St, Valentine’s Day.
Though the bird flies far,
And the fair flower goes,
The sweel o' the year
Is wet in the snows
The mid o' the winter,
It breaks into bloom,
And suddenly songs
Are sung in the gloom.
And winging hearts oross
And whisper together;
And a night and a day
1t is perfect weather.
we Wide
What Then?
We wreathe our brows with fairest flowers,
We qual the cup of pleasure
We dance through hours of giddy mirth
To music's gavest measure;
The garlands fade-the cup is drained,
The restless feet are weary,
The eves are Jim with mists of tears
And hearts are sad and dreary;
What then ?
We build ns monuments of fame,
Wa twine us wreaths of glory,
Qur names through deeds of honest worth
Are told in song and story;
But hand and brain grow weak at last
By pain and age o'ertaken;
We watoh the busy world go by
Forgotten and forsaken;
What then ?
Ab, then we sigh for blossoms fadeless, sweots
Which ones we might have pourished in our
breast;
We long to fill onr cup from crystal riils
And turn our footsteps to the vales of rest;
We learn the worth of temples built above,
Of names engraven in the book of life,
Of hearts made purer by the furpace fires
Unbardened hip the years of toil aud strife,
Oh, thoughiess one, turn not from wisdom’
WAYS,
Norati the higher aims of life forget,
Else memory will mock your misary,
And fll the after yoars with vain regrel.
—~Mre 8 LL Howell
MISS TILT'S NIECE.
—_
“1 wish very much I could do any-
thing,” said Ted Murchisen, “1 will
go up to London on purpose, if you
Like, and call at your house. Butdon't
they write to yeu?’
“ They think it better not. They
wonld let we know if there were any-
thing fresh to tell, I bave to console
myself with the proverb, ‘No news is
good news.”
Cecile Redding spoke with a ring of
sadness in her voice, and for a minute |
her gray eves looked misty as she
tarned them away. Directly after she
glanced back at her companion and |
langhad merrily,
“What is the matter?’ asked the!
young msk, somewhat taken by sur
prise, and looking quickly first on one
side and then the other, with the ex
peetation of finding some cause for her |
amusement, There was nothing to be |
seen but the smooth lawn with its neat
flower beds, the high laurel hedge, and
the brown gate, half open, as though in |
readiness for his departure. :
His astonishment only increased the |
girl's merriment, so that WAS some
minutes before she conld answer, While
they were standing thus in the porch a
dogeart was driven by, its occupants
being the village doctor and his groom,
The former lcoked hard at the little |
group in the doorway, balf raising his |
hand to his hat, but refraining on see-
ing that he was unobserved.
“1 beg your pardon,” said Cecile, re-
covering her gravit but von dolook
so fapuy. Your coat 13 covered with
green from the wordwork, and you were |
ie
1%
rw:
a4 =
®
s
aware that to have a few!
€8 made
* 1 wasn’
patches of green on one's cloth
one so irresistibly Indicrouns, It would
be much more practical and sensible to |
offer {0 give me a brushing before I go.”
Bi: iil-psed air cansed Cecile’s mouth |
to curl again as she shook ber head.
“I daresay it would; but you ought
to have learnt by this time not to ex-|
pect anything practical or sensible from |
me.”
* | expected nothing, Miss Redding. |
Candidly, I never knew what to expect
from yon. When I am inclined to |
sympathize with your tronbles yon shut |
me vp by laughing in my face, and if
1 venture on & joke you look as solemn
as if 1 were preaching rou a sermon.
“ Your jokes are very, very bad,” she
said, naively; “I think I should prefer |
the rermon.” i
“ Yon're always down on me,” said |
Muorekison, in a mock despondent tone, |
“It is fortunate your aunt is more mer- |
cifal.” i
“ Wen't yon come in again?” said |
Cecile, ignoring this speech. * You!
must be quite tired of standing,”
*
an
“nn
er
go ¥
to do,” she answered, langhing again, |
A novel to read, I suppose ?”
“ Perhaps,” said Cecile, calmly.
“Then good-bye for the present. I]
shall look in again this afternoon, as 1 |
rather want to see Miss Tit. You think |
she is sure to be in ?’ {
“Oh, yes; auntie never goes out |
twice in one day.” |
They shook bands, the young man |
holding bers rather longer than polite- |
ness required, and then the gate swung |
after bum, while Miss Redding re
entered the house with a heightened
color,
She went into the preity little dining-
room aud sat down to write a letter, |
which took a long time through her |
stopping every few minutes with the |
end of the pen pressed against her soft
nuder-lip, lost in thought, and the
writing forgotten. More than once she
there was no one to see or note how
well she looked with that flash in her
fair cheek.
Cecile was one of those girls whom a
severe critic would set down as decid-
edly not pretty, though under favoring
ecirenmstances she often seemed so.
Her complexion was very fair, with a
pluish, peachlike bloom upon it; her
eyebrows by no meane well marked but
geanty; her month a little too wide and
her teeth large and irregular. Her
chief beanty was her brown, wavy hair,
that had never been marred by scissors,
but grew all over her head to its natural
‘engih, the shortest part being about
her temples, where it curled and waved
unassisted by art or curi-papers, gleam-
ing with touches of gold shaded into
the darker hue of the rest. Envious
friends admired this becoming growth,
and endeavored to imitate it, with un-
varying ill-success. Even her aunt,
Miss Alethea Tilt, had tried her hand
at it, but her straight tresses absolutely
refused to be tortured into anything
resembling a curl,
Before the letter was finished Miss
Tilt eame in, accompanied by her friend
and companion, Miss Pelham—a large
lady, with very round, protruding eyes,
and a good-natured smile,
“How nice and cool you look, Ce-
cile,” said Miss Tilt, sinking into a
chair and fanning herself with a Japan-
ese hand-screen. “I was so afraid we
should meet some one—and my face I
know is flaming !"
