Never Suspected It.
A letter on the table lies:
I do not recognize the hand,
And yet my heart is throbbing and
There's joy light in my yearning eyes.
Is it from mother, old and gray,
Or from the little trusting maid
Whose heart I won before I. trayed
Qut to the mountains, leagues away ?
Before I break the seal I press
My lips upon the envelope,
And oh | a boundless wealth of hope
Is lavished in that soft caress,
Peace, fluttering heart | Oh, soul, it still
Why shonld my trembling frame recoil
My letter comes from Bridget Doyle;
It is--it is my laundry bill,
«San Francisco Dulletin
rn IIA,
Fate,
Two shall ba born the whole wide world apart,
And speak in different tongues, and have no
thought
Each of the other's being, and no heed,
And these o'er unknown seas to unknown
lands
Shall cross, escaping wreek, defving death;
s + oS v
And, all unconsciously, shape every aot
And bend each wandering step to this one
8 i
end—
That one day out of darkness they shall moet
And read life's meaning in each other's eyes,
And two shall walk some narrow way of lif,
So nearly side by side that should wn
Ever so little space to left or right
They needs must stand acknowledged face to
face,
And yet, with wistful ayes that never meet,
With groping hands that nover clasp, and lips
Calling ia vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days,
And die unsatisfied: and this is fate,
ane
88 any man might well be proud of
knowing; at least so seemed to think
gazed and loved—and loving, gased
again,
that you should love me, poor Grace
Gardner,
friends or fortuse, aud more than all,
Four sister's governess.”
The manly face beside her flushed
with a loving look as he replied:
“Strange, my darling, it may be, but
not one whit the less true, that I love
you with an intensity that shall outlive
every evil or ill that a cold and unsym-
us. For you, my dearest, I can glory
in relinquishing every wish and am-
bition of my life—home, friends and
fortuca—and willing commence fo labor
for the daily bread that your lovesnd
presence shall turn into veritalie
manna.”
“ Oh, Cecil,” she ¢xelaimed, ‘it seems
80 terribly selfish to allow you to give
up so much for me! Aud who knows,
you may some day regret so great a
sacrifice? Nay, rather let me go away,
and try to find peace away from you;
happiness were impossible.”
alarm, ‘for my sske never mention
such an idea again! What pleasure do
you suppose all the riches of earth
could afford me unless I had you to
share them
only to beseech you to press me no
more to—to—"
“ To marry me? he asked, laugh-
ingly.
“ Yes," she replied, blushing, “until
you have avowed to Colonel and Mrs.
Courtney your preference for my hum-
ble self. Who can tell what might
follow? Mrs. Courtney has been kind
and considerate to me during the short
time I have been here; perhaps they
may not despise my dependent position,
and consenting to our union all may be
bright sud joyous.”
“1 will do us you wish, love,” he re-
lied, fondly, ‘though 1 have little
Po of success, for you do not know
heraswelles I do. Bat if I fail, dar-
ling, will you promise to face poverty
at once with me and become my bride ?
1 have a hundred a year—left me by an
auni—w ich my parents cannot touch
or interfere with, This will keep us
from want until I can meet with em-
ployment. Sar, Gracie darling, shall
it baso? You do not fear poverty with
me 7’
““Fear!” she exclaimed.
nothing with yon.”
He wonld have been less than a lover
had he not fervently pressed those rosy
lips to his own in true lover fashion.
it was the afternoon of the next day,
while Grace Gardner was giving a mu-
gic lesson {o her affectionate and pretty
little pupil (Cecil Courtney's only sis-
ter), j that the school-room door was
thrown open in an ominous manner,
“I fear
walked into the room. One glance a
her haughty and sngry countenance
told Grace her er:and.
Mabel away to her nurse, and then,
turning to the governess, said:
* Ard now, Miss Gardner, I have to
to leave this house this afternoon.”
*“ Bearcely this afternoon,” replied
Grace, quickly. ** It is now too late to
reach my friends to-day.
comply with your request.”
tolerable!” excliimed the lady, walking
angrily up and down the room. * I tell
you you shall go at once! You do not
sleep another night under this roof!”
“May I be allowed to inquire the
cause of so sudden and urgent a dis-
missal ?” asked Grace, in the same
quiet tone.
*“ Ask!” said Mrs. Couriney, scorn-
fully. “ Your conscience must tell you
well enongh! Here, you have not been
laid your snares so cleverly that you
have succeeded in entrapping my only
son; and so skillfully and slyly have yon
played yoar part that I had not suspi-
cion of what was going on until that be-
witched youth, fascinated with your
doll’s face, has dared to ask our con-
sent to his marriage with you—you, who
may be the daughter of a costermonger
for all we know! This comes of taking
girls on a lady's recommendation, in-
stead of applying to those who had pre-
viously encaged them!
care to let Lady Powis know what kind
of a protege she has recommended !”
Grace's face flushed as she replied,
with dignity:
“Truly, madame, you might have
stated your cause of complaint in gen-
tler terms. Since vou confess yourself
ignorant of my parentage, dced it not
ocour to you that I am as likely to
prove the daughter of a duke as of a
costermonger, in which case, I presume,
i would consider your son honored
y an alliance with me ?”
“The daughter of a duke, indeed!
Yon are nothing but a hardy adventur-
ess; and let me tell yon, miss, never
presume to see my son again! Should
e dare to continue to address you in
defiance of his lawful guardians, he
will be disinherited; and as it is the
money and not the man you want, I
have no fear as to what course you will
pursue with regard to him!”
8. saying she swept from the room.
Grace then wrote a short note, as fol-
lows:
“Dear Ceci: Your suspicions were
correct. 1 am turned from your
mother’s house because I have dared to
love and be loved by you.
“It were better for us to part now,
though I can scarcely bring myself to
write such dreadful words. Let me at
least see you once more to say farewell,
I shall stay until to-morrow at Mrs,
Jones’ cottage in the village. Yours,
“Gracie ”
She then left the same address with
Mrs. Courtney's maid, in order that her
boxes might be sent to her, and wrap-
ping a dark cloak around her and don-
ning a lace hat, she set out for Mrs,
Jones’, who was an old woman to whom
—— SSAA, FAA A
A
VOLUME
CENTRE
XV,
HALL, CENTRE
1882,
| she had given money and kind words | mend her a governess. Suddenly Ger.
{ during her short residence in Lindon, | trude declared her intention of playing
{ not, however, before she had stolen silent- | the part and aceopting the engagement.
{ ly and unobserved to a sequestered part | ‘Now, auntie,’ said she, ‘I will see if
| of the grounds, and carefully laid her | there is a man in the world who can
| noteto Cecil Courtney in a hole beneath | love Gertrude Gordon for herself alone.’
a large stone, which hele—to judge by
| mide and arranged-—had already been | provent her recognition by any who
| the receptacle of similar messages, { had seen hor in her own character.
: ! How far her plan has succeeded is seen
{ by the fact that she is now Mrs, Cecil
It was a glorious evening toward the | Courtney.”
{ elose of Jaly when, in a handsome room | * Yes,” said Gertrude, turning to her
| in a fashionable hotel of the Lake dis. | mother-in-law, “It happened that
| triot, Cecil Courtney sat alone with his | Cecil and I met the first day of my resi-
| beauteous bride. The evening sunset | dence with you, while I was walking
| was lighting up lakes, mountains and | out with Mabel; after that we met
| woods with silent beauty. Grace had | every evening under the old elm trees,
| been busy writing, but her letter was | The pleasure of those happy Lours
{ finished, and as she raised her lovely | made joyous the duties and restraints
| head she exclaimed : | of my new position, which would other-
| “Ob, Cecil, how perfectly enchant- | wise have proved irksome.” Then ap-
{ ing this sunset is! My darling, Your | preaching Mrs. Courtney—who was
| love is to me what the setting sun is to | weeping tears of shame and mortifica-
{ nature; it fills me with a bright, rosy bap- | tion—said, sweetly: “Pardon, dear
| piness, which changes my whole being, | madame, the deception I practiced upon
and makes it as bright as the setling | you, and in a mother's anxiety for the
| sun makes yon lovely landscape I" welfare of her son I can cheerfully ex-
“ Heaven bless you for saying so, | cuse your apparent harshness to me, 1
darling wife! Nothing on earth could | have no mother; let me find one now.”
add to the beauty of wy beloved's face, | The haughty lady bowed her head,
| that is already perfect!” | murmuring:
She blushed in silent happiness, and | “You overpower me with your good-
{ for awhile they watched the glowing i ness; I am not worthy of it.”
| soene with a joy too deep for words, | Gertrude kissed her affectionately,
Presently he said, playfully : { and then passing to the colonel, said:
“And whom has my dear wife been | “I see I need not plead here for a
writing to ?* | father's Kiss.”
“To lady Powis,” she replied, | “Good heavens!
8 » ® ® * *
no. I'd no idea
| and to her I owe more than words ean | her in his arms
| express, She is immensely rich and | heartily.
{ very influential, and it was entirely my |
| own fault that I took an engagement as | with a timidity new to her, saying:
| governess instead of remaining with her. | “And Cecil—can he, too, forgive my
I have now written to inform her of my | deception?"
{ marriage, and it is jost possible that
she may be able and willing to find you | eled hand to his lips, saying:
| some suitable appointment.” “ Forgive! My darling, what have I
i “You dear, kind, thoughtful wife!
| I cannot say, but I hope she may for | to deserve such love, such goodness?
| your sake; for I fear, love, that unless | With the devotion of my life will I re-
| something turns up, I shall have to | pav your love, my darling, my wife!”
forego the pleasure of seeing my dar-
| ling attired in such costly raiment as | the lovely bride far outshone all the
| this, and this," he replied, touching al- | beautiful girls prese.t. Great was the
| most reverentially
| dress and the beautiful lace she wore | should have suddenly gone abroad to
{ around wrists and neck.
* That would rever griave me,”
| she, lightly.
serge as in satin, il dear Cecil only | and was soon forgotten,
loves me. However, before we make! To a very few indeed was it ever
| up our minds to poverty, let us wait known that the lovely wife of Cecil
{ and see what Lady Powis has to say.” | Courtney was ever his sister's governess.
| The return post bronght a letter from Em ———————————
| Lady Powis, congratulating her dear RET CHIT BE I AL
i Gracie upon the happy marriage she had SCIENTIFIC NOTES.
| formed; and then went on to invite the
{ young couple to come to ber on a visit
said | band. But though gossip was busy for
The function of yeast is to change
{ wishing, however, that they wonld
{ come on the morning of the first of Au.
gust, as on the evening of that day she | tints.
was to give a grand ball—the last of
the season—in henor of the ret
her niece, Lady Gertrude Gordon, from
a three months’ visit to a cousin in Gor
Iany. :
“There now!” said Gracie, clapping
her pretty hands.
“ But yon must order a ball dress, een one
my love,” said Cecil; “my pearl must | foot of soil will evaporate six times as
be set in as fine gold as any other at | much moisture as the same amount of
this ball.” . lea! surface.
“Oh, leave that to me, dear,” said Cords stretched
she.
to fall in love with Lady Gertrude.”
“Is she very pretty, then?’
{ “You shall tell me if you think her
80 when you see her,” said Grace,
| laughing. ; : g nic poisons is purified by being ran
|, ihe morning of the lst arrived, and | through beds of sand, it
found Cecil and his bride with Lady found. at Leipsio, ground under the
| Powis by noon. Grace wus received | bottom of badly built sewers is much
| with a loving welcome by her friend, | cleaner than that over their tops.
| who said that Lady Gertrude was rest | Yt iu stated thal
{ing for the evening, until when she | k18 stu'ec Jaak
| would not appear. There was to be a
{ plain dinner before the ball, at which |
| two old friends were to dine en famille,
i And then, after awhile, with an apology,
the lady lef: the young couple to their
own resources until evening,
The ladies were to dine h their ball decay of the mortar, .
dresses to escape the fatigue and hurry | Contagion of diphtheria can be ob
| of a second dressing. When Grace ap- | tained from a dead body, if a recent
| peared attired for the evening Cecil | case is accurately reported. Two per-
could not but marvel both at her won- | 500s were engaged to be married ; but
| dious beauty and the graceful splen- | before the ceremony took place the
| dor of her apparel. She wore a dress | man diel of diphtheria. The young
of white satin, trimmed with real Honi- | 181y kissed her lover as he lay dead in
ton lace and banches of clematis and i his eoflin. Threa days afterward she
{ lilies-of the-valley; but mcre than that, | followed him to the grave, dying of the
| there glittered on her neck and arms | same disease, although there was not
| diamonds and pearls of great value. | another case of it then nor for nineteen
| ‘“Bee,” sho said, approaching him, | years before in the neighborhood.
‘these are Lady Powis’ bridal gifts— | Several interesting archmological
{ are they not lovely ?” | “finds” in Earope are reported. Near
“Lovely indeed,” said Cecil, intoxi- | Caltarisetta, Sicily, several caverns
cated with her beauty; “but not half so { have been found, which are evidently
| beautiful as my darling wife, who is, I | burial places dating from the period
| feel sure, to be the belle of the ball to- | when the ancient Sicilians had already
| night,” and he presced her fair form { been ousted by the Italian tribes, but
| warmly to his manly breast. Proudly | before the Greek colonization had be-
| he gave her Lis arm and descended to|gun. At Nordup, Denmark, the re
| the drawing-room. | mains of seven human bodies have been
| Who can picture his bewilderment | found under a few feet of pumice stone,
| when, in the two friends who were to | numerous bronza objects, gold rings,
dine with them, he saw his own father | Roman glasses, mosaics, glass beads,
{ and mother! | ete., being also discovered among the
Mrs, Courtney's heart had beaten | remains,
| with proud triumph when she received |
| the invitation to the ball, and above all
| to dine en famille with Lady Powis pre- |
| viously, for her social position scarcely |
{ entitled her to such an honor. She was
aghast with amazement when she saw
3033
hands
may be set down as
Cast iron is said to ba permeable tc
certain gases at high temperatures, and
to hydrogen gas even when cold.
in a
public halls,
Verifying the discovery that water
containing infecticus matter and or-
found to last many years, in conse-
| quence of being impreguated with the
salt, while pillars of brick and stone
et ————
Bowing in Holland,
| Everybody bows—nobody nods, and
| touching ot the hat is unknown. You
| bow to every one you may have met
h ter] th ) . | when calling on a friend, for callers
iT Son entering lle room bearing on | yeeting are introduced. You give an
his arm the * hardy adventures.” But | orqer tn gardner or a workman, and
her humiliation was truiy pitiful when | he takes off his hat with a bow which
Lady Powis, taking the hand of the | would not bring discredit on a duke.
lovely aud smiling bride, led her to Every one bows on passing a house
them, saying: where they visit. I often used to amuse
| “Mrs. and Colonel Courtrey, allow myself by watching behind a enrtain to
| le to present to you one who, until | soy avery second man take off his hat
lately, was my dearly loved niece, Lady | to the window, it being quite imma-
Gertrude Gordon, but who is now the terial whether any of the family are
wile of your son, and consequently | visible or not; and every second lady
Jour dauglter-in-law. . . ., | make a polite bend of the whole body,
: Good heavens | ; exclaimed Ceeil, | ot a mere inclination of the head as
what mystery is this ? our ladies do, Liverbody bows. Men
Grace, or rather Lady Gertrude, take off their hats to each other; trades
broke into a merry peal of silvery men do the same to all their customers,
laughter. | . cerns. | A well known Jady is bowed to by all
Now, said the, gleefully, this | hor father's, husband's or brother's
denouement is simply charming; have friends, and any gentleman knowing a
I not played my part well ? and has not | jody is staying at a house where he
dear auntie kept my secret and carried visits will bow to her.
out my plans excellently? This is, I | | aven had a bowing acquaintance
am sure, a most romantic marriage, and with a student whom I never met, and
I believe will be as happy as romantic,” | 3d not know from Adam, I conld not
said she, turning fondly to her hus- imagine what made the boy bow so pro
band. a : ._ | foundly, nntil I got somo one to ask if
‘But, my darling,” said he, with pain- | ho knew me, 1 found I had once met
ful embarassment, “I cannot under: | pig father somewhere, and that was the
pe ot all. Have pity and | __ghg)l I say excuse? I should if he
iain.” ., | had been English, Well, after an ab-
“I think I bad better do that,” said | sane of threo years, I returned to the
Lady Powis, gracefully. “My D1ECO, | town where he lived, and there he was,
like myself, is of a romantic disposition, grown into a man, bowing still. For
She was the belle of the season, and her | goo months we had quite a lively bow-
beauty and wealth brought her many ing acquaintance, and there it ended, as
admirers; but she refused them sll. | o¢oratime. I must, however, include
She told me often that she wished to be “compliments” with bowing in the Dutch
loved for herself alone, and not for her idea of politeness. Every parcel is
wealth and title. You,” said she, turn- | gant home with the sender's compli-
ing to Colonel and Mrs, Courtney, “had | ponte and I once heard this message
but just returned with your son here | golivered at the door of a house where
from a long residence abroad | wag calling: ** My compliments to the
when we saw you at a concert. Ger | vrouw, and has’ she any dust?” It
trude saw you then for the first time,” was the dnstman!— Leisure Hour,
continued she, addressing Cecil, “and
on returning home she remarked,
‘Auntie, if I ever marry it must be such
8 man as that’ The next diy came
Mrs. Courtney’s letter, asking me, as
an old dequaintance, if I could recom-
Out of 100 samples of wines and
in New York, only two were found free
from poison and gross adulteration,
SUNDAY READING.
A Well-llailt Christian,
A well-built Christian is harmonious
in all his parts, No one trait
another. He is not a jumble of ineon-
| to-day fluent in prayer, and to-morrow
| fluent in polite falsehoods, He
day, He does not shirk an honest debt
to make a huge donation. He is not in
favor of temperance for other folks and
a glass of toddy for himself. He
not exhort or pray at each of the few
meetings he attends, to make up arrear-
does
during revival seasons that he is as eold
as Nova Zembla during all the rest of the
O
attra
faf/ie re
Religious News and Notes,
ment of the Church
been held recently in Aberdeen, Edin
burgh, Glasgow and other cities of
Scotland.
numbers 86,445. The churches can ac.
commodate 49 860, and the
on a recent Sund AY showed
percentage of worshipers of 44 92,
The Philadelphia Baptist association
was organized It bas
i
TO Years ago.
of 23.444; 104 Bandav.sohools, with
| 2,016 teachers and 20,431 scholars,
{ In the first decade of tha Methodist
| Episcopal church there was one minis
| ter to every 194 members; in jthe fifth
{ decade the proportion was one to 284;
| the present proportion is one minister
to 147 members, against 142 in the
ninth and tenth decade.
| Of the 12,142 ministers of the Metho
| dist Episcopal church, 2,808 are not in
pastoral work.
superanuates and supernumeraries, 204
| are connected with colle ges, eighty
{ ete, and 440 are presiding elders,
The total strength of the Methodist
| EpiseopalChurchSouth, in the Louisiana
| conference is 14,901; in New Orleans,
{ 1,526 members, Valne of church prop
{ erty in New Orleans, £300,710. Num-
of Sanday-school scholars and
| teachers, 1,050; total number in oon
ference, 7,130.
The South India Methodist mission
conference, embracing 2.040 members,
| raised year 107,835 rupees, or
| about $33,018, which is upward of an
average of twenty-six dollars per mem-
ber. The ga
teen. The work is chiefly among Ea.
| ropeans and Eurasiane, though increased
attention is being given to the heathen,
An emperor of Germany coming by
chance, on a Sand into a chureh,
ber
ast
8
| found there a most misshapen priest
{ insomuch as the emperor seorned and
condemned him, Bat when he heard
{ him read these words: * Foritis hethat
| made us, and not we ourselves,” the
| emperor checked bis own proud
{ thought, and rade inquiry into the
| condition and quality of the man; and
finding him, on examination, most earn
est and devont, he made him
| bishop of Colon, whie
h place h
i cellently discharge, —/ f 3
Fuller's H
—————————
Oaorata Rodiana.
There is a very interesting story told
| of an artist of Cremona—Onorata Rodi.
| aua—who, while still & young maiden,
| soquired such fae as a painter that she
| was summoned by the Marquis Gabrino
| Fondolo, called the * Tyrant of Cre.
i mona,” to decorate some rooms in
i palace.
One day as Onorata was mounted on
his
young courtier passing through the
room began {o tease her; but his banter
| degenerating into rudeness she came
down the ladder and tried to run away
{ from him. He pursued her, however,
and caught her, when in her fright she
| drew a dagger from ber belt and
| stabbed him fatally. Seeing what she
{ had done, and fearing the wrath of the
Marquis Fondolo, she hastened to put
on the disguise of a boy's dress, and
flad to the mountains, Bhe there fell
in with a band of eondottieri; the life
of these men, balf-soldier and half
brigand in its character, so fascinated
Ouoorata that she at once consented to
become one of their number, glad of
the chance afforded her to make her
life in its wilds, She
much daring and skill that she was
made an officer in the band aud held a
post of command,
When the “ Tyrant of Cremona”
heard of the affray between the cour
tier and the maiden, and of her crime
so skillfully had she concealed
indentity as to bafile all his efforts to
track her,
the paintings which Onorata Rodiana
had begun, he declared a full pardon
for her if she would return to the palace
and finish her works.
rounding country, and when Onorata
heard of it she gladly laid
sword to resume her palette
brushes.
the exciting life she had led among the
and
learned to respect and love her,
life were divided between her beloved
last, when her native village of Castel-
leone, near Cremona, was laid siege to,
Onorata led her band to its relief and
drove away the enemy. But she res
cued her birthplace at the cost of her
life; for she was mortally wounded in
the conflict, and died soon after within
night of the home of Ler ehildhood.
I believe that she is the only woman
who has ever been successful as both
an artist and a soldier; and I am sorry
that I can find no work of hers of which
a picture may be given here, Her story
is well authenticated in history, and
she died about the year 1472-8,
Nicholas,
sr ———————
Shaving in Old Times,
Shaving, in the olden days, was a
lengthy operation, and English bar.
bers devised various methods of amus.
ing their customers while awaiting
their turn. They generally provided
some musical instrument, such as a
guitar or a zither, In old pictures the
shaving basin fitted into the chin; un-
til a recent period barbers were wont to
bleed a patient, and even extract teeth.
In London the familiar barber's pole,
with its red spiral coil of color, is a
reminiscence of the staff the surgeon
gave his customers to grasp while he
was being bled. The tape or bandage
was twisted round tho pole, which,
when not in use, was placed outside
the door, This staff was, by order,
left outside a surgeon's door as « sign,
and the right to use it was extended to
barbers about the year 1790,
WISE WORDS,
| Character is thadiamond that soratches
| every other stone,
i Pride the consciousness of what
| one is without contempt for others,
18
and is but the low mimic of wisdom,
Fvery absurdity has a champion to
defend it—{for error is always talkative,
When respiration ceases our educa
tion is finished, and not a moment
sooner,
More than half of all the thanks that
have been thonght of and planned for
| forever by being left over night,
Goodoess, on whatever way we look
| at it, never sleeps. It is holy life, beat.
ing march with the heavenly
As a man's life. so are his studies, 1
think it is the most beautiful and hu.
rise up into wantonness,
| the rude, subdue the haughty, shake
{ in the lion's mouth and lead him forth
{a8 a domestio cur; these are the tri.
| umphs of all powerful beauty.
The every-day care: aud duties which
men call drudgery are the weights and
j counterpoises «f the clock of time,
giving its pendulum a true vibration
and its hands a regular motion, and
when they cease to bang upon the
wheels the pendalam no longes swings,
the
stands still,
If your character indicates a flaw
that is, if you find what at first seemed
innocent desire,
seriously affect your character and life,
eradicate it at once; for nothing is so
hard to uproot as a bad habit, and noth.
ling is so essential to advancement or
serves us so faithfully as a good char-
acter,
Keep a firm grip on good temper,
and don't loss your hold unless it pays,
| Many a man hag lost his place and
friend, many a lover his sweotheart,
lives wrecked, crimes committed oven
to the extent of murder, just by losing
the grip discretion bids us
on this best of all good companions
good temper,
koep
————————
can Huspitality,
Mexi
In her Century paper, illustrating
Mexican life with pen and pencil, Mra,
Mary Hallock Foote describes a six
days’ ride cf 250 miles * From Morelia
to Mexico City on Horseback." The
following is an interesting account of
her reception at an extensive Mexican
farm or hacienda:
Teopitongo, with its mansion and ecas-
tillo, or fortress, for refuge and defense
in unsettled times, its corrals, out
small, forms in itself a village in the
solitude of the pastoral plain which
surrounds it,
The administrador took us the rounds
of the outbuildings before supper,
which is served very late in the Mexi-
household. We wery shown the
threshing-floor, a stone-paved amphi.
theater over one hundred feet in diam.
cter, very slightly concave, rinking
can
center, It was surrounded
of low stone buildings, tile
supported on stone pillars,
At supper we sal down to a medieval
board like that of Quierendero, ** with
vaseals and serfs” around us. We were
invited to cousider the house and every-
thing in it as our own, Oar mozos had
the freedom of the kitohens and the
stables, our host gave up his place at the
head of the table, and in effect the
entire establishment was placed at our
lisposal, with a courtesy as graceful as
1t was irresistible,
Alter supper we talked in the clois-
tered court—a lovely, secluded pre-
cinet, with formal trees planted in open
spaces left in the pavement, We were
very grateful for this our last moon of
Mexico. We left it, when we returned
to our winter evenings and fire, and
lamp light, hanging large and low over
the gulf
From fhe patio we entered the sala
a long, tile-paved room, with a sofa at
one end, the place of honor for the lady
guest, the members of the family ocen-
| pying the arm-chairs which are ranged
by a circle
roofed and
sofa.
| room to the sofa. As there were no
ladies at Tepitongo I was obliged to
| sit alone on the long sofa. The en-
{other unbidden puest like ourselves,
who bad found shelter for the night, oc-
cupied the arm chairs
After awhile I ventured to ask the
| administrador to take the seat beside
me.
the situation.
boy whom we had scea on his pony came
father's knee.
| shoes ; but in spite of his spurs and his
horsemanship he was not unwilling to
| sit in my lap and be coaxed into friend-
liness. The lisping Spanish vowels of
this little motherless child were ex-
quisite. Bat there was other *‘ music
{ of the country” in store for us.
the lower end of the room a company of
musicians gathered by the light of
| candles clustered on a table ; a striking
{ group, with violins, a violoncello,
guiters, a harp—I cannot recall all the
instraments, but the music and the
scene it would not be easy to forget.
——
Married Folks Would be Happier
If home trials were never told to
neighbors,
If they kissed and made up after
every quarrel,
If household expenses were propor-
tioned to recaipts.
If they tried to be agreeable as in
| courtship daya,
If each would try and be a support
and comfort to tho other,
If each remembered the other was a
human being, not an angel,
If women were so kind to their hus-
bands as they are to their lovers.
If fuel and provisions were laid in
during the high tide of summer,
I both parties remembered that they
were married for worse as well as for
better,
If men were as thoughtful for their
wives as they were for their sweet-
hearte,
1f there were fewer silk and velvet
street costumes and more plain, tidy
house dresses,
It there were fewer ‘please darl-
ings” in public and more common
manners in private.
If wives and husbands would take
some pleasure as they go along, and
not degenerato into mere toiling ma-
chines. Recreation is necessary to keep
the heart in its Place, and to get along
without it is a big mistake,
FOR THE FARM AND HOME,
Yaurm and Garden Notes,
Hens seldom pay expenses after they
are three years old,
Separate all breeding ewes from the
other sheep in the fluck now until after
lambing,
Orchard grass, though suitable for
orchards, can endure more sun and
drought than bloe grass,
The first eggs laid by a pullet or hen
after molting may be slightly blood.
stained, but it need not give any cause
for alarm,
The special advantage of green man.
It is a mistake to allow sows to breed
| before they are at least a year old, as
weak to live,
Nearly all kinds of trees do well on a
mixture of superphosphate snd wood
ashes, Lime is not suitable for straw.
berries but excellent around apple,
peach and pear trees,
Like the blackberry, the raspberry
fruit of the
year's growth,
upon the cane
ward for the next year's crop.
Grapevines sh
| a8 the season will parmit,
1f deferred
| Bap (bleed ; OvYeh if
An old orchard can pever be made
{ Young again, but by good care, pruning
#, it can bo made to bear
ght into bearing.
Iy training a pet lamb to come at the
set ont and bron
wherever they hear him, ss the pet will
cone followed by the other sheep.
| wash the head of the fowl with warm
| water and afterward bathe it with a so-
{ Intion consisting of four grains of sul.
| phate of zine dissolved in an ounce of
| water,
Fine flowers require thoroughly
roiled manure and wood mold mixed,
and tomato or other early plants can be
grown in boxes, and afterward trans-
planted with better results with such a
| der available the plant food already in
| the soil, without itself supplying any
| significant amount. Liming cannot,
therefore, be sucosssfully repeated ex-
| cept at considerable intervals,
If it is desired to change bees from
one locality to another the hives and
boxes should be gotten ready for use
now. Bees should be changed before
they are ready to fly out and become
customed to the new locality,
There is little if a ¥ absolute fertiliz.
ing value in coal ashes, but when mixed
with clay soil in large quantities they
render the soil lizhter and mora porous,
and allow the air and sunshine to pene
trate it. For this purpose they are
highly esteemed by gardeners.
\
i
For ordinary work a horse of average
size should be fed twelve pounds of oats
or other grin food, aad fifteen to
eighteen pounds of good bay; but, if
driven on the road, two or three pounds
of hay, morning und noon, and eight or
ten at night, with the same quantity of
Brain.
Potash for grape vines is being tosted
in France. A variety of the black mus.
cat has been found defective in color
where potash is defective in the soil,
and a writer recommends that one vine
of this grape be placed in every grape-
house to show by its full or by its de-
ficlent color whether or not the border
| for the roots has a sufficient supply of
potash,
Chickens should not be allowed to
roost till from four to five months old,
and then on broad perches, two to three
fect only from the ground. Exhibition
| birds are better roosted on shelves,
{ oovered with sand and littered with
straw; but then they must be kept
very clean, and the straw must be fre.
quently changed. Oa no account place
| perches one above the other, so that the
droppings fall on birds lodged lower
| down.
| success, and the roosting-places should
| be scraped ont daily and resanded. The
| greater the number of fowls the greater
' must be the care.
Reelpes,
Kexrvery Porarors—Slice the po-
| tato thin as for frying, and allow them
{to remain in cold water for half an
| hour, then put the slices into a pudding
: dish, with salt, pepper and some milk—
about hall a pint to an ordinary pud.
| ding dish, Pat in an oven, bake .n
{ hour. Take out and cut a lump of but.
| ter the size of an epg into small bits
{ and scatter over the top,
half cup of butter, one and a half of
of sour milk, half a teaspoonful of
saleratug, yolks of four eggs and one
whole one, cinnamon, allspice, eloves
and nutmeg to taste. Then place a
layer of the white cake anda layer of |
the spice cake alternately, until the bat. |
| ter is used up, and bake slowly.
3ux Loar.—Half pound of butter,
| two pounds of flour, one pound of
{ brown sugar, one pound of sultana
| raising, one pound of currants, one pint |
| of milk, one ounce of carraway seeds, |
one lemon, one teaspoonful carbonate |
of soda, one ounce ol tartaric acid, |
Rub the flour and butter together and |
the soda. Warm the milk and add to |
the other ingredients. The tartaric |
acid must be added the last thing, and |
the cakes must be instantly put in the
oven. {
Tarioca Pronina.—Soak one enp of |
tapioca all night in water ; in the morn. |
ing mash with a spoon every undissolved
particle ; put in a quart of milk, with |
a little salt added ; let it boil until the |
tapioca is soft, then stir in the yolk of |
five or six eggs, and a cup of sugar; |
flavor with lemon ; when cold spread |
over the top a thin layer of jelly or |
rappberry jam, and on this put a merin.
gue cf tho whites of three eggs. Let
it brawn in the oven for two or three
minutes,
Breer Fm —Cold roast beef, one
onion, one tomato, pepper and salt, one
dozen boiled potatoes. Cut the cold
beef in thin slices, and put a layer on
the bottom of your dish. Shake in a
little flour, pepper and salt, out up and
add a tomato (if in season), or onion
finely chopped, then add another layer
of beef and seasoning till your dish is
full ; if you have any gravy put it in;
have ready a doz:n potatoes, boiled
and mashed, with butter and galt,
spread over the pie an inch thick; bake
twenty-five minutes or a little more,
The total number of blast furnace
and rolling mill establistmeats and
steel works in the United States was 808
in 1870, and 1.005 in 1880. "The value
of materials nsed was $1385,626,182 in
1870 and $191,271,160 in 1880—an
increase of 41 per cent,
AN ANIMAL TRAINER'S METHODS,
The Fieveor the Animui Is the Enster It Is
to Trails ised n Exciting Escounnter,
| A Louisville (Ky.) Courier. Jowrnai re.
| porter has had an interview with Mr,
| Willis Oobb, who was exhibiting his
| ronpe of animals ia that city. Mr,
| Cobb, although yet a Young man, has
{ probably had more experience with
| animals than any man in the profes
| sion, having handled Beary every specie
| with success, and trained them in a
| very short period.
| ‘How did you happen to go into the
| buginess ?* asked the reporter, as he
| took a seat on a box surrounded by the
| troupe of dogs, :
| “1have been in the business about
| twenty-eight years,” snswered Mr.
{ Cobb, “and first commenced with a
| black-and-tan dog in my father's store
{in Cincinnati, I tried to teach the
animal several tricks, and by exercising
considerable patience succeeded in
| teaching the dog & number of tricks. 1
| then took up several other dogs and
| taught them also, I now determined
| togo into the business more extensively,
and launched on goats. I never fully
| recognized what trouble there was train.
| ing animals until I tried to train a goat,
which is, without doubt, the hardest of
all animals to train. They are perfectly
stupid, and the first thing you have to
do with them is to teach them some of
| the sense which is natural with other
animals. worked on them shout eight
| months before I conid venture to pat
them before the footlights, And then
only with fear and trembling.’
| After considerable practice they got so
they would roll a La or barrel per.
fectly and see-saw very well, I never
bad much experience with wild animals
until I joined Sell Brothers’ cirons in
53, and my first experience was not
the
of the first things I undertook te train
was the drove of six wild Colorado
steers. I took them out into the prac.
ticing barn, and after fastening the
| doors went in among them by myself,
Things went along rather smooth]
until one of the steers became infuri
ated, and the whole gang rushed at me
| with horns down and tails up. I thought
my time had come in earvest, as there
| was no means of escape except by fight.
ing them off, On the other Eo, 1
knew that if I succeeded in whipping
them then that they would be pus
ally tamed. I backed up against the
door, and having a policeman’s club in
| my hand I fought them back. Three
| times they returned to the charge, and
I managed to fight them back each
time. After that they were per
| fectly tame, and I soon got them to
working finely, and learned them a
number of tricks that astonished every
one who knew them. The closest call
I ever had in my life, however, was with
men purchased and gave over to me to
tame. At first I was nouplussed, as the
animal was terribly fierce; but experi-
ence has since taught me that the
easier it is to train him. I managed to
get the animal so tame that I could pat
my hand on him and rub him over; he
it was dangerous to approach him sud-
denly, as you can sce by the scar,
{Sbowing a deep mark on the palm of
his hand] When we were in Topeka,
Kan., a powspaper man came to the tent
one day, and 1 started to show him
around. I was standiog by the tiger's
cege, the animal beirg asleep on
| the iuside, and stooped to pick so me
thing ap. Iu doing so my foot slipped
ard I fell against the cage, my right
arm going inside, Quick as a flash the
animal was upon its feet, and, reaching
cut its fore feet, caught me on the
shoulder with its claws. Giving the
claw a sudden pull, the animal tore all
the sleeve off my coal, and with it some
flesh, the claws stopping in the palm of
the band. The young man who was
with we jumped forward, nad, catching
me by the shoulder, pulled me back.
The movement nearly cost me the arm,
us the animal's claws were firmly fast-
ened in the palm of my band, and as I
was pulled back the whole inside was
torn out, leaving the knuckles bare.
The eeccident laid me up for some time,
and I had to train the animal over.
Some months afterward the same tiger
killed a man in Bellaire, Ohio. One of
the men with the circus had seen me
put my hands on the animal,
and thought he could do the sare. One
| day he went to the cage where the ani-
mal was, and putting his arm through
the Lars, caught the animal by the
collar. The tiger socked its claws into
| his shoulder and commenced chewing
{ on the arm, eating it off up to the
| shoulder. He managed to get away,
but died two days afterward, The tiger
is now 80 tame that any one can pat
him, The two baby elephants that
created so much talk I raised by Chand,
feeding them out of a bottle. Each of
the animals drank about a gallon of
milk a day, and ery for it like a child.
It is remarkable to see with what ac
| keeper at a distance. As soon as I
would enter the canvas every ani-
imal in the circus knew it,
and would rear around in their cage at
a terrible rage. Trainers can say what
they will about the secrets of training
animals, but there is no secret about it
but kindness. Any one can train an
animal who has the patience and gentle-
ness. The art of training pigeons has
In the
Rushville, Ind., and in the hotel where
They used to sit on the roof and
look down on my window while I was
eating. I soon got on to this, and
sprinkled crumbs of bread on the sill.
They used to fly down every day
and eat as soon as I was gone, | then
began to stand and watch them eat, and
finally got to 1 could touch them.
After that it was easy, and I could get
them. This was the origin of pigeon.
training, and a number of persons have
now taken it up and made money out of
it, The whole secret of training pig-
cons is in feeding them, and if yca do
not feed them for some time they will
gladly eat out of your month, There
are numbers of other tricks in animal:
training which I could tell if I had the
time and you the space.”
—— mn
His Manners,
“Say, old man!" said a street arab
to a passing citizen of rather more than
the average resp: otability and a glisten-
ing plug bat; *“ what's the matter with
your hat?”
No answer,
“I say! What's the matter with your
hat ?”
Still no answer.
‘* Well, if you're so particular about
it, what's the matter with your head ?”
The citizen turned abruptly about,
and with a look which was intended to
overawe the youngster, sternly re-
warked: “ Young man! where did you
learn your manners ?"
“Same placa that you did, I guess.
We was both to the same party last
vight—but you came gwav while the
hat-rack was full, and I stayed behind
till thers’d been enonch samples of
volitsness vhowed up for me to take
my pick from,” .~ilome (N, ¥.) Serine.
Love Light Heart,
T ovee inquired of a maiden of thirt
who was large, healthy and fair to loo
upon, what kept her so young-looking,
for she seemed sciree twenty, Bhe re-
plied: “Tove, I have, besides m
mother, brother and sisters, and thelr
families, to love s host of friends and
admirers, so that] bave no time to mops
| and regret I'm not besutiful,” And I've
| often wished married women loved more,
{for 1 verily believe if they did they
| would keep healthy, young and
tome longer than they now do. But
the cares and trials of life sie deep and
wearing, and we women are so crowded
with them that few of us have time for
ennobling our lives in any direction, In
fact, we are too tired to even love, un
less it is our baties, whose little lives
clang so close to our own thst they are
8 part of it; and the songs and kisses
they call out of us tend to lighten the
daily task, so that the back bends ander
its burden, instead of breaking,
~The loving snd happy wife and mother
| is the handsome and ealthy one, usu.
(ally, As old age overtakes her she
| #till keeps the lovelight in her eye, for
it has become habitual to heryand the
{| world is her family. The husband
| would find Lis daily cares lightened if
be kept the thrill of affection ss of old,
and if husband did not forget to be the
lover still it would be a better and a
| happier world. Just imagine the
| charmed life of the new-married couple,
jand the effect of such love and fife
2p the home and children perpeiu-
ally.
Emiles bring dimples and roses to the
face. Laughter makes work easy, and
puts flesh on the bones, and unselfish.
ness adds a charm to the owner that
{ gold cannot buy er thieves rob you of,
| Our bodies sre the houses our souls
live in, and whether it be a palace or a
hovel, depends on ourselves as build.
ers and occupants. Shall we not tesch
our little ones, then, to build wisel
sud well—to cultivate purity, cheerful.
ness, generosity, charity and love ? How
can we better tesch these things than
by first seiting the glorious example ?—
Jewell, in Colifi rnin Agrioulturist,
Fashion Notes,
Buff tints are revived.
New beiges are striped.
Ombre fabrics are out of style.
Chene silks are coming into favor,
Sear! rings are now worn by ladies.
Velvet ribbon is seen on new bonets,
Bilk-muslin bows are worn at the
throat.
Very little jewelry is worn in the
street,
Half-maatles of velvet or moire are
worn.
Dark-gresn bonnets have pale-blue
| plu ves, and garnet bonnets have pink
plomes,
White chudda dresses for the house
are made in tailor fashions—simple and
severe
Dark straw hats, with gloves and
hosiery to match, are announced for next
summer,
Sulphur yellow, with brown, is a
stylish combination for dresses and
bonnets,
Dolly Varden lives again in a new
polonaise, a novel neckerchief, and a
daintily shapad dancing shoe,
{ In spring costumes there is a tenden-
| ey to use lengthwise tucks in clusters in
the place of kilt plaitings and shirrings
Watered silks are combined with
cashmere, surah and plush in the
French costumes imported for misses
and little girls,
Oper. work, wheel, and Kensington
embroidery, in Hamburg edgings and
insertiuns, form the bosom trimmings of
domestic chemises.
Pale rose snd pure white dresses,
with silver and pearl accessories, form
the favorite evening toilet for young la-
dies of high fashion.
Jerseys ave brought out with a lace
rufile at the boltom, and lace bretelles
on each side of the front, which is now |
cut open and buttoned up. to
Embroidered India muslin bail. | which is crowded wi
dresses are worn over bright satin | not hold their tongues,
skirts with the Camargo waist of t.e | gould not hide their tri
same material as the skirt. | Lave the consciousness
Mousqnetaire gloves are the most | something to show it.
popular, but ladies of good taste wear quick nowadays
buttoned or laced gloves, if more be- | flavor of trae
coming to their hands and arms, anything remarkable the
Black, blue and lemon-colored pocket | news will find you out
{
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handkerchiefs of sheer linen, embroi. | tchoolboys find out where the
dered with contrasting colors, are Sbples snd pears sre. Produce sny-
the eccentric novelties lately im . sing ly Sond, acd sa intelligent
Laco is the most fashionable, as well tor fistter your
as the most elegant and mcst econom. | Self that auy article of yours Yejocted
ical trimming for all costumes, wraps becauss you are uwekuoya
and toilets light enoagh to admit of its | Nothing pleases an oe mors
use, fet sifting worth having from a
Petticoats are profusely trimmed with
needlework a resembling the Thete isalwayen geasth of
needle-wronght bands that border the | articles for a first-class
new nun's veilings, ginghams and ba-
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head enough, but no
two or three are from
high up that hill which
climb. You may Ts
| contrary is of course
not demonstrated. If you
world wants you more
§
For second cloaks, are inexpensive
wraps of the English homespan cloths,
in dark brown colors, with red thread
at intervals, or else of green cloth with
mustard yellow threads,
In many garments the style is en-
hanced by having all the trimmi
placed lengthwise, both in front an
back, rather than to shorten the ap-
pearance of the wearer by a crosswise
border of great breadth.
Many satin grounds with colored
stripes are prepared for trimming, but
their novelty is the boldness of their
coloring. Imagine grenat with olive
stripes, sea green with bronzs, Tilleul
and rose porcelain blue with rose snd
roseda.
!
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fait?" What hes he done?
Napoleon's test. What have you
Turn up the faces of your
my boy! You need not
at the public because it bas
ed you at your own fan
Do the prettiest thi
wait your time. For the verses
send me I will not say they
less; and dare not aflirm that
promise. I am not an editor, [
know the standar] ol PoP %
You must not expe . asingle
bound” into the society of those whom
it is not flattery to call your betters.
When the Pactolian has paid you for
a copy of verses (lL can farnish you
with a list of alliterative 5,
beginning with Annie Aurecle and end-
ing with Zoe Zenith)—when the rag-
bag has stolen your piece, after care-
fuily scratching your name ount—when
the nat-cracker has thought you worth
shelling, and strung the kernel of yo
cleverest poem —then, and not till
you may consider the presumption
against you, ram the fact of your
rhyming tendency, as ed
bi re snd let our friends
hear from youn, if you think
worth while. You may y
me too candid, and even accuse me
incivility, but let me assure you tl
Iam not half so plain spoken as
ture, nor half so rude as time. If
you prefer the long jolting of pablie
opinion to the gentle tonch of friex
ship, try it like a man. ren
ber this, that if a bushel of p
is ghalken rt
Water,
Water is 50 common that few persons
think of it as the most important factor
in the building up and civilization of
the world. The rocks were mud and
sand made by water and laid down by
it, one kind on top of another. Coal,
made of plants, was covered up by water,
80 that the rotten plants were kept
there and changed to coal. Veins of
lead, copper, gold, silver and crystals,
were cracks in the rocks filled with
water that bad these precious things
disso.ved in it. And water, as ice
(glaciers), ground up rocks irto earth,
in which plants can grow, the sea
and streams helping to do the work.
Water builds plants, and animals,
too. Three-quarters of what they are
made of is water, When you pay
twenty cents for a peck of potatoes
you are really paying fifteen of the
cents for the water that is in the pota-
toes. A boy who weighs eighty pounds,
if perfectly dried up would only weigh
twenty pounds. And there can be no
potatoes or boy without water. It
must dissolve things to make them into
new things; and it carries them where
they are wanted to build the new things.
It softens foud, and then as watery
blood earries the food to every of
the body to make new flesh and bones,
that we grow and have strength, It
carries the plant's food up into the
plant. Water carries man and ds
in boats, and, as steam, drives the
1t makes the wheels go iu the factories.
it is a great worker, and we could not
get along without it. It makes much
of the beauty in the world,
3
E548
tiie
in