Why the Slippers were Never Fuished.
The lilies grew beneath her hand
On slippers that are ssen no more!
Their race of usefulness is o'er!
They're buried under time's dark sand,
And nothing can their life restore,
As when in young love's flowery land,
The lilies grew beneath hor hand
On slippers that are seen no more!
They would-—if finished have been grand!
But she became my wife before
They were half done! vou understand
How, then-—shough now the work's a bore!
The lilies grew beneath her hand
On slippers that are seen ho more!
Washington Nar,
Grandfather Snow,
Grandfather Snow came down, one day,
And what do you think ?
And what do you think ?
He's as old as the hills, but his heart in gay,
And over the country he sped away.
His hair was as white as & cotton ball;
And what do you think ?
And what do you think ?
He gayly pranced over the highest wall,
For his dear old logs weren't stiff at all.
Wherever he went ho raised a breeze ;
And what de you think ?
And what do you think ?
He climbed to the tops of the tallest trees,
As cool sand nimble a8 ever you please !
A train went thundering over the ground,
And what do you think ?
And what do you think ¥
Old Granther after it went with a bound
Sly old fellow ! he made no sound,
He caught the cars, and he held on tight;
And what do you think ¥
And what do you think ?
The train had to stop in the road all night,
And couldn't go on till broad daylight !
Old as he was, he stayed ont late!
And what do you think §
And whai do vou think ?
He sat on the posts of th
the door-yard gate
And danced on the fence at a high old rate!
But the children cheered for Grandfather still ;
And what do you think #
And what do you think ?
He spread himself out on the top of a hill,
And they all coasted down on his back witha
will |
He was none too oll for a grand go-bang
And what do you think ¥
And what do vou think ?
To the tops of the highest roofs he sprang,
And down on the people hs
s3i
1 witha whang
He had no manners, "tis sad to say !
<= And what do you thiuk ?
And what do you think ?
For a chap like him to gut in the way,
And trip up people by night and day?
But his heart was white and pare within:
Now what do von think
Now what do you think ?
To be glad snd jolly §
For a long-faced Granther I care not a pi
DOTEr & 30,
4]
We none of us know what we should do:
Now what do you think ?
Now what do you think ?
If we only came down for a month: or two,
And conldn't stay here the whole vear through.
Corlherine 8 Halberg.
OUR TROUBLES.
I.
Jack and I had been married a year
before we went to housekeeping. People
say that the first year of marned liie is
the most trying. All I ean say is that
we did not find it so. We never had a
word of serious difference so long as we
boarded, but almost as soon as we were
settled in our tiny, pretty house, our
troubles began.
Jack and I have never been quite able
to decide when our unpleasantness com-
menced. He pnts the date of it in June,
when Lettice Green went to Europe,
and left me her canaries as a parting gift
—two of the loveliest little vellow and
green darlings that ever were seen. That
is quite absurd, though. The real trouble
began a month later, when he himself
brought home the great, clumsy, blun-
dering Newfoundland pup, which was
the pest of the house for many a long
day.
It wasn't so bad at first. Jack only
laughed when hesaw the canaries, and
said: * Why, Madge, little woman, you'll
have your hands full now, if you never
did before”
* Nonsense I” I said ; “it's nothing to
take care of a pair of birds.” But Jack
only laughed.
Such darlings as those birds were! 1
can’t say that they ever learned to know
me—not really, you know. They flut-
tered just as much and were just as hard
to catch the last day that I let them out
of their cage as they were the first.
That was one of the things that Jack ob-
jected to-—my letting them ont of their
cage, L mean. Jack wrote, you see—for
the press, I mean-—and the back parlor,
which was also his study, was the only
place where I conld keep the birds.
* Really, Madge,” said Jack one day,
“I wish yon could find some other
place to keep those birds, or else I wish
you would not let them out of their cage.
Their favorite promenade is my desk,
and I never can find a paver that I want
after they have been rooting about
there.”
“ But, Jack,” I said, “they must have |
their morning fly, poor little dears, and |
I have always let them have it while you
are taking your constitutional, so that
they need not distwrb vou. If you
would rather have me let them out while
you're at home, though"
“Thanks, not any,” said Jack. “It's
bad enough to see the results, withont
having them flopping down bodily npon
my head. Never mind. I'll be careful
to leave my inkstand uncovered, and
they'll be drinking the ink some dav,
and that will be the end of them.”
“Jack, you are very unkind,” I said:
but Jack only langhed, and went out of
the room. 1 was always careful to see |
taat the inkstand was covered after that,
though.
It was soon after that that he brought
home his dog. I never shall forget that
day. He knows that I never could bear
dogs. I am afraid of them, horribly
afraid, and I never thought he would be
so cruel as to bring one of the great
blundering things home to scare me out |
of my poor little wits. !
* Here, } e,” he said, as he came
in, leading the thing. “As vou are so |
fond of pets, I have bronght you one |
worth having.” z
Then the thing rushed at me, with its
great red month wide open, and its white
teeth shining, and its eyes glaring, and
before I knew it, the two big hairy paws
were on my shoulders, and the frightful
face close inst mine,
“Jack!” I sereamed—* oh, Jack!
take him off, or I shall die.”
Jack laughed, and caught the creature
by his collar and pull im away.
““ Why, bless your heart, e¢!” he
said, “the dog won't hurt you. He is
only a pup—nine months old to a day—
and as full of affection as he can stick.
He only wanted to make friends with
you.
“ But I don’t want to be made friends
with in that fashion,” I said, as well as
I could speak for erying.
Jack laughed, and caressed me, and |
apologized ; but it was then that our
troubles began, for all that.
What a nuisance that dog ‘was no one
who has not brought up a Newfoundland
up can imagine. Now it was one of
the best table-cloths, net only pulled
off, but torn into rags; or my lace set—
Aunt Clarice’s wedding present—which
had been laid out to bleach, had disap-
peared bodily, all but a fluttering end
which hung out of Hero's mouth as he
careered about the yard; or it was one
of Jack's dress boots chewed to a pulp,
and grave shogh Master Jack looked
that time. I only wished his i
had suffered oftener; but he
wok precious good care to keep them
out of the way. 2
poor
i
i
VOLUME X1V.
HE
HALL, CENTR
E CO., PA.
MARCH
1881.
i Pp: A WI
vaso
Ee
I HR A
SH
ES
NUMBER 10.
Mr. Philip Phelps, and I an aunt, Clar
ee Yehon, both of whom had de
»clared their intention of leaving us their
respective heirs. Aunt Clarice was a
childless widow, and Unele Philip a
bachelor. Both of them were peculiar
in their way, and full of whims and
“fads” We had never been able to en
tertain them hitherto, but as soon as we
ware settled in our own house each of
them had promised us & visit. It was
time for Uncle Philip's arrival soon after
Jack brought home that wretched dog
Uncle Philip had always seemed very
fond of me, and I resolved to appeal to
him privately to induce Jack to banish
the horrid thing from the house
Uncle Philip was stout aad rubicund,
with a bald pink head fringed with white
hair, and a laughing blue eye—two of
them, in fact. Unluckily formy private
plans, he took most kindly to Hero from
the first ; and as I watched the softening
of his eye over the pup's clumsy gam
bols, 1 realized that any attempt to in
fluence him as 1 desired wounkl be ut
torly in vain. We were all collected in
the back parlor on the night of his a
rival, he sitting in a large easy-chair in
the window. He was just giving us a
graphic description of a recent visit to
New Mexico, when he started, and clap
ped his hand to his head, with a sudden
ejaculation,
“1 thought you told me vou had no
mosquitoes here,” he said, with a puz
zled air.
Neither had we, as Jack and 1 both
assured him, and after a moment he took
ap the thread of his narmtive. Crack!
another slap at his bald head, and an
other break in his tale. Omack! crack!
erack !
“What do you mean by denying
mosquitoes *' he cried, indignanty. “1
know that mosquitoes and malaria are
fwo things that the inhabitants of a
swamp will never confess to; but I
thought that you two were above such
weaknesses.”
Our earnest, ‘‘ But, indeed, dear
uncle,” was suddenly interrupted by a
sudden flutter of wings, and a douche
of cold water exactly on the center of
Uncle Philip's head. Jack sprang to
his feet.
“It's those beastly birds, Madge,”
he said. *‘‘ They've been chucking their
seeds at Uncle Philip, and now they've
finished up with a shower-bath. Tak-
ing their bath in their drinking-cup,
too, the little brutes! It's too bad. 1
vow I”
Uncle Philip was silent, but his face,
as he glared at the cage overhead, was a
study. I apologized, eagerly, abjectly,
and, 1 hoped, to some purpese. Then we
adjourned to the front parlor. and
finished the evening quietly.
Uncle Philip was up bright and early
the next morming. I was surprised to
find him in the dining-room when I went
down, before the bell rang, to see that
the table was properly set. Hero was
beside him, blinking np with his great
stupid eyes, one big paw laid upon Uncle
Philip's knee, and his red tongue lolling
out idiotieally. Uncle Philip greeted me
affectionately, though, I fancied, with
rather an air of constraint.
“Did you sleep well, Uncle Philip #
I asked. Unele Philip hesitated.
“It was quiet enough most of the
night,” he said, “but I was somewhat
disturbed toward morning.”
“Not used to the city noises? I
asked ; but Jack, who had come in be-
hind me, laughed.
“ Nonsense, Madge I” he said.
forget that Unele Philip lives in Chi-
cago, which is not exactly country. It
was all those binds of yours agin.
Unele Philip's room is directly over my
study, and the things tamed up at dav-
light, as usual. Nobody oula sleep in
sach a confounded racket. Now con-
fess, Unele Philip. was not that the
trouble ¥
“Why, Jack!” I said, half-erving.
“It is too bad of you. The little dar-
lings couldn't disturb anvbody with
their singing, and you know there is
not another window in the house where
they ean hang. Uncle Philip's is the
only other east room, and they must
have the morning sun.”
“Oh, pray don’t disturb vour arrange-
ments on my acconnt,” said Uncle
Philip, rather grimly. “No doubt I
shall get nsed to it in the course of
time.”
Just here Hero made a diversion by
an unexpected and successful spring at
the chop on Jack's plate, wi h which he
vanished through the back door, while
Uncle Philip and Jack laughed and ap-
planded.
Uncle Philip stayed with us less than
a week, growing daily more silent and
testy. When, on the fifth day, he an-
nounced his intention of leaving us, I
could not feel deeply grieved; but Jack
WARS.
“It is all very well for youn,” he said.
* Uncle Philip is no relation of yours,
and you have no old claims of affection
and kinship pulling at you. It is not
his money, as yon very well know, but
hie is the last one of my mother's family
left, and to have him driven out of his
nephew's house by those ridienlons pets
of yours— well, it's hard, and no mis-
take.”
“ Nonsense, Jack! The birds have
nothing to do with it,” I said; but Jack
shrugged his shoulders.
“All right,” he said; ‘‘ but a man of
Uncle Philip's age and habits can't stand
being wakened at daylight every morn-
ing, and disturbed at all hours of the
day and night besides.”
“I don’t disturb him,” 1 said.
“You do,” said Jack. “You spend
your whole time prancing up and down
stairs, opening and shutting the window
just below his room, because you fancy
that those blessed birds are dying of too
much or too little air.”
“ But Jack,” 1 said * the poor little
things are sitting, and they need con-
stant care. Youn wouldn't have me let
them die, would you?”
“I'd have yon consider the comfort of
“You
said Jack. ‘‘ However, the thing is done
now. Nothing would induce Uncle
Philip to spend another night here. He
has business to attend to in the city,
hough, and has taken board in Nintht
street for a few weeks.”
course, but I really could not feel very
unhappy at losing a guest so utterly
unfeeling and inconsiderate. Besides,
ceive her, and she could now come as
soon as she felt inclined.
It was the very day after Uncle
Philip left that I found Jou-jou, the
female bird, lying dead upon he floor.
it indignantly.
“I'm not such a brute as you seem
to think, Madge,” he said.
feather © of then
though,” as
point of his penknife something that
lodged in the beak. * Here is
what did the mischief. Stolén from
my desk, too, by Jove! A clear case
of Foetie justice,” X
At was a tiny bit of red wafer which
he held out for me to examine, and of
course I had to acknowledge that it had
alone caused the catastrophe. I buried
my little pet mournfully, and thought
tails. T.ook here,
Jack and I were
% * 3 :
0 bringing another to replace her, but
Jack put his veto upon any such pro
ceading.
“Bat, Jack,” I said,” * Bijou will die
of loneliness.”
“Let him," sald Jack, savagely, and
that was all
Well, Bijou didn't die of loneliness
Un the contrary, after reflecting on the
situation |
heart, and launched himself into sueh a
than ever Not
melancholy sight of the nestful of col
little hinesh speckled eggs seemed to
more frantic even the
dash his gavety in the least
the truth, I was slightly
(thongh 1 would died
would have told Jack so), for,
disgusted
have
try
that triumphant, rollicking, gurgling
song bore the slightest resemblance to a
wall of despair
Wesaw Uncle Philip tolerably often,
though he no longer staid with us
noticed, however, that could
difficulty be persuaded to enter the back
parlor Even the Bijou's
singing, which penetrated the closed
doors, made him start and wince in a
manner which was simply absurd, thongh
he never said anything
he
sound of
il
We were in daily expectation of Aunt
Clarice’s arrival, the date of which was
not quite certain, as she was staying with
friends who continually urged her t
prolong her visit. After the day for her
coming to us had been three times fixed
iO
mind not to expect her until I saw her.
Consequently i had dismissed all
thoughts of her from my mind
$384
when Jane came up to tell me that a lady
was in the parlor, who declined to send
up her name,
“An doubt, :
agent, no
to shut up Bijou, in any case.”
So I sewed on tranguilly until 1 had
finished the piece of work on which I
was engaged, and then ran downstairs,
humming a blithe little tune as I went.
I never finished that tune, though; for
hall was Anat Clarice. Yes, Aunt Clar-
we, sitting demmrely in the hall chair,
npon her face. On the contrary, it was
a much agitated and disheveled Aunt
Clarice upon whom I locked—an Aunt
Clarice who appeared equally divided
met my astonished gaze with one full of
wrathful meaning
“ Dear Aunt Clarice
ever dreamed of
ened. Who
enough to take you there? That girl's
blunders are really bevond anything.’
“ Don't scold the girl.” said Aunt Cla
rice, grimly: “it's not her fault. She
they can hardly expect their friends to
stay in them.”
“ Menageries |
Dear Anant Clarice,” 1
poor Bijou too. You're as bad as Uncle
Philip.”
Aunt Clarice turned slightly red. “1
that's your idea of a bijou,” she said,” 1
have no more to say;" and she began to
gather up her belongings as if she medi.
tated instant flight
“But dear Annt Clarice,” 1
“don't be so frightened! I was just go-
ing to shut him up, for he has been out
quite long enough” (* I should think so”
said Aunt Clarice). “ But I never knew
that you minded birds so much.”
“ Birds I" said Aunt Clarice, with an in-
deseribable intonation. “But |
mind birds very much
this; birds that walk on four legs and
wag their tails and make grabs at vour
ankles.”
““Annt Clarice,” I eried, “it's Hero
that you mean—Jack’s great, horrid dog.
Do you mean to say that he is in the
parlor ? Oh dear! what shall I do?
Jack says that there is no harm in him,
but he always dances and grins at us so
How shall we ever got him ont, {om
neither Jane nor I dare touch him #7
Aunt Clarice had relaxed slightly
when she found that I had nothing to do
with Hero's presence in the parlor, and
now she began to laugh.
“* Don't trouble yourself about getting
lim out,” she said. “He is safe enough
there, for I shut the door upon him. He
eried,
or
soon as 1 was left quite alone and un.
protected, he flonndered out from under
the very sofa that I was sitting npon,
and ‘ daneed and grinned’ at me, until 1
fairly took to my heels.
stairs and take my things eff.”
Jack only laughed when I complained
in.
It was mther curious, I thought, that
{since Aunt Clarice had left us
{ abruptly we had seen nothing either of
| her or of Unele Philip, although more
than a week had passed, Aunt Clarice
was always out—or so the servants said
| when I called; and as for her, she had
never once crossed our threshold sinee
that unlucky day
I was just exprossing my feelings
upon the subject to Jack, with Bijou
{ hopping about the carpet at my feet,
i when the mug and Jane
brought in the morning's mail. Ther
BO
doorbell
| was only one letter, and that I saw in a
| moment to be from Aunt Clarice.
“High time, 1 think!” I said, as I
tore it open. Then, in another mo
ment, and with a shriek, “Jack, look
bere!
This 1s what Jack looked at
“My pear Mapae—1 have not seen
you for the last week bacause I was try-
mg to make up my minds whether or
not to be an old and in such cases
{ the fewer witnesses one has, the better
I've decided at last, whether for better
be seen Per.
haps you know that Jack's Uncle Philip
fool,
ing-—-now and all Well, the long and
E
short of it is that we have made up our
“That is all at present from
“ Your attached aunt,
“Cranice Vavanan,'
Pp If Master Jack and you hadn't
seen fit to turn your house into a me
garie, i would't have happened. A
~
t
§
I was orving by the time Jack had
grave, though there was a most « LASPE-
* Good-bye to
woman,” he said.
“Oh, Jack! Jack! I “ And
to think it was all the doing of that hate-
on r fortunes,
Criea
“Not ut all” said Jack: my dog
hadn't half as much to do with it as your
birds. If they hadn't driven Uncle
out of the house, there would
or Aunt Clarice,
and in that case they might never have
have been no room in it f
“ Nonsense i
“If it hadn't
wonld
orted, indignantly
been for the dog, Aunt
hay e been here safe and
I've a great mind
Jack suddenly grew vervstern. “If
hug he said
I had never seen Jack look so RUOETY,
1g hike a and
inute I stopped short abso
But before I conld
speak there was a hasty the
rushed into
the room. Bijou lifted his head and
fluttered his wings, but he was too late
In another instant Hero had
npon the tempting plaything
Youd
WaE a stmngied
ir anythin y angry, before
1
fOr one m
| " . 3
inte terror; then
scuffle on
ponnesd
There
squeak, an agonized
ir Bijou had disappeared
he gaping red throat, and
kick conval
aming from
gasp, and po
; bodily down :
{ Hero was o
| sively, while 1
ine
us back, ing
rushed ser
the room
Of course Jack and 1 * embraced with
tears,” after the double tragedy . Neither
fof us uld acense the othe YOu see,
for if his pet had killed mine, mine had
proved equally fatal to his hen and
there we forswore all futnre division of
interests, whether in the shape of peta
oO
or anything els
Unele Philip aud Am
proved to be the most ch
tented of
it Clarice Phi 1p
heerful and con
It seems that
it 15 an old love affair Jack knew of it
all along, which was the reason of his
profane laughter when he found that
they had established themselves in the
same hon They were engaged when
i both were yonng, but quarreled. Aunt
Clarice married Mr. Vaughan out of
| pique, while Unele Philip remained a
| bachelor for her sweet sake
| We are thoroughly reconciled ne
and stranger things have happened than
that we should be their heirs after all
Harper's Baza
————— ———————— i —
2 3 ani mn i
SIAeriv « OuUpies,
i
Ww,
An Important Invention,
Among the new ideas creeping into
i commercial life, SAYS A New York letter,
| there is one which is being silently but
| fiercely combated. I allude to a curious
{ but important invention which will ere
{ long come prominently before the pub.
{ He. It is called neptunite, and was in-
| vented two or three years ago by a man
{ named Lamb, a timid person who hardly
i appreciated its immense possibilities.
to him of Hero's escapade, said that ns | Chance threw it in the way of a party of
my pet had the run of his study it was | gentlemen, who immediately purchased
only fair that his should have the run of | 15 organized a COIDANY AR proceeded
the rest of the house. He positively re- | 10 manufacture it on a large scale. The
fused to chain him, or even to keep him i greatest of the world’s inventions have
to do, if only on Aunt Clarice’s account.
had their turn ; it is time that vours
took their share now.”
Of conrse when Hero hind once found
his way upstairs, there was an end of
everything. Nothing would induce him
to stay down after that. It is my belief
that he had found out some way of
worming himself through kevholes, for
no amount of locking and barring would
keep him out. The worst of it was he
took a violent liking to Aunt Clarice.
Or rather I am inclined to think that
he found her irresistibly teasable,
and was deep and artful enough to pre
tend a firm confidence in her fondness
and admiration for him. At all events,
wherever Aunt Clarice was, Hero was
sure to be somewhere near. If she sat
down upon a sofa Hero wriggled out
from under it; if she entered a room
Hero bounced at her from behind the
door; nay, he even secreted himself
under her bed at night, for the ex-
press purpose of coming out in the
small hours and wakening her by the
contact of his cold nose and his warm
wet tongue. After she had twice aronsed
the whole household by her wild shrieks
at these uncanny visits, Aunt Clarice
mildly but firmly announced her deter-
mination.
“My dear Madge,” she said, “1 am
very fond of you; I am fond of Jack,
too; but really a man who keeps such a
wild beast about his house is fit only
for Bedlam. I can't expect you to turn
him out for me, so I have decided to
turn myself ont for him. I am not
quite ready to go home yet, so 1 have
taken board for a few weeks where I
' shall be guite comfortable.”
Jack only laughed, and said, ““ Tit for
tat,” when he heard of Aunt Clarice's
departure. He laughed still more when,
on comparing notes, we found that she
| and Unele Philip were inhabitants of the
same boarding-house in Ninth street-—a
curious coincidence, certainly, but not
worth going into hysterics about. It
really seemed as if Jack would never get
{over it. Every now and then, during
| the whole evening, he would suddenly
| throw himself back, kick up his heels in
the most undignified manner, and roar.
| When I asked him his reason for such
| behavior, he would say only, “ Uncle
| Philip and Aunt Clarice!—ho! ho! ho!”
| And Hy days the mention of either name
| wonld bring a most absnrd and diaboli-
: eal grin to his face, which was a hand-
| some enongh one in general.
| been preceded by a series of more or
It was so
with steam, electricity and a host of
j others, This idea of a * water repel.
| lant,” for such it is, has had a precursor
in the manifold forms of mildew-proof-
ing. It is in itself used for the same
purpose, though its greatest nsefulness
engages quite another field. Ttis chiefly
applicable to dry goods and dress goods,
rendering all objects * treated,” as the
expression is, impervious to dampness
without any perceptible change in the
texture.
Velvets, silks, satins, plushes, cotton,
woolen and linen fabrics, laces, fringes
ganzy stuffs, silk hats, ribbons, gloves,
shoes, false hair, and a quantity of heav-
ier goods, such as hose, saddlery, leather
in all forms, and many other things may
all be passed through this magic solu-
tion. Silk becomes a little heavier
under treatment, a dollar silk emerging
with the luster and weight of a piece
worth double the money. The colors
of the most delicate evening stuffs are
absolutely unchanged, while they re-
ceive properties which enable the
wearer to look with indifference ata
{ less valuable experiments,
§
down the front. I have seen a hose-
some black silk and velvet walking-
dress for five minutes without leaving a
drop of water on its surface.
had already borne frequent tests, passed
under the same shower and eame forth
as dry as the Israclites from the Red
sea. It was covered with ostrich
plumes, not one of which uncurled or
showed the least trace of having been
wet. So on through twenty or thirty
different pieces with the same result,
Manufacturers flocked to see it, but re-
fused to make contracts with the com-
pany because the increased durability
of dress stuffs submitted to this process
would ‘diminish the demand one-third,
the same ground, though the cost of
treatment per yard was but a few cents,
This opposition has decided the owners
within the last momth to open large
treating works in town, where they can
reach the public directly, and where
everything, at wholesale or retail, ean
be sent.
We should no niore lament that we
have grown old than the husbandman,
when the bloom and ce of spring
have passed away, should lament that
summer or autumn has come,
GENERALLY NOT KNOWN,
They eat monkey-cutlets in Brazil,
Opiom kills 8,000,000 Chinese every
vear; so the missionaries say
A race horse when galloping clears
about twenty-four feet at a bound
It is scarcely known that such is the
case, but whales and seals suckle their
young
Three thousand grains of oats have
been produced from planting one single
oat
Ancient Rhodes was adorned with
1,000 colossal bronze statues, The ques-
tion is what has become of the metal ?
Butter was first manufactured by the
Sevthians and Thracians, and was at
first used as an ointment for baths, and
as a medicine.
I'he land that has been granted by
the United States for rail and wagon
to 198,165,794 acres, or
to th Blates of
Iowa, Kansas and
wis amounts
0 al
mili
IRON,
nnesota
i
an Ava five
Indiana,
Mi
The spoken language of China so dif.
fers in every separate province that peo
ple living a hundred miles apart can no
more understand each other than a Noy
wegian can understand a Hottentot, The
Mandarin or court language is more
common than any other dialeet, and is
the official tongue of the empire
cold
The average
I'he average of heat and Varies
but Little from year to Yoar
!
|
an extreme of the change within five
vears. The average of the lowest daily
record for the year 1870 was forty-one
quarter, representing the extremes on
that side
According to the best authorities the
quantity of salt contained in the sea
amounts to 400,000,000 000,000 cubic
feet, which if placed in a pile, would
form a mass 140 miles long, WS many
broad, and as many high; or, otherwise
disposed, would cover the Ww hale of En
rope—islands, seas and all-to the
height of the summit of Mount Blane,
whieh is about 16,000 feet high
I ——
Loafers of Many Lands,
FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD
The Cabbage ¥Fiy,
W. R. Lazenby, of Cornell univer
sity, says: We kept the larvm of the
cabbage butterfly in check by applying
a solution of whale-oil soap. This
proved a better remedy than earbolic
acid, copperas water, ammonia, cay
énne pepper, tobacco water, Beoteh
snufl, tar water and several other things
that have from time to time been recom-
mended, The method of applying the
whale-oil solution was as follows: A bar-
rel of water was placed where it wonld
be convenient, to which the soap was
added, at the rate of one pound
to. every eight gallons of water.
The soap gradually dissolved,
the solntion was ready
use after a few days,
effects,
a fine rose, just enough of the solution
being used to wet the whole surface of
the leaves,
made during the season, care being taken
that the last be at least ten davs or two
weeks previons to the time of harvesting
the cabbages. After an experience of
three during which time this
remady has been used in a great variety
of forms, 1 ean recommend
soap as one of the safest and
cient insecticides kaown.
YORIs,
most effi-
Huising Celery.
This delicious and wholesome vege.
raise it. A correspondent of the New
raising it. He savas: Celery de
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off * the
the fol
Burlington Hawkeye, * takes
loungers at railroad stations in
lowing breezy manner
“There ix our friend the loafer,”
said the tall thin passenger, as the train
halted ata way station ; “an old so-
quaintance, he is, the loafer who is
is never the same color or material as
his shirt.”
“And the loafer, vou remember”
said the fat passenger, * who always
woars a hlack frock coat and jeans over
alls, 50 that you can't tell whether he is
going to a dance or to work.”
“And the loafer who always, summer
and winter,” said the man on the wood
box, * wears a plush cap with ear flaps,
skill, and more labor than any other
crop. The land should have been tilled
with some hoed crops for at least two
it has been very heavily manured, and
kept free from weeds, it will be in pretty
good order. Celery requires heavy man-
uring to do well, and it is a good plan to
plow in coarse manure in the fall as a
preparation for the crop, but if the
manure must be applied in spring, it
should be worked very fine and mixed
thoroughly with the soil in the rows where
It is some-
times grown second crop, after
Bas =»
carly ns possible in April, and when
as the onion seed is sown. As celery
of preparation to make the land fine
As weads of all sorts grow so very
bed about April 1. For this purpose
pulled off and lost, and the
standing idly ont at an angle of forty
eight degrees ; looks as though the cap
was trying to fly away, but couldn't be-
cause it only worked one side and had
stopped on the ceuter.”
““ And the loafer,” said the
songer, ** who always climbs
said
on
ran
the
piece of old bagging (burlap), which
must be removed as soon as the seed
begins to sprout. The plants can be
Ris bed and set ont in the
after a rain. If it is required to clear
the glass in the door and
stares vacantly in at the passengers
until the brakeman rans over him and
the train starts, when he jumps off like
a wood stove falling downstairs"
“And the loafer,” said the fat pas
senger, “who is always holding his
"jaws just in suspense over an enormous
nose agaist
at surly intervals, in a defiant bull
dogged way ; the bully of the station
early crop in June, and then plant
celery, the plants will need to be pricked
ont from the seed bed in May, into a
plant hed at about three inches apart,
where they can stand till June, or even
The more celery is transplanted, how.
aver, the more likely it is to go to seed,
instead of growing a good stool
Celery ia planted in rows seven or
plants in the row. The old plan of set-
strikes any one ; never shaves snd sel
dom washes his face, and the last time
his bair was oc ombed was when it was
cnt.”
“And the beau of the conntry sla
tion.” said the sad passenger, ‘witht e
curly hair, combed down close to his
the plants are set on level
land and need frequent hosing and hand-
weading until the final banking up,
Thus, if wanted for nse in September,
the weather being warm, the celery will
i
wears Lis hat away back on his head,
and fangles himself up in a brilliant
comforter twenty feet long, with the
ends dangling in careless grace down
his back."
“And the loafer with the clumsy
boots,”
is always dancing a fearful and won.
derful clog of two steps, with a natural
i
the track.”
“And the shabby
the suit he was married in, has an apol-
he was going some-
cont buttonad
look as though
where, keeps his
voured by a sneaking envy of the loafer
with the curly hair.”
“And the loafer,” said the fat
senger, ** who always goes in his
HAs
is his only ulster;
with narrow hips, straight logs and close-
show off his figure. Doesn't
{ waste his strength in too much work
aud likes to exhibit himself when the
train comes in."
“This loafer,” said the sad passen-
| ger, “always looks best in his workin
clothes. He moves in them freely an
naturally. The wwe inspiring fit of a
fourteen-dollar suit of store clothes de-
| stroys his shape; the coat is always too
| narrow for Pe broad shoulders and
| flares out at the hips, owing to his Sun-
| day habit of carrying apples in the
| pokets thereof to church, or peanuts to
| the girl he loves, His store pantaloons
| are always too short and are cut per
| fectly straight at the ankles, as though
{ the legs had been sawed off with a
| cross-cut saw. His good clothes always
destroy his natural good looks and de-
{ velop in a thrilling and superlative de-
| gree all his unnatural and amazing awk
| wardness, giving him bunches where
| erst he had joints.”
i
Women as Bank Clerks,
Women have been employed as clerks
in the Stockholm Enskilda bank, Stoek-
| holm, Sweden, for sixteen years, and A.
| O. Wallenberg, a director, writes: Since
{ the fourth of July, 1864, sixteen young
| ladies have been engaged in the bank.
[| Of these there are still in the service of
| the bank, eight; married and left, five;
| advanced to more remunerative positions
| in other institutions, two; dismissed for
| inaptitude, one. Of those remaining,
| three are cashiers on their own respon-
| sibility, one is assistant to the keeper of
| the head ledger, and four hold inferior
positions.
| Sam Johnsing is the colored porter
in a large Galveston business house,
| which is proverbial for not paying its
remployees living wages. The other
‘day the head of the firm called Sam
| back just as he was going to dinner and
' said to him: “YT wanted to ask you
| something, Sam, but to save my life I
gan’ Fameinlief what it was.” a
{ haps,” said Sam, * you was gwine
Jo how de ous I keep soul and
bods togedder on seven dollars a
weak ?"— Galveston News,
In October, when the weather is colder,
it will take two or three weeks
Hecipes,
Penxies ix Gravy.~Slice boiled tw
nips and pat them, with two ounces of
butter, into a stewpan, shaking it
round till they are browned. Season
pepper, a teaspoonful of
sugar and a little mace, Pour over them
a quarter of a pint of good brown gravy,
salt,
One of the most satisfactory
cook beets 18 to bake them;
Berrs.
to
of course, take a little longer to bake
objection; allow from fifteen to twenty
more for baking: shice them
and heat them as you would if they
were boiled. One nice way to serve
them is to chop them fine. After they
are cooked season with pepper, salt and
butter.
Beersteax Straw. Take some finely
chopped beef fat or a piece of butter,
heat it in the stewpan, and sprinkle
and add warm
must be a thick cut and in one piece, if
possible; add salt, pepper, (whole black, )
three cloves, a small piece of mace, and
a bay-leaf, if it is handy; close up tight
and let it gently simmer for three-quar-
ters of an hour, shaking the stew now
and then; after that time put in one
dark sauce, and allow the stew to sim-
mer another quarter of an hour, It
it.
sized potatoes, one tablespoonful of salt,
toes, and, if old, let them stand in cold
water an hour or two to freshen them:
boil fifteen minutes; then add the salt,
and boil fiffeen minutes longer; pour off
every drop of water; take the cover from
the saucepan and shake the potatoes in
a current of cold air (at either the door
or window); place the sancepan on the
back of the stove and cover it witha
clean coarse towel until serving time;
the sooner the potatoes are served the
better. This rule will insure perfectly
sweet and mealy potatoes if they were
good and ripe at first.— Miss Pariloa’s
New Cook Book.
Brain Weights,
The weight of the human brain, ae-
cording to a recently published work by
the emiment Munich anatomist, Professor
Bischofl, is on an average 1,362 grammes
for man and 1,219 grammes for woman.
The difference between the average
brain-weight of man and woman thus
amounts to 143 grammes or 10.59 per
cent. The brain-weight of man exceeds
that of all animals except the elephant
(4,500 grammes), and the large cetacer
(2,600 grammes). The brain-weight of
the largest ape is hardly a third of man’s,
Professor Bischoff has worked with a
considerable amount of material ; his
data comprise the weights or brain of
B50 men and 847 women. Notun,
FOR THE LADIES,
Chavged Her Mind,
Ernest Graham and Belle Roper start.
ed from Clement, Ill, for St. Louis,
where they were to be married. They
were accompanied by Lewis Lindsay,
who was to be the groomsman at the
wedding, and a party of relatives and
friends. Their tin wis delayed, and
they did not arrive in 8t. Louis until too
late to have the ceremony performed at
the appointed time. But a postpone.
ment was not the only disarrangement of
the programme. Miss Roper announced
that, during the journey, she
changed her mind and would not marry
Graham, bat would request the clergy-
man to make her the wife of Lindsay,
which was done.
A Genlal Hecoption.
Evening receptions, for some inseru-
fable reason, are never very popular in
There is an uncer.
tainments which is in the end wearing
A gentleman once bid-
den to a series of eveing receptions
found himself the first to arvive in the
gentlemen's dressing-room on the ocea.
sion of the initial soiree. Lingering
awhile for other guests to a , he
heard a stealthy tread at the door, and
to his infinite amazement saw the host
peering cautiously into the room. “Is
it you, my dear fellow? asked his
friend, in a tone of relief. ** We feared
that it might be a burglar I" This was
not precisely the looked-for greeting, or
one caloulsted to put a guest at his
ease. — New York How.
How te Make Cotton Dresses.
Some of the prettiest have a Jersey,
shaped waist, with low pointed throat-
worn with a muslin fichu. The open
sleeves are turned up in monk's sleeve
inside seam nearly as high as the elbow.
The long overskirt, with wrinkled
apron pointed deeply on the left, and
quite bouffant behind is sewed above the
edge of the waist, concealing it, and
giving the effect of an entire overdress,
The part of the lower skirt visible
on the right side is covered with
many small flounces. Another figured
muslin dress bas a full round
waist, worn with a narrow bells
and elbow sleeves edged with
two ruffles. The long overskirt
has a box-pliated effect in front, with
other pretty dress retains the pelerine,
or round cape worn with winter dresses,
This barely covers the shoulders, réach-
ing over the top of the armholes, and is
edged with a striped border. The daisy
border is popular on dark percales, and
is used to trim narrow flounces and to
border the deep-pointed apron or over
skirt. A soft sash of these cottons is
worn around the waist, pointed in the
front, and tied on the left side, with the
bordered. — Harper's Bazar,
A Novel Wedding.
{
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license and set out with one or two
friends to look up a parson. They
reached the river, but alas! the would.
be bride could not cross. They were
in a pickle The only parson for
long, weary miles was just across the
river, while visions of irate parents
with double-barreled shotguns formed
a very long and troublesome pro-
cession through the minds of the two
lovers. The weather was cold, the
river was up, and what could they do?
One of the escort suggested that he
wonld swim the river and see, if
possible, the parson, who undoubtedly
would fix up a plan to tie the nuptial
knot. He dia so, found the preacher
and soon had him down on the river
bank. The water was cold and deep
and he refused point-blank to cross
aver, to the very great distress of the
young couple on the other side. Neoes-
sity is not only the mother of invention,
but is the mother of expedients. The
parson concluded to marry the couple
across the river, and they joined handsand
took their stand near the water's edge,
while the preacher on the opposite bank,
in astontorian voice, pronounced the mar-
riage service and declared them man and
wife, Austin { Tevas) Statesman.
Fashion Faunecies,
Curls are very fashionable.
Plaid costumes are still worn.
Figured fabries ave all the fashion.
Plain monie cloths come in light col-
ors this year.
Mulberries are in
mourning bonnets,
The patterns of the new percales are
taken from China.
White ties are now arranged with one
loop and two ends
Buttonless, loose-wristed gloves take
the precedence of all others,
Japanese velvet matched in colors to
great demand for
trimmings.
Most of the new dresses for schools
girls are double-breasted and furnished
with large buttons,
Embroidered collars for children are
larger than ever, and come in showy
open-work designs,
Sets of colored silk cuffs and collars
trimmed with gold bmid are sold to
wear with dark dresses.
“ No starch” is to be the rule this sum-
mer, and it is to be enforced even more
rigidly than it was last year.
The most fashionable rings are of
and wound around the finger.
Embroidered muslin as wide as dress
goods is a novelty for making basque
waists of white muslin dresses,
The English walking hat promises, the
Or Sumner use,
The plush stripes, though heavy-look
ing, are very effective, and are seen in
the dark ribbons that will be used on
dark-colored straws.
A handsome comb or natural flower,
placed low, at the left side, behind the
ear, is all the ornament worn in the hair
for full dress toilets,
The monastic style of dress is much
in vogue. It is an exact copy of the
Trinitarian garb, except the Maltese
eross and headdress,
The small bonnets shown are very
similar in shape to those with the broad
flat crowns worn during the winter and
are meant for dress hats.
The feathers on round hats are massed
in profusion that exceeds even the styles
of the winter; both tips and large
shaded plumes are used.
Alsatian cambrics, with patterns in
fine hair stripes or invisible checks,are
shown for summer suitings. They are
not so soft or so pretty as the Madras
goods.
Large box Jai alternating with
clusters of knife-plaits are sometimes
used for flounces and clusters of knife-
plaits alternating with squares of bro-
cade are considered in taste.
Although white is the fashionable
———
ignorant of style. At least two materials
piust be combined in each costume.
On the grounds of some of the new
cotton printed goods tiny flowers,
bees, butterflies and and embraced
in one pattern, but so managed as fo
require examination to discover the
animated figures,
New mull scarfs for the neck have a
narrow hem hemestitched all around
them, and have clusters of colored
blocks Lem-stitched in each end for
ornament; a bit of needlework is in the
center of each block.
Women who have dull light brown
bair, eolorless faces, and gmy or bine
eves, should never wear new
fa drab. pe look
WHS, ETAYS or The
best in bisck, dark ark brown,
dark maroon snd creamy white,
The Man of Glass,
A = exitnardinaty oie was
brought 10 a close a few ago
death of a man who was a ns the
“man of glass” The records of the
asylum at Bicetre, where the man died,
show thst as long ago as in 1797, when
he was eighteen years old, a certain
Jubissier was brought to the hospital
suffering from mental alienation of a
severe kind. His malady had been
cansed by 8s wound inflicted
a pane of glass, which fell on his
and before the cut could be healed;
the bmin became affected by a
permanent disease. The sufferer lapsed
into idiocy, and then into madness of a
more violent kind; and he was shortly
afterward shut up in the asylum, where
he has remained ever since, After the
first transports of delirium had pas
never got vid of the idea that he was
made of glass, and that the jes
weces, He remsined, , per-
foct] ¥ quiet and silent, being afraid en
to speak, for fear precipitating
catastrophe which he fancied was ever
impending. For eighty-three years he
has led this singular existence, only
once opening his lips in when
he asked for a little tobmeco. At
one other period his intellectual and
physical faculties a to be
en, during the
siege of Paris, he could hear the shells
bursting in the air at no great distance
from jis place of retreat. At this time
he was seen to grow nervous and less
lethargic, and to walk about restlesiy,
vived, however, and, relapsing into his
usual condition, has so lived until the
age of 103, testifving, in a somewhat
striking way, to the effects of a totally
placid and inactive tranguillity both of
body and mind in prolonging life. No
little eredit is, however, due to the an-
thorities of Bicetre for having thus pre-
served for eighty-three years an exist-
ence which from the first was
utterly useless and uninteresting.—
London Globe.
Pearls of Thought,
Men tire themselves in pursuit of
rest.
Jealousy is a secret avowal of our in-
feriority.
They are never alone that are accom-
panied by.noble thoughts,
A happy jest often gives birth to an-
other; but the child is seldom worth the
A beautiful woman with the gnalities
of a noble man is the most thing
in nature,
The greatest man living may stand in
need of the meanest, as much us the
meanest does of him.
Great men undertake great things
because thoy are great; aud fools be-
cause they think them easy.
Every man has three characters;
which he exhibits, that which he
and that which he thinks he has.
The greater part of men have no
opinion, still fewer have an opinion of
their own, well reflectod and founded
upon reason.
Apparent evil is but an ante-chamber
to higher bliss, as every sunset is but
veiled by night, and will soon show
itself again as the red dawn of a new
day.
Friendship supplies the place of
everything to ov. who know how to
make the right use of it; it makes your
prosperity more happy, your adversity
more easy,
There is a great difference between
what an ambitious man is and what he
aspires to be—as there is also between
what a vain man thinks himself and
what he is.
Every year of our lives we grow more
convinced that it is the wisest and best
to fix our attention on the beautiful and
the good, and dwell as little as possible
on the evil and the false.
The Boers,
The Boer is"a fearless and practiced
rider and an unerring shot. Life in the
Veldt is familiar to him in all its aspects.
He can rough it with any man, tame or
wild, the world over ; nevertheless heis
not a soldier ; he will fight Zulu or Bu-
chuava or Basuto, but then he will have
the long flint “roeer” against the arro
or assegai, or the
breech loading rifle against a rusty mas-
ket. He is ever ready to take the field ;
his rifle and gun are in the room corner,
his amunition pounch is ever fall; his
horse, kneehaltered or in the stable, he
can turn out at short notice. Neverthe-
less he is not a soldier and never will be
one.
lary dis-
In one of the many bount
butes arising out of the diamond dis-
covery a party of Boers and Englishmen
met in opposition near a place called
Hebron, on Vaal river. Asis frequently
the custom in such cases, the anxiety
for battle diminishes with the distance
between the opposing forces, and a par
ley was proposed by the respective lead-
ers when the host came within shooting
proximity.
There happened to be in the ranks of
the party a native of Ireland, who natu-
rally did not at all relish the pacific turn
affairs seemed to be assuming. i
the leaders debated the settlements of |
the dispute, Pat left the ranks of his
party, and, approaching the | of
consultation, demanded of his chief, now
busily engaged with the Boer command-
ant in smoking jad debate, 3 he and his
friends on the hi ight i
to open fire on i might be pemmiited
any further discussion on the cause of
quarrel was proceeded with.
The Boer, alarmed at this sudden
proposition to defer dim to war,
asked the meaning of this bloodthirsty
request.
“The boys want the word to fire,” re-
flied Pat, “because they areso moral
ungry.”
Not ‘altogether perceiving
the hen but deeming it wise to re-
move such an evident casus belli, the
Boer commander at once sent forward a
sheep and an ox to appease both the
food hunger and thirst for blood of the
opposite side; and as the map of So
Some twenty vears ago, when Quee
Victoria visited Paris, the prefect of the
decorations for the
architect:
pickings and waste meat, a li
by a de nltices
he consumed, in a few moments,
Africa presents Hebron on the Vaal river |
ners