¢t Mr, Murchison has been here,” said
Cecile, adding a few words by way of
postseript, and looking absorbed in her
writing, so that she did not see the
conscious way in which her aunt
dropped her eyes on to the grotesque
ves on the screen.
“What did he want?” Miss Pelham
inquired, as she unfastened the strings
of her bonnet. *
Qecile carefully folded her letter in
half, und answered, demurely:
“To see aunt.”
¢ Dear me. How very strange!” said
VOLUME XV.
Editor and FProorie
CENTRE
wor.
HALL, CENTRE
CO., PA., THURS
DAY, FEBRUARY
16, 1882.
NUMBER 7.
as I told him you would most likely be
in then"
“ Whatever can he wish to see me
ifor? I can't imagine,”
Her aunt's tone was so odd that at
last Cecile raised her eves,
{ “Poor aunt! She thinks he is in
love with her!” was the thought that
flashed into her mind, and her cheek
| became as rosy as her lips, “How can
{ she, when he is twenty-four and she
six-and thirty
“Now, if it had been the dootor,”
said Miss Pelham, with a ponderous at-
tempt at looking arch, **1 should have
said he was coming to ask you a very
important question.”
For shame !" said Miss Tilt.
phis, how can you ¥
What a shame to put such ideas into
one's head,”
“* Ho certainly is very fond of coming
{ here,” said Cecile, thoughtfully. * And
be is about your age, auntie, and a very
nice, kind man.”
a Aly dear girl! He is yoars older
{than I am. He must be at least thirty-
eight X
Her niece did not smile when Miss
Tilt made this announcement, but she
had hard work to keep her rebellious
That afternoon Cecile
went by herself to eall on a friend who
lived some two miles away. As she
was returning she met Murchison.
“You should not walk alone,
y
in
ke Soe
now
1," he said, severely.
must let me see yon home.”
As she wade no opposition he walked |
by her side, stealing many aside glance
“* You
+ Promise me,” he continued, after a
minute, “that yon will not go out
nutil they are gone. |
don’t like to think of it. They are an
awfully rengh lot”
“They won't interfere with me.
am not afraid,” she said, laughing.
“But I am. Pray don't think me in.
I
"
protected girl in these 1 mely lanes,
Cecile was silent and half embar-
rassed for a few minutes, but soon re-
{ hey were both surprised when they
found themselves at the gate; the time
“Qh, here we are at home!” said |
Cecile, blushing directly after for the |
dismayed tone of her words.
ing his hand. !
ful walk to me at least. May it soon be
i
He held her small gloved fingers
lingeringly, and when her shy look met
that made her hastily withdraw and run
fused with color.
She went straight upstairs and bad |
with her handkerchief to her eyes.
“ What is if, anntie?”’ and Ceciln
hastened to her sides in some apprehen- |
“ Oh, not—not —bad news irom |
# Oh, dear, no!” Miss Tilt hurriedly
** Nothing bad has hap-
Iam only a little agitated.
“ Oh, aunt, I am very glad, and not
I thought it would be |
I came.”
“Did you, dear?’
Her aunt bestowed on her a surprised
posite,
“There is nothing the matter
perfectly well,” she protested, adding,
as though the words were forced from
her by his searching eyes. 1 am only
a little surprised at some news l have
had.”
“Nothing bad, I hope?”
““No—-oh, no. It is only that my
annt is engaged to be married to Mr,
Murchison."
Cecile had no sooner said this than
an uneasy conviction came aoross her
that she ought not to have spoken out
$0 frankly. She had ree ved no per
mission to make the affair public.
** Perhaps I ought not to have men
tioned it,” said, hastily. * You
won't say anything about it just yet,
she
Looking at him fully for the first
time, she was startled to see that he
“Oh! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed,
struck with dismay, as she remembered
his frequent visits to her aunt's house,
“It was very thoughtless of me to tell |
you that I”
“Why? what do yon
looked down with an amused smile at
her troubled face, reading it with the
greatest ease, * Don't get it into your
head that this piece of mformation af
another, 1f any
thing, it is rather welcome."
“ I'hen you are ill ¥
“No, Miss Redding, The truth is 1
nearly ran over you just now, which
made me feel aw fully queer,
an ineide
mean ¥' He
fects we one way or
ponghn
3
nt
ns
“ Doctors
12
ought to have stronger
Cecile remarked, lightly.
“Pout!” he said, quickly. “It
like you, Cecile! 1t is the greatest
\ nm home
0
if i! Don't
g 4%
not fatally, injare:
r heaven's saka!
“1 will say good-afternoon now, as I
to Su ality!
Cecile ex
and
1 .
y ANXIOUS to gel away
her hand
me should mak
hemselves visible;
He took her hand, but not in farewell
her
£8 to be ont
of a pas<lug vehicle,
A mmnute longer! Have
08
young
go!” she entreated,
hdraw her fingers from the
in which they were held.
y letter will ba too late I”
‘The box will not be
hour. Yon sl
jet me
3 wat
1Sp
¥
as
for
AN-
4
he
:
t
bes }
tiriby
“1 will a
y welfare
ite it to a fatherly in-
, sald Cecile, with
“I know you too well
to resent anything you may
hoose to say.”
* Do 1, then, seem so very old?”
{hus appealed to she gave a i
% ii - 11 - »
tall, well-proportio
dark, earnest face
5
and
“ Ceotle, am I too ¢'1
¢ al
ght «
never thoaght «
for you? 1
1! I can see
{ my asking
f !—while
14
18 I~
i
He stopped, and silence fell between |
Could anything be more dis-
Sutton Parry felt
“Your face answers me, child!” he |
I love you
I would do anything on earth
~endure anything for your sake! Give
“gE iward !
know his name was Edward ?”
diffidence.
to speak of him eo familiarly.”
* Pray —pray say no more!” Cecile
“The more you say the
I wish 1 had
I conld not—1I wish
closed them again without speaking, |
while the blood rushed to her face and |
She looked pale and distressed, and
tood before him like a culprit, steal
1800, 118 ex-
at wy accepting a man £0 much younger |
in feelings than in years; and he looks
»
“Yes,” she answered slowly, and |
placing her arm abont her aunt's thin |
fignre, she gave her a loving kiss.
“I hope you will be happy,” she
whispered; then moving toward the
door, she added, “I remember that my |
letter is vot posted. I'll just run and |
take it myself.”
She walked down the road with her
ates before she could eollect her |
thoughts, When they assamed definite |
shape Cecile knew that she had been |
ver; near falling in love with Ted |
Murchison. So near that just now she
felt as though she had lost something |
ont of her life, and as though she would
give a great deal to be at home, |
A dangerous and infectious disease |
having appeared in her family was the |
reason of Cecile's exile, which had now
been of two months’ duration. During |
those two months she hud been thrown |
much into contact with Ted Murchison, |
and Mr. Parry the doctor, it being the |
latter of these to whom her thoughts |
had flown when her aunt announced |
her engagement.
“ Aunt has a nice income of her own, |
and I bave none,” she cou!d not avoid |
thinking, though despising herself for |
the base suspicion. ** But he has always |
sought me out, and oh | how could he—
how dare he—talk to me as he has done,
and look at me like that! How
stupid I have been not to see through
him!”
She walked straight past the post-
office unconsciously, and hurried on
with the letter in her hand; but soon
recollecting herself, she turned sharply |
and crossed the road.
Too preoceupied to notice the sound
of wheels behind, this unexpected
movement of Cecile’s very nearly re-
sulted in an accident. Bhe was awak-
ened from her reverie by a lond ex-
clamation, and looked round quick.y
to see a horse pulled back on its
haunches, its Lead having almost
touched her shonlder.
The next minnie some one had
leaped down, and Cecile found herself
confronted by the dcetor. She kept
her face averted slightly, lest it should
betray the mortification she was feel-
ing, and spoke carelessly :
“1 ghall have you taken up for
furions driving, Dr. Parry. Your man
was going to run over me, it seems,”
“Jt was a narrow escape,” he said,
briefly, and waved his hand to the
groom to drive on. After a pause, he
continued: “I look upon myself as
your medical man, Miss Redding, since
I attended you when you first came
down. That is my only excuse for re-
marking on your appearance. What
is the matter with you?”
“If anything you ought to tell,” said
Cecile, laughing.
Miss Tilt, blushing.
¢¢ Perhaps I can if you describe your
feelings,” said Parry.
and
her |
There was silence for a space;
to see
"
“Don't do that!” he said, quickly. |
“ Don't grieve ; it can’t be helped.
have known. You are quite
never will care for me,
A decided shake of the head was the |
only answer, and he took her hand to
quietly:
* Good-bye, then,
ever think differently promise me that |
you will be honest enough to let me
Don’t let false modesty part us,
Cecile, for I shall never change.”
Cecile went home in a very dissatis- |
fied frame of mind. For the ensuing!
days Sutton Party cceupied a far |
greater portion of her thoughts than |
Murchison; not even in her sleep could |
she shake herself free from the intense |
look that bad seemed to read her very
soul when she stood before him.
“I wigh 1 had asked him to give me
a week to think it over,” said to
herself sometimes,
A fortnight slipped away, and she
never saw him except at a distance,
and then ore morn came the news
that he was very ill with low fever.
Cecile had been looking hollow-eved
and anxious lately—a fact of which Ted |
Murchison was perfectly aware, and
the credit or blame of whish he took to
himself with secret satisfaction.
Miss Tilt's honsemaid, being engaged
to the doctor's groom, was constantly
gnpplied with information as to hiscon-
dition, and from her (“eile heard such
accounts as made her very nneasy.
The doctor was, in fact, seriously ill.
A neglected cold and general careless
ness with regard to his own health, in |
combination with mental trouble, had |
compelled him to give in and take to his |
bed. He forbade his housekeeper to |
call in other medical aid, and prescribed |
for himself without much beneficial re- |
sult,
And now the belief was growing on
him that he should not recover. He
had given orders at last for the practi-
tioner of a neighboring village to be
called in, and awaited his arrival, tco
weak and helpless to shakes off the
morbid feelings that oppressed him.
As he lay thus his door-lateh clicked,
but he did not turn to see who entered.
A light foot came softly to his side, and
there stood Cecile in a dainty white
apron, with a plate of jelly in her hand.
*1 have come to practice nursing,”
she said, with a little shake in her
voice. * May I?”
“Cecile! Yon can’t mean—"
She set down the plate and kneeled
by his side to shyly slip her soft arm
under his head and draw it on to her
breast.
“ Forgive me,” she whispered, with a
vivid blueh, “I did not understand my-
But if you shonld |
she
ing
i
® * N ® .
She was returning home toward even
ing having promised to go again on the
sucoeeding day when "ed Murchison
overtook her.
They shook hands cordially enoug!
for Cecile had used every effort to ap.
pear no different to him lest he might
attribute any change to pique
“How are you? he asked, with
sort of tender interest in his
“You have not looking
lately”
“1 am very well, th
said, coldly, offended by
“Have I vexed you in any way,
Cecile? Do you know I have been
half afraid that you disapproved of my
engagement to your aunt?
“By no means. 1 think you are |
very fortunate in having won her con
I suppose I may as well tell you,
Mr. Murchison, I am engaged to
Dr. Parry.”
—————————
HEALTH HINTS,
“
tones
been woll
ank von," she |
his manner.
sent
too
When cooking you often burn your
fingers or arms, and there is not time to
turn to tie them up. Take a piece of
hurd soap, and dipping it in water rub
it over the spot Continue to do this
two or three times until the sur is
thoroughly covered It will be fourd
to afford a great relief, Or you may diy
your burned hand in the soft-soap buck
et and holl it there a few minut wd
you will experience the same relief
A writer in the Nineteenth Cent
says that contagion consists of minute
solid particles and not gaseous dissemi
nations. If this is troe we can readily
understand that a person who breathes
only through the nose will be much less
likely to eaten a
a sick roo than would a mo
ar. Freo entilation, Pe riect
ness and fre juent changes of ol
afford the best means of removing
¢ ntagic ns particle A by sick
5. D Foote Month
Hoe
WW, Al
faire
1
contagious
person
It is
Walk or
break!
which
i}
a great mistake th
other form of
healthfa
¥
#8 morning
oo
exercise before
ant
r
i sum
and
13 i; the malaria
ests on the earth about
ner, when into
which are equally debi
Fr poriions of the b ly
KO i% Yer,
upper, 1 ver
sunrise
taken the lungs
stomach,
§
st sines
ng
and enters the oi
two, poison
id laving the founda
while in win
condition of
an ne
ar or
ronblesome diseases *
the debilitated
these vital organs readily allows the
blood to be chilled, and thus renders
th ile of ty
anflen
same
i
tar
Wt
#
’
seyl oi
epnal
jad and too
& system suse
with all its w
trous results,
Some of the best medical mind
the world have spent a quar-
ter of a century in examining the lunes |
of the dead, state to us this important,
every-day that
after forty, who have not in t
8 11
men who
fact,
he Iu
of having the econsumpti
without ever having had the slig
i 1 of the of the
and who fi 1 of maladies
having no approxi
toward
patare. Theses
the signs
htost
suspicion existence dis
ease, died
i ard it in
ara roars of
all very small it is true,
ing ¢ great fact
existed there and that the lungs
perfectly heal after having been divid
er broken or pierced, NUmMerous
casas bear witness in the perfect recov.
ery of men who have been stabbed in
the breast or shot throngh the lungs.
ha
at
as
TS
The Fortune of the Barings.
The Barings have been among the
There is a kind
of ecclesiastical flavor about them,
Their English founder was 8 Bremen
pastor, settled in this country, His
gravdson ma'ried the niece of wm
English archbighop, One of his de. |
scendants became bishop of Durham,
The money was originally made in the
rich profitable clothing business in the
west of Ergland. Asbburion pave a
title in the peerage to the chief of the
house © f Baring. It has been a rule in
the house that when any one of them
has got =a title he goes ont of
the business, Bir Francis Bar.
the first great banker, who,
dying in 1810, left a fortune of 82,000,-
000, and had three Thomas
Thomas
ceeding to the baronetey, gave up the
Henry had a rather romantic
RODS ~
BUC
business,
gambling table. He was the amazement
of beholders when he wonld sit down at
a gambling table at the Palais Royal--be.
—with piles of gold and notes belore
The reputation of a successfnl
gambler was barely suited to the intense
known
sustained
as
and |
He |
to Ameoriea, and the richest
banker in England married the danghter
richest citizen ef the United
Alexander Baring, often
“ Alexander the Great,”
possesses a historical importance, After |
the conclusion of the great European
war he paid down a sum of £1,100,000,
by which France was freed from the oe-
cupation of Russian, Austrian and Ger.
man armies. “There are six great pow-
ers in Europe,” sard the Due de Riche:
lien: ** England, France, Russia, Ans-
tria, Prussia and Baring Bros,” In 1835 |
he was made Lord Ashburton. Two of |
his sons held the title, and each succes. |
gively retired from the business, The |
head of the firm, Thomas Baring, be. |
came chapcellor of the exchequer in
Lerd Melbourne's mi. stry, and
another member, Lord Northbrook, has
been governor-general of India— Lon- |
don Society,
Sawdust,
In New York there are about five |
hundred venders of sawdust, having a |
capital of two hundred thousand dol. |
lars invested, and doing a business |
amounting to two hundred thoasand
dollars annually. Forty years ago the |
mills were glad to have the sawdust |
carried away; twenty-five years ago it
could be bought at fifty cents a load, |
but the price has been increased until |
now it brings three dollars and a half a |
load at the mills. It is used at the |
hotels, eating-houses, groceries and |
other business houses. It is wet and |
spread upon floors in order to make the |
sweeping cleaner. Plumbers nse a
great deal about pipes, and builders to |
deaden walls and floors. Boda water
men and packers of glass and small ar
ticles of every kind use it, and dolls
and some living creatures are more or
less stuffed with it. Washington
Market takes two or three loads a day,
a great deal is spread on the piers, and
stables take many loads a day. Yellow |
pine makes the best sawdust, as it is |
the least dusty, and has a good, healthy
smell, But any white wood dust will
do. They make a great deal of black-
walnut sawdust, but it will not sell, so
it is burned.
I Ws sass.
The new London journal for women
is called the Fan. Englishmen have
funny ideas about naming papers for
women to read. A fan can be ehut up.
self.”
FHE LAND OF THE RISING SUN,
tGiarden of Eden-The
at Home,
Simple as in the
Japanese
A Yeddo (Japanese) correspondent
writes: “The Laud of the Rising Bun" has
been visited by many foreigners during
the past fifteen years, and no one has
vet been disappointed in what he has
found either in the people or the
conntry,
Many have an idea that the Japa.
nese and Chinese are much alike, but |
they are totally different in their chars
ter and habits of life. The Chinese are
a filthy, cunning race, who look upon |
the foreigner with suspicion as an infe
rior beir g. The Japanese are the clean-
liest and most polite in the world, The
poorest coolite has his hot bath every
day, and if they have not too much
godliness they thoroughly practice the
next virtue
My first trip into the interior, after
being a year in the country, was to the |
hot springs of lkav-—the Baratoga of
Japan, 1 bad previously engaged |
rooms at the best hotel. The first day
there 1 formed some pleasant acquaint.
ances with a newly-married couple,
who oecapied the adjoining room, the
wife of a former governor of Yeddo, o
Tokio (cne of the handsomest women |
ever saw in spy country), snd many |
others ; for they are very glad to know
aud converse with foreigners who speak |
1
of +}
a lta of thelr IANgUaAge.
Japanese wives do not go into society,
but devote themselves entirely to the
happiness of their husbands at home. |
to know more than enough to reckon on
their machines called sarabans, and to |
be abla to read the novels and daily |
pews wonld be to make them proud and
nngoven able in the opinions of their
lords and masters, If a huosband be
dissatisfied with his wife, to send
her folks simply constitiites |
divorce. Until their das are
woman is restored to her |
society, these people ORL §
COmes
her back &
a legal
changed an i
trae place in
to such progress and posi
never attain
tion as they desire,
They have no idea of profane or fiithy
language. a fool simply,
r a beast, is the greatest length to
hey have no re
io Call one
which they can go.
gard for the truth, often on aco
their extreme p , for the same
a that a large part of onr most re
fined ly lieate flat
tery, and often the one whooan dissem
ble the most adroitly is considered the
Y ~0 it
unt of
liteness
red se
coosists of de
BOC
most genteel lady or gentleman,
is to a greater extent with the Japanese,
if Yo ther be thinks it
will rain to-morrow, and he believes
that you are { weather,
] ‘ that it will be © weather,
point out half a dozen jufal-
prove the correctness of
his opinion. If yon are in a hurry, and
wk the time, he will tell yon that it is
earlier than ic really is |
rather than canse you any worry or
hapg ines, even if it may be the means i
for another |
aracler is never to an-
{ Instead of FAY !
do: ** Never put off till to-mos
w,” « they have a maxim,
There always a to-morrow.”
So they never a fret and
ure, this respect
them some
Ww lie
ie
fine
he is sure fin
y
and be oan
thle signs
ie wi
an hour or two
un.
of cr. 8 I you great ipjary,
trait of their oh
ticipate the future,
ns wo
‘
f
“
In
of
hurry for the ful
Americas
profitable lessons, or if they and we
could strike the * golden mean” both
would be benefited. They have another |
happy faculty, too, of smoothing over |
he sorrows «nd misfortunes of the past,
They expel all such nnhappiness by the
simple expression ** skataganai,” whieh |
literally translated means, “this is past;
I am for but it cannot be |
helped,” and this banishes it entirely.
A voung student came to me one morn-
ing and told me that his father died
the day before. 1 began sympathizing |
with him, bat he stopped me with the |
remark, uSkataganal; he was very old.'
They bave the greatest regard for the |
At a funeral 1 never |
saw a tear shed. They bave no fear of |
They believe in the transmi
gration of souls. They cannot conceive |
how missionaries to them from |
their homes thousands of miles away
just on account of the love for their |
souls; so they look upon missionary |
work with suspicion. It is only the |
lowest class who become converted, and
then only when they are poor and need |
food and clothing. Almost no progress |
has been made toward Christiasizing |
the Japanese,
They pray to Buddha whom they
believe to be the God spirit. There
are images in their temples, which we |
eall idols, but they do not pray to the |
idols nor believe them to be divine,
any more than we do the beantifully
painted windows in our churches. |
Every day when they go to bed and |
when they rise they bow thei: heads in |
silent prayer to the Bupreme Ruler ot |
n learn
La
BOTS it,
old and YOUunw.
death.
come
Heaven,
Without doubt, before foreigners in-
troduced Western ideas snd eustoms,
they were the bappiest people on the |
face of the earth. They had faw wants,
which were easily supplied, their coun. |
try being well cultivated and the eli
mate never rigorous, except in the far
north, where the Emos live, who are
quite a different people.
The empire of Japan consists of five
large islands avd many smaller ones,
There are 40,000,000 inhabitants, most
called Nippon, which is the Japanese
word both for Japan and Japanese.
There is no more picturesque scenery
in the world (always excepting the !Yo-
bold coas's and all through the moun-
tainous interior, where the roads are
are upon the backs of
or cows, or in a bssket borne
upon the shoulders of two coolies, one
In this manuver and frequently
shoulders, they
morning till sunset for four or five cents
each mile,
Tujijama, the sacred mountain of
pire
the
the most majestic mountain in
d. It rises a solitary trancated
m the very shores of the Pacific
ered with snow throughout the year ex
cept during July and Augnst
In the monutains of the interior are
many natural hot mineral springs,
which are much frequented by the na
tives during the hot summer months,
The principal productions are rice, tea
and silk.
The Japanese produce a mild distilled
lignor from rice which they call sake.
Everybody drinks this sake with their
daily rice, and socially when they meet
fur pleasure,
It is, however, a very rare sight to
see a native intoxicated. When he has
taker too much he is never quarrel-
some, but very merry and simple, and
only wishes to get home, where he can
sleep off the effects. It is considered a
sign of great weakness to get thus af
fected, Opium is never used by the
Japanese, the authorities having always
taken great care to prevent its importa-
tion and use. A Japanese house has no
chairs, beds or tables. One's boots or
wooden clogs are removed at the door
and water brought for washing the feet
— Chicago Tribune.
before entering upon the soft, thick
table, beds and seats, When friends
meet they never shake hands, but bow,
or if in the street, they bow very low
several times before passing, each time
repeating some formal salutations,
Many of their expressions are very
beautiful, and show the extreme and
delicate politeness of the people; for
example, when they part the expression
is “Savonara,” which means, * If it
must be."
————
The Chinese at H
E. B. Drew, commissioner of Chinese
imperial maritime customs, in a recent
lecture in New York, on the * Chinese
at Home" said: The chief characteristic
ot the Chinese as a nation, is industry,
Their working day begins at dawn and
lasts till sunset, Schools open at sun.
rise and do not close tilib pr um, there
being bat one short recess daring the
day. The emperor and his court rise
soon after midnight, and court audi.
ences are given between § and 8 o'clock
in the morning. This same industry is
exhibited by all classes. After sunset
ome,
retiring
early to rest, There is no day corre.
sponding to Sunday, and only a few holi-
days daring the year, Busily as they
are never nervous, and are not given to
sober. They rarely quarrel, and even
if they do, seldom come to blows,
there will be a little guene pulling,
some calling of hard names, and the
bystanders will quietly separate the
combatants It is not physical timidity,
but a sensitive consciousness of the dis
grace of fighting that keeps them from
engaging in brawls. That they are not
cowards is well proven by the fact thal
they submit without flinching to the
most severe surgical operations without
They maintain
that it is very injurious to the health to
be nervous, to worry, or to give way
As a people the Chinese do not desire
a voice in the government, The com.
are not ouly, through ignorance, indif-
ferent to beneficial reforms, but they
oppose them strongly if they are apt to
increase the taxes. The government of
China is not nearly so aristocratic as
foreiguers are accustomed to think it is,
but when the popular voice
aroused it is sure to have great force
¥ Case where there is 8 conflict
between the mavdarin or governor
cf a district, and the Pe ople, if the
people are patient and commit no asts
18 Oonoee
or i# removed by the government,
The people have the profoundest re
spect for precedent, and are in fact
constitutionally conservative. Althougl
ments sud materials known to them |
they use foreign watches, nes dles, kero
sone, sulphur matehes, cotton fabries,
They Aare, as a people € xoessively
polite, and their ceremonial of social
intercourse is to foreigners painfally
claborate., It is an error to suppose,
however, that they are a cringing race;
they assert their rights vigorously
enough when occasion calls,
They are not a truth-telling people,
The ¥ Rive false evidence in trials, fur
nish false statistics; and even officials
present reports that are tissues of false.
hood. It is impossible to shame them
exposing their unirathfuniness
They are not addicted to thieving, how-
There is much ssid about the
gross immorality of this people. In
China at least, if it exists, it is not
There are societies for the
suppression of immoral books. The
sored writings contain not one indecent
word and their paintiog and sculpture
are perfectly pure. Vulgar language
ta,
All Chinamen dgink some wine, a native
beverage made of rice, but drunkenness
are none of the evils of intemperance
there so common here—wife beating,
of sll Kinds.
The habit that curses the nation, opium
smoking, enervates the physical, men.
tal aud moral nature but does not lead |
A Natural Ant Trap.
Mr. J. Harris Stone describes in Na-
ure how he found in Norway one of the
Last
Leerdal Valley, Norway, where he ob.
served on the almost precipitous sides
The plants were grow-
} Juxuriantly some one thousand
feet above the bed of the river, and
were showing a gorgeous array of blos.
somes, On plucking some of the flowers
stickness aronud the stems, in some
the
he
On
powerful enough to support
weight of the stem when
inverted and opened his hand.
finding on quite ninety-five per
of ant or individuals in all
stages of dying. Some flowering stems
had only one dead or dying aunt upon
ench; others had two; other had three;
while others had as many as seven or
eight Some ants, bad as it were, sim-
ply laid down in the gintinouns matter
and suconmbed without further strug-
gling. The heads of others, firmly im- |
bedded in the treacherons gum, with the
rest of the body stiffened and suspended
in mid-air, testified to violent and
prolonged resistance, Some ants again
had the body, arched up, as if to avoid
centact with the stem, and the legs
were only fatally caught. The gluti-
nous or sticky tracks lay around the
stem directly beneath the holes, and
were about half an ineh or more in
depth.
A Caution,
In these days of vaccination, says an
exchange, when points are in general
demand, it will not be amiss to remem-
ber the following: Don't piek your nose
with the finger that has shortly before
come in contact with vaccine matter, A |
man in a neighboring village acted
contrary to this rule, and, as a result, |
the matter took kindly to his nose, made
the acquaintance of the membranes, |
spread all through his head, and he is |
now just able to leave his bed after a |
confinement of more than two weeks. |
A Glens Falls lady scratehed the bite of |
an insect on her foot with the fingers |
that had been toying with her vaccin
ated arm. The following day her foot
swelled, and shortly exceeded by an
overwhelming majority the size of the
traditional Albany girl's feet. She was
crippled for a month, and pined away
over the heartrending prospect of wear-
ing a No. 11 shoe for the remainder of
her days, but finglly recovered. These
be practical points on vaccine points,
and will bear the caution they point
out.
They have found a king who reigned
in Egypt more than a century before |
Abraham. He's dead, He's a mummy. |
He's not a pretty mummy now; but
pretty mum he is, now. Norristown |
POPPING THE QUESTION.
A Serious Matter (ousidered Comically.
none that demands a greater exertion
of self-voutidence than a proposal of
* From the big, brawny.
handed son of the soil to the most ef.
feminate specimen of the genus known
as the society man, the masculine lips
ars sure to tremble when they come to
frame that simple but most important
of ull questions: * Will you be my
wife? Men who will face the cavnon’s
mouth with coolness, calmly start on
of the world, or undergo privations of
the most painful character, will shrink
ble before a weak, delicate woman,
when they are going to request her to
become a partner for life. And though
we cannot give the uninitiated any
valnable advies or information on this
topic, a resume of sowe of the many
drolleries connected with it will
probably be interesting, both to the
as those who want to be,
Let us suppose that the lady has
a party. The gentleman might say
that she looks fatigued. On her re
he will get an opportunity of saying,
“* Not fo lish, Emily ; I feel too much
interest in you to permit my own
wishes to ran counter to your welfare.”
This is properly called the magnificent
style of beginping. But very often the
assist her bashful lover. For instance,
there was once a timid fellow who was
fond of borrowing John Phanix's jokes;
whan she asked him how he felt, he
avenged himself according "to the
Phoenix plan of being very definite,
cent.” “Indeed,” she said, with a de-
mure look, ‘*are you never going to
par
evening.
ing, as he scratched a lucifer on the
to strike a match, you know.” * Js
that so?’ she asked, demurely; “I
wish I lived in a house with sanded
paint,” and then she locked unutter-
able. If he had asked; ** What for!”
she would have hated him. But he
didn't, He took
match was struck then and there.
been put poetically in this way :
Young Fred, a bashful, vet persistent swain,
‘as very much in love with Mary Jane,
w 1 i th M J
One night she told him in her ten deres! tone,
“it is not good for man to be alone,’
Said Fred, “Just so, you darling little if ;
Pye often thought of that same thing myself,”
hen said the lass, while Fred was all agog,
* You ought to buy yourself a terrier dog”
posal is occasionally met with. A Cali-
fornia paper, some months since, told
the story of a scene that occurred in
Alameda county. A respectable old
gentleman of fifty accidentally met a
lady five years his junior. They had
frequently heard of cach other through
mutual friends, but had never met face
to face. The following conversation
took piace:
Gentleman—Madam,
name ?
Lady—My name is —
Gentleman—My pame
what is your
is 1
Ahem!
hushand ?
Lady—Well, really now, I don't
know. I've heard your name, Mr,
—, but how would you like me for
a wife?
Gentleman- Madam, the sight of yon
heard. Will yon be my wife?
The lady assented. The gentleman
went immediately to Oakiand to get a
license, and twenty-four hours after the
first meeting the couple were man and
wife and started for the new husband's
ranch at Livermore,
Every now and then we read of mar.
Here is a wue
case of & proposal of marriage being
made in the same way. Miss Maria
Roop was married in Boston under the
following circumstances : Captain
Roop, a distant relative, who sailed an
Engiish ship, visited Mr. John Roop’s,
in St. John, New Brunswick, on his
way to Peterboro, Nova Scotia, and met
his fate in the person of the young lady
who finally became his wife, He re.
turned to New Yurk and began to load
for Java. He wrote to her and pro
next week, marry him and sail for Java.
was on tne sea, or loading at the wharf,
and she must decide at once. The let.
ter was received in the morning and had
not been read more than half a dozen
was received to the following el-
fect : “Please answer my letter
by telegraph—yes or no.” Any girl
can promptly say yes or no to the offer
of a band and heart, bul where such
offer is coupled with three days’ notice
and a vovage to the East Indies, the
case requires a lit'le more considera
tion. She took time to consider, and
added strength to the saying that the
woman who considers is lost, for, when
the afternoon of the same day brought
hor another dispateh, which was sim-
ply “ Yes or no?" she went to the tel-
opraph office and wrote “yes” on a
blank. The operator, knowing noth
»
man in New York was soon made happy
by its reception. The lady left her
home at once; was married in Boston,
and started on her wedding tour around
the world.
Then there is the urgent proposal
where the man loses all sense of em.
his suit, A young
the park one summer evening, engaged
in deep and pleasant converse,
“ Oh, do be mine,” he said, attempt-
ing to draw her a little nearer his end
of the seat.
She made herself rigid and heaved a
sigh.
“I'll be a good man and give up all
No reply.
“ I'll never drink another drop,” he
Still unrelenting sat the object of his
adoration.
“ And give up chewing.”
No response.
“And smoking."
Cold as ever,
“ And join the church."
She only shook her head.
“And give you a diamond engage-
ment ring,” he added in desperation,
Then the maiden lifted her drooping
eyes tu his, and leaning her frizzes on
his shoulder, tremblingly murmured
into his ravished ear:
“Oh, Edward, you are too, too
good.”
And there they sat, until the soft
arms of night—that dusky nurse of the
world—had folded them from sight,
pondering, planning, thinking, she of
the diamond ring and he of how on
earth he was to getit.— Brooklyn Eagle"
NESS,
| The Trade In Skulls and Skeletons-The
Demund for Both Tucreasiog, and Prices
Advancing.
# Of the secondary industries of this
city (says a New York paper) the trade
in skeletons and skulls take u high rank,
not so much on account of the extent
of the business, but because, like the
trade in mathematical instruments, it
assists the educational and scientific
wants of the present age” said a
well known physician sttached to
Bellevne hospital to the writer the
| other day,
For some years past the business has
fa «© off, but new life has been in.
| stillew into it, and the dealers are doing
a thriving business,
| A well known desler in Chatham
| street, when applied to for information,
| said the demand for skulls and skele-
tons for some reasons had lsrgely in-
| creased, more especially with the coun-
try trade, The cali is for the best to be
found in the market, and the priee is
now a secondary consideration with the
buyers, A few years ago a count
physician used to be satisfied with al-
most anything that was in the shape of
& skeleton, some of which they even
‘used to fix np themselves while attend-
| ing the medical colleges, This is not
the case now, however,
Some of them are more
than the regular city Siotfat
are more liberal in the price demanded,
| With the man of moderate means a
| simple skull or & few bones of different
variety would answer his purpose,
whereas the true medical student of the
present age considers himself of little
account anless he ean exhibit a fine and
complete form in his surgery, and by
some it is considered almost as valuable
| as the diplomus of their college. Strange
as it muy appear, there sre many per-
sons who study anatomy only for the
— a —
| pleasure of it, who invest in a whole
| skeleton or a skull to hang up in their
studies.
“ Why, to-day we think nothing of
{time ; while a year or two sgo we
scarcely had one a month. This was on
scoount of hard times; not that the
student or physician did not require or
| wish for them. The skeleton business
| has largely developed throughout the
country of late, and, owing to the de-
‘mand, prices have goue up instead of
decreasing.”
“Are many skeletons prepared in
| this coantry ¥"*
“*Not to any great extent; but the
business has been enlarged, as it is a
| profitable one if a person only under-
| stands it. We are the consumers, and
are to a great extent in the hands of
| those who import them They mostly
come from Paris and London, where
' the anstomieal art is best studied.
{| *“*Bo far the Americans have not been
{able to compete with the exporters,
although they are improving in the
| manger of preparing them. There is
| but one man in this eity who thor-
| oughly understands the business of pre-
paring those skeletons, and he is a
Frenchman, who has been in the busi-
{ neas a pumber of years across the At
| lantie. He knows, however, the value
| of his work, and by the time he has
| completed his work the skeleton costs
| almost as much as if it were imported
i direct, and a finer specimen might be
|obtained. It is conceded that the
| French anatomists are far superior to
| any others in preparing these skeletons,
“The English come ‘next. A few
specimens are sent irom Norway, but
| for the most part they ara coarse, and
{ badly prepared, and are sold for a small
| amount compared with the other im-
| portations.”
“ How long has this business been in-
trodnoed in thisconnlry
“ About twenty-five years. At that
sidered quite a rarity, and the price
asked for it woald be more than double
asked now for the best specimen im-
sorted. Some twenty years ago a num-
pos of dealers in this city, who dealt
m- stly in surgical instruments, saw an
| opportunity for making money by ex-
porting skeletons and skulls, and went
into the business as a speculation. To-
day there are about eighteen of these
men in the business who supply the
wants, in and out of the city, of the
medical men and stndente,
“The great secret in the business isto
i set the bones properly bleached, a se-
{ cret they have only partly I i
| this co antry.
{ and therefore to a great extent can con-
{ {rol the market price.”
* What does it cost for a good skele-
{ ton or skull ¥
“Much depends on the size and
{ color. You can buy skeletons for $45
i apices, and a good one for $80 and
{2100. Three years ago you could have
| bought the same for $35 and $50, and
to the cost of the skulls? Well, yon
| can buy them now from $13 to $40, the
| price being regulated by the number of
For instance, you
can order a good pair of heavy thigh
“Is there much difficulty in procur-
ing bodies for skeleton purposes ™
“The material is scarcer in London
and Paris than in this country, and they
cost more on that account.
“A fine field is open in this country
for good operators, as the ‘stiffs’ can be
obtained at the different hospitals for
little or nothing, setting as de those
sent to the colleges for dissestion pur-
poses. A large portion of young and
middle aged criminals are given up by
the aathorities for one purpose or the
other, and the best specimens in form
are always picked out. For some rea-
son the skeleton of a man is of more
value than that of a woman, aud is more
frequently asked for, At one time the
skeleton of a well formed Indian was of
more value than that of a civilized per-
son, from the fact that it would be more
developed. The chief art connected
with the business lies in the bleaching
of the bones, Various attempts have
been made by some of the most practi
cal and scientific of this country to dis
cover the exact French and English
process of whitening the bones, but so
far the attempts have not been successs
ful. In many of the medical college-
and institutions artificial models are
introduced, but they are not appreciated
as the genuine skeletons or skulls,
They aot as a means of inciting the
study of anatomy, and as soon as
student becomes really interested in
his study and investigation, then noth-
ing will do but the genmine subjects.
This study is daily increasing, and
hundreds of years may pass away before
the regular scientific men will have ex-
hausted the possibilities of discovery
in the mechanism of the human frame,
and until such time the trade in skulls
and skeletons will continue to increase.”
“Second class in grammar stand up,”
said the schoolmaster Yo Jobn isa bad
boy.” “What does John correspon:
ith ?” «J know,” said the little hoy
at the foot of the class, holding up his
hand. “John Smithers, he corre-
sponds with my sister Sasan. Here's
»
her.
hit
5
i
EEESSESTEE
2<f
i
tives in their raids upon tribes,
them 3 nl. - Suite 4
ones have learned by experience that
white men will not kill thom, and conse-
quently when they appea: in the market
theyareim assailed by piteous
cries: **Oibo ramil” *‘Cibo rami!”
mau, bay me! white man, buy me
And they buy them to the extent
their limited finances. The mission
aries usually pick out boys and girls of
about six to eight years of age, take
in ther tl Be Og co
t ht arsdld =
marry. Some 3 shown to
Gazette man of these i
barians were inexpressibly funny.
Joung gentleman in a very sear
ng Rh ga
ingly ;
to be fully impressed with the imp
ing dignity of his newly donned cos-
tume. Hundreds of these children
bought by he Quiholie =
Very yoar. them
couries or Ror Bo guns an
glass. The uctustes from
value of $5 up to $15.
Wet and Dry Thunderstorms,
A correspondent of the London
writing from Transvaal, South |
says: Evory afterneon
storms of thunder aad
upon us. These were of two
the wet and the dry: The first
less, though noisy; the second «
ingly dangerous, During thedry
derstorms, which were g
toward the end of October,
ning seemed qui
The angry
simultaneously
thunder, which
Dy