INSTORM AND CALM. My God, on seas of storm and calm, I Joe the ocean o'er, And sing to Thee my thankful psalm, Each evening nearer shore. I have an everlasting Lome, Or be it near or far, My Lord is mine what'er may come; He is my polar star. A voyager o'er the restless sea. [ pass to ports divine; I know bright shores are waiting ma, Beyond the horizon line, I know, for in the calm of prayer I've seen the fair skies glow, And felt through life's reluctant ai» [mmortal breezas blow, And often as my spirit sings, As calms succeed the gales, Fair birlls, with sunshiveon thelr wings, Drift past the restful sails, W here’er the sail may fall or rise, W hate'er the sky above, I'm nearer to the paradise And fountains of Thy love. Thine is the storm, Thine is the calm. i Wherever 1 may be; i And nothing shall my soul alarm | Upon the silent sea. | TS WEST A, DIAMONDS IN THE GUTTER. A little girl sat on a doorstep, watch. ing the rain-drops as they splashed in | the puddles, stopping to count them in | her misery, for she had nothing to do, yothing to think of, and nothing to hope for. ! Her clothes were shabby, her arms were scarcely more than skin and bone and her large wistful eyes seemed big enough to swallow up the rest of her | face. Poverty was stamped on every -hildish feature, and beauty had been driven away by that harsh tiend, starvation. The door behind her opened, and a man came out, nearly stumbled over her, and gave her a curse instead of an apology; then he went his way down the watery pavement, stepping into every puddle he came across, as if he were in too great a rage to see them. Lottie Smith watched them and 8 to herself: Then he passed out of sight, and she drew her tattered shawl round her with a shiver, for the street seemed to have grown darker and colder than it was before, Presently a window behind her open- ed. and something flashed down like a falling star on to the pavement. In an instant Lottie jumped up and secured the prize, holding it up to the light of the lamp-post in her dirty fin- gers. It was a diamond ring. She had never seen such a thing in ber life, and she thought the beautiful jewel flashing radiantly in the gas-light was a star fallen from its place in the sky. “Poor ‘ickle "tar,” she said, wiping it with the corner of her shawl, *‘me can’t take ‘ou back just yet, but me goin’ afore long, doctor and then me take ‘ou with me.” Holding it tight in her little bony fin- gers, she dragged her tired feet down one dirty street after another; but there was a new light in her eyes, asif a small, hope had risen up in the darkness because of the star in her hand. Another gentleman came to the door- step on which she had heen sitting, and being admitted after a resounding knock. made his way unannounced to the drawing-room, “Sir Felix has been here again, Ma- rion,’ lie said angril “Don't for ne told me so himself." “I shan’t deny it, because it is tx and Marion Dearsley rose siowly {rom the sofa. ‘‘If vou wish me to say ‘Not at home’ to every man but yourself, I must tell you that I can’t do it.” “Do you ever do anything to please me?’ in bitter resentment. “Yes but I sha’nt for the future, now that I know—" “You know what?" looking at ber in surprise, “That the flowers [ give you are pass- ed on to some one else.” “Whoever told you that tells a gross falsehood!” and his dark eyes flashed fire, “He is quite as truthful, I fancy, as Mr. Harold Battiscombe." “Where's my ring?" his eyes sudden- ly falling on her left hand. ‘Ah. where?” her cheeks flushing. “1 suppose the next will be given to Laura Dickson?” “Time to talk about the next when | I've found out about (he first,” his | brows drawing together. ‘Marion tell | me the truth. Have you, or have you not, given the ring to Whittaker?” “I am not in the habit of making | presents to gentlemen.” “No evasions, if you please.’ You had | the ring on your finger when Sir Felix | was here?" i “Certainly, and he had the good taste | to say I liked you the best because you could give me such jolly diamonds.” “And you can encourage such a suob as that!" i “f don't epcourage him,” drawing up her long neck. ! “Then where is the ring?” She laughed uneasily and looked to- ward the window. i “I was desperately angry, because l | had just heard of the roses.” i “There was nothing to hear,” he in- terrupted hastily, “But I'l tell you all | about it, only it would not interest you ! now.” ! “Why not now?" in vague alarm. ! their ard ' 1 spoil his shoe leather!’ Saye, 1 id i wv fan i$ Jo GAeny is ue, 3 s‘Because If you give away my ring, it is a sign that you want to get rid of the giver,” his face set and stern. | “Good-bye, Marlon; I'll never bother | you again,” taking up his hat. i “Wait a moment. I—I threw it out | of the window. ™ A contemptuous smile curled Mis moustache, ; “A Ukely story; diamonds are not generally thrown in a gutter!” | “If you won't believe me go,” and she pointed to the door, but directly it had closed behind him, she threw her- | sell down on the sofa, aud burst into a | passion of tears, ‘Oh, Harold, Harold, | come back, { on and Hardld | to raise 3 a for the ring, but no traces of it was to be seen, although in consequence of the badness of the weather, the policeman averred that no one had passed by for the last half hour, was engaged to act in some tableau vi- rants at the house of a Mrs. Mackenzie, In one scene Harold Battiscombe had to kneel at her feet as an ardent lover, with her left hand pressed to his lips, whilst she turned away In apparent agitation. The agitation wus not feigned, for when she felt her hand once more in his, and saw by the expression in his face that he had neither forgiven nor forgotten, she trembled so violently that she nearly spoiled her part. If the ring had only been in its place he would have come back to her. A sickening feeling of despair crept over her, the lights seem- ed to be going out, as she fell forward into his arms, When she opened her eyes again, she found herself on the sofa in a little bou- doir, and he was kneeling by her side with a scent bottle in his hand, “Better?” he said anxiously, ‘Yes.’ with a sigh of pleasure, for it once again. Then he looked at her beautiful face v9? “Darling where i8 my ring? She shook her neaa sa once rose to his feet, WI up. his place was filled L) 1p. his pis was filled Ly ily, and he at en she looked Sir Felix. Harold Battiscombe avoided Marion's home i had as if its Inmales got t plague. vorite partner was never there, Marion Dearsley turned her thoughts more serious things, and being exceedingly unhappy herself, for the first time i think of those who her life, began had never known what happiness was. when the Ope lovely day in June, Park was crowded with fashionable throngs, and flowers in to in in + to air with their ley knocked at the door of a miserable. house in a squalid street, and was true that a little girl, i th, was living there, tie >mith, 1 ir r 00KIng in, mum," looking woman with tired eyes; “she's getting past everything but groaning and coughing, and that she do pretty iigh all the day.” A few minutes later, Marion was bending over a miserable pallet-bed, on which a shrunken form was lying, and feeding the thirsty lips with spoonfuls of orange-jelly. The child’s wistful eyes looked up into the pretty face, which had grown pale and sad during the last few months, and whispered boarsely: “Ma goin’ to take ‘ittle "tar with me.” “What does she say?” looking round the mother, “Bless hea with the corner of dyin’, and she's g summat under her pi wavs says she must take with her. penny thing, I fancy from one of the chil’en lady, dear.” tie a) Ai heart!” wiping her eyes her apron; ‘she’s a ul to go; and she's got llow which she al- A she must "ha got Show it to the ber hand under the oid straw which did duty fora pi» treasure will ww } sort f x ha M1 DIOUgas il Der with pus ng eyes, gi” exclaimed Marion, drop- n her agitation. ma'am? My goodness, f your stealing the lady's “She did not steal it, she found it on road.” said Marion kindly, as she saw large tears one after the other down the wasted cheeks, “My ‘ickle 'tar!” with a plaintive moan. “She thought 1t was one of the stars, and she was goin' to take it back." “Oh Lottie dear, the stars never come the i + 1 + TORN they will never come to us,” sad Ma- rion sadly. This is nothing but a bit of gold and a jewel, nothing to do with heaven. I dropped it out of the win dow one day, and I wanted so much to get it back. Will you let me have it, you something so nice instead.” “Yes: me thought it was a 'lar—no care now,” the dark eyes glistening through thelr tears—the tears of a lost illusion. Day after day Max & on brought sun- home. Mrs, Smita was supplied with every desaription found their way to the sick child, The falling star brought a ed roses came back to Lottie’s cheeks, advanced. It was against her pride to write to Harold Battiscombe, and tell him that the ring was found, but how did? Laura Dickson came to call, and said that Mr. Bittiscombe was one of the nicest fellows she had ever seen. “Now I met him with some lovely roses in his hand, and without thinking, I said how I wished I had some like them to wear aud could not wear a color, where they came from, for he sald he from Covent Garden. wasn’t that nice of him?" “Very nice,”” murmured Marion, it was on account of the story Sir Felix had told her about those roses that she sudden passion. had been! «oir Felix came the next day and made her an offer, which she declined with thanks, and the baronet went away in the worst of tem h That evening Mr. and Mrs. Macken zie took Marion to the opera. By her side there was a stall which remained empty till the end of the first act, when a gentleman made his way to it, and sat down without looking , Her heart stood still, for one glance out of the corner of her eye told her that it was Harold, They exchanged bows as it they had been distant acquaintances the weather and formal remarks on were stopped by the raising of the cur- y tain. The opera was nearly over, and the coveted opportunity was slipping | away. 1f she let him go, perhaps they | might never meet again. eyes were immediately fixed upon her. asked Mrs. Mackensie in surprise; we are just going.” riedly, as she tugged away at a refrac- tory thumb, “Come along, or we shall lose the carriage.” | accident. Harold stooped to pick it up, and she stretched out her left hand to take it from him. His eyes traveled from the radiant diamond to her agitated face, “May I come to-morrow’’ he whisper- ed. She gave him a nod and a smile, and quickly followed her friends, whilst he came after and put her in the carriage, feeling as if he were in a dream. “But why did you ever do it?” look- ing down with puzzled eyes at her blush- ing face. “Because Sir Felix told me that you had given my roses to Laura Dickson!” t was false! But the idea of being salous of poor plain;Laural" “You were jealous of Sir Felix, in spite of his ugly red beard.’ jut I thought you liked him.” nd I thought you liked her.”’ jut you didn’t?” it vou ¢i n't?” she echoed wtih a he next moment his arm was around hs Lettie Smith has falling stars come i but all the pleasures of + to her life that don’ earth; sl flashed in the gutter. ———— I A ————" ne Curiosities of Burning. many curiosities of of Oo There are ing, of extraordinary rapidity coms. bustion, which would be worth detailing if we had the space. Bad building is the cause of most, for bad building means rapid destruction by fire. The party wall in the majority of old houses built in a row, and in many new, does | not reach to the roof, as it should, and the space between creates a channel— | almost a blow pipe—for the spread of | t he fire to the next, which Is verd di cult to deal with, It is a danger pro- vided against by legislation, ( for it known that a nine-inch brick wall will resist fire as long as it stands), but often through carelessness it 1s overlooked. In France, under the Code Napoleon, is been very strictly enforced, and even In one house to the other, with a large frontage of windows—a large shop, for instance, with show- rooms on each floor—is one of the most dangerous with which the brigade have to cope. The glass soon cracks and fails out. the air rushes in, and the whole becomes one blast furnace. Per. haps the most dangerous of all are those lofty establishments of flats which very properly go by the name of the baulld- er’s or proprietor’s folly. There is no one spot in them free from or unlikely to catch fire, for they are collects private houses as il were, d every part of a private house is equally vul al and from their great height there are neither ladders long .enough nor water-jets powerful enough to reach the top stories, $O00 ons of in i FE t £ . nerabile, amass AAAI The Tree of Linages, Far away in the dreary land of Am- bo, a part of Thibet, is a green valley, in which, in a Tartar tent, was born a wonderful boy named Tsong-Kaba, From his birth he had a long, white beard, and flowing hair, and could speak perfectly his native longue. His manners were majestic, and his words were few but full of wislom. When he was three years old, be resolved to cut off his hair and live a solitary life. So his mother shaved his bead, and threw his long, flowing locks upou the ground outside their tent door. From his hair sprang the wonderful tree. Tsong-Kaba lived many years, did cotintleas good deeds, and at last died But the tree which had grown from his hair. lived on, and they called it the at last accounts it was still alive and much care was taken of It. The peo- ple built high walls of brick around it, and an emperor of China sheltered it beneath a silver dyme. Two French missionaries saw this | tree some years ago, and they say that it seemed then to be very old. It was not more than eight feet high; but three | men with out-stretched armas could scarcely reach around its trunk. | branches were very bushy, and spread | out just like plumes of feathers, The leaves are always green, and the wood, which was of a reddish tint, bad an | odor like that of cinnamon. The bark | of the tree was marked with many well formed symbols in the Thibetan lan- | guage; alphabetic characters also ap- peared in a green color, on every leaf, some darker, some lighter, than the leaf | {taelf, i —— He Broke em Up. | lived some years | able wealth, He knew he was near his death, aud sent for a lawyer to make i his will. His wife and daughter were | present, and greedily watched the pro- After most generously pro- | viding for them the sick man directed | the lawyer to designate £500 to his aged sister, who was needy. The wife remon- strated angrily. Quietly the sick man said: “Make it $1,000 for my sister.” | Another protest from the vultures. | “Make it §1.500, Squire,” coolly said the legator, ‘You shall not,’ shouted the sweet-souled females, *‘Make it $2,000 serenely, and here the seldiah fools concluded it was policy to bold their tongues, The lawyer has kept the secret for years, but somehow it has leaked out, AA ION SSI. Ere your fancy you consult, consult your pure. | ceedings. § Fredeorivk the Great, i It is ralated of an illustrious Russian general, that when a boy he lived for some time at the court of Frederick the Great, where the following incident oc- curred? After the death of his father, his | mother had many a hard struggle to suppcrt herself. This fact was tion at this time was to be able to pro- | vide comforts for her { tions, To his sorrow, he soon found that it was quite impossible to save any money for that purpose out of his small allow- { ance. He did not despair, however, opportunity. } Ril in a room adjoining the king's sleeping | apartment, to be ready at any moment | to obey a summons, should the king re- quire his service, | Fritz discovered that to some of the | pages this duty was both burdensome | and disagreeable, and that to provide a | substitute they would gladly give a cer- tain sum of money. Fritz offered to take upon himself, the night-watch for any one who might be willing to pay | him rather than accept Lhe y when | their turn came round. The offer was acceded to by several, and the | 1 2 2 | mind. It wasa recognized custom that | ene of the pages should sit uj il night, | F118 Lali money thus earped y sent by Fritz to lus mother. One night, the king could not sieep, und determined at last to call the page in attendance to read aloud to him, He called: but there was no respon At length he rose and walked int s An te-chamber, to look if there really was no page onduty. Here he found a page, indeed, sitling at his post, but sound asie Slipping | quietly forward to the » at which | the boy was sitting; the King’s eyes fell | upon a letter which Fritz had been wri- ting to his mother when overpowered | by sleep. The king read the { Howing lines: “My DEARLY BELovED MOTHER! This is the third night that I have ta- ken watch-duty for a comrade. 1 can scarcely hold out any longer; bul I re- joice greatly that I have again earned ten thalers for you, which I send in this } letter +y vas regular- Ei With a heart deeply touched proof of tender filial affection, the king went softