Daybreak,
Into the vast unknown,
Under the morning skies,
Out where the diamond dew
Thiok on the meadow lies ;
Fresh, swift and strong, upborn
Like birds in eager flight,
On through the fragrant dawn,
Or through the rosy lignt,
REPORTER.
mm
THE
(CENTRE
FRED KURTZ, Editor and Proorietor.
8a do our spirits soar
Far up and far away,
Into the vast unknown,
Into the golden day.
CENTRE HALL, CENTRE CO., PA., THURSDAY, JUNE
VOLUME XV,
“(
i
), 1882. NUMBER 26.
Drifting Down,
Drifting down in the gray-green twilight,
Oh, the scent of the new-mown hay !
Soft drip the vars in the mystio sky-light,
4h : . ie. | : 1
“Age—gray hairs! Why, I believe | he wrote ‘N'Aunette’ If he wins her i
I've got gray hairs myself. I'm sure | —she ought to take him-—I can't say
LADIES’ DEPARTMENT. !
“Yes, Isaw her! It'anouse, Stephen, | FACTS AND COMMENTS, Heroes and Their Rewards, The Yacht Ame: lea,
for you!" { ———
Oh, the charm of the dying day !
While fading flecks of bright opalescence
But faintly dapple a saffron sky,
The stream flows on with superb quiescence,
should not be surprised any morning to | anything; but what shall I do? I, too, |
{ get up and find my brown wig turning. | love her, little ‘N'Annette I"
| They don't count—just a few silver! He did not care to go home, so he |
{ threads. And as for years, you are as |
put away his lathe and carving tools,
spoke in the very tones of his voice; it
wus in the light of his face, in the spar
kle of his eves.
The columns of the daily papers, in
Diving for black pearls employs a | the brief records of current events, con-
| large number of men and boats off the | tain the plots of comedies, novels and
{oomast of lower California, Traders
| tragedies forfiner and more significant
News an. Notes tor Women .
President Barnard 1s in favor of the
new movement for admitting girls to
|
Ove of the most brillisnt successes
{of the clipper era was tho. asi
| Americas, built in 18561 by James R.and
| George Bteers for John CO. Btevens and
Columbia college. Savatal riot goutiotman, Who osha bo
Miss Lena Miller is proprietor of the | Queen's Cup ut the arogld
: of
Rosevelt house, Ohio street, Indianap- |
oplis, and manages it with marked bt Londen Hote] Tash Crab
financial skill. | were to have & large bonus in
Miss Lillie C. Darst, the editor of 8 | won, After 8 sail of twenty-
Circleville (Ohio) paper, waschosen al- | und four hours, during ' five
ternate delegate to the Republica | which she was #0 becslmed
Btate convention, | only six miles 8 day, she
Mrs. Myra Bradshaw commenced the | neighborhood of Havre,
publication of the Chicago Legal News |of destination, and was
in October, 1808. It has become one (a Channel pilot-bost,
of the foremost legal newspapers in | once showed the French
America. | was supposed, of course,
Mrs. Haworth, of Thorntown, Ind, | French pilot. As soon as
in one hour's time, secured 105 names | #t on board, James R.
| supply the vessels and diving apparatus | han any which flotion bas produced,
| upon the stipulation that the pearls | Hero, for example, is the story of a
| that are found are to be sold to them st | poor barber in New Jersey who, twenty.
| specified rates. These jewels are of | five years ago, was keeping u country
much beauty and highly prised. A inn, A passing stranger stopped with
year's production is worth on au aver- | him, was attacked by some severe
{ age from $500,000 to $1,000,000, ailment, and for four or five months
was not able to go on his way.
He bad no money or (friends,
but the innkeeper refused to allow him
to be sent to a hospital, sapplied his
wants and nursed him faithfully, The
strunger recovered, left his benefact r's
house, went West and was not heard
of again until a short time ago, when
fieation was sent to the poor barber. an
he was the heir to thirly thousand dol
The breeze is hushed to the softest sigh, {young as any of us, old fellow! 1
Drifting down in the swoet still weather, | should uot put you now at more than"
Oh, the fragrance of fair July ! “Never mind that,” Stephen Nor.
Love, me love, when we drift together, eroft interrupted him, hastily. * I've
Oh, how flectly the moments fly ! {not told you the whole story yet. 1
| don’t know why I trust you speaking of
| this, but I do trust you. Aside from |
| my gray hairs there is nothing of the |
look otf age about me, and if—if 1, lov-
| Ing a young girl, beautiful as the day,
{ one refined and sweet, if I ask her to be
: my wife—my loved and honored wife |
Awake the echoes of bygone thes | | would she, looking at these,” a little |
The muffled roar of the distant weir is | hesitation here as he put a thin hand uo |
Cheered by the clang of the merry chimes, | to those poor silver threads, so beauti- |
Drifting down iu the cloudless weather, | ful cid he but know it, * would she, do |
Ob, how short is the sumwer day! ’
and looking up things went out to the| Stephen Nororoft fell back a step, his
une restaurant the village boasted. He | gray hair fell about his forehead, on his
| got his dinner and sat a long time over | sunken cheeks.
his eup of coffee, dreaming—dreaming “Traitor I” he cried out. He lifted
He told himself be was no poet; he had | one long thin hand toward the far blue |
not the gift of writing, of making fine | heaven, ** Traitor, aud I trusted you !"
phrases. Still, there was one noble |
poem consisting of one noble line, that | " | "
line of three words; it has been written | A darkness fell upon him now. After | Krupp's works at Essen, Germany,
| and sung sinee life and world and youth | the first numb shock had passed he | employ 456 steam engines, aggrega-
Were young: i crept away, thinking only that he must i ting 18,600 horse power ; eighty two
y | hide himself forever from the light of | steam hammers of weight varying from
3 : . 3 | day, from human sight. He followed | 200 pounds to fifty tons: twenty-one
Matoh that, poets immemorial, if you | the hillside path a while, and then, as i ollie mills; 1,558 furnaces : twenty.
he was tired, he laid himself dows be- | five locomotives ; and so forth, pro-
Can .
low the birches and the fragrant pine | ducing annually 300,000 tons of steel
i Riek wrote that down and kissed the
= v. : ! i
| words. Ob, tender, truthfnl words! He boughs, by the brookside, among the | and 26,000 tons of iron.
:
i
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i
§
£
]
2
3
£
:
3
£
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E
Drifting down or the dear old river,
Oh, the music that interweaves !
The ripples run and the sledges shiver,
Oh, the song of the lazy leaves |
And far-off sounds for the night so clear is—
£
+
*® * * *
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:
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Bagif
:
“1 love you,
frepfer
i
| you fanaoy, lqoking at these, scorn me?
Love, me love, when we drift together, Rieck Sheridan drew a long
i breath. His own handsome, clear
| young face had changed slightly with a |
| startled, white look, ** Ah, that's it, |
fie dt?”
{| “Mind, you know, this is no sudden |
| thing.” The older man put his hand, |
| with an eager expression, on the other's |
{ shoulder. *‘I have known her a long
| time, 1've watched ber and seen her |
{in all her moods. She is good and |
| gentle and sweet—one who makes you!
| think of ministering angels. When I |
| ring the bells down yonder I imagine |
| the great notes take up her name and |
{ carry it up, up! I can hear them say, |
| “* Anna— Nannie — N'Annette — sweet
{ Anne, sweet Anne Percival I”
| “You are speaking of Miss Percival?”
{ Rick's voice was cold now, his eyes
| hard and looking fixedly straight ahead. |
‘““Itis an old man's fancy, just an
| old and childish man's childish faney,”
| Stephen went on, not heeding him. “Bat
{ I could make her happy. I would only
| live for her, Rick. If she would bemy |
| wife, my little light of life would soon |
| burn out. An old fellow like me can't |
| expect to live so very many years longer, |
| and I would leave everything to her, I |
| have money—I could make her rich, |
| You didn't know that, Richard ?"
“And it would only be for a little |
hile with me,” he went on, eagerly, |
Ob, how quickly we drift away!
Driftingdown ss the night advances,
Oh, the calm of the starlit skies !
Eyelids droop o'er the half shy glances,
Oh, the ight in those blue-gray eves !
A winsome maiden is sweetly singing
A dreamy song in & minor key;
Her clear low voice ard its tones are bringing
A mingled melody back to me,
Drifting down in the clear calm weather,
Oh, how sweet is the maidens song |
Love, me love, when we drift together,
Oh, how quickly we drift along!
Gray Hairs and Golden Head.
Nenana.
Gray Hairs and Golden Head walked
up the village street together under the
lilne blossoms in the bright spring
weather. There were lilacs here, fines
there, lilacs everywhere. They nodded
over the low garden walls; by many a
cottage window their purple clusters
tossed so thickly a young girl's eyes
could scarce be seen beyond, smiling
across them at her passing lover,
The two loiterers spoke little to each
other, only a word now and then, like
two who were content with silence and
their own thoughts, till they reached a
garden gate into which the young girl
tarned.
“ Well, good-bye, Mr. Norcroft.
have been such a help to us!
no use trying to thank you I
“Good-bye, Miss Percival.”
She had made a movement to go in,
but something in this gray-haired man's
voice, his blank look as he answered
her, made gentle Anne Percival hesitate.
She glanced about her,
“How heavy this scent of the lilses
seems in the air this morning, Wait
une moment, Mr. Noreroft. My lilacs
are no prettier than the others, but you
shall have a bunch from my own favorite
tree.”
She pulled down a great bough and
rodded at him scross it. Golden Hair
looking at him seross a bunch of lilaes!
His soft eyes smiling—would he ever
forget that?
She brought him a spray.
‘‘ They are quite pretty and fresh now,
but no flower fades so quickly as the
lilae. You must getitssweetness now.”
Stephen Norcroft took the flowers
without a word, but his look would have
been a thousand times sweeter than any
Yon
There's
strong spring sunshine was all about
him as he passed down the street. [t
face with a foreign bri
more pathetic than an
¥ sorrow of youth |
could have been.
{ ‘Just a young girl's lovely eyes,
smiling across the sunlight and above
the flowers on one that loved her. Even
one memory like that would be enough
for some lives, enough to remember
without asking for more. And if that is
to be all—all—for me, I, too, will be
content to die—die unrepining!”
“Well, I'm off now. I really must
ol”
Rick turned abruptly away. Hetried
to say something of good-will; he strove
to speak some word of friendly parting—
good luck or Godspeed him in his
«nee in our ages— not so very much as |
rome might think. And I conld make |
her happy. How could she help being i
Lappy with one who worships her? Oh,
1 would try, and I should be young
again—I feel young now I”
So he went dreaming on. Strong |
ifs was in the air about him. Oge!
they uncurled from the tight-rolled
buds. He could see the tower of Saint |
Mark's down there
white tombstones on either side; each |
morning and evening he rang i
of them, but the villagers said that
them so deftly. And beyond that was
the sirong-beating river going to the
great rafts of sweet-smelling oak and
pine down it, helping to make the com-
merce of a world.
Should he not speak? Why should
he not speak. He remembered.
“Ha, old dreamer I"—a quick step on
the walk bebind him—a strong hand
descending on his shoulder and send-
ing bim a step or two stumbling for-
ward—“what misty dream are you nurs-
ing now? Oh, I beg your pardon.”
There was that in the vague light of
the eyes, in the pained expression of
the sensitive face turned toward him
that stirred in young Rick Sheridar a
tense of something out of place in this
rough greeting. His handsome face
flushed slightly in his shame.
“I beg your pardon most sincerely,
Mr, Noreroft. Did I disturb you 2”
“Oh! no, no! I was only dreaming,
as usual. I had lost myself a little.
Now that you are here we will walk
together if you have time. There's
something I want to say to you.”
He slipped his arm in that of the
younger man. Rick slackened his quick
steps to suit the slower pace of his com-
panion.
“I was going over on the other side,
of an errand, but I can give yon a little
time. It's early yet.”
They strolled along together for a
moment in silence. Rick noticed that
Stephen Noreroft’s face had grown pale
—he seemed tired—yet strangely ex-
cited. Perhaps it would be better if he
himself were to speak fist.
“ Splendid weather, is not it? The
picnics and children’s parties will be
coming on with & rush if this holds.”
“Picnics ? Oh, yes! As I was saying,
there is something I wish to tell you,
Sheridan. I want your opinion, tool
Bat first you must promise not to laugh
at me. No matter what I say you are
vot to laugh me! Do you promise #”
“I certainly will not laugh at you,”
answered young Sheridan, with a smile,
hiding a good deal of wonder as best he
could.
“Well, then, look at me now. Look
sharp!” Stephen Noreroft pushed the
thin locks of soft hair back from his
face with a nervous gesture. * Do you
think, looking at me just as an outsider,
you know, do you think I look ro very
old? If you did not know would you
think my years so very many ?”
The young man stared at him in
sheer, blank amazement.
“4 Old—why?”
“If it were not for my gray hairs
now !—do they look so very gray, Sheri-
dan—in the shadow one would scarce]
notice their being gray, would one ? and,
as de from that, I scarcely show age,
metimes. Eh?’
He spoke so eagerly, he looked so
mnch in earnest, so piteous that young
Rick pitied him; he pitied him with all
his generous, passicnate young heart,
1 “Ann
8
| plead for youth before.
: “You think women are so mercenary, |
then,” said Rick, with his eyes still |
| cold and hard. * Do you imagine that
| love, or even devotion, can be bought |
| with money?” |
wrote them over and over on his sheet
of paper,
“I love you. I love you, sweet Anne |
Persival I"
Then he thrust it back in his pocket |
and went ont, leaving his coffee un-
untasted.
The next morning when Rick was |
going to bis work he met Miss Peroival. |
She stopped. |
“Oh, Mr. Sheridan, I have a favor to |
ask of you. We want your help.”
“Yes !"—he etood looking at her. |
To look at her was enough.
““ We want to take the children out
You knew we promised them a long |
time ago, and we want you to go
with us.”
“*1 shall be glad to go if yon want |
me, Miss Percival,” Rick answered. |
“Oh, it is the children; you know |
don’t believe they could be got to go
“I am glad somebody likes me, and
thinks me of some use,” he said, |
humbly. |
They both laughed; how beautiful |
she was in this strong spring sunshine, |
standing there, straight and slim and |
tall, speaking to him in her sweet, clear |
voice.
“Oh, Miss Percival "—she had made |
have a favor to ask of youn, now—a
little one.”
““Yes ; thatis right.”
Rick fumbled in his pocket.
“Here is something I want you to
read ; you can take it, and I want you |
tangled vines,
He was tired. Oh, he was tired; he |
put his face in the cooling grasses; the |
light even of the moon and stars shining |
afar off up there gave him a sense of in. |
and weary, There was a soft stir of
night winds among the pine-tops. He |
fancied he could hear the bells, his bells
of St. i
ringing them himself—ringing them |
for Rick and Aune—they were bridal
Rick and Anne! }
And now, what was this? Tender |
arms were round about him, lifting him |
up, gentle voices were speaking to him. |
There were soft tears on his face.
‘*Stephen! dear old friend — dear
friend—look, speak to us! Rouse up— |
Rick and Aone! He was not wholly
forsaken, then—he would not be left to
die there alona.
* Dear friend! dear Stephen! rouse
up—oecome with us! Oh, you must come!
Try; you are not so weak now--try to sit |
up I” |
Anne's sweet voice, Anne's tears and
prayers, |
“ N'Annette,” he whispered, feebly.
She bent her face to his to cutoh bis
“Was it—was it—beoause of
these—of my gray hairs?” |
“Oh, dear gray hairs! dear gray |
hairs | you break my heart |"
Her kisses fell on those silver threads;
her hot tears, too,
“I loved you, Anne! I, too, loved
seemed to wake up out of a dream. |
“No; I don't think that of her, but still
| it bas weight. It would not seem so
much as if she were throwing her life,
or the best years of it, away. There!
| would be some recompense. She could
| do good with money, and she thinks of |
| that always. Look here!” He opened |
his coat and took out of it a spray of |
| lilac. ‘She gave me this not an hour |
ago. It is fading now; she said it |
| wonld fade soon, but her look, her
smile, her gentie, happy voice as she |
spoke—the memory of those can never |
fade; I shall carry that to my grave |
| with me—just the memory of a young |
| girl’s Jovely eyes smilin
| a bunch of lilacs.”
‘ Good-bye! I think I mast gonow,” |
said Richard Sheridan, roughly. It|
was getting intolerable—this old man’s |
| dream of love, told with such happy |
{ confidence as if there could fall no |
shadow upon it. Let him select some |
| other listener, if a listener was all he |
| wanted.
| Bat Gray Hairs did uot notice this
was his own hour of sunshine. Let
He conld not lie. There was no good-
i for “sweet Aune Percival” to him.
“Must you go? Wait!” Stephen
“ There
| is another thing.”
{ “No,” eried ont Rick. *“Don’t—
don’t tell me anything elsa, I wish, on
my soul, that you had not trusted me
with this. You don’t know me. How
! can you say I shall serve you more than
| harm you ?”
| “I'll risk it; and it's only a little
| thing. You know how fond she is of
reading. Don't yon remember that
little purple-and-gold volume of poems
{ I gave her, how she read it, how she
praised and wept overit—over one poem
| in particular? It was one morning in
the garden—"
{ “Yes,” said Rick, wondering.
| '*Ican hear her tears fall even Jow.
{ Oh, how I loved her for the gentle pity
5
{ she showed for the lover's sorrow I bad
| written of there |”
i 6 ih
| “I wrote them, yes—those poems!
| They are mine—my work—the work of
| lonely nights and restless, empty days,
| when I could only dream of her, remem-
| ber her! I wrote them- all of them.
{ The book is my memory of her, of
| sweet Anne Percival—my ‘N'Annette!’”
*‘ But, man, how conld yon? Why,
you have thrown a name away, and the
praise of all the world. I remember
that poem ‘To N'Annette’—the one
she praised.”
‘Ah, and was not that enough—her
praise, Had she known I wrote
them she would not so have told
me all her liking of it, all her pity and
generous sympathy; even her fault-find.
ing was sweet to me, it wus so freely
frank, so genuine! Ah, yes! it is
enough that I have heard her tears fall
on the flowers for N'Annette,”
Tears sprang to Rick's eyes, his lips
quivered a little as he realized how in-
finitely below this man he stood, how
far above him was this gray-haired
lover, who could give so much and
ask no recompense except a young girl's
tears,
Stephen fumbled in his pocket; he
took out a paper.
“Look, here iz a bit of a poem I
wrote last night for her, I want you to
take it and read it to her; mind, some
time when I am present. She will say
what she thinks of it then.”
Rick took the folded paper humbly
enough.
“T’ll take it, and I'll read it to her as
soon as I get a chance. And, look here,
Noreroft, I'm glad I have had this talk
with you. No matter what comes, even
should--ghould things go against me, I
shall be a better man all my life long
for this talk with yon.”
“I'm glad, too, Rick,” answered the
other, gently.
‘Lhe two men went their different
ways, Rick hurrying, for it was later
than he thought,
‘““He’s an old saint,” he muttered,
“yes he is! 1 felt as if I ought to kneel
and kiss his hand—kiss those poor
old gray locks of hair that tronble him
£0. He is much more worthy of poor
little Anne's love than I. And to think
!
you think of it.”
He handed her the poem-
Stephen.
“I hope it is something iateresting,’
aud Miss Percival slipped the folded
paper into the book she was carrying |
“1 will read it.” |
“Oh, I don't know what you may
think of it; you see, I-—I naturally
want your opinion. That will decide
it.”
He was speaking with his eyes fixed
on the ground. He was striving to be |
true to his friend —the friend who had |
said : ‘But I do trust you!” |
Rick felt that his task was hard.
“Your opinion is all [ eare for abont |
it." |
“Then you shall have it. I will give
it my very best attention. Bat it must
be something very important, Mr.
Sheridan, you are so serious over it.”
“Yes, it 1s; it is!”
They were looking at each other now
—the strong and steadfast soul of each |
shining in the clear brave eyes. The |
high and passionate love of youth— |
youth fearless and endaring—Ileaped in
the light of those meeting eyes. There |
was no mistake in the language now,
and each read— content.
So they, too, parted,
Ah! poor
* - » *
Into the dim greenwood, past the
sweet, wholesome fields, along the path
winding below the hills, past many a nook
where last year's leaves lie rotting in a |
wind-tossed heap, children to sing, |
‘ Ob, happy, happy day,” while Stephen |
Norcroft, with his ffste, made sylvan |
music, and Rick tossed the tired little
ones on his broad shoulders, and sweet |
Anne Percival, with her two matron !
aids, watched and kept something akin
to order in the wild, merry ranks,
“Oh, happy, happy day. And it
would end so soon. Still there were
other days to come—this might end— |
but—. Should he speak now? Why |
should he not speak ?
Stephen Norcroft meeting Rick apart, |
laid a detaining hand on the young fel- |
low's arm.
¢‘ Stop, tell me in just one word, did
you give her the poem ? Has she read |
it?
Rick stood stone-still ;
cold and pale.
“I thought I could wait,” pursued |
Stephen, “I thought I could bear it |
still longer, but"—he drew a long |
breath. |
One could see that he was sufferin. . |
-
his face grew |
i
His thin, sensitive face had seemed to |
Rick to grow fine and elear—like some- |
thing purified by fire in these last days. |
*“ In just one minute, old fellow. I'm |
sorry, but you shall see at once. Wait |
here,
He cast a quick glance about him ; |
then, darting down a narrow path, |
across a bit of green turf, around the |
belt of pine and sweet white birch, he |
found her. |
Bhe was kneeling by a pool of water, |
cool and clear and green—‘Venus' |
mirror” is it not, what Burne Jones |
called them—her white arm deep down,
pulling at the strong root of sweet-flag
growing there.
“I beg your pardon, but I must ask
you now did you read the poem I gave
ou?”
4 “Yes; I readit!” Oh, how beautiful
her blush was saying this,
“You did? And—and what do yon
think of it?” And he was pleading for
another man—he with that voice, with
those eyes,
“J thonght it was very beautiful—
very beautiful—but brief I"
“Oh!” his look fell. * Will you—
have you by any chance got it with you,
Miss Percival, You see I am not quite
sure whet was in it. Will you let me
sea it, plesse, one moment?
Strange her face too changed now at
this, But she drew out the paper,
folded, and withouta word handed it to
him,
Rick tore it open. What is this?
What are the few hurried scribbled
words scrawled here—seribbled in his
writing over and over:
“I love yon ! Ilove you | sweet Anne Percival!’
He glanced up into her face, Their
eyes met and that one look was enough,
Rick stretched ont his arms,
“Oh, it is true! I love you! Come
to me ~be my wife! Come to me, Anne’
dear Anne!”
It was only a step—one step—hut it
crossed a whole wide world and entered
those two into heaven !
* * » *
‘“Well I” An hour later Stephen met
and faced him. * Well, you have seen
her ?”
No avoiding the end now; no drawing
back and away. Speak the truth, speak
boldly, it were better,
Rick grew deadly pale thinking how
he must wound this tender soul, He
felt a sense of unmerited punishment
*
and pain.
= ® * ® ¥
“ Hark I"
They bent over him—they two—try.
ing to rouse him cut of that deathly
lethargy.
“The bell—I hear the bells. They |
are bridal bells—your bridal, Anne, |
yours and Rick's,” He rose, stretching
is arms upward. “My hair will not be
gray up there!” His gray bair fell over |
his face then, betwixt it and her tears. |
‘““ N'Annette !| N'Annette I"
And then the bells were still. i
And did Rick feel no remorse ? Alas, |
and alas! They to whom the sweet
fruits of earth are given eat and are
content. To the strong belongs the
prize, perhaps justly. The weak, too, |
have their part to act, though it be an |
humble one. When the cold dews of
are too weak to win great trinmphs can |
fold themselves in helpful prayer—they |
can close the sad, tired eyes of death. |
Renunciation is not in the blecod of
youth. So Rick and Anne are happy. |
Peace be with them, and good-will to |
the end. |
And to Stephen Noreroft the memory |
of the lilacs.
The Cup that Cheers,
There is, perhaps, no beverage the |
world over so popular as the cup of |
tea, so potent to brace the nerves, so |
1
cheerful, innocent gossip. If one has
a headache, is chilled or weary, the cup
of tea revitalizes and kindles the ex-
hausted flame of energy and spirits ; it
is the small currency of hospitality. Is |
it not the gentle tea leal which
briags kindred spirits together? Tas |
not one of the most important and |
social meals of the day taken its]
name from that insinuating plant?
What is hoce without a ounp
of tea? And when would the 5 o'clock |
tea have found favor or votaries under |
any other name? Is it not the moving |
spirit of the sewing-circle? and who |
coffee grounds or chocolate dregs? Is |
any cordial more delicious than iced |
tea on a scorching July day? In |
was tea which ushered in poetry, while |
Dr. Johnson may have flavored many |
an essay with the effusion, and who can |
tell but we owe “Rasselas” to its exhil- |
arating effects, “when with tea he |
evening, with tea so-|
and with tea |
welcomed the morning? Like woman's
rights and other eternal verities, it had
a battle to fight before acquiring its
present position in the world, It was
proscribed by physicians, denounced by
the essayists, sneered at by the wits and
poets. [t was supposed to provoke
scandal, and even to this day the sus-
picion is not obsolete, Yet a present of
tea was thought to be suitable for roy-
alty to receive, since in 1664 we are told
queen two pounds! It was doubtless re-
served for high days and holidays in early
times, and was not poured out for poor
relations, nor sent into the kite hen;
but familiarity, instead of damaging its
reputation, has recommended it to
greater favor; and the poor working
people who allow themselves no Inx-
uries regard the cup of tea as a friend
and necessity, “Iam glad I was not
born before tea,” said Sydney Smith,
one of whose recipes against mel-
ancholy is a kettle singing on
the hob. As there is a right
way to boil an egg, so there
is a right way to prepare the stimulating
beverage. Ir China the wealthy make
it by pouring boiling water into a cup
in which some of the tea leaves have
been placed, and it would, perhaps, be
well if we followed their example, in-
stead of allowing it, as many do, to
boil, as if the whole object was to ex-
tract the bitter tannin. We do injus-
tice to the genial herb—whose native
country is wrapped in mystery, although
it is found wild in India—by making
tea before the tea bell rings. — Bazar,
Two Cabinets,
The following cabinets make a con-
trast between the two elements or fao-
tions of the Republican party that will
be studied with interest:
Garfield, SECRETARY OF STATE.
James (i, Blaine,
Arthur,
| F. T. Frelinghuysen,
SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY,
William Windom, | Charles J. Folger.
SECRETARY OF WAR,
Robert T, Lincoln, | Robert T. Lincoln.
SECRETARY OF THE NAVY,
William H. Hunt, | William E. Chandler,
SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,
Samuel J, Kirkwood, | Henry M. Teller,
ATTORNEY GENERAL,
Wayne MacVeagh. | Benj, Harris Brewster,
POSTMASTER GENERAL,
The present
over 15,700,
The story is told of Lena Sherman,
lars, bequeathed to him by the man he
ad sucocored
Here is another story even more dra
matic, On a cold evening in last
January, when the sleet was falling fast,
sent to the penitentiary. His counsel |
thought that a new trial might be ob- |
stole a horse in a neighboring county, |
sold it, and devoted the money to the |
Governor |
Sherman has pardoned her, |
an eagineer named Irving, on a railway
in Virginia, was taking a long passenger
train up a heavy grade. Beeing that
the train in advance of him was not able
engine and hurried on to give it, in
schoolboy parlance, a boost. After he had
to his own train, when, looking up, he
saw part of the train he had just left,
Colonel George Washington Jones, |
Greenback member of Congress from |
Texas, is the tallest man in the Hoase |
of Representatives, He wears bloe
flanvel or checked gingham shirts, |
without collar or enfls, coarse boots |
and homespun clothes. He lives in |
Washington in a half-furnished, un- |
painted, uncarpeted and unswept back |
attic room, lighted only by a gas jet in
the hall. While his colleagues feast
daintily in the capitol cafe, he takes his
lunch of apples and gingerbread at his |
desk. Bat this crude, harsh life is in.
vested with pathos and nobility by the’
fact that its sacrifices are made for the
sake of needy and suffering relatives at
home.
from their engine. In another moment
they would come in collision with the
the engine forward to the descending
mass and so perhaps partially break its
force. Never did soldier hurl him-
The lives of the scores of
unconscious passengers waiting below
to say, with scarcely a bruise,
It does us all good to read such his.
tories as these, where eternal justice
manifests itself in this world, incisive,
bas an
[t way not be generally known to
with a strong and steady favoring wind,
it is possible for a sailing vessel to
equal the speed of an Atlantic steam.
ship. Mr. Benjamin, in his article on |
“The Evolution of the American
Yacht” in the Cenfury, compares the
time made by some sailing ships twenty
and thirty years ago with tha: of the |
fastest steamers of to-day. Inone of the
recent ‘‘ fastest passages ever made”
by the Alaska, her greatest run was
419 miles in twenty four hours. Before
1850, the ship James Haines, built by
Donald McKay, ran 420 miles in twen-
ty-four hours, The ship Red Jacket,
built at Rockland, Me, ran 2,280 miles
in seven days, or 320 miles per diem
for a week. The Flying Cloud, Me-
Kay's most celebrated ship, once made
374 knots, or 433 miles, in twenty-four
hours and twenty-five minutes, equal to
17.17 miles per hour, The diffionity
sailing vessels experience in competing
with craft whose motive power is steam
lies, rot in the ability of the ship, but
in the fact that the wind is nosteady.
— ———
A Blind Shot,
An English traveler in Southwestern
Afriea, Mr. Frederick Green, relates
how by a marvelous shot in the dark
he put out of the way two dreaded lions |
that had long haunted the Bushman
village of Oijituo aud devoured more
than a hundred human beings. These
brutes would pass by whole droves of
cattle, and go directly through flocks
of sheep without touching one, in order to |
find and pounce upon a human victim,
hey were matds, and the death of one of
them (identified as the other's provider),
shot, frightened the other away so that
This is the hunter's
story:
It was 3 o'clock in the morning; the
moon had sunk below the horizon, and |
it was quite dark, when the humor took
me to have a night ramble. Seizing my
and solitary listener to the terrific roar
ings of two lions, who after a while |
passed along the bank of the river op-
camped. |
Snddenly halting again, they com- |
menced another duet in as loud a strain |
as their lungs could pour forth. I was by |
thistime joined by John Mortar, Bonfield |
and two of my native servants, all in|
readiness with their guas, like myself,
in case the brutes should attempt to |
attack us. I now advanced a few paces |
from the wagon toward the river, and |
raising my double-barreled gun, called |
to my Damara, Gakub (for from deaf. |
ness in one ear I cannot distinguish
accurately the direction of sound), to |
point as nesr as he could to the quarter |
whence he heard the lions. This done,
I placed the gun on an elevation of about
of the animals, and fired. No sooner |
bad the explosion taken place than one |
of the lions abruptly ceased roaring, |
uttering at the same a startling growl, |
such as always announces the receipt of |
a gunshot wound by these brutes. The |
‘‘ clap " of the bullet against the beast's |
hide, so well known to sportsmen, was |
not to be mistaken, and the bystanders |
simultaneously shouted: |
“The lion is struck!”
1 stood amazed, scarcely able to |
credit the fact, and might, perhaps, |
have thought that my hearing had de. |
ceived me, had not Mortar, Bonfield and |
others present declared with one voice |
that the lion must unquestionably have
been hit,
After describing the discovery and
dispatech of the wounded beast when
daylight came, and his thrilling en-
counter with its mate, when his revoly-
ing rifle twice missed fire, Mr. Green
BAYS:
On examining the dead lion I was
much surprised to find that my night
shot had hit him close behind the left
shoulder, . I had the skin of the
animal earefully removed, and intend to
keep it as a reminiscence of one of the
most extraordinary incidents of my
hunting experience,
John Hancock’s Equipage,
Those who shake their heads at the
love of display in “these degenerate
times,” and sigh for * the Puritan sim-
plicity of our ancestors,” will please
read the following authentic de-
scription of the simple babits of
the famous fpresident of the Continen-
tal Congress: ‘‘ His equipage was splen-
did and magnificent, such as at present
isunknown in America. Hisapparel was
sumptuously embroidered with gold and
silver lace, and all the other decorations
fashionable amongst men of fortune of
that day; he rode, gepesially upon pub-
lic occasions, with six beautiful bays, and
with servants in livery. He was grace-
ful and prepossessing in manners, and
very passionately addicted to what were
then termed the elegant pleasures of
life; to dancing, musio, converts, routs,
asserublies, card parties, rich wines,
Thomas L, James, ! Timothy O, Howe,
follows, tangible and real
poor and sick, but have inherited no
fortune, As many thousands wonld
unhesitatingly have risked their lives
to save a threatened train, if so supreme
a chance had ever come to them.—
Yowk's Companion.
The Proper Time for Work.
The habit of writing and reading late
in the day and far into the night, says
a man of mind can addiet himself.
over the busy and active man about
10:30 or 11 o'clock ought not to be re-
garded as an incentive to work. Itis
in fact the effect of a lowering of vi-
tality consequent on the exhaustion of
the physical sense. Nature wants and
calls for physiological rest. Instead cf
complying with her reasonable demand
the night-worker Lails the feeling of
mental quiescence, mistakes it for clear-
ness and acuteness, and whi the ja-
until it
What is the result?
Immediately, the accomplishment of a
if it had been performed with the vigor
of a refreshed brain working in health
Remotely, or later
on, somes the penalty to be paid for
is, energy
This penalty
loss or depreciation of funotion in one
or more of the great organs concerned
in nutrition. To relieve these maladies
springing from this unexpected
causo-—the brain-workers very likely
have recourse to the use of stimulants,
possibly aleoholie, or it may be simply
tea or coffee. The sequel need not be
Night work during student
life and in after years is the fruitful
cause of much unexplained, though by
no means inexplicable suffering, for
which it is difficult, if not impossible, to
find a remedy. Surely mornings the
time for work, when the whole body ia
rested, the brain relieved from its ten-
Drillers of Oil Wells,
The men who drill oil wells become
wonderfully expert at their work; or
perhaps it would be more accurate to
say that only those who are very expert
A correspondent who
has watched the proceedings thus de-
scribes a drillec’s skill: “He has spent
years learning his trade, and learns
something new with each well he drills,
He knows the stratification of the earth
teach, and he can tell how near the bit
or by the few grains of
gravel washed out of the bail
ings, With his hand upon the cable he
marks its quivering as delicately as a
physician with his finger on a patient’s
pulse, and by the faint variation of the
is
doing, sometimes almost hall a mile
down the narrow hole. The style of
different drillers varies as does the
handwriting of different men or as the
touch of players upon the piano. They
experienced driller ean frequently tell
who is in a derrick without seeing him
if he is allowed to watch the work
awhile, or, what is more important in
these days of mysteries, if he knows
the well within a hundred feet if he
gets his eyes on the outside machinery
for a short time.”
IO Ps 000
The Owl Whips Three Men,
A son of a farmer of Marhamchurch
bas been admitted into Straton hos.
pital suffering from severe injuries in-
flicted upon him by an owl, A pair of
owls had made their home in an elm
tree, and as they made raids on the
farmer's chickens to supply the wants of
a numerous family of young owls, one
of the farmer's sons ascended the tree
and secured two of the young ones and
kept them for some days, feeding them
by hand. He had one of the young
owls in his hand showing it to a triend,
when one of the parent birds suddenly
pounced upon him and struck him
heavily on the head. He dropped the
fledgling and defended himself with a
stick, but the owl renewed the attack
and wounded the boy in the eye so
seriously that the sight has been de
stroyed. The father, who witnessed
the attack, immediately killed the two
young birds, whereupon the parent owl
attacked him and another of his sons,
inflicting wounds in the neck of both
The farmer then went for his gun, but
the owl escaped.— Pall Mall Gazette.
nt IANS 05. 05055
The aggregate losses in the flashing
business from (Gloucester, Mass., from
183), when the George's fishery began,
up to April 1, 1882, have been 2 851
lives and 428 vessels, valued at $1,862,
social dinners and festivities.”
710,
of women who want to vote, in addi |
tion to the forty-two names sent to the
convention, i
Mrs, Bmith, of Jersey City, has for |
some time been engaged in reducing |
the crude language of the Tusoaroras to |
writing, and in furnishing it witha |
grammar and dictionary.
Mrs. Mary A. Livermore, in an ad- |
dress at the meeting of the Boston Bo- |
ciety of Universalists, deprecates the |
sending away to foreign missions of the |
zealous and accomplished women, who |
§
{
are so much needed in home missions, |
Mre, Porter, a wealthy lady of |
Chicago, has founded a hospital for the |
care of poor children over three and |
under thirteen years of age. It is!
sacred to the memory of her lost baby |
boy and is named the Maurice Porter |
hospital.
It is pleasent to record that a lady |
who has been out of the country for ten |
ears or more, engaged in missionary |
abor, returning for a visit and rest, |
bas seen nothing that so much surprises |
her as the increased earnestness of the |
women in the work of the chureh.— |
Presbyterian,
The Women's Bilk Caltare associa
tion of the United States, at 1328 |
Chestnut street, Philadelphia, bave |
offered ten premiums, aggregating |
$500, to be given to the silk calturists |
of the country who produce the ten |
largest amounts of cocoons. Qaality |
will also be one of the conditions. i
Two young women of Kentucky and
Ohio, respectively, have received a |
patent for a pan to be sunk in an iron- |
ing-board, for the reception of the flat- |
iron when not in use. The fracture of |
joints, burns and other casualities |
caused by flat-irons will be known no |
more. This devise is a simple iron |
mold, one inch deep, eight inches |
long and five wide, to fitted to the |
board, and yet for this patent the young
women were offered $5,000 the day |
after receiving their papers. i
The informal Banday meetings at the |
Woman's Educational and Indus-|
trial Union, Boston, which have been |
held by Dr. Clisby since the regular |
season closed, have been well attended
and have elicited munch earnest discus-
sion on the topics chosen—Faith, Char. |
ity, Imagination, and Individual or
Universal Life of the Spirit. It was
the wish of those present, who felt
they received so much help from the
thoughts given on these vital questions,
that the meetings might be continued
through the summer,
Fashion Notes,
Neck chains are worn only for full
dress.
Chatelaine watches are the correct
style for ladies,
Shoulder capes are a feature on many
new spring suits,
Tailor made jersey jackets are the fa-
vorite spring wrap for young ladies.
The old-fashioned wateh fobs of our
grandfathers are again in fashion.
Beaded collars in solid jet embroidery
on black Brussels net are very stylish.
Small jeweled lace pins, matching the
earrings, are used for fastening bonnet
Mousquataire gloves are the favorite
style, and appear in Lisle thread for
warm weather,
Dainty little smelling bottles in the
shape of jeweled Greek amphore are
worn on chatelaines,
Jumbo is the latest craze in decora-
tion, and Jumbo cherms and ornaments
are shown by the hundred.
Among the rapidly appearing eccen-
tricities in fancy jewelry is an ornament
for millinery in the shape of six tiny
birds transfixed on a gild.d spit.
The Alpine peasant bat, called the
Montagnard, with broad brim bent
down over the eyes, is to be an exceed.
ingly popular head covering for seaside
use.
Pure wool-mixed cheviots with a dash
of Cayenne red in the wocf will be
much employed for traveling dresses
all summer. The facings and cordings
are of red satin,
Pompadour silks figure among new
fabrics for evening wear. These are
chiefly in detached flowers in natural
colors scattered over a light ground,
and are combined with plain silks in
shades to match,
Black openwork chenille wraps in the
directoire shape are much worn this
season, They form a rich and elegant
addition to promenade oostumes of
moire, foulard or satin, and have all
the becoming effect of a black velvet
mantle,
A great deal of ficelle is used on straw
hats, Some wide brimmed shade hats
have the brims entirely covered with
this lace, held by numbers of small,
gilt-headed pins. A garland of flowers
or a long ostrich feather completes the |
trimming. i
Ons of the prettiest and newest
berthas for the summer is of violet.
tinted mull, upon which are appliqued
patural-sized lieartsease blossoms of
gold and purple velvet. The edge of
the berthais bordered with violet-tinted
Spanish lace. .
A comfortable band for tying the hair
for braiding may be made of silk elastic
threaded through a shoe button, and
sowed into a loop of six inches or so.
The button must be fastened at one end,
aad when the band is wrapped around
the hair the opposite end of the loop
buttons over it.
Injections of Morphia,
“A recent painful case of death
caused by hypodermio injections of
morphia,” says the London Lancet, “di-
rects attention afresh to the dangers of
resorting to this most perilous mode of
administering drugs designed to relieve
pain. The public should be warned
against the practice of employing reme-
dies hypvodermiecally. 8S)» formidable a
‘remedy’ should on no aceount be used
except under medical advice, and when
deemed necessary it ought to be given
by practiticners. We have repeatedly
urged the profession to discountenance
the recourse to the injestions under the
skin, which is becoming general, It is
a practice of extreme hagard, and we
are of the opinion that surgical instru
ment makers should refuse to sell the
requisite apparatus to lay persons, and
that medi men should forbid their
use,”
to Lis owa pilot,
had brought the yacht from New Y.
fellow is no Frenchman.”
Immediately Dick walked to
stranger, and shouted, in
Fo rh dlc
iend, on
tom, I'll throw you overboard.” D
kept hold of tiller himself, and
would not give it up. As the yacht ap-
proached lights of Havre the pilot
confessed bis inability to take her in,
He left her, and b in his own boat
to Cowes, with the news that ‘‘ the Yan.
kee is the fastest vessel
Englishmen always spoke of Amer
ica as the ** Yankees.”
that when hy
gs
fEfghiil
8
Bo it came to pass
Steers brothers and the rest of the part
crossed the Channel and offered to bacv.
their yachis with ers,
ered that they been betraye,
There was nobody to take their bet ,
Bo confident of success were they th
they had brought $4,000 each to inve
in that wa ¥bile Disk Brown Bad
manif, is fai mortgaging
own pilot-boat in New York to John OC
Btevens for $2,000, every cent of which
he intended to stake upon the race.
Bat the * French ” pilot, who had been
employed by somebody to get on board
the America and learn her sailing qual.
ities, had destroyed their chance of
winning 3 Sh Be 11
o'clock of the n preced long-
antici regatta, the Messrs. Steers
were informed that their yacht, which
they had brought three thousand niles
to sail, was ruled out of the race. Why?
Because it was * a rale of theclab” that
every competing yacht should be owned
by but one owner. Now the America
was owned by several owners.
The next day, however, August 21,
1851, the America sailed from Cowes
at the moment the regatta yachts sailed
from Ryde, and beat them handsome.
ly, although the distance traversed by
ber was nine miles than that
traversed by the other yachts. The ex-
citement was tremendous, bat over the
victory of the ‘‘ Yankee” the twenty
thousand Speciuiars were mute
as oysters. Queen Victoria, Prince
Albert and young Albert Edward, how-
ever, paid a visit of complimen. to the
winning yacht that did not get the
prize. Her majesty was dressed in re-
publican simplicity ; the one thing that
one of her hosts best remembers to this
day is that she wore a plain calico
gown. The tastes of her maids of
honor were less severe. On lesving
the yacht the queen asked bow many
men there were in the crew, and, on be-
ing told the number, drew from her
pocket a parse, from which she
counted an equal number of guineas,
laying them one by one upon a plate
that had contained some **
snaps” brought for her refreshment.
With a request that the steward
distribute the guineas, and with a po-
lite invitation to the yachtsmen to visit |
her at Osborne, she tock her leave.
The next thing the Steers brothers
heard from her was that she had given
them another ‘*Queen's Cap,” a pre-
cise duplicate of the Queen's Cup for
which ny had mot been allowed to
compete. That is the cap which was
brought home by them, and deposited
by Mr. John C. Btevens and his friends
in the hands of the New York Yacht
Club, where it still lies safe, in spite of
the repeated efforts of f yachts to
capture it, The visit to Osborne was
duly made and greatly enjoyed.—
Harper.
Given a New Trial,
Jones was tried for a homicide in St
Louis, Alpeora Bradley was his coun-
sel. Bradiey iseccentrio, and his knowl.
edge of law is meager; but he makes a
stirring speech, and his reliance is on
his power with the jury as an orator.
ridiculous motions an objections, one
of his propositions, for exam :
that the State could not ue
of the killing without first showing that
the man was alive. Eloquence in sum-
ming up could not rave the mp
thus defended, and a verdict of murder
was rendered. The prisoner demanded
a new trial on the ground of his coun
sel’'s ‘‘ignorance, imbecility, iheunires
tence and mismanagement.”
supreme court denied the motion, but
this decision has been reversed by the
court of which held that
the record of the case showed Bradley
to have made “an exhibition of ig-
norance, stupidity and silliness that
could not be more absurd or fantastical
if it came from an idiot or lunatio.”
The court admits that such conduet on
the part of connsel would not call for
a new trial unless the prisoner had lost
legal rights or advantages by it; but in
this case witnesses whose Jestimuny
might have saved Jones were not call
and * the prisoner in effect went to his
trial and doom without counsel such as
the law would secure to every person
scoused of crime.” Counselor Bradley
Shak in this remarkable manner:
“The thief who robs me of my mone
robs me of trash, it is mine and bis an
a elave to thousands. But that judge
who robs me of my good name robs me
of that which does not make him the
richer, but leaves me poor indeed.”
Struck by Lightning.
During a heavy thunderstorm that
swept over Harveysburg, Ohio, Frank
Oyler, a lad of sixteen years, sought
refuge, with his plowing team, in a barn.
While he was caring for his horses the
building was struck by lightning. The
bolt passed through the building, hit
the boy fairly between the shouldes,
and, running down his back, passed
around in front across the groin, thence
down the left leg to the knee, where it
forked and sent both prongs to the
baru boor. This bolt that passed down
the lad's back and leg set fire to the
floor at the points where the pron
struck, and in a few minutes the buud-
ing was in ashes. Frank's younger
brother saw the barn in flames, and
fighting his way in drareed the inseusi-
ble lad to the house. Young Oyler re-
mained uneonscions for nearlyan hour,
daring which time his father traced the
course of the bolt by means of a blis-
tered streak runuing from the shoulders
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