SANITARY ALPHABET. A: soon as you rise, shake blanket and sheet : Better be barefoot than to sit with wet feet. - Children if healthy are active not still? Damp beds and damp clothes will both makes you ill. Eat slowly, and always chew the food well; Freshen the air in the house where you dwell. - (4arments must never be fitted to tight; Homes should be healthy. and siry, snd light. If you wish to be well, as you do, I've no doubt, Just open the Kaep your kitchen and clean: Let dust on the furniture never be seen. Much illness is caused by want of pure air; Now, to open your windows be ever your windows before you go out. rooms always tidy ept; People iid see that their floors are well swept. Quick movements and right, Remember the young can not thrive without light. See that the cistern is clean to the brim, Take care that your dress is all tidy and trim. Use your nose to find if thera be a bad drain, Very sad are the fevars that come in its train; Walk as much as you can without feeling fatigue; Xerxes could walk full many a league. Your health is your wealth, which your wisdom must keep; Zeal will help a good cause, you will reap. in children are heaithy and the good > Chameleon Like. “Saidee.”’ “At your service, Sir Wilfred.” From the gay worsteds she was sort- ing, she looked up with a mischievous expression befitting her words, yet un- derlying it a goodly measure of the rare tenderness that only a woman's face can wear. Her's seemed a strange face for a lover to frown upon ; but frewn he did —unhandsomely, emphatically. “I am in no mood for jesting, Sai- dee,” he continued, glumly, ‘‘nor prob- ably will you be, when I tell you that what we have so long debated must be decided between us now.” The sunny smile died from her coun- tenance : the rare tenderness seemed but the rarer for its gravity. “1 am so sorry, Wilfred,” she an- swered softly ; “I so hoped you would see its impoesibility and agree with me.’ He could but read how she loved him, but he read something else now in look and tone—-something that mo- mentarily banished the frown and paled his handsome face. With a pas- sionate impulse he arose, and, Cross- ing over to where she sat, took her hands in his, and gazed down into her brown eves long and steadily. “Saidee, do you care at all for me ?”’ he asked, finally. “Deo I care for you, Wilfred ?' she murmured, reproachfully, yet with the rapture of his touch reflected in her face. “Do I care for you? Oh, how can you ask me that, when you know that there is only you—onuly you in the whole wide world for me I" His hands fell; he turned away from her impatiently, with a bitter smile. s “If T am all the world to youn, Sai- dee, you certainly have a strange way of showing it. Your words are pret- ty, but they do not weigh at all with me. If you would have me believe you, come and promise to obey me as a woman should the man she loves.” He extended his arms toward her as he spoke; there was a look on his face she could not mistake. She knew it would be the last, time but still she took no step forward ; she simply stood terrified, appealingly gazing up at him. “Wilfred—" He was frowning again, now deeper than before. “1 know what you would say, Saidee,” he interrupted, ‘“‘and it is only a waste of words. As I said before, your words have no weight on me ; it is enough for me that you are ready to have me go to-morrow, we nugu. 48 well say good-by." She had not taken her eyes from his face, and he still looked back at her, steadily, relentlessly. At his last word she shivered, a death-like pallor spread over her countenace, and she answered brokenly : Wilfred’ He did not interrupt her now; he bent forward with conscious eagerness for her words. His own were honest, but he felt certain of their effect; he did not doubt that in this decisive mo- ment, he would gain her to his will. She would surely not let him go; she was about to yield to him, to say that there could be no good-by between them ; that sooner than this, she would abjure all and follow him. And so he bent for- ward for the answer, eagerly, with a certain hope. “Wilfred, if you so will, you must ge, but I can never say good-by to you.”’ That was what she said, brok- enly, tenderly, yet with the gentle firmness that had so startled him just now. “If you so will you must go.” A moment he stood regarding her, shaking with pain and disap- pointment; a momentary passion swayed him; a fleeting, wavering Iim- 1" { pulse, but he quickly crushed them down, “I will do so, Saidee,”’ he replied with scornful emphasis; ‘‘and since | you object to good-bye, let us make it good-afternoon.”™ This was their parting so he left her, striding out and past the window by which she sat. “And this is the end of it all,” she murmured; ‘when he knew how I love him, when he knows how I would die for him. Oh Wilfred | my love, my dearest, how could you leave me so in It was not strange that that other time should rise vividly before her; that day six months ago, when, in this very room, in the first blissful realiza- tion of their mutual passion, he had fallen on his knees before her, and solemnly affirmed that, come what would, no power on earth should ever separate him from her. “If ever a woman was sure of a man, Saidee, you are sure of me 1" What music the words were, though neither of them could forsee and the sore test that awaited them, Allseemed bright «head ; they were to be mar ried In six months’ time, and she was to go away with him to Brazil, where he had secured a government appoint- ment, There seemed no need of the passion- ate protestations, the solomn oath of this fond lover ; their truth was to b tried. In the fifth month of their en fagement, Aunt Ruth—of whom Saidee was a special pet and protege—was thrown from her carriage and received injuries which, though it was not be lieved they would prove fatal, left her in a very critical and apprehensive state. True, the wedding day was named and Wilfred must go : true, there were loving hearts besides Saidee to care for poor Aumt Ruth, but it seemed to her tender nature most a crime to leave her. at least, until danger was posi- tively past. And when, one morning, the old lady drew down the fair face to hers, and whispered, imploringly, “You will not leave me, pet, while there is a doubt of my getting well ?”’ she promised unhesitatingly that she would not. Perhaps if she had known Wilfred Hare better, she could not have prom- ised so readily. But she knew him only as the tender lover, the man who had sworn that, come what would, no power on earth should ever separate him from her. It could be easily settled, thought ; he, as she, would feel very sad and disappointed, but he, as she, must see the impossibility of her going now. They could be married, and, as soon as Aunt Ruth was out of danger, she would go to him. All this in full trust and faith she confided to Wilfred Hare, 1 she She was ill prepared for the reception her words met. the imperious workings of this man’s will. What right had she, with- out consulting him even, to make a promise to any one that conflicted with her own to him? His love gave him the right to command her ; if she loved him she would obey. She must marry him and go away with him, else their present relations must cease. “I am so glad,” she said softly, “that I am not one of those who think a per- fect object is necessary for loving; I do not think a perfect object is a test of love. I am not blind ; Wilfred is very tyranical, selfish, very, very um- kind, but, but, as never till today bave I fully realized it, so never has he been 80 dear to me," This realization awoke a tender re- solve, “I can never let him go away so; I must prove to him how dear he is and must ever be to me.” From this came the tender note that found its way next morning to Wilfred Hare “I cannot let you go away, dear, with- out one little word, I know you are angry with me, and I am very, very unhappy, for never since our engage- ment have I loved you as to-day. My little. word is that I must always, always love you, and that I will never marry any man but Wilfred Hare. Perhaps some day you will understand and forgive me, and then you will be glad to think of this.” Very sadly she dropped the tender little note in the mail-box, very drearily she went back the familiar road to her home, So absorbed was Saidee, that she did not see the man walking ahead, who suddenly turned and paused, as if awaiting her. She started as she drew closer and perceived him, her first im- pulse was to flee ; she shrank from the sad face that she felt now was so like hers. But it was to late. He had retraced his steps to meet her and was now walk- away from you.” He made no effort to cloak his ten- it had once been the great sorrow of her life that she could not return this love, i Despite "the sting of his words, there | awoke in her heart a pity for him, such as she had never known before ; a wild, regretful longing that she could not have loved him; a sudden, strange realization that she had wasted her affection, that this man’s stanch, loyal heart was worth a hundred such as Wil fred Hare's This last she battled quickly down not so the pity or the longing. Strangely moved, scarcely knowing what she did, she placed her hand on his arm, and answered, gently :— “There will be many, many days for us to walk together, Mark !” He could but have a presentment of her meaning, so sadly earnest was her tone, “What do you say, BSaidee?’ h asked, with pity for her, and a joy he could not repress mingling oddly in his look and tore “That I am not going to be married, Mark—that is, not yet awhile. Wil- fred is angry with me ; but I must not well you—I do net know why 1 so for- gut myself, It is only that I am to stay with Aunt Ruth for the present that is all, Mark.” She truely said she did not know why ; she felt a very traitress, thus openly to blame Wilfred Hare. She did not re- alize, poor Saidee! how pleasant Mark Vale's devotion had suddenly become to her—how plain she was making this. But he could not see. He walked on beside her silently, little dreaming he was aught to her to-day beyond what he had been before. Never had life seemed so dreary to Mark Vale—not even that black moming when be learned she was to marry Wilfred Hare, Then his unselfish soul found solace in the thought that she was happy; now he stood in presence of her misery-— he, who, had he the power, would not have permitted the winds to blow roughly on her—and could not save her its least pang. He understood Wilfred Hare better than she; it would have been easier, perkaps, to resign her to another man. It was not strange, that in this hour, realizing his own leyality and tender. ness, he should rsil at justice as the veriest of myths, The days passed slowly, drearily, to Saidee ; with each, her for Wil- fred Hare, growing deeper, her grief sharper— more unendurable. “Come what will, no power on earth shall separate me from you." Morn, noon and night these words love came back to her, and with them a hope to feed upon. Surely all right, she thought. He could not give her up ; he was only angry with her; he would come to understand and for give her, and then all would be well again. would These were uneventful days, till, one morning, the news was brought to Sai- dee that Aunt Ruth could not live; that, contrary to expectation, the pe- culiar troubles that had resulted from her injuries were developing fatally. Her gentle heart smote her, for often, often, this latter time, she had regretted her promise ; in her anguish, wish she had broken it. Awhile, remorse ban- ished all alse from her thoughts; but love is a mighty king, and poor Aunt Ruth had not been long under the sod ere it regained the mastery. He would surely write, now that Aunt Ruth was dead ; he would surely understand. So she was musing one twilight, when there came a knock at the door, and a letter was handed to her. At the sight of the familiar writing she could not repress a rapturous cry, despite the presence of the new servant, who knew nothing of Wilfred Hare ; her trembling fingers could scarcely break the seal. And when she did— Only a wedding-card, the little note she had written him, and the line :— “It is but right I should restore to you your pledge.” Wilfred Hare had proven himself, She read it, she broke into a fit of hysterical laughter, and then, not know- ing what she did, she Cropped it, and went down and out over the lawn, far into the maple grove. Looking ahead dreamily, she saw Mark Vale coming toward her, He had heard of this; he was coming vaguely, with only the thought that he must comfort her. She waited for him, she streched out the hand which still held the card with a dreamy smile. “Mark,” she said ‘‘did you know Wilfred was married ? Did you know--"" She could say no more, the full real ity had broke. He had endured much, he could not endure the look on her face. With a sudden, uncontrollable impulse, he threw his arms around her and drew her to his breast, “Oh, Saidee ! forgive me, forgive me, but 1 cannot see you so I" So cried Mark Vale quite terrified at his act, striving vainly to loose his arms, To his surprise she did not resist “Po not sent me away !’' a voice floated up to him, *‘I have only got you to love me, and I know you love me very much.” Was this a delusion, or was she mock- ing him in her despair ? “Saidee,’’ he murmured, bewilderedly, “do youmean that—that you could mar- ry me ?" He was all she had. Hers was a nature to crave a prop ; it seemed to her that moment, that never a love was so sweet to woman as Mark Vale's was to her. “1 loved Wilfred,” she answered, brokenly. ‘‘But I have lost love, and I must have love or my heart will break. Dear Mark if you can love me so, I will be a good wife to you,” “Saidee |’ With the one word wherein lay his soul, he drew her gently, almost rev- erentially, closer to his madly-beating heart. And so he married is content, For she never repulses him, his love seems always sweet to her, and sometimes, of her own will, she comes and, twining her arms about his neck kisses him ten- derly. her, and he o—— Amber in the Baltic Province. Some very interesting researches have recently been made on the flora of the amber-bearing formations of East Prus- gia by Messrs. Goeppert and Menge, In ancient times there must have been in this part of Europe a group of coni- fers comprising specimens from almost all parts of the world. Among the. splendid specimeds of the California conifers were the redwood, the sugar- pine and the Douglass spruce ; and of the example of the Eastern States were the bald cypress, red cedar, thuya and the pinus rigida; from the eastern coasts of Asia were the cense cedar, the parasol fir, the arbor vite, the glyptostrobus and the thuy- and the Sooton fir, the and the cypress of Europe and litris of Southern Africa. It appoars that the deposits of amber for which the Baltic is noted are the product of ORs, Chilian in- Opss | spruce 3 Lae cal- generations of these resin-bearing 1 The richest deposits are situate along a strip of coast between Meme! and Dantsic, though the real home of amber has been supposed to lie in the bed of the Baltic, between Bornholm and the main land. It rests upon cretaceous rocks, and con- sists chiefly of their debris, forming a popular mixture known as blue earth, which appears to exist throughout the province of Samland at a depth of 80 to 100 feet, and to contain an almost in- exhaustible supply of amber, Immense quanties of amber are washed out to sea from the coast or brought down by rivulets and cast up again during storms or in certain winds, The actual yield by quarrying is 250,000 to 300,000 pounds a year, or five times the quan- tity estimated to be cast up by the waves on the strip of coast above men- tioned, —————— i ——— — Sanitary. The London Lancet thinks that if children would wear woolen next the skin. and wear longer clothing, suspend- ing it from the shoulders, we would hear more of boisterous health and less of buckaches and pains, Hard corns may be treated as fol jows : Take a thick piece of leather or felt : cut a hole in the centre. Upon going to bed at night fill the hole in the centre with paste made of soda and soap; wash it off in the morning. Repeat the same process several nights and the corn will be removed. A VEGETABLE DigT.—A vegetarian reports the result of his year's ex- perience without meats, At first he found the vegetable insipid, and had to use sauces to get thew down. As soon as he became accustomed to the diet all condiments were put aside ex- cept a little sait. The desire for tobacco and alcohol left him spontaneously. Then all his digestive functions became regular, and he found himself wholly free from headaches ana bilious at- tacks. After three months a trouble some rheumatism left him ; and at the end of the year he had grained eight pounds in weight. He believes he can do more mental labor than before, and that all his senses are mole acute, For teakfast he has brown bread apples and coffee ; dinner consists of two brown bread and pie or pudding ; for tea be rejoices in bread and jam, with milk and water, and for supper bread, jam, cold pudding, and, as a luxury, boiledonions. Eggs, milk, butter and cheese are used only in very small qualities. The dietist is a doctor, and his statement is drawing out many similar ones from medical men, ~The price of gas in English and Irish cities, per 1000 feet, is as follows: Dublin, 90 cents; wt, 00 cents ; 60 cents; Leeds, Carlisle, 00 cents; Manchester, 04 cents ; Birmingham, 56 cents, Common Words Mispro- nounced, Hlustrat e— il-1Gs'-trite, not trite, Immobile—im-mob’-il, bil, Implacable—im-pli -ka-ble, not im- plik'-a-ble, Impotent—im'-po-tent, tent. i Improvise—Iim-pro-vize', not im’-pro- vize. Indiscretion — in-dis-krésh’-un, in-dis-kré’-shun, Indissoluble-—in-dis’-s6-lu-ble, not in- dis-s0l’-u-ble, Industry—in’-diis-try, not in-dis’-try. Inquiry—in-kwe'-ry, not in’-kwi-ry. Inveigle—in-vé'-gle, not in.-vi' gle, Irate—i-rite’, not i'-rate, Irational—ir-1ish’-un-al, shun-al. Isolate-—is'-o-late, not i"-so-lite, Itch—iteh, not ééch, Ingenious and ingenuous ent in meaning, are often founded il'<lus- not im-mo - not im-po’- not not ir-ra'- ~vastly differ absurdly con A ss Jottings. ANOTHER APPEARANCE.—OUn Sat- urday night last W. R. Brooks, cf Phelps, N. Y., discovered a singular object in the constellation of Draco. He was not certain as to its real char- acter, but on Monday night Prof. Lewis Swift, Director of the Warner Observatory at Rochester, N. Y., veri- fied it by means of the large Warner telescope as being a comet. It is quite large, nearly round, and moving slowly westward. Mr. Brooks received a special prize of $250 from Mr. Warner some two months since, and if there is no prior claimant, will be entitled to the $200 prize on the present discovery Tie business outlock continues to improve notwithstanding the croaking we are constantly hearing In inter- ested quarters. Legitimate business is larger and increasing, though not at rates favoring speculation. Some excitement has been started by recent statements of injury to the corn crop by frost, but these fears are in no real danger of fulfilment. It is possi- ble that in the higher latitudes of New England, New York, and the near northwest, there may be injury lo a limited extent, but the corn is too far advanced to be largely injured from this cause in the present stage of its advancement towards marturity. Every one knows that injury to plants is occassioned by the partial congela- tion of dewey deposits on the surface injured. Now, any one who knows a corn stalk when he sees it, knows that in its present stage the dewey deposit is on the blades above the ear, not on the ear itself, consequently the blades only, if anything, would be nipped, not the grain ; but even if the deposit was upon the ear, it would touch its husky cover, not the grain itself, which is so pro- tected by the husk as to be uninjurable by any frost above the freezing point. If the grain be frozen when in its milky state, injury would, of course, resuit, but that cannot be possible by any weather we have yet had south of the Canada line, Besides this the great corn belt of our territory is below the southern line of New York, and we have not had a temperature there below 40 in deep valleys. We are thus particular, endeavor- ing to show that injury now is a specu- lative bug-bear, gotten up to affect the markets, nothing else, The cotton supply is better than was anticipated a few weeks ago, provisions are nowhere scarce. The iron supply is just what the demand makes it ; and in financial centres. money is abundant, and for legitimate business demands, easily obtainable, what then is to be really feared? What? — Bryn Mawr, Pa., Home News, even Drift. = anada has imitated Delaware and now has a whipping-post, There are 15,000 mortgages on record in Linn county, Oregon. «.A Hot Springs man, who could never afford to take a newspaper, mort- gaged his house to buy two more dogs. Some good Methodists in Bridgeville, N. Y.. are unwilling that their meeting house spire shall have a bell which was paid for by money raised at sociables where there was dancing to the ungodly music of a fiddle, «The Cincinnati News Jowrnal, hav. ing probably canvassed the town de- clares that if it were put to vote to-day two-thirds of the fashionable society of Washington, male and female, would vote for a monarchy and titles and stars and garters. «The idea that lightning is not so destructive as it used to be in the United States, because the network of railroads and telegraph wires lessens the number of accidents, is met by the record of the summer, Fatal thunder bolts have never been more COMMON. «A bill to create the office of Lieu- — necessity for such for an officer to fill the remainder of the term without the cost and disturbance of a special elec~ tion. ~The Rev. A. P. Happer, D. D., figures out a steady decrease im the population of China. He says the pre~ sent mumber of inhabitants cannot ex~ ceed 300,000,000, Chief among the causes of the diminution is opium He believes the population of India will soon exceed that of China, the latter ceasing to be the most popu- lous country on the globe, —The sweeping of Paris’ streets, ac- cording to the latest official returns, costs 5,234,000 francs, The number of persons employed in the work is 3016, including 820 sweepers, 2010 “auxiliary sweepers’’ and 186 foremen. The sweepers receive 100 francs a month, and the auxiliary sweepers 30 cen-limes per hour, The total cost of maintain- ing, cleansing and repairing the road- ways is 8,402 000 francs a year, and of he pavements and crossings 1,265,000 francs or 9,767,200 francs altogether. —New York furniture dealers, dis- cussing the passage of an act for the protection of dealers who sell on the installment plan, say that were the in- stallment plan abolished business would fall off 50 per ceunt., and it would also be the means of delaying many ma:- riages and preventing some. When Bendall & Co. began selling on this plan in 1864 the matrimonial market began to boem. Marriage have in- creased with the increase of this business, A young couple, the male half of which receives only $10 a week, can’t afford to go to boarding. But how can they go to housekeeping without furniture? They solve the problem by paying a small amount to a dealer who does business on the install- ment plan, — News. eel Domestic Animals, Their Intelligence, JAffection and Reasoning Faculties. or A Dog's GRATITUDE. — A few months ago a vagrant dog applied for admission at the Stafford residence on Cedar aven- ge. Stafford was in favorof driving the tramp canine hence, but his son, a boy 14 or 15 years of age championed the dogs cause and begged of his father to allow the dog to remain, which was agreed to. The dog seemed to realize that young Stafford was his friend, and he became very much attached to the boy and would follow him about all day. About a week ago the boy was driving along Gidding’s avenue, the dog yelp- ing in a friendly manner along by the buggy, the horse going at & pretly good jog. All at once the horse whipped the lines out of the boy's hands with its tail and dashed down the street on a full gallop. The dog instinctively re- alizing that the boy was in danger, ran to one side and caught the lines, which were dragging on the ground, in his teeth, and struggled to stop the runa- way horse. It is claimed that scores of persons saw the horse drag tie dog along the ground 30 or 40 pods, tie dog clinging to the lines with his teeth an | finally stopped the horse by pulling it to one side of the street against a tel- egraph pole, where the blacksmith at the corner of Dean street ran out, se- cured the horse, and unioosed the dog's firm grip from the lines. The boy es- caped unhurt, but the dog was bruised and bleeding. EXTRAORDINARY ANIMAL INTEL- LIGENCE,— Very few persons are Aware of the fact that the education of ani- mals to perform tricks is much better accomplished in this country than in any other. The following little incident is related as illustrating to what a remark able degree the reasoning powers of the elephant may be brought out, as well as showing the control experienced animal trainers have over these big brutes. A medium sized Asiatic ele- phaut with the Bamum and London shows has been taught to perform the the following : Dressed as a clown, with the typical white felt hat perched jauntily an the side of his head, he is brought on the elevated stage, and mounting a strong barrel, he rolls it backwards and forwards with his four feet. He then takes a chair, sits it be- fore a table, upon which is placed a bell, rings the bell, orders dinner, eats it, drinks it, wipes his mouth with a big napkin, fans himself with a palm leaf fan, stands on his hind legs, on his forelegs, on his head, lies down, sits down on the ground, rells over, gets up, holds nis trainer on his head, goes forward, backward, sidesways, nods “yes'' or ‘‘no,” seesaws on a plank, plays an organ, walks on bottles, takes off his clothes with his trunk, rolls a tub with his nose, sets it on end, sits on it, ahd many other funny things, closing by pushing his keeper off the stage. All this is done without one word being spoken. Many of the other elephants with these big shows are ‘most of which show remarkable powers form wonderful feats in these shows, besides the elephants.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers