fram then i chair, or vice versa, Jessie was wont refer mournfully to ths *‘ two pi limestone ” that Thoreau had, but away, because he found that he “dust them.” Our slight duties dispatched, it was two very prim young ladies in the pls est of garbs and the smoothest of braids guiltless alike of ** wave” or *‘critap’ —at least, mine were; little witch, were as distractin sver—that sat down at tha table, armed respectively with “Ta and ** Ollendorf,” to “con each | o'er.” We were but girls, however, and many a pleasant interlude of dreamy wonderment and girlish gossip floated whenever Jessie found a German verb hard to conjugate, or I paused in some unavailing search after 8 new authority bearing ¢:: the subject at hand. Happy, helpful has ware they, varied by an occasional walk up to the house when the coast was clear, or sometimes, standing on the crest of the little rise just behind our cottage, we would sur- vey the graveled sweep of Beechwoods' carriage drive through an old fleld-glass Jessie abstracted from ** Brother Fred's room,” and laughingly comment on the frowning faces some of the fair inmates of the cushioned barouches carried away with them upon learning * The girls have gone farther in the country | for seclusion and study,” for Beech- woods was a most delightful place for a week's sojourn, as they well knew ; but Aunt Kate, once won over to our side, Nan, : . 3 indeed, H i Wo 08 Al JE8RIC 8, 8 KE00 vaded our solitude, | our week's stay al Walden, and we awoke | one morning to hear a quick shower pattering against the windows, “ Dear, dear ; our fire will be all out! | What shall we do, Nan?" “Do? Idon't know. | house for breakfast, I suppose, thing will be too wet to kindle it again.’ “* Go up to the house I" echoed Jessie, indignantly, ‘Indeed, I shall do no | such thing. Haven't they been telling { us all this time that the first storm | would bring us back? I've no doubt | they're expecting us, and that plates are | taid for us this very minute (which we | afterward found to have been the case). | Goback! Tll go hungry first!” and | Jessie looked very determined and pret- | tv, indeed, as she fimished her toilet and | apnonnced that the rain was over, i ’ | “There's blue sky over yonder, Go up to the Every- Nan ; | suiting the action to the word she sallied { forth, and I followed suit. | the provoking fire, that we had covered | so jealously the night before, was out, | Making the best, however, of a bad mat- | ter, we set to work bravely, and that devoted fence suffered as never before, But it was slow work, Everything was | drenched and dripping, and we | inexperienced hands—so inexperienced | that after an hour of toil breakfast was still a fair but distant prospect ; and the faint and struggling flame we had con- | jured up flickered dolefully, and threat- ened every instant to expire in smoke, This was the state of affairs when, Jessie having taken her turn in the | chopping department, I was bending with an anxious face over the fire, striviog | to place at the greatest advantage a new relay of kindlings, I was startled by the | ringing sound of an nomistakably manly {| voice, exclaiming: | “Well, I never! if there isn't | | followed simultaneously by an ecstatie little scream from Jessie, of ; “Brother Fred, where did you come from?’ as she dropped her uplifted hatchet and rushed to meet him, confronted by a tall, dark, aristocratic gentleman, whose smile of recognition tr deeper roses to my cheeks ; for was not this same gentleman Mr, Archer from the city, and one of the greatest lions of the last season, and my quondam partner for more than one German dur- ing the previous winter? I place my hand in his outstretehed one, only, how- ever, to withdraw it quickly as I discover how many and deep are the marks it displays of its recent confiict with that refractory fire, and an added color springs to my face, lest that also bear the same traces, “This is Nan, I know,” seid tall, blonde Fred Cameron, releasing himself from his little sister and turning toward me—‘‘ss much of a gypsy as ever, 1 | soe "—and—well, his greeting was very brotherly, indeed, ** But what does it mean, Jessia? you girls out here at this hour on a Fainy wrong at ti Lions 7 and a look of anxi ty darkened his face, “Nothing wrong, but where have you gentlemen been, pray tell me, and how did you arrive in this out of the way pli ¢, at this time of dav?’ “Been camping out; took a faney to » up home and bring Archer along ; xi ap from the station to surprise ks,” replied Fred, briefly, amping ont | that is just what we are doing, Fred, Nan and 1." “Ind you ever, Archer!” said Fred, appealingly, but that gentleman, with th ios of Boston Ganservatism still Z to him, answered never a word, r-whereat 1, » the ott wished to live berately, to front only the ess l life, and find out i A [00K of ast morning ? anytl i smiled aggravating answored very words of BIOS id, Or 3 using our oracle 3 y woods because we diislimnen FF InCos, " chimed in Jessie, quoting from “We were tired of in passage, and wished to go before the mast, aud on the deck of the world.” “Thoreau, as I live,” cried Fred, and the look of astonishment deepened, “Yes, Thoreau,” said Jessie, calmly, but mischievously, “No man (or woman, either) can ever anfold the possibilities of his own tel lect who does not at least checker his life with solitude,” Mischiev ously 1 say-for the scene was, to say the least, slightly amusing Time—early morning, and a rainy o that, Place—the river bank overarched by dripping trees. Properties—a gypsy fire-place, a smoky fire—two young ladies engaged in attendance upon it, and pausing in this occupation lo quot { from the classics was somewhat ishing ! A look of amazement, mingled with in- terest from Mr. Archer at this last quota. tion—wondering, doubtless, that a young Indy should read other than BOVE A or the newest 800K ty poe, “So you read De Quincy, Miss | Cameron? He is one of my friends, tool’ “Yes, I admire De Quincey very much, but Thoreau is our oracle just now ; let me bid you welcome to * Walden." And Mr. Archer's eye brightened as ht through the open door { our pond 18 volumes, I intor- rupted here with a dolorous cry, “The fire has gone out; what shall we do?” True enough, that provoking fire, tak- ing advantage of a jull 1m our efforts, had disappeared in smoke, “O dear have to go up to the fter all our troubl the oab SHINee BOUIoD, aston the latest he caught si but we'll house, I suppose, afl Just see how I've hurt my hand while Fred examined critically the pink palm I related our ** moving ad. v NIUres, “A fire, ig that all? jose, © ** 1 have not all these summers,’ 1 i eduoe ] fence SALT RAD devote re Y & Sparking florts, “ Why need we go up to the house! queried Mr. Archer. **No one we are oomin ois ‘roughing sourcely wonted to civil d “Capital I" ech i glan But the ge entirely satisfied, “Hao tha gentlem I sta) alty, Cousin and hoe, your post will b and potato patch. r. Archer, this fire will need constant replenishing, you may gather sticks.” Having thus as- signed them their station, Jessie and I turned our attention to the matter at hand, and after much merriment and a great deal of waiting, we sat down to a very creditable repast of the above-men- tioned articles, further reinforced by Boston crackers and cold tongue from the gentlemen's lunch basket, We had | moved the table out under the trees, and what with improvised seats, the novelty of the situation, and the laugh- ter and josting consequent thereupon, passed a pleasant hour, Jessie and 1 dined at the house that day, but, positively refusing any further soncession to the world, returned to our solitude and interrupted studies dies, however, doomed to more than me interruption of the same nature, for the gentlemen professed themselves to we a8 much in love with Walden cottage and life therein ns we ourselves, and countless were the fishing parties they | instituted, and delicious the chowders | they and many the | hunting expeditions from which they re- { turned Jaden with small game, to be cooked in hunter's fashion, but most ap- petizingly, at our gypsy fire-place, and, I fear me, Taine and Ollendorf were most sadly neglected the while we gained in the art of angling, or took long wood- land rambles, from which we returned tha iat field a oorn £0 concocted, were | with wild flowers, It might also have been noted about | this time that sundry changes took | place in our attire, numerous bright | ribbons and fresh lawns taking the place | of our somber serviceable grays, almost | without our knowledge. | It was on one of these self-same ram- | bles late in the month, when Fred and 1 | had fallen behind Jessie and Mr. Archer, { which, by the way, had happened very | they never seemed to mind it either ! | It was on one of these rambles, I say, | that Fred bent his handsome blonde ' head very low and whispered—though | why should he whisper, there was no one to hear? “ We are going back in three days, | Nan; our vacation is more than past, | Shall yon eare very much 2” | And 1, startled by the sudden an- | nouncement, lifted my eyes quickly to | his face, which was not at all prudent | under the circumstances, and he read | what he chose in their depths, and then | —but there, I shall not tell you a word | he said, that is my secret, 1 only know | that a few minutes after Fred was very | near, and I was turning a jeweled circlet | on my finger, and seeing it through a | mist of tears that dimmed its ghtter | strangely. | “The time is very near, Nan ; don't | you think you had better break up at | Walden?” This brought me to mysoll | fully : : “ What will Jessie say “There is your answer,” laughed | Fred, pointing down a long reach of | trees, at whose farther end could be seen the glimmer of pale blue lawn, with a ge ¢ owner were in dangerous proximity to the other's blonde erimps. Foiled at this point, I'tried another : ready in the world.” ly; “don’t tell me. ' oracle, Thoreau, say about it—‘If you y ” your old clothes So what could I do? And Jessie found herself helpless before the same arguments, and, three days from that time, we were whirling away from Oe, of th breath at the douie it city had fairly recovered their 1 AE unding announcement of a wedding in high life,’ upon su I short notice | C—O oy The Age of Oaks and Yews. Oaks and yews, the most venerable of our trees, saves an English paper, are in several instences so old that it is diffienlt to form an estimate of the time which has passed since they were pl nted, Several oaks felled in the Sherwood forest, about a quarter of a gentury ago, exposed on being sawn up the date 1212, and the mark or cipher of King John; and it has been caleu- lated that these trees must have been several centuries old at the time the marks were made, It is well known that the oak which is said to bave prov ad fatal To the He g, wh y, while of yore we ithe chase he led, reow hiled, ily his love tHman's was standing, pot long since, in the Now forest, in Hampshire; they who think this tree insuflicient to record a fact of so ancient a date should be re- minded that Sir Thomas Dick Lauder pays: * Beven hundred years make no extraordinary pe riod in the existence of an ocak. Bome oaks blown down in Donnington park were supposed by the interior rings to have been nearly 800 years old, and it is supposed, on good authority, that there still exist in En- gland oaks which were in existence at the commencement of the Christian era A venerable osk stood not long Binee Tormond wood, in Stirling- shire, under which, tradition says, Will- jam Wallace convened his followers, There are vestiges of the ancient Druids in the neighborhood of this tree, which was twenty-two feet in circumference. There is another famous Seoteh oak, ealled the Wallace oak, at Elderslie, near the place where Wallace was | There are other oaks in Great Britain which are probably more than 1,000 years old. The most useful age of this tree, for building purposes, is from fifty to seventy years. When we consider the slow growth of the yew, and the large size to which some yews still in existence have grown, it seems probable that their age is not less than that of some of the famous British oaks, Many have been recorded of the circum: ference of twenty-six feet, and there Are some arger than this. In Fothe s 3 yard, in Perth- shire, is an old yew, much shattered and nea: lead, the trunk of which meas! fifty-six fect six inches in eir- camfie at Ori. Historie Slang. How common is the expression, “Ohl is de in the dumps”-—that is ont of sy This is a very ancient slang phrase, and is supposed to be de- rived from * Dumpos, King of Egypt, who built a pyramid and died of melan- choly * so that the thieves and gypsies are not all to blame for having given us a few expressive words, We next come upon a word full of pa : :1t ia the Us more it is the un.” i ord of conse- quence, for it is at verb and a noun, and is derived from the Saxon word * dunan,” to din orclamor, It owes its immortality—so tradit.on says—to having been the surname of one Joe Dun, a famous bailiff of Lincoln, in the reign of Henry VII, who was so active and dexterous in collecting bad debts that when anyone became "slow to pay,” the neighbors used to say, Dun him"—that is, * send Don after him.” “Draw it mild” and * Come it strong,” have their origin in musie, being the terms used by the leader of an orchestra when he wished his violin-players to play loudly or gently. From this they have passed into synonyms for exaggera- tors and boasters, who are requested either to moderate their statements or to astonish their audience. The word ® coach,” in these days, is a familiar one, as parents know who have to. employ tutors to assist their sons to swallow the regulation amount of “cram” necessary for competitive examination. The word is of university origin, and ean boast of a logical etymology. It is a pun upon the term * getting on fast.” To get on fast you must take a coach; you cannot get on fast in learning with- out a private tutor—ergo, a private tutor is a coach. Another familiar word in university slang is “a regular briek”—that is, a jolly good fellow; and how the simileis logi- cally deduoted is amusing enough. A brick is deep-red, so a deep-read man is a brick. To read like a brick, is to read until yon are deep-read. A deep read man is, in university phrase, “a good man;” a good man is a “ jolly fel- low” with pon-reading men-—ergo, a jolly fellow is a “ brick.” mm 57555 iris. Ono a The Justice Saw the Point, Dr. Washington, a colored man, was arraigned before a Justice of tho Peace, charged with something like mal-medi- tal practice, He had given a colored man a dose of medicine, and the colored man didn't live but one hour afterward. The Justice was a colored man, and the doctor did of medicine. When the doctor had been arraigned the Justice asked : “Dr. Washington, how leng is yon been practicin’ ob medicine?” “Sence de wah, sah.” “What books on de fisick an’ de hu- reconstruction did yer study?” “Oh, I studnd 'nuff—Corustalks olos- ophy 'mong de number. Now, Jedge, let me ax you one pint. What books on de law did you study?” “I'se heah, pris'ner afore de bar, to try dis case, and not to stand a "zamina- tion. Ccmin' down from de law lan- guage to plain nizger an’ mule, wot de 3 "Splain yerself, sah, or I'll put de clamps of my thority on yer.” “Tf dar’s a man in dis country what can ’splain hisself, I'se de man,” said the doctor, arising. “Some few days ago I ‘vented » new medicine from roots dug outen de groun’, Hit struck me dat de medicine would cure de rheu- matiz, and when I wen ter seo de man what is dead now I concluded to "speri- me.t on him. No medicine ain't no count till you 'speriment wad hit. All medical ’ventious has ter be proved. When Bright ‘vented der kidney dis- ease he didn’t know hit would work till he tried hit. I figured it up jus’ dis way. Says I to myself, if dis medicine oures dis man hit's good; but if hit kills him hit won't do ter tamper wid or let lie roun’ loose mong childun, Well, I gin him der medicine, and about a hour afterward he was dead. How ten for use ef 1 hadn't a-tried it? Don’t yerseo de geography of my egement? Beienee must be "vanced, yer know.” “Dat’s a fack,” said the Justice, after musing a while, “de pint are well sus- Mr. Constable, turn dis man moah medicine in my township,”— Little Rock Gazette, poor man starving in the street, wouldn't you give him some of your udding, Tommy?” To nmy—"1'd give fin some of yours, Miss Smith!" The Use of Condiments, | The general definition of this word is, “a pungent and appetizing substance, as pepper or mustard; seasoning, Bome. thing used to give relish to food and to gratify the taste.” To the question, why do you use pepper on your food? you reply, because you relish the tasto of the pepper. A little thought will perhaps, convince you that you mistake its nse. Ia it not more probable that the addition of condiments brings out the flavor of the article of food on which it 18 placed, AS a general thing pepper and mustard are not used on fruits, Carrying out this view, if condiments are used simply to bring out fully the latent flavor of the dish, they could with equal propriety be used on fruit, This | is, in fact, the ease, To convince your self of this, use pepper on strawberries, and you will find in thom a flavor more delicious than you have ever experienced before. You will further discover that in this case you have not used the pep per for its taste, The use of salt is as improperly un- derstood. It is a natural preservative when applied to animal substances, the acid in the salt being the preserva. tive element. When used with vegeta ble food, but not in such quantities as to cause a salty taste, it is a great improve. ment. In boiling corn or oatmeal with. out adding a little salt at first will cause it to have a bitter, if not unpleasant, taste. The addition of salt removes this rank taste and gives the appearance of smoothness, This is caused by the | eh mical action of the acid in the salt on the farina or starch, We use pepper and mustard on food | for the purpose of bringing out the | flavor of the article on which it is placed, | So with salt, A good test of this is | boiled rice, which is perfectly insipid | without the addition of salt, Many peo- | ple prefer it flavored with sugar. It will be found that when sugar is used it will be far more pleasant and agreeable to the taste if it had been previously seasoned with salt, althe magh not strong enough to detect the taste, Swore Of. It is right that florists should burn tobacco in their green-houses to kill | the bugs op the flowers. But young Foppington doesn't think so. He sent Anastasia a beautiful bouquet before ealling for her to go to thé opera. When he arrived and was going up the steps he saw a window quickly raised, and the bouquet came flying out with a vicions whirl and tumbled onto the head of the hack-driver. Anastasia sent down word that she could not go | to the Opera as she had a severe head- ache, caused by the intolerable odor of tobacco in the bouquet, and the next day she wrote him that * she thought that he had determined to give up that vulgar habit with the new year, but she regretted to see that he had neilner the moral courage to break off the practice nor sufficient tact or consideration to avoid obtrading its most disagreeable | features upon her” Fop. thinks it's | awfully rough on him. * Confound it! Lavey,” he says, “1 did swear off New Year's day, and I kept it, too, like a lit- tle man, for two days, and here 1 get such a crnsher as this, because that lorist choked his bugs to death with tobacco smoke, I believe I'll send my small brother out to throw stones at his green-house,” AT “(Chanson de 1a Chemise.” M. Bathelemy Saint Mare Girardin as published a French prose transla- tion of the “Chanson de la Chemise,” i Thomas Hood, which we take the i f translating back into English with serapulous fidelity: “A woman is seated, covered with tat- ters. Her eyelids are red and swollen, her fingers are weary and worn. With a fevefish heat she pushes her needle, draws her thread. Btiteh, stitch stiteh, in poverty, in hmnger, in dirt! And, without intermission, in a voice sharp and sighing, she sings the chan- son de la chemise. ‘Stitch, stitch, stitch,’ when the cook sings in the dis- tance! And stitch, stiteh, stitch again, when the stars shine through the dis jointed roof, Stitch, stitch, stitch, until that thy brain float in the vertigo; and stiteh, stitoh, stitch, until thet thine eves are burning and troubled. Stitch, stitoh, stitch! the seam, the gusset, the band; the band, the gusset, the seam, until that thon fallest asleep upon the buttons, and that thou ooncludest to sew them in a dream!” C'est magnifique, mais oe n'est pas la chanson de la chemise! New York World. MY } thers Bae Bathing After Meals. Two cases, reported by Dr, Naegli in the Swiss Medical Jaurnal, illustrate the truth of the prevaient belief that it | is dangerous to go in bathing when the stomach is full. The cases were alike in their history. One was that of a boy of 14, who ate a hearty meal and then went in the water for a bath, When swimming along with a comrade he sud- denly gave a cory and sank under the water. He was speedily brought out on shore, and the usual means of resusciia- tion were employed, These utterly failed, however, Fearing some obstruc- | tion, the boy's trahcea was opened, and proces of food were found in it. These | were removed in part; but it was not sufficient, and the boy died. The other case had a similar history. At the post. | mortem a portion of the contents of the | stomach were found in the trachea and | bronchi, Tur ancients attached much value to the cabbage as an article of food, and the Egyptians gave the cabbage the honor of letting it precede all their other dishes; they called it a divine dish, The Greeks and Romans had a great affection for cabbage, and con ceived the idea, which I have myself, that the use of cabbage keeps people from drunkenness, I am persuaded that the constant eating of certain vege- tables kills the desire for alcoholic bev- erages. The Greek doctors ascribed all kinds of virtues to the cabbage. It was thought to cure even paralysie. The Russians esteemed this vegetable much higher than the Greeks. They ascribed to it the fact that they could for 600 years do without doctors, and Cato actually maintained that cabbage cured all diseases. The ancients knew sev oral kinds of cabbage—the long-leaved | green cabbage, the hard white, now so | much used in Germany for “sauerkraut” or fermented cabbage, the curly, and the red. This last seems to have held the place of honor, and was first intro- duced by the Romans into Gaul or France, and then brought to Great Britain. Later, the green-leaved cab- bage was introduced. A rich dish was made of it, as it was seasoned with oil s—————————— Taxixa shellbark hickory as the high- est standard of our forest trees, and calling that 100, other trees will com- pare with it for hardness as follows: Shellbark hickory... 100 Yellow oak. ....... oe 80 Pignut hickory..... os 96 Hard mapie...ooeiun. 4] White oak +. B4IWhite elm . White seh..... TiiRed codar « T6iWild cherry... .. T8iYellow pine... os 12] ‘hestnut....... . T0{Y«il w poplar, Barub oak...oveue Apple tree. ... Black walomt, cosese. 88White plone. ..covvees.. Black biroh,.eseies, 02 Tre faculty of Oberlin College have decided that the use of tobacco by stu- dents will not be tolerated, Big Robberies, Lord Eldon, who has just finished a His great: of cume directly from the law, wit Chaneellor started with little more than & prity and The habits of flint-siinning cheese-puring and well known went back to Lady Eldon had the shoes is Chancellor was largely which were enormous, wid by fees, Stowell, the pillar of the law, ultimately eame Eldons' wealth, Lord of the Court of Admiralty during the long war period, to swell the was exceedingly careful of what he got. conspicuous for ability, is, like his father before him, a quiet country gentleman, whose voice is never heard in the councils of the nation, The probably aggregate not less than, §2,500,- The usual plan has been to get into a ner by a ladder to the window, In this within ten years, been scoom- ngland it is illegal to advertise *po iffioult, in the absence of a recognized Jonathan Wild, to come to terms with the plunderers, who, as was shown in the case of Lady Ellesmere's loss of property, worth $150,000, while eu routo to visit the Queen at Windsor, often get 80 litule for their plunder from receivers that it would be greatly for their interest to come W terms, brew jewelers emerged mysteriously from The gems once out of the detection becomes almost impossible, York Times. ; A dolly Wedding. In Central America is a country called whatever else they may be, are the jol- liest people in the world at a wedding. They appear to be such an ignorant The Towkans age. ‘hen a girl numbers of twenty before he is reckoned capa is the thing. The invited gnests assemble on what The to It should be mentioned, however, She remains in has finished with the calabashes he * tom-tom,” which is a hollow little log, a we ——————— A 5 Curious LOmposinon, The following rather curious piece of could read it and pronounce every word correctly, The book Ea a —- Ya The history of musicians and singers is often a i a a dizzy ascent from the depths of poverty to the heights | of wealth and luxury, One of these mu- sicisns, already on the first rounds of | the golden ladder, is Theresa Tua,» young Italian girl, She is 13 Ja and yet has already taken the first prize for the violin at the Paris Cons , She had twenty-four competitors from | to 25 years of age, but received the prize by the unanimous consent of nine of the best masters in Paris. The success of | this musical prodigy is due chiefly to her | father, a bricklayer of Turin, He 50 cents a day, but out of this sum, by laying aside 1 cent daily, saved $2 and | bought an old violin, Without in- | struction, and with only his natural love of musie to guide him, he finally sucocedad in playing a number of tunes, The long evenings after his daily toil | were passed thus in digging, as it were, | from the violin the melodies that he re- | membered, At last, music mad, he aced the violin und. shh Jow 18 the ands of his little daughter 6 years old, and ssid: “Do as I do” The | child obeyed, and was soon sble to play far better than her father, The inde fatigable bricklayer then said to his wife, “You must learn the guitar” “But I have po guitar, and I cannot play.” These objections were useless, and the mother, urged on by her inex- orable and music-loving husband, could | at last play a discreet accom | ment to the violin of Theresa. The three then went from city to of | playing in the oafes and hotels, | the father saved money enough to take them to Paris. A lady of Niece gave him a letter to Monsieur Massart, Di- rector of the Conservatory, who immedi. ately perceived the astonishing talents of the child, Here begins the romance | of the story, for the r had no more | money, and how was the little family to live during the four years neoessasy for Theresa's instruction? Monsieur sart, like Aladdin in the story, rubbed | his golden lamp, and ten obedient gen- tlemen responded by giving him esch $6 monthly for his proteges. The re- sult of their liberality sud of Monsieur Massart’s instruction is that ex- bricklayer Tua has been offered by an enterprising American the expenses of | himself, his wife and the young violinist, for a period of five years, and $40,000 beside, He, however, thinks it is not enough, and hesitates to soccept the | offer. Letter from Rome, Eminent Shoemakers, Perhaps it was Coleridge who first re- marked upon the great number of shoe- | makers have become eminent in | various walks of life ; and certain it is that magazines and newspapers have found in men who sp from this em- ployment to higher th many sub- jects for interesting sketches, obituary | notices and special articles, | There Was 8 manN SOME Years ago in Portland —probably a shoemaker, but, at all events, too modest to give his name—who published a book which he | called * Eminent Shoemakers,” and the recent news that John Mackintosh, a shoemaker of Aberdeen, has written two volumes of a * History of Civiliza- tion in Scotland” will give interest to some of the celebrated names which the Portland shoemaker succeeded in bring- ing together. “Villa Gifford, the founder, and shoemaker ever had * one sutor ” thrown at the trade which be ssid “hated with a perfect hatred” George Fox, whom, by the way, Carlyle has celebrated of the noblest men in caring for sheep until he to preach those sermons of his, and to do that Christian work which finally gave unto Society of Quakers, once said that he was *“ the most spirit- ual shoemaker that ever handled an awl” Hans Sachs, the friend of Luther, who wrote five folio volumes in verse that are printed, and five others that are ‘not, was a most diligent maker of shoes in quaint old Nuremberg, and, for all he wrote, never made a shoe the less, he | said, and virtually reared a large family by the labor of his hands independent his poetry. Among others, this author mentions no less a name than Noah Worcester, | Roger Sherman, too, is on his list, and | Thomas Holeroft. Others might be— | Henry Wilson one of them. In it | shonld not be forgotten that the | of John Adams, our secoud President | snd the father of our sixth, made ashoe in his day during the leisure whi dis farm life gave him —New vibune, Sa, Prawing-Koom Drinking, It has been whispered for some time »ast that there was an alarming increase in the use of strong drinks among the | educated women of Great Britain, People | disbelieved these reports, but facts have | proven them to be correct. re ! same out the other day witha ar | ticle on * Drawing-Room Drinking,” in | which he describes a garden party, where the lady of the house was, if not hel lossly, at all events, in a Girofle-( wl condition. The use of chloral leads to !{ much intemperance among the ladies of our own lan number of made : to a comely, lenient and docile young lady of the Malay or Caucasian race, He accordingly purchased a calliope and coral necklace of a chameleon hue, and seouring a suit of rooms at a Jelacial hotel, he engaged the head. waiter as his coadjutor, He then dispatched a letter matinee. She revolted at the idea, re- fused to consider herself sacrificable to his desires, and sent a polite note of re- fusal, on receiving which he procured a carbine and a bowie-knife, said that he would not now forge fetters hymeneal with the Queen, went to an isolated spot, severed his jugular vein, and dis. otal the contents of his carbine into his abdomen, The debris were re- moved by the Coroner.” The mistakes in pronunciation were made on the fol- Jowing words: Sacrilegious, Belial, bronchitis, exhausted, finances, deficit, comely, lenient, docile, Malay, oalliope, chameleon, suit, condjutor, caligraphy, isolated, jugular and debris. Dress-Coat Misery. A man of considerable note in the journalistio and literary world was at a crowded evening party in New York, some years ago, standing in an up-stairs porridor, To him a lady, in a magnificent dress, and sparkling with jewels, came with eat eagerness, Though she was un- cnown to him, he naturally supposed she had recognized him by the light of his genius, shining on his Hyperion brow, or knew him by reputation. He was, therefore, prepared to receive her with smiles, ““ Are you the waiter ? ” she demanded. “No!” retorted he, with looks of thunder, * Are you the chambermaid ?” Aud he darted down stairs, Cats, In the middle ages cats, once the ob- | joot of veneration in Egypt, were in France looked upon as satanic agunts, | and were burned alive. In Paris every | 8t, John's day a number of the abhorred | animals were heaped up in baskets and | bags in the Place de Greve, to afford an | auto-da-fe, the sovereign himself setting | fire to the pile, ————————————— ——————— He Didn’t Know Him, | Teacher—* Suppose that you have | two sticks of candy, and your big | brother gives you two more ; how many | have you got then?” Little boy (shaking his head)—** You ! don't know him ; he ain't that kind of a | boy.” Strack, “Hallo! what's this?” asked Greeny, pointing to the telegraph wires, “a clothes-line?” “Yes,” replied a by- | stander ; *‘ here's where they hang the | sheet Lightning.” The fellow was | “struck,” but at last accounts he was | doing well, and it was feared he might | recover, Hints, Discontent is the want of self-reliance. He who can conceal his joy is greater than he who ean conceal his griefs, A man's virtues should be measured, not by his occasional exertions, but by the doings of his ordinary life, Anour 4,200,000 tons of hot water, averaging 185° Fahreinheit are an- nually pumped from the Comstock tines, To heat this mass of water by artificial means would require a con- sumption of over 50,000 tons of coal a year, The water from some of the deep- est shafts, 3,000 feet, has a temperature of 157 © Fahreinheit, fue amount of butter now made in fowa creameries is estimated ab 60,000, 800 pounds per annum, Nii Hig] fii © og i i | i § : it it i: : i £ i 5 city. scoompanied : ton at the capture of Ston 1, 1779, and wrote as aid-de-camp : the glacis of Fo \ pitula : i ie i Ash aw Dye cloned niy apie ram I wembie ss 1 show Lest thas sasne warrior drover, Wayns, Bhowd catel the post, : file] 1 § i ¢ i} iB : £ Eset $3 i fi gd
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers