To My Wife. The world gone up and the world goes down, And the sunshine follows the rain, And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown Can never come over again, Swoet wile No, never come over again, For woman is warm, though man be cold, And the night will hallow the day, Till the heart which at evon was weary and ald Oan rise in the morning gay Sweel witow To its work in the morning gay. w Charles Kingsley. Farewell, The boat went drifting, drifing, over the And the man that I loved the dearest sat in the boat with me. The shadow of coming parting hung over the Kroat gay swell, And the winds that swept soross it sobbed on farewell, farewell. ing northern night, And the face that I loved the dearest paled with the paling light. wake a jost; But the voice that 1 loved the dearest rang sadly "mid the rest. The boat want drifting, drifting, while ta dall skies lowered down, And the “ragged rims of thm rocky head a crown. The boat went drifting. drifting, while to the darkening sky, For the man that I loved the dearest the | prayer rose silently. ' gave the Oh, true, strong hand I touch no more; brave | smile I may rot see; WII the God who governs time and tide bring him back to my lite and me? Ali the Year Rovua ———— ASA SE NAS A NAA ASH HI SA VOLUME XIV. HALL, CENTR BE CO., PA. + 27 1881. 5 NUMBER 3. i vail that covered the face of his ili starred brother George, The portraits on the walls looked | down upon them as if scandalised at what they saw, for Henry was standing handsome one above her. aL One old painting in partiowiar of Sir George Warden, Janet's great grand. upon the privacy of himself and his { by the sweetsmile upon her painful “My dearest Janet,” said Mr. Wood, “1 really cannot permit you to talk like | seen your 1ace I had heard of White. brook Manor and its posster and mis. tress. My mother has often told me of the friendship that had existed | etween | my grandfather and your mother, and 1 | have seen her lament over the change | brought about in the Warden family. | But, Janet, 1 saw you--and then—then | you know what happened. I vow, Janet, if vou were worth thirty thou. gand doliars a year, your face would seem no fairer, your heart no purer, in my sight. Will vo not, can you not, believe me when I repeat 1 love you for | JANET'S FORTUNE wv The old Manor House at Whitebrook | stood out grim and dark against the clear cold wiatry day. Its long narrow win- dows and closed caken doors looked stern and forbidding, as it the proud spirit of the house would frown hack all outsiders. The leafless branches of the elms on either side of the jong avenue tossed their bare arms in the chilly breese, and moaned over the fallen for- tune of the owner of the Manor,and the very wind itself seemed to sigh mourn- fully as it soughed round the corners | cf the house, and down the tall twisted | chimney. In the picture gallery old portraits locked grimly at each other in the dim light, and seemed to shake their heads | and murmur: ** Has it come to this? In the bare chambers futtering threads of tapestry and heavy velvet moth-eaten furniture v as all that was left of the tormer grandeur of the house, and the ghosts of the ancient owners seemed to linger in every dark corner. In a large, shabbily-furnished room, before a bright wood fire, sat a young girl. The flickering light fell upon her small oval face, with its surrounding | halo of golden hair, and played lovingly about the white hands and slender fig- | ure. She satin a huge old armchair, her cheek resting upon one hand, and her | gray eyes fixed upon the bright flames. She seemed out of place in that dark, | somber room, from the walls of which | armed knights and beruffed white | courtiers looked down upon her from out their heavy frames as if in wonder at her dainty presence. The flames flickered and danced, casting: strange shadows upon the walls; the wind sighed mournfully in the wide chimney, but Janet Warden was buried in her own thoughts, and was not to be disturbed from them. Surely they were | leasant ones, for a smile played upon er lips, and a blush ross to her cheek every now and then, as che sa! there ing into the leaping flames. At last, owever, she roused herself, and rising from ber chair, stood for a few minutes irresolutely, her hands eclasping each other tightly. Then, with a light step, she left the room, and crossing the cold dark hall paused before a door. Open- | ing it she entered a room smaller than | that which she had left, and darker, for | the wood fire burnt low, and there was no lamp on the table, which was strewn | with books and papers. In an srmchair! before the fire sat a man who seemed to be asleep, for his head leant against the back ot the chair and his eyes were closed. . **Father I” The eyes slowly opened, and Mr. Warden raised his Lead. * Ah, Janet! When did you come home, dear?” he said, looking fondly at | the blooming face bent over him. i *+ An hour ago, father- Mr. drove me home.” There was a littie hesitancy about the | lnst speech, and Janet drew a low zeat | 10 her father's side, and taking his left | hand, caressed it softly. “So Mr. Wood drove you home, | Janet? Very kind of him—wasn’t it? | He's a fine fellow—1 always liked him.” Janet still caressed the hand she | held, and Mr. Warden spoke again: ! . “1 hope, my dear, you went dressed as | you should be.” i “Oh, yes, father, dear. You know, if | 1 do not dress like the Greys and the | Nortons, I can always afford to look | like a lady.” . i Mr. Warden nodded his head gravely, | and Janet pressed her lips to his Land. | “Father, dear, she said, in a low | voice that trembled, *“ I have something | totell you.” | “To tell me, Janet? Let me hear it, | dear. I hope you are in no trouble of | any kind.” i And Mr.fWarden Jooked graver, “Oh, no, father. Mr. Wood "—and | Janet's face grew crimson in the flicker- | ing firelight—‘‘he asked —me—oh, father | -—t0 be his wife.” i Janet hid her face on the broad hand | clasped in hers, and there was silence in | the dark room. i At last Mr. Warden laid his other | hand upon his daughter's drooping head, | and said, buskily;$*“And what was your | answer, Janet? “Oh, father—1 was so surprised—so —80 troubled, that I—I said Yes,” and Janet burst into tears. Again Mr. Warden stroked the droop- ing head, and seid, quietly: “And—and do you love him, Janet?” Janet did not answer at once—per- haps her tears prevented her--then she raised her arms and threw them round her father’s neck. * Oh—so much, father—so very—very much—very much! Isit wrong? Oh, no, I'm sure you will not say so.” **My dear,” said Mr. Warden, “it is not wrong, for it must have come to this at last; and I would rather it should be Henry Wood than any other man I know. But, my child, he must know that you are penniless. Have you told him this?” “Oh father, ‘he knows—every