BELOVED NIGHT,
Beloved night! That lettest down
Thy eurtain on our griefs and fears,
In vaulty deepness dost thou drown
Our frets and falling tears?
In thine engulphing swallow up
Life’s plainings and its poignancies,
The foam flood of love's brimming cup,
And ts outwringed lees ? .
Though in thy peauty thou art dumb,
And canst not speak to us again,
From out thy vastness sems to come
An answer to our pain,
As theugh from all those lustrous eyes,
In heaven's mysterious fisce alight,
4 glanee thou bend’st to sympathize
With us—beloved night !
cm ————————
GEANNYS EXPERIENUE.
It was the evening of the donation
arty at the Rev. Simeon Slide’s.
At Grovehill they had not many ex-
_itements, and to the simple villagers
town belle, or a court presentation to a
Londoa debutante.
Jessie Field had retrimmed her white
muslin dress with apple green ribbon,
and even aunt Betsey had washed and
ironed the French cambriec dress which
constituted the cream of her wardrobe,
and basted fresh lace frillings the
neck and sleeves,
into
on the kitchen porch, congratulated
on the contents of the box - wagon,
which stood under the shad
apple tree.
“If everybody takes as creditable a
load to the parson’s as that,”’ said the
squire, “I guess they won't
there. A ham, a bag 0’ mixed chicken-
feed, a firkin of first-class butler, six
dressed
and a loaf of plum-cake,
grand motlier
all tha
} vy GEE ¢ vlog
fowls. a bushel o’ russet apples,
arter
and be-
made
Field's recei
1
nt
t -—
sides
‘(Good gracious pa!” said Jessie who
was tucking away ber curls under the
strings of her split-straw gipsy hat,
“how are aunt Bess and I ever going to
ride with all that load ?7
“Well,” said the squire, with an ole-
aginous little chuckle, **you’l have to
contrive it
sit on the butterfirkin, and sort o’
steady it, and there’s plenty o’ room
for the other along o’ me on the
and hold the plum-cake on your lap.
And coming back I ain't
turbed but that y-u’ll get plenty o’
beaux, gals always do. The moon will
be at its full, and Peter Peck and
Hiram Jellifer is both be there
and—"*
“Don’t talk nonsense, pal’
Jessgie, laughing, and looking provok-
ingly pretty, just as aunt Betsey, glan-
cing over her shoulder into the glass,
saw the reflection of herown face and
sighed softly.
Ah the sad difference between eigh-
teen and thirty!
“1 was preity too, when I wasa
girl,” said aunt Betsey to herself, i
don’t suppose I am positively ill-looking
now. Bat the dimples are gone and
the roses, and the smooth
curves of cheek and chin. There are
crow’s-feet around my eves and
wrinkle on my forehead, and when I go
to parties I am left to sit among the oid
ladies by the wall”
But Miss Betsey Field did not =zpeak
out these words; she only said—
“There'll be plenty of room,
I shall go on to the parsonage at once,
and help Mrs. Slide get ready for the
evening. She needs some one to assist
her, with her sickly daughter and all
those little children.”
somehow,
dpi
eat,
LO
$
Jessie,
Bess!” said Jessie, with a kiss,
you're always thoughtful. You're the
darlingest little old maid that ever
was,"
So Betsey Field set out to walk down
the sunny, grass-carpeted lawn, while
Jessie leisurely finished her toilet and
pinned fresh roses into her belt, Peter
Peck, who lived up on a comfortable
farm on Lhe mountain had shot a deer
in the woods-—like Nimrod of old he
was a mighty hunter on the face of the
earth— and prepared a quarter of veni-
son, neatly wrapped in a linea cloth,
for his share of the donation party.
Old Mra. Peck, his grandmother, had
fished a jar of apple sance out of the
cellar, and dressed some tender spring
chickens,
“I’m past going to church myself,"
said granny Peek, "but I always was
one to believe in the dissemination of
the Gospel, so I don’t grudge the
chickens and tho apple sass. Be sure
you earry ‘em careful, Peter, and...
“Granny! suddenly burst in the hon.
est young giant, who was tying his
cravat before the glass with laborious
fingers, ‘*how many years is it since
grandfather courted you ?*’
“Good land o’ Goshen!” said granny
Peck, “what 1a the boy talkin’ about?’
“Because | want fo know what he
said,” sald Pelor, reddening to the very
roots of his halr.
“I'm a goin’ courtin’ myself, granny,
and I bain’t bad uo experience, and 1
don't know how to go to work.”
“Well I never!” sald granny Peck.
“Try to remember, there's a good
soul I'” urged Petor conxingly.
“It’s so long ago,” sald granny Peck,
with a sympathetic moisture beginning
to suffase her bloared syelids. “Times
is changed now.”
X “Bat homon natur’ is human natur’,
\
A AH AR HAR EN 5 0
just the same, ”’ said Peter, ‘*How was
it, granny?*’
“He took me out a-ridin’,”’ said the
goodly pinch of rose-scented snuff.
“That's it ezactly,” said Peter. *‘I've
barnessed up Red Robin, and washed
off the wagon, and I calculate to ask
her to ride home with me from the
donation party.”
“And it was a very dreadful moon-
shiny night——"' reflectively added the
old lady.
“Moon's at the tull,” exultingly mut-
tered Petar, “I believe there's a
| in it”
“And he set up close to me, and
| squeez «1 my hand with the hand he
wasn't a drivin’ with, and he said I
| was the prettiest gal he'd ever seen,
and could I be contented to come and
live at Hawk’s farm,
“And we was married the next fall.
fob
160
{ all that seems 1"
“It sounds sasv enough,” said Peter
| despondently. But I'd rather clear off
| a whole patch 0 hickory woods, ”’
“Don't be afraid, Peter,” said the
old lady, laying a kindly hand on his
| right shoulder, “If she's a gal wuth
| havin’, she'll know you're a good lad,
{And IM cookey she'll say
| Yes."
“I only wish I could think so, gran-
* sald Peter, with a sigh.
“Is it Kate Lanney?”’
i Peck, “or Mary Elsley ?"
“Taint neither one,” sald
{ sheepishly. ““It's Jessie Field I"?
“Land o’ massey VV’ sald granny Peck,
elevating her withered hands, **What
on airth isa pretty pink-and-white piece
bet a
i ny,
said
like this ?*°
‘she’s as smart as a steel-trap,’’ said
Peter.
{ “Don’t you worry, granny. Once |
i <b
get ber here, you’ll see that she'll
'
Yi
aul
iI
So Peter piled his venison, and chick-
ens and jar of apple-sauce into the back
{ of the roomy old buggy, and drove
| away the donation party as full of
{ hopes and fears as any young girl. And
! when he saw Hiram Jellifer, the vil-
are-clerk, enter,
pomatum and cologne, in
i
0
lage st
a city
suit of clothes, and hair brushed to a
peak over his forehead, t heart
within him,
“I hain™
thought.
“Jessie, ’
sank
ne chance at all)’
whispered aunt Betsey to
| her niece, as they were clearing the din-
| ing-room for the games which followed
{ upon the old-fashioned supper, “do take
a lit Peter Peck.
eyes are following you.
la notice of poor
Kae
And you have hardly been decently po-
{ lite to him. *
“Peter
how his
Peck. indeed!” sald Jessie,
radiant in the consciousness of being
the prettiest girlinthe room I couldn't
possibly be
me!
“You can go and talk with hum your.
self, if you 1 n
But aunt Betsey shyer than any child,
{ shrank blushingly away.
“No.” said she, * I couldn't do that.
lense,
§
Half-an-hour afterwards, Peter Peck,
unable to make up his mind
| home with Hed Robin and the buggy,
sidled up to the squire,
i Field home?"
“Much obleeged, I'm sure,” said the
| squire, “1 have the box-wagon
| but I don’t mind riding home alone, if
so be as you’d like company.”
Peter drew a long breath,
“It's as good as settled now,” said he
| to himself.
| His heart beat high when in the misty
| moonlight, a slight figure came out,
| under Squire Field's escort, all mu filed,
shawled and veiled, against the chill,
fresh air of the autumn evening. And
not until they were safe out on the high
road, at Red Robin's best trot, did he
eredit his extraordinary good luck in
thus securing a wteatete with the
belle of the evening.
“It's a nice shiny evening,’ said he
sheepishly.
“Very,'' answered a soft voice,
“I hope 1 don’t crowd you?” he haz
arded,
companion.
And then followed an appalling si.
lence, broken at last by the vehement
accents of the young farmer,
“It aint no use skirmishin® around
and the sooner I say it the better, be-
cause it’s a-ehokin’ of me all the while!
I love you, Miss Field! I can’t live no-
how, without you. There, it’s all out
now.”
Oh,
Field.
“Do you s’pose,’” sald honest Peter,
with a dim remembrance of his grand.
mother’s lesson, ‘vou conld be heppy
at IMawk’s Farm?”
“Oh, Mr. Peck!”
“But say yesor no!” pleaded Peter
“Will you be my wife, Miss Field?”
And the word which floated upon
Peter's ears, through the veils and
wraps which he wai now walorously
hugging close up to him was “Yes!”
“I never was so happy in all my life,’
sald Peter rapturously,
“Nor L,”* whispered the voice behind
the veil.
Mr. Peck!” faltered Miss
Tb +
stump and then, all too foon, appeared
Squire Field’s large red house behind
theapple trees,
And Peter helped his flance out as
tenderly as if she were box of solid
gold and he a miser,
varnished side-box road wagon, and
turning around, Peter Pedk saw spring-
ing frem it Jessie Field.
Was it witcheraft? Nahing of the
sorb.
blushing in the moonlight, with
| vell thrown aside was Miss Betsey.
And it was Miss Betsey to whom he
had proposed, and Miss Betsey who had
accepted him. Peter Peck gave a con-
yulsive gasp for breath, What was he
to do?
it was all a mistake—that he had taken
her for her niece, or should he—
But at that instant he caught a fleet
| ing glimpse of Jessie's radiant face
| turned up to Jellifer’s and it like
| & revelation to him,
her
was
| self, “that other fellow has been ahead
{of me! And I don't care a halfpenny
| only a
coquette after all, and Miss
worth two of her, and I ain’t
- she’s
Betsey is
Peck
when once he'd smd it,»
yet
So, taking Miss Betsey's arm
| lantly into the house to ask the squire’s
consent and blessing,
As for Jessie, she lingered long under
the
iiifer.
ast she came upstairs to
14
i the
| with Mr. J
When
the room 3
trees L$]
moonlight,
ch aunt and niece shared
tnopthp
togelier
looked earnestiy at her
COIN PALIN,
“Aunt Bes
matter? Why
“Because Mr,
J said she, **what is the
do vou look so happy?”
me 1
le
ftiy,
Peck Lins asked
marry him,” replied aunt Betsey so
“and [ have answered him yes.’
“Well if ti isn't
‘ iz and kissing
fy ful aunt. “And
to Hiram Jellifer.
what a sweet, bright happy world
strange!” cried
her still
have engaged
Oh,
y Bueez
aunt
answe red
RKunt
range to say they
ap, by
Peter came
%
he * what
“It's all 1 anny,”
‘I've asked
and I'm to bring
sad Deter,
has consented,
$
three
3 $ al
i yr ¥ +
ber, and she
her here in
month
Granny Peck
faround. “Well”
| you've succesded, Pe
i little afeard
looked doubtfully
fry
iy ®
il
said she, glad
fer, I'm a
these home spun things
| won't be enough for Miss Jesse
Biota 3
Field.
“Jeasiel™!
echoed Peter, with an ex.
“Itain't
LO marry
Misa Bossie
wm I've pro
ceilent imitation of surprises,
all. Jessie is going
that Jellifer fellow. It's
Field the squires sister,
posed to.’
“Well, I never!”
“How
took?"
“I'm sure
stolidly.
Jessie at
Peck,
mis
said Granny
I have
could bean 80
I don’t know,” said Peter
AIA 0
The Lapps in Sammear,
The Lappe seemed Lo consider the in.
terior of their houses somewhat stuffy
on a summer night for they were all
{rugs of reindeer skin—mean, women,
| women have a sort of loose blouse of
| the same material, stopping above the
i knees, their legs bring smathed in eloth,
bound in long strips of leather.
i
|of quaint elfish looking little creatures,
| with straight, sandy colored hair, small
| grey eves. The men have stubbly
| moustachus, suggestive of a retired
| tooth brush. They are all undersized,
{the average height of the men being
[five feet, and the women four and a
{ half. When the others had departed lo
| seek the reindeer, we made friends with
a woman who was by herself in a small
| grass hut, and who very proudly exhil
{ited her new-born baby—a queer littl
i creature, with a yellow, leathery look
ling face, ‘The babies are strapped on
to boards, and so carried on the miter
| dian papoose,
a—— Vsim——
8 wins Stuinps.
A wholesale manufactory of Swiss
starops of old issues has just been dis
covered in Zurich, The forgers have
gone about their work very thoroughly;
they have collected scraps of old letters
bearing post-marks with various dates
from 1843 to 1800; and the better to
decelve the unwary, they have stuck
the stamps on to these pleeces of en.
velope.
Work of hand or head is not an end
In itself, but a sting to the Guvlop.
ment, progress, and happiness of man,
So far as it Tallis that, it is success; so
bubble
more,
; and
Gada Alr,
When & person has remained for an
hour or more in a crowded and poorly
| ventilated room or
| bodles and clothing of the
The immediate effect of these poisons
impale the natural power of the system
to resist disease, Hence it is that per
sons who are attacked by inflammatory
| diseases, as pneumonia or rheumatism
| can generally trace the beginning of {
crowded room into the cold damp
air, wearing verhaps thin shoes and in-
sufficient cl... uing, If these facts were
| generally understood and acted upon,
| thousands of lives might be saved every
| year. It is a well known fact that men
| who “‘eamp out,’ sleeping on the ground
| at all seasons of the year, seldom have
{ pneumonia, and that rheumatism with
| them, comes, as 4 rule, only from un-
warranted mprudences, There are
two facts that should be learned by
person capable of appreciating
01
| every
for a moment
One that
lungs—the breath-—are a deadly poison,
is exhalatwons from the
containing the products of combustion
in the form of carbonic acid gas, and if
a person were compelled to reinhale it
unmixed with the oxygen of the air, it
would prove as destructive to life as
the fumes of charcoal.
This is an enemy that MWAYHE pres
t, in force, in assemblies of people,
)
of
HR.
ana oniy
a constant and free infusion «
fresh air prevents it from doing
that
The
lot
i} ’ . § a Fi 4 ¥ g y
LAE BRE LASOVE LO LILES DOING.
would be immediately appar.
ent. $ that pure air is
gen of the ai greatest of
Rapid s that
f water that j
ugh lage cities, receiving the
ain thro
r running
st of al
Lu
purifier Combined wit!
i
exercise to make it effective, it will
iy curable case of consumption.
> -—-—
The Min Kiver,
ese junks and Chinese
ing in a house-boatl on
3 . n v ut
above Foo-Choo, and als
pericla
w hiose
vessels of all shapes and sizes,
to
the
extraordinary watch
down
large junks
midstream,
igantic sculls,
coming river
propelled
one on each side of
only by two
the
dozen
Hp. act
a men. The
end of this huge oar is attached to the
junk by a strong leathern
the scull works round and
the
or
"
5} and e
worked by about
thong, and
yound ci
principal
the
=
tousiy. somewhat
All
or any other labor involv-
cul
an
of the screw, the time men
are at this,
ing continuous action (such as rowing
or dragging a heavy cart), they keep up
the ceaseless chorus,
There are muititude
singularly ph i
anchor just below the great
Ten Thousand Ages {(Wans
which eo ia the Isle of
the mainland of Foo.Choe :
delightful hours have I
among these to select the moat striking
group, and then sketching
junks lying
tidge of
wwkenaou)
1d Nantal with
and many
spenl rowing
wacefully
strange scenes—these extraordinary
combinations of form and color. Hare
we have a whole flotilla moored side by
side and we look up at the extraordin.
ary high sterns, so fantastic in shape,
covered with brilliant pictures of huge
birds, and gruesome dragons, or groups
of mythological scenes. Emerald green,
scarlet, white and gold, sienna and
varied banners can scarcely excel the
lrillianey of the vessel,
But the overhanging stern and huge,
unwieldy rudder cast deep shadows,
which are carned down in the reflec.
tions, and the gray granite bridge,
the blue sky and the distant hills, har.
monize the whole, Now weé may
change our position, 80 as Lo watch the
igo. 1 say ‘on’ advisedly, for it is all
fastened on outside, and only the stem
nd stern of a laden vessel are visible,
yo great is the bulk of timber fastened
© her on either side; of course she
ius becomes exceedingly buoyant, for
cargo is self supporting, floating on
is own seccount, The prow of these
vissels is shaped and painted to repre.
seit the face of a gigantic and gaudy
fish, with huge staring eyes, and the
hesvy anchor hung from ils mouth.
Vary quaint, too are the huge sails of
brown or yellow matting, supported by
crots-ribs of bamboo.
After a wet night all the sails are
mnup to dry at early morning, and
when half furled the bamboo ribbing
is singularly suggestive of the wing of
the fiying-fish from which donbtiess
the idea was first taken. When a junk
is fully laden, and on the eve of sailing.
the crew commend themselves 10 the
Bea Dragoon in a frightfully noisy re-
ligious service, Offertugs of food are
erew holds up boring joss paper to-
{ ward the sun, whi
| an ear-splitting din on gongs sand eyo.
During the service the
| vessel, but especially t
with
| and every conceivable
| bals,
of every
device.
i arated banners
voked, and the timber junks starl «
their seaward journey.
phases of
There
are one of the mos’ curious
domestic life China,
many thousands of them
great river, and here at ¥Foo-Choo
was an endless source to
watch these from our verandas on Lhe
river's brink. They particularly prove
the old truism that *‘man wants but
little here below,” for the “little”
which forms the ciean and apparently
happy home of three generations is a
boat about the of
beds set end to end, and covered at
| night by a series of telescopic sliding
roofs of bamboo matting. Here man
and wife, grandparents and little chii-
for no
family
It occu
ithe ven
in
on every
of interest
i%
size two four-post
dren, cook, sleep and
matter how tiny the
ailal
worship ;
boat, the
is never crowded oul.
i
pies the place of honor, and
poorest often contrive to lay aside
few cash to buy flowers to place
the little image of the goddess of mercy
with the } id.
n, when
and a few
specially
Tr CATE,
. even under
“anen'’
i freezes iL
ou
io 'eiove
no
Lh
covering
‘3
gradually and accordi
5)
# $3 x
1g to the advance
# Reason the compos, of course
ing spaded in, as food for the plant,
well €3
Probably the rosebush
spring is
will ba foun
winter-kifled at the top, but that
not matier—Lhe wood woul i
pruned down, anyway, as
are always on the young wood,
Another way peg down
bush close to the ground, ¢over it
“wh
he Blossoms
18 0 the
over
with six or eight inches of leaves, or
rough lifter, which isquiteas well—the
bed of clear leaves is apt ¥o pack down
too tightly. Over it plac
BOIDH BYE.
green boughs, to hold the aves agai
gales of wind. If coveredtoo early ti
shoots will be smothered and decay.
ig important, (00, not to remove
covering too soon in the spring and
it gradually. A part may be
moved in this neighbofiood about
i March 20, usually, bat that will de.
pend on the season; the reminder at
| say two different times up to the mid-
dle or the twentieth of April. It is bet.
{ter to be a week too ate than a day to
i soon. If the roses are well established
and healthy plants this latter method
will save them as a rule. It will gen-
erally work better, probably, tian the
one first deseribal. More roses have
been lost, about Hartford, for example,
| from over protection—from too beavy
| and close covering—than from the op
| posite extreme.
1
Gao Ie.
An Abyssinian Belle.
AA
{With a large majority of the mative
| females in Turkey, the prevailing tint
is yellow. Nine out of ten of them
| are pigeon-toed and all the blondes have
| freckles. They never wither and dry
| up in growing old, as do the natives to
i the north and west, but fatten and
grow oily, developing ridges where
| they onght to be hollows, growing at
| the edges and settling in height, until
| at early womanhood they have no more
shape or figure than a Hubbard squash,
If I were to have my choice of the
whole involee, I should take an Abys
ginian brunette. They are divinely tall
and slender and black as the ace of
spades. The features are clearly out
and regular, the eyes liquid and the lips
ted and fail. The hair is black and
waving, but somewhat coarse in fiber.
They dress in pure white, and the black
face and red lips against the white set.
ting of the burnous give an effect that
is as enchanting as a picture.
Wealth is not always fortune,
Concession is the best peacemaker.
Never play at any game of chanee,
A good example is the best sermon.
The brave only know how to forgive,
a x man is not so soon healed as
A ‘have some
A flow of words is no preof of wis
fom.
Censure is the tax a man pays to 1}
public for being eminent
To suffer fon
itself a species
having acted
of recoinper
well,
There never was a mask so gay
some tears were shed beliind iG
Good company
tion are the
niu
very sinews of
good LOnvYe
virtue
$.% 14
Oh is gxceilent to have
gtyenigl li: hig
swivngii, Oh
a gu
i 10 4 |
ir i $
Pretences go
Lake
looks for ct
Society
Or LWoO prizes
The excesse
upon our old age
4
est about thirty
A
sermons
virtues of
There is ne
but virtue
friendshij
Lue,
The fruit
modesty and
proud man js
norant man.
To Bay
the characterist
versity borrows
impatience
curtain
} i
fi the
worth all the
rid for teaching ihe
nee and uflering
Leys ¢
Wig if.
mer itorions
indeed,
a part of vir
iver
s And,
wisdom Are
A vain or
IIA
them
BURPETIOTS,
Lisa wr
} TAKS
her man’s;
Ig use
¢ the
OF
“a
sorner of the bra
that vice can ob-
5 « she knocks
able to sav: *Noroom |
Tages
at
je
wd
it
tors “a
8arme
r the vie.
of §
cause of most of
assurance of
and thoy are
g, who have
thelr pow.
it the it
taken
of hiltle minds «
¥ appearance, and
roaily
will: Ir
eve
is have but hittle admi-
things appear new
iii
bacause few
Let a man take time enough for the
wt trivial deed, though it be but the
of s nals, The buds swell
imperceptibly, without hurry or con-
fusion, as if the short Spring days were
an eternity.
Rumor is a pipe, blown by sarmses,
i conjectures; and of 80 easy
plain a stop that the blunt mon-
with uncounted heads—the stil
dant wavering muljitade —can
inf
EE
u have ins
great talents
mprove them; if very moderate
ndustry will su ply their
Nothing is demied to well.
4 Nothing is ever to
oat IL
pleasanter this world
d be to live in were il Rs easy to
to bed at night as i ig to remain
in morning and fas easy to
in is
es
¢ {pg
als tw
wou i
£0 to
w
there the
getting up when you go u
No man or woman of
wort can really be strong, gentle, pure
and good, without the world being bet
er for it, without somebod® being
jelped and comforted by the very ex-
stence of that goodness,
When God would educate a mas
Je compels him to learn bitter lessons.
de sends him to school to the necessi-
fies rather than to the graces, that, by
knowing all suffering. he may know
also the eternal consolation.
Weseldom find persons whom we ac-
knowledge to be possessed of good
sense except those who agree with ne
in opinion. When such - ocoasion:
ocour, our seifdove always induces a
decision in favor of their judgment.
Good manners declare Uthat their pos
sessor is a person of superior quality,
to matter what his garb, or bowever
slender his purse, They prove his re.
spect for hamself, and they also prove
his respect for those whom he addres.
,
The road to success is pot to be run
upon by seven-leagued boots, Step by
step, little by dittle, bit by bY, that is
the way to wealth that ix the way to
wisdom, that is the way to glory.
Pounds are the sons, not of pounds,
bat & pence.
The sea drowns both ship snd sallor,
Jike a grain of dust, and we call 1 fate;
pat Jet him learn to swim, let him trim
his bark, and the water which drowned
him will be cloven by it, and will carry
it hke its own foam-a plume and a
power,
£33
termination
desire to save one's OWn money oc bron
ble,
To-day is not yesterday;
change. How can our
ts, if they are always to be the
fi contin al :
indead
and,
-
if
and so also
Ch