one does, that we are poor, and—und that I have nothing. But he says”— and Janet's features brightened through her tears—*‘ that he does not care for my money—that he is glad I have not any, and—and he’s coming to see you to-mor- row, father.” Mr. Warden smiled gravely and patted Janet's white hand as she placed it caressingly on his shoulder. Then he said, slowly: “Coming to see me, is he? Well, dear, 1 must talk about it to him. Now jou must go io bed—it must be late, ané want to think. Good-night, my dear —good-night.” Janet pressed her lips to her favher’s wrinkled forehead with more tenderness than usual. She, who was accustomed to his quiet, studious manner, knew that he had been shaken by what she had told him, and that he wished to be alone, so she crept away to her cham- ber, flitting thiough the dark psssages and echoing galleries like some fair spirit, and fell to sleep on her pillows, the image of life, youth and hope, in the midst of decaying age and forgotten eur, 5 Wood It was the week before Janet's mar- and in the old picture-gallery, ing where the sunlight fell upon them, were Janet and her betrothed. Hither her father often came at night, candle in hand, to gaze on those who x would not enhance your vane in my | opinion, whatever it may in other! people's ‘* It is so good, so kind of you to say | so, Henry!" said Janet, tearfully. “And | I do; but—but my father is so grieved when he thinks he has to give you a portion- | less wife that it makes me grieve, too." | “Then grieve no more, my darling: | for if you do, 1 will—what shall threaten you with? Ah, 1 know. run away with you, and then you shail | have no grand wedding, ss my mother insists upon.” Janet laughed. { “Oh, Henry, as if I cared for that! | But what was it you wished me to tell | you last night? You s:id belore you went away vou would come this morn- ing to hear.” Henry Wood drew her toward the | broad window-seat near them, and his | face grew graver. “ Janet, dear, [ want you to tell me | how your grandiather managed to lo e his fortune as he did, and how your father has never been abie to retrieve it. | Are you vexed at my questioning?” i ** Oh, Henry, no! Bat it is so sad—so0 | very sad! ] I'l | However, I will tell you as | which my great-grandfather spent his | money, the estate became involved, and | when his eldest son came to be master | of the manor he found himself in great difficulties. : “ However, he worked well and hard, good education and pay off the mort- | gages, so that, at last, the estate was | ree. But all this time the house had | been becoming very much aa it is now, and then fresh troubles came. { “My Uncle Marmaduke died of con- | sumption, and Aunt Jape ran away to | be married —she died a long time ago, 1 know, for her husband treated her very cruelly. Then Uncle George was very wild, and spent a great deal of money, till at last grandpapa said he should | have no more; and then for some years poor grandmamma’s mind had become | weaker and weaker with all these | troub;es ; she could not bear them so well as grandpapa. Well,one night when they | were all sitting in the oak parlor (my | father was abroad, you know), Uncle | George came in quite suddenly-—for he | had been in London—and whispered to grandmamma. She was more fond of him than any of the others, you know, and 0 no one was surprised when she | got up and went out with him. Bat | everybody was horrified a few minutes | afterward to hear adreadful scream and rushing ou. they found grandmammas | insensibie on the floor in the hall. i “Uncle George seemed half mad, for he | disappeared from the house in the midst of all the confusion. They took grand- | mamma to her room; but, though she | recovered from the swoon, she never re- | covered her senses, and they were obliged to wateh her day and night. | She talked incessantly of her George, | and ruin and duels, and said things no | one could understand. i One night her nurse fill asleep, nnd, awakening in the middle of the night, | found her patient gone. She rushed out of the room, and found grandmamma at the bottom of the oak staircase in a! kind of swoon. She was taken back to | her bed, but she never spoke again, and | died two days afterward. Curiously | some days afterward, my grandfather | could not find it. Search was made | everywhere, but in vain. My father | said it was a reat pity, for it contained most valuable jewels given to gran- mamma by her mother and grand- mother. **Well, all these troubles broke grand. papa’s heart, and fhe died. My father then married mamma-——who, you know, was a8 poor as he was—and [ was born. But things never prospered with him. He lost, lost—always lost—and when mamma died he gave up struggling. with tears. *'1 fancy mamma's death broke his heart, Henry. He shut him- self up then, and has been what you see him, kind and loving to me, but always determined to shun the world, you and Jour mother being the only visitors he as ever received.” Henry Wood kissed his betrothed ten- derly. ‘It isa very sad story, my love —] see it all now. dot we will banish it. Stay, though—what became of the scapegrace, George?” “Heshot himsell two months after grandmamma’s death--be never came to the manor afterward—and I fancy it must have been grief and remorse that made him put an end to his life, Isn't it dreadful * Dreadful indeed! Your father seems to have been your grandfather's only good and filial child,” “‘ Yes—he and Aunt Alice, who died eight or nine years ago. She never married, you know—but she would not live with us. She said that she was sure the Manor House had lost all good- luck, and she could not live in it to see its ruin.” * Ah!” said Henry, rising from his seat and shaking bis head. * Janet, dear, you have quite given me the hor- rors! Now, for a ehange, let us take a walk round the gallery, and you shall tell whose are all these venerable por- traits.” They sauntered slowly along, Janet pointing out each ancestor as they passed the portraits, her lover making his com- ments upon it. “ Janet, I can trace a likeness in this nce to Jours,» he said, a jhe giood op- posite the fair young girl wit e pow- dered hair and ny bodice. * You have her eyes and smile.” “Do you think so? Ah, no, she is so pretty! ““ And pray what are you?” was the rt “She is my great-aunt, Lady Leigh,” said Janet, without answering him. “She died very young, I believe.” “And who is this ferocious old gen- tleman?” asked Henry, looking at a very grim painting in a suit of armor with drawn sword in hand. “ He looks savage enough to swallow the whole lot of his relations, Janet.” “Doesn't he? That's Sir Marmaduoke Warden; he was quite as ferocious as he looks, 1 believe, Nurse Grantly used to tell me a dreadful story about him. His only Sanghier was very beautiful, gent ane ad family Sir Mars a uke aman great hatred. Well, this gentleman persuaded Sybil Warden to run aws with him. abe was descending from | her lover's voice, He rushed out with i his pistols, and, ob, Henry! in a fury he i raised his arm and fired, Sybil received i the shot in her side.” “Qld wretch!" exclaimed Henry Wood, indignantly, “Hl 1 had heen Sybil's lover, | would have ~~" And, without completing the sentence, the young man struck the hilt of the heavy, siiver-mounted whip he had in his hand upon the armed breast of the knight, The blow was scarcely struck when rag Janet with it fell, with a frightful crash, amid dense clouds of dust. “* Heavens!” oried Mr Wood. as th echoes died away, and Janet still clung to his arm. ** What a noise and smother! Pah! I am half choked. My dear Janet, don't tremble so. There i8 no harm done fa “Oh, Henry! Look!" eried Janet. as the cloud of dust gradually cleared away. ** There is a door behind the picture! What can it be?” There was, indeed, a spgall door, with an old-fashioned handle, which had been completely concealed by the fallen portrait. Henry sprang forward and endeavored to open iL. “Janet, this is the entrance to some secret passage, no doubt. How the door sticks # Ha! at last.” With a vigorous tug he pulled it open, and they both peered eagerly into a low, “1 will go and explore,” said Henry, 1 “Oh, I must ccme, too, Henry. Do let me." Who could resist her preity pleading face ? Certainly not Henry; so the two they oing ir BE Suddenly he stumbled, and down, cried * Here's a box, or something, Janet; let us go back o the light and see what it is.” Back they went, and found that the stooping it had been once very “By Jove I" cried Harry, excitedly, this is an adventure. I must break the lock, Janet." He raised his heavy whip, and with one blow shattered the lock. The lid & Cry. must dressing. ! “Oh, Henry! Henry! be poor grandmamma'’s lost case." Old-fashioned bracelets, heavy poid chains, jpold-jeweled diamond earrings and brooches lay before the astonished eyes of the lovers, and Janet hall- laughed, half cried, as she said: “ Henry, this is a fortune; thes be valuable V “Yes,” replied Henry Wood. “1 your father had better know of our discovery. On the whole, I fancy that blow of mine did some good to the At all events he returned good for evil bs falling at our feet in that JEW. H h h hidden treasures. Janet flew away to her father's study, and, having greatly disturbed him by a very incoherent tale, dragged the wi Mr. off to the gallery. " There, father, dear ¢ cried, as he stood gazing in amassement at He | 3 } Oe dered Warden old rey " have found your fortune. Mr. Warden smiled faintly. “ Not mine, my dear. These jnwels would all have been yours, I expect, and your mother's before you. H they there? ** Don't you think grandmamma may have hidden them?” said Janct, “Ah, well, yes; I expect she did. Poor mother! "What made her ¢ ymmit so strange an se! ? Yes, this was a favor- ite bracelet of hers, I rememix } well, dear, they are yours; do what you will.” He pressed his lips sadly to Janet's orehead, and, turning, left the gallery. “Oh, Henry,” cried Janet, the tears in her grav eyes, *‘you will not now have an en’ rely portionless wife!” “No,” yrambled Henry. * And, therefore, I think the best thing to be OW OhRine and things away again. or you will grow so fond of them that I shall not get a glance in my direction.” What Janet's answer was we shall not say; but one thing we know, and that is, that the jewels were sent to London the old diamond gold, and geveral thousand pounds came into Mr. Warden's empty pockets. The other jewelry was reset by order of Henry Wood, and presented again to Janet; and on her wedding-day the diamonds broo I #3 the brightness of hier eyes, had once been hidden in the box that contained Janet's fortune. Man's Natural Food. Before enterug upon those points 1 must premise a few words on the main question: What is the natural food of man? As an abstract truth, the maxim of the physiologist Haller is absolutely unimpeachable; ** Our proper nutriment should consist of vegetable and semi- animal substances which can be eaten with relish before their naturni taste has been roved modes of grinding, bolting, | and freezing our food are, speaking, abuses of our digestive or- gans. hot spices aid the process of « they irritate the stomach and cause it possible, as it would hasten between Inasim. is an important difference rapid and thorough digestion. facilitates deglutition, but, by pensing with insalivation and and salivary glands; inother words, we make our food less digestible. By bolting our flour and extracting the nu- tritive principle of various liquids, we fall into the opposite error; we try to assist our digestive organs by per- forming mechanically a rart of their proper and legitimate fa. otions. The health of the human system cannot be maintained on concentrated nutriment; even the air we inhale contains azotic gases which must be separated from the life-sustaining principle by the action of our respiratory organs—not yy any inorganic process. We cannot breathe pure oxygen. For analogous reasons bran flour makes better bread than bolted flour; meat and saccharine fruits are healthier than meat extracts and pure glucose. In short, artificial extracts and compounds, are, on the whole, less wholesome than the palata- ble product of nature. In the case of bran flour and certain fruits with a large percentage of wholly innutritious matter, chemistry fails to account for this fact, but biology suggests the mediate cause: the normal type of our physical constitution dates from a period when the digestive Orjans of our(frugiv- orous) ancestors adapted themselves to such food—a period compared with whose duration the age of grist mills and made dishes is but of yesterday.— r nee Monthly. ~ An educational exchange asks the question: “Is one Jang age enough?” As a general thing it is, but there are times when it isn’t. When a man goes to throw a scuttle of coal on the fire, for instance, and strikes the stove two inches below the door, and the coal flies nine ways for Sunday, he feels that one the window of her room by a ladder, her e@ to express his feelings is meager indeed. A good story is told of that gallant Irish soldier, General Bligh, of Sepoy fame, which is sltogether too good to be lost, While holding the commission of captain In a dashing marching regiments he was on a trip of pleasure with hi. wife, in the north of England, and have ing come, one day, toa small Yorkshire inn, the larder of which was well nigh empty, he ordered all the host had on hand, in the shane of food, to beserved up for his dinner, after which he joined his wife in an upper room. While the host was preparing the meal tor his guest a party of sporting gentlemen of the country entered the inn, and called for refreshment. The inndlord was sorry to inform them that all his larder contained of food had been bespoken by a gentieman who was at that moment waiting upstairs, with his wile, to have it served, Who was the gentleman ? The host could only tell them that he was an Irishman, and seemed to be a very quiet, good-natured and harmless body. (The captain was traveling in citizen's aglothes. ) **An Irish A gentleman! potato, him. Go up and tell him so." But Boniface preferred not to do so... “* Then," cried one of the party—a ‘squire of the neighborhood, with more money than sense, * take up this wateh to the gentleman, and ask him if he wil send us word what's the time o' day, for we can't tell.” It was a hahit in that section, when one would intimate to another that he didn't have much faith in his good sense, or in his judgment, to show Lim time o'clock The host, himself fond of fun, and feeling assured that the last callers would get the worst of it, took the watcha very valuable gold repeater— and went upstairs and did the errand, 3iigh took the watch and looked at it “By my lije! it's a beauty. Tell the gentlemen I'll be down presently, and shall take pleasure in expounding to them the mystery o' time-telling by the watch, And I'll fetch the watel with me,” The host returned with the answer, and shortly afterward carried up his guest's dinner, The "squire was, for a iittle time, furious with the landlord for having left his watch behind; but he finally cooled off, and having called for a gallon of beer he sat down with his friends to wait. Afterbie had finished his meal Cap- tain Bligh opened his portmanteau and took out two great horse-pistols, and placing them under his arm be took the watch in hand and went down into the barroom, where the sporting gentry still waited. ‘Al, gentlemen, 1 give you a good Wy. And now, who is the man that wants the time o' day? 1shall be de- lighted to enlighten him." They didn't like the looks of the man at all. He carried soldier in his every look; sad, just now, there was a good deal of the tiger manifest, “Come, come, gentleman—] am Captai i t your service. A short time since fiord brought to m« this watch, sccompanied by a mesang which 1 hay as such a Message i leserves.” And he significantly his finger upon the “Now, whose is the watch? is it yours, sir?" t ‘squire himself. The squire denied the ownership promptly. Allthe watches in the world would not have tempted him to expose his life bie Irish captain, whose fame was known to him. Bligh then applied to the next man; and then to the next: and #0 on to the denied the ownership. *“*I am happy to find, gentieme I have made a mistake. You will 1 don me, I am sore. | thought the owr of the watch was here” He then put the watch into his pocket; slipped the pistols into the pocket of his bicuse; turned to the bar and settied Lis bill; then bade the company good even- ing, alter ich he joined bis wife in the porch, at the door of which his car- riage was in waiting Captain, aiterward general, Bligh kept the watch to the day of his death, often telling the story of its capture, when Le left it by will to his brother, the weil- known Dean of Eiphin. nA the me Lo answer pisi0Ls + bhai rd Ww Lhe tern ast: sad all tliat AT ier whic A Long Lost Lover, One rarely meets a bit of more touch- ing story that comes from Wales: me Welsh miners, in ex ploring an old pit that had jong been closed, found the body of a young man dressed in a fashion jong out of dale. The peculiar action of the air of the mine had been such as to preserve the body so perfectly that it appeared asleep rather than dead. The miners were puzzled at this circumstance, No one . Years ago & their remembrance, and at ast it was i an old lady past her eightieth year, who had lived single in the village the whole of her life. On being brought into the presence of | the body a strange scene occurred. The old indy fell on the corpse, kissed and addressed it by every term of loving en- dearment, couched in the language of a bygone generation. He was her only love. She had waited for him during her long life. She knew that he had nol forsaken her. The old woman and the young man had been betrothed sixty years before. The lover had disap- faithful during that long interval. Timo had stood still with the dead | man, but had left its mark on the living | woman. The miners who were present | were a rough set, but very gently and | with tearful eyes they removed the old | lady to her house, and the same night | her faithful spirit rejoined that of Re long lost love. i a How Sickles Saved His Life. The way to stop the flow of blood from a bad wound has been so often but it is beat illustrated by an actual When people injured and love their lives well enough to do so. That General Bickles is alive to-day is due only to his great presence of mind. When he fell on the field of Gettysburg he fainted. Recovering consciousness, but half dazed, he found he was com- pletely away from immediate help, and that blood was gushing from his leg in jets, showing that an artery was, severed, | Painfully raising himself, he found | his handkerchief, hie tied it around the wound in such a way as to stop tne flow and inorder to secure additional tightness, ran his sword-handle under the handkerchief, and with all his power twisted it around and held it so until the surgeon came on the battle- field. Like most persons he had read directions of what was necessary to be done in such emergencies, but, un'ike many persons, he was cool and collected enough to put his reading into practice when the emergency came. A Plot for an Opera, Here is a plot for an opera, The scene is laid in Rome, and the facts are taken from a letter to a London paper. A young man named Moretti, a tailor, was condemned to a short term of imprison- ment for some alleged fraud in his deal- ings. A girlto whom he was betrothed went to the police magistrate to learn about his faith and prospects, The magiétrate told her he would assuredly remain many years in prison. The girl in despair poisoned herself. Soon after- ward Moretti is found to have been perfectly innocent, and is at once dis- charged. On learning the miserable end 1 Destruction of Timber, In his evidenoe before the agrioul- tural commission of Canada, says the | Toronto Globe, Mr. Brown, of Port Elgin, expressed the opinion that the forest should be reclothe with forest trees, He recommended the planting of | large nurseries by the government, from which the people could obtain trees at a low price, and, aiso, that the govern. ment should replant the crown lands, as | is done in Australia and other countries Mr. Brown has heen engaged in Lope study of forestry all his life, «ni what he said betore the commission worthy of serious attention. The prooess of «ripping the land of its timber supply, and more particularly of its merchantable timber, has been going on at a reckless rate for many years both in Canada and theUnited States and unless it is checked the time must soon come when even the demands of the hone market cannot be supplied. Itis not with a forest as with grain or live stock: it oan not be reproduced in a year or in a genevation. Our great pine woodaare the growth of hundreds of years, and once they are cut down or burned over the supply is ended, A ROMANCE OF THE SEA. ue of the Most Hearirending Disase ters of a Yempestuous Winter, The Boston Journal, ofa ate date, tells the following story of a shipwreck: The British steamer West Indian, which ar rived at Baltimore a few days ago, brought from Jamaica the news of one of the most heartrending marine disasters which even the present le upestuous winter has caused, About the middle of last month the British bark Fonta- belle, Captain Nixon, sailed from Jamaica for London, having on board a orew of twenty. five men and ten pas sengers, including the captain's wife and three children, and two young couples, who had been married only six weeks before. The voyage opened with promise; the wind was fair and gentle, and every. thing indicated a quick and pleasant passage to the English shores, The West Indian seas, however, are treach- erous, and when one day out the wind fell, and the vessel lay becalmed, rolling azily upon the long waves. Four days after sailing, when every sail was set to eateh the listless breeze, a hurricane of prodigious fury fell without warning The pine forests of Maine fifty years ago were thought to be inexhaustible, Thousands ol men were employed dur- ing the winter months felling and cut- | ting trees, snd in the summer rafting | the [logs down the streams or cutting | them into lumber in the mills, Bangor, | on the Penobscot, was once the busiest town in the United States. The river | was lined with sawmills for miles, and | 2.000 vessels were engaged in the carry- | ing trade. The forests for 200 miles up | the river, and for many miles on either | side, have been laid waste, and the “ld Pine Tree State ” is no more than a figure of speech. Spruce, which rapidly | reproduces itself, is the lumber most | generally manufactured—the production | on the Penobscot this year being ten times that of pine, In Michigan and Wisconsin the same reckless haste and waste are going on. | The Saginaw valley, which formerly | contained the largest and finest forests in Michigan, is being rapidly depieted. | Its mills have a capacity of 600,000,000 feet of lumber per year, and mill-owners | are obiiged to bring logs from other | rivers, often ss tar as 100 miles distant, | to supplement the stock of the Saginaw, | The output has reached its climax, and no new mills are built or oid ones re- | placed. On the Muskegon river the | amount of logs rafted this year is 400,~ | 000,000 feet, and one large operator alone will put in about 250,000,000 feet this | winter, hauling to the river by rail an | average distance of eight miles. The | Alpena district will, at the present rate of cutting, be stripped in fifteen years, | The Wisconsin pioneers have been worked much less extensively than those of Michigan, but sn estimate made by | the president of one of the largest log- ging companies on the Mississippi fixes | the utmost limit of the supply at forty | years. In Minnesota the forests are much smaller in extent, and will prob ably not survive the others. Unless, then, a new departure is made, the last tree will be cut from Maine to the Rocky | mountains by the end of lorty years, and | the United States must depend for its supply of pine on foreign countries. Ist tion, of husbanding our resources, of | putting an end to reckless waste, of | protection against forest fires, or of re. | pienishing our woods by forestry? These are questions in which | the whole country has an interest, and | which must be discussed and answered, | EE ————E———— - here no way of limiting produc. | systematic | Queer Conundrums, The other day some of us got talking about that witty old cynic, dean Swift, when ope of the company took advan. tage of the opening and gave this jeu de | mot of his: Why," asked the dean “is it right, by the lex talionis, to pick an artist's pocket P" It is given up, of course, and the answer was * because be has pictures.” A silence fell about the table round until, one by one, we | saw it. Then one thoughtful man ob | served: “It was impossible to give the answer—because the dean had con- trived to reserve the answer to him. self. 1 could not, for instance, sa it is right for me to pick an artist's pocket because he has picked yours.™ Here is another conundrum, founded upon a pun, which only the propounder can solve: An old man snd a young man were standing by a meadow. “Why,” | asked the young man, *' is this clover older than you®"' “ Itisnot,” replied the | other. “It is though.” returned the | young man, * because ii is pasturage.” Ther upon an shstracted.looking per- | son, who had not followed the line of | remark, and who had not understood | the illustration, startled us with this ir- relevant inquiry: ** Why cannot a pan- tomimist tickle nine Esquimsux? Give it up? Why, it is because he can gesticu- late." a Thrashing a Councilor, James Stephenson, sometimes called “Modoc Jim," is a member of the Omaha common council, whose over- powering interest in certain city sewer of Nebraska to be illegal, hns secured for him a sound thrashing. Stephenson got up in meeting and abused the mem- bers of the supreme court. When re- | monstrated with by the president, | James E. Boyd, Stephenson applied vile | epithets to him and charged that he had | been bribed, Mr. Boyd threw off his coat, saying: ‘‘No man can charge me with dishonesty or aoubt my veracity and live,” and advanced on Stephenson, whom he threw to the Stephenson said he wanted to expinin. Mr. Boyd yelled: “I want no explanation. Do you charge me with dishones:y? Yesor know is ail I want.” Stephenson, thoroughly scared, cried: “No,” when Boyd released him . and apolorised to the council for his part in the affair. Stephenson has been asked to resign, and may be called to account preme court, that body having power to Production of the Metals, During 1880 the production of metals west, of the Missouri, including British Columbia and shipments to San Fran- cisco irom the west coast ot Mexico, were as follows: Goud $33,522.182 | Load $5,762.39 Silver...... 40,005,364 | Copper... 868,000 Colorado leads with a total of $21,. 284 989: California follows with $18. 276.166: Neovata, $15,031,166; Uwah, $6,450,953; and Arizona, $4,472.471. In comparison with the product for 1879 California shows an increase in gold of 579,570 and a decrease in silver of $360 873. Nevadu shows a total falling off of $6,006,008, em —————— An Improvement in Speaking Tubes, They have a speaking tube in Ger. many, but not the telephone as yet. One day a tenant waited on his landlord to pay his rent. The landlord, seeing that the peasant intended to stay, thought to hurry him by saving through the tube, ‘ Gretchen, bring up my lunch.” The peasant declared that the instru- ment was a wonderful invention, and asked permission to speak through it, which was granted. He at once ap- proached the tube and, puckering up his mouth, whispered : ** Gretchen, you may bring up lunch for two.” Stuffing a Boy. “Yes, I'm going to skate,” he an- swered, as his teeth rattled together and his ears stood out like sheetiron medals, “They tried to stuff me with a story ol a boy who froze to death on the rink at the park, but I wouldn't take it." “ Did one freeze to death?” “Naw! Come to find out about it he just froze his ears and nose and fin- gers and toes, and the rest ot his body wash't touched at all! They can’t scare upon the bark, and stripped her of The gale increased in fury, and the dis- masted hu'k was driven violently be. fore it, being repeatedly swept by huge waves, which momentarily t reat. Some Touching Instances of the Devellion and Bravery of the Men Whe Work in Mines. Bamue! Plimsol, writing in the Nine. teenth Century, says: 1 remember see ing one poor woman a day or two after the explosion at the Edmunds or Swaith Main pit. The dead body of her hus band was then lying in the mine; but she hiad children—the dally work of life must pe done, even by ber. She wanted » pan which, nearly full of dirty water, gtood pear her door upon a stone, shall, I suppose, never forget (It is many years ago now) the far-off ook in her eyes as she approached the pan; her whole figure was the expression of ope without hope, the very embodiment of despair; she raised the pan by the edge, utterly careless that the falling water splashed her dress and feet, and listlessly moved away. Her grief was too deep for words or tears, and I turned away with a heart sick to see such suffering and to know that she was but one of more than a hundred in the same sad condition. Consider the men, their husbands, too. What like husbands are they? Remem- ber the one whose body was found in the Hartley mine, after the accident to the engine beam, laying with ..is hand upon the side of which with the point of his pocketknife he had scratched a dying ened to sink it by the very weight of | the tons of water which they threw on | board. The passengers and crew, aban- | doning hope, crouched under the bul. | warks and through the long night | listened to the howling of the wind and | relentiess seas. Vivid flashes of light. | ning at times illumined ihe scene, making its details more terrible. With in the stern could perceive one of the wreck and to each other, the Lusband | standing over his wife to shield her from unusual power struck the pair and tore from the body of the young wife the night clothing in which she was wrapped; whereupon the husband, stripping off his own | clothing, fastened it about his wife, and | eaving her bound securely to the side, of his life, nnd brought up for her more suitable attire. Just as the dawn was | A tremen- came down erashing upon a reef; another torrent of water struck the bride, were hurled into the son. As she was torn from her hushand’s arms the istter appeared stupefied, but the next moment leaped after her with awny and out of the sight of the horrified survivors. To these the pros- of instant death was not to be avoided, and they clung to their fasten. ings and watched with despair the slow crumbling of the vesse: beneath the blows of the sea. About noon the storm abated, and the survivors began to gather a littlecourage. The night came, and the other pride, overcome by ex- Day dawned again, but only to arouse one of the seaman, who, erazed by thirst, leaped into the sea before the In the clear water they | could see his body descend, until, thirty feet below them, it I in a holiow of the rocks. Toward night the wind again rose, and the seven more had been Late in the afternoon of this awful daya | of the survivors, and sent a crew of six men to rescue them. Bat the pitiless ses had not yet been appeased with vietime: a wave overturned the boat when it had aimost reached the barkue, the surf beneath the very eyes ol those whom their bravery had wainly attempted to save. Another boat was sent off, however, and at a great risk brought on board the men and the woman who had sat with death for eight and forty hours. a —— Words of Wisdom. The greatest works are performed, not by force, but by perseverance. There is, in all this cold and hollow less love, save that within a mother's heart. We should often have reason to be if the worid could see the motives from which they spring. Politeness is to goodness what words are to thought, It tells not only en the manners, but on the mind and heart; it renders the feelings, the opinions, the words moderate and gentle. Spea ing much is a sign of vanity, for he that is ;avish in words Is niggard in deed. He that cannot refrain from much speaking is like a city without walls, and less pains inthe world a man cannot take than to his tongue; there. fore, if thou observe this ruie in all as- sem blies thou shalt seldom err, The Land in Ireland The following figures in regard to the ownership of Irish land are interesting. One man owns 170,000 acres; three men own 100.000 acres each; fourteen men 50,000 acres each; ninety men 20,000 | acres each; one hundred and thirty-five | men 10,000 acres eacli ; and four hundred | and filty-two men 5,000 acres each. The | association of salters owns 19,000 acres; | 21,000 acres; the skinners 24 000 acres; | the fishmongers 20,000 acres; the iron- | mongers 10,000 acres and the grocers 10,000 acres. It is not, therefore, any exaggeration to say that of the $108, 000,000 which is annual Irish rental, at least 860,000,000 is spent out of the coun try; and where, ns in the case of lre- | land, the country is not wealthy, and | has no other industry except agricul- ture, this state of things, until remedied, will be productive of want and misery, Omens in India. Among other bad omens in India may | be mentioned a snake or jackal crossing one's path; hearing a person cry when you are going anywhere; the cawing of a crow, and the crying of a kite; a oat crossing one's path, and the seeing an empty pitcher. As compared with the bad, there are but few good omens. Aicong these may be mentioned the fol- lowing: The meeting of a dead body being carried away, and no one crying with it: seeing a pitcher with a rope attached to it, or a Brahman carrying a jug of holy water from the Ganges; a PE oreeping up one's body; hearing a bride ory when she is leaving her parents and going to live with her hus- band ; hearing the bell of a temple strike, or a trumpet sound when one is setting out on a journey; a crow perched on a dead body float ng down the river, and fox eroising one's path, He Had Beento a Fair, A gentleman was going home at a late hour recently when he was sudden confronted by a footpad, who, wit pistol pointed at his head, demanded his money. The gentleman assured the fellow that he had no money—that he had “been to a fair.” Before he could say more the rascal dropped his pistol, put it in his pocket, and presently took out his wallet, and crush ng something into the citizen's hand, said, in griel- broken accents, as he turned on his heel : “Been t+ a fair! Poor fellow! take that —1 wish it was more.” He was soon lost in the night. Upon approaching a street-lamp the gentleman round that the miscereant had given him a $10 bill. of his betrothed he, too, poisons him- self, me with any of their tales of horror I"— Detroit Free Verily, one touch of nature makes the whole world kin, message of love to his wife Sarah + Or that other husband who, going in the dark in early morning to that same colliery, in deep depression of spirit, which he could not account for but only felt, turned back to kiss unce more with tenderness his wife and children and then resumed his walk to the pit, which in two short hours became his once in this case, their fate hung in the balance many days, during which our kind-hearted queen constantly tele. graphed inquiries about the possibility of saving the men's lives, Do you want to know what sort of fathers some of these men aref Remember the man who, escaping with his boy and a comrade only this ear (I think it was in the Seaham col. liery after the explosion), found the boy unable to go any farther; I think he was insensible. They could not carry him, and the boy's father was urged by his comrade, who did eseape, to come along with him. What was the father's reply? * Nay,” be said, ‘ooking at the insensible boy, ** I'll bide with the lad.” were found after many days lying side When the Edmunds Main explosion of poor women, there was a doubt, as there often is, whether all the men and boys in the pit had beer killed; there was & hope, very faint indeed but stills still alive in the pit; there was immi. nent risk of a second explosion which might occur at any moment, and the peril of going down ther was simply awful. Still some men might yet be then alive below. What happened ? Volunteers offered themse. ves to go down: the neecful number were select- ed (I think seven men); they took their lives in their hands, quite unconscious their moral attitude was simply that of #0 many others; they went down on their errand of mercy, and in a short time these men (whose names even were nos given to the published accounts, so littie surprising did their conduct ap- pear to those who kvew colliers) were added to the list ot the sisin, for the dreaded explosion occurred; and now, elas! thers was no longer room to doubt dead . Take another instance. When the ‘ast dresdiul explosion took piace a the Onks colliery, near Barnsly, which also killed two hundred men and boys, if 1 remember rightly. [ went tirre immediately, and what had happened? My iriend Parkin Jeffoock. mining en- gineer, had been sent for after the first explosion had occurrd; it was one of extraordinary violence and had com- pletely destroyed the head gear, and they were in momentary expeotation of a second, as it is clear that the first had utterly deranged the ventilation; but here aiso the hope was clung to that some of the men might still be alive in the pit and, after most anxious oonsid- eration, it was decided to incur the awful peril of descending the other shaft to sce if it were happily so (scores upon soores of men’s lives have been saved by these heroic darings of peril.) When the decision was taken, Mr. Jeffcock gaid: “1 want eight men to go down with me; volunteers, stand forward.” At once not eight but fifteen men stepped out from the crowd; they then picked out and rejected the seven men who had the largest families, and bad to employ the police to put them back into the crowd, out of dans ger, lest the dreaded explosion should come even while they were getting ready to go down; and Mr. Jeffoock and Lis eight companions (heroes every one of them—and this they would equall have been had they all returned Ie got ready and went down. They had pot been down long before another ex. piosion took place, and they, too, were numbered with the dead. Not Equal to the Emergency, He looked a bit hard up, but he had a pleasant face and smooth address as he walked into the office of a railroad run- ning West and asked for the superinten- dent. Whe. conducted to that official's desk he began: “1 want the favor of a pass to Buf- “ Can't have it,” was the prompt re- 5 I expected that answer, and am pre- pared for it. 1did not come here with a tale of woe. I have not been robbed ™ “Not” “Not a rob, Idid not lose my none} I am not obliged to rush I am not a cone and die among his friends. All these pleas are old.” : “ Yes, very old and thin.” “ And yet | want a pass to Buffalo, I feel that 1 bave a right to ask it.” “On what grounds” “This morning I saved the lifeof a passenger on one of your transfer boats. He was a big, red-w\iskered man named Clark. Had hie gone overboard it would aave cost you perhaps $50,000 to settle the claim.” “Clark? Big man with red whiskers? Wretehed man, you know aot what you did! Tiat's the man who has already it a claim for $20,000 ainst us for Benking his leg. If you had only let him gone overboard you could have settled with his heirs for less than a quarter of the amount. Go oul—go away. You have taken thousands of dollars ont of our pockets by your med- dlesome act.” The beat walked out without a word, but as he reached the door he was heard to grumble: “1 thought I was the best liar on the Atlantic coast, but I might as well han, gp from this deal ."— Wall Street Daily ews. Bound to Get the Corn, A high-spirited gelding, belonging to a tleman living near ton, was driven without blinders, and a short time since leit standing at the door of his owner's house, harne to a cov- ered wagon. A patch of corn was a few yards off, in front of him, and between the corn and the horse was aclothesline strung three times a°ross on posts. He started forthe corn, and went under the line himself, but the cover of the wagon struck the line; he backed at onee, and first tried to bite the line off, but not succeeding, pulled again tiil the first line snapped, and repeating the opera- tion, broke the second line, when a neighbor, who was watching him, in- terrupted the fun ITEMS OF INTEREST. The English postoffice service has ordered 20,000 telephones for the postal department, Mr. Frank Henry, the lighthouse keeper at Erle, Pa., is the father of four pair of twins, A hollow tree on Puget Bound has been cut off forty feet from the ground and made into a church, In the last useal year the United States has extended its mail routes 87.177 miles, and the cost was increased $9,953, 397, There were 1,000 disasters on the great lakes last year, involving the loss of more lives than for several years past. Great Britain and Ireland have $2,~ 800,000,000 employed in railway under. takings; America has $10,000.000,000 employed; Germany, $1,0000%0,000; and France $1,200,000,000, : Germany's minister of the interior has ordered the loeal authorities throughout the sountry to prepare de- tailed annual reports of the number of persons arrested for drunkenness, “ Where do we all stand P” asked » lawyer the other day in a speech on court business. * Lawyers general! lie where they stand,” growled ano profession} who had just been excused rom the jury. : It is found that letters, spots and colors are perceived at a much greater distance through the medium of elec- trie light than by day or gaslight. The seneation of yeilow is increased sixty fold compared to daylight, of red six fold, and of green and blue about two fo! A section of land a unrtes of 1 mile long slid down into the Thompson river, British Columbia, damning the stream and forming a lake three miles A Many houses and farms were Submerged. The bed of the river below the landslide was dry, except in little pools, where salmon were caught in great numbers, In the course of two days the river made a channel around the slide and grad. uslly woreit away. Now doth the small boy take his chubby little sister by the hand and wander forth in search of the frozen ice patch in the meadow, and passeth the afternoon's sunshine in “rawing her over the slippery surface on his new hand-sled. The above is a lie. You can neither hire nor drive a small hoy into drawing his sisteron a sled, cold, and be sick all winver.— New Haven Register. Some of the wasting waters of Paris, which were formerly run into the city sewers, are now collected in casks, and, the suds being subjected to chemical treatment, the fatty matters are msnu- factured into toilet sosp, made fragrant by the addition of oil of roses. Accord- ing to this process a little sulphuric acid is added to the soap water obtained from washing linen, the whole is then stirred up, and the fatty matteris al lowed to stand for a few hours when, on its collecting upon the surface of the liquid, it is gathered in casks. sreaiet Hila tage in most onses Saved by a Deg. A recent fire in Chicago is worthy of | further mention on account of the con- duct of a dos. The only occupants of the building were T. E. Lincoln, manu. facturer of boots and shoes, his wife, and their faithful dog Jack. The dog dis. covered the fire, broke his chain, and | making for the door where Mr. and Mrs. | furiously. Finally, bursting open the door, Lincoln was swakened by the animal#cking his hand. The room was full of smoke, and esc by the stair- way was cut off. Opening the window Mr. Lincoln saw a fireman below, and threw him his pockei~book, containing $103, with business papers and in- surance, pisced his wife outside on the ledge, and climbed out himself, hanging ona swinging sign fully twenty minutes | before the firemen could get a iad ler up | to rescue them. A whol” window i fell on him, cutting his hands and face. | Both Mr. snd Mrs. Lincoln were badly scorched by the flames shooting out of a window. The dog was also saved, but was badly burned. » es —— A Railroad em lce A railroad has been built on ice in Rus- sin. Cronstadt is five miles from the coast and eight trom the capital. In the sum- mer communication is easily aod cheaply maintained by means of steam- ers, but when the Gulf of Finlsnd be- comes coated with ice, Cronstadt has to depend for transport to and from the island upon a number of rough little sledges. never trustworthy and always dear. Tbe inconvenience of this system led the Baltic railway company to ob tain permission of the government to throw a light line of rails across the ice to the island. The undertaking was not beset with any serious obstacles, and it was successfully accomplished in eight or nine days. As soon ns the ice was reported sulislently tong by the en- ginecrs, gangs of laborers to iay down sleepers on the fist frozen sur- face, freezing them into position by means ol a few buckets of water. The rails were then fixed on, and light trains conveyed passengers and goods direct to their destination. i ————————— A Boy's Battle with Indians. Freeman A. Ray, a boy only nineteen years old, died at Denver, Col., irom the effects of a bullet wound in the head inflicted some fifteen months before. One day in September, 1879, young Ray, who was Swiloyed on acat- tie ranch aout forty-five miles north of the White River agency, was attacked by a band of twenty Indians and was driven for shelter to a large wagon. Here he mainiained his posi single hanced agains: the Indians, but his ammunition finally gave out and while uhiempting to get more he fell pierced with two bullets. He succeeded in get- ting his ammunition, however, and from behind a breastwork of bags of flour and beans he maintained the unequal o-n- test until the Indians gave up the fight in disgust. As they leit they fired a final volley, one of the rifle balls strik- ing young Ray in the righteyeand com- ing out under he left ear. e 80 farre covered from his wounds that in July last he was giving charge of the Union stock yards at Denver. All's Well That Ends Well, Near Paris a peasant girl was deserted by her lover. who had promised to marry her. Some time e called and tound her washing clothes in the garden, near a well. hey had been chatting a while, when suddenly thegirl ss if by accident Sropped a cloth in the well, and exhibi great grief over the loss of it. Her compan: ion volunteered to lean over in the well and fish the garment out; but while he was 80 engaged the girl caught him by the legs and threw him in. In reply to his cries she told him if he would Promise to marry her she im out. He promised, but no sooner was he out than he brought a suit agafnst her for trying to murder him. Then at last he withdrew it and mar- ried her. Bees on a Journey. Recently four colonies of hees were shinped from California for New Zea. land. Each of the boxes in which they were to make their long journey was provided with an attachment at one side carrying a sponge, by means of which tbe bees were to be supplied with fresh water daily and the atmosphere of the hive kept suffisjenyy | humid. Ven- with wire oth mad ted nee sliding doors, and a wire covered was attached to each hive for a cooling- lace for the bees in case the interior of the hive becomes too warm. prosess, g Tht eh g 8 § g B z Hi] ili ® x i : i i B E said f bain ii
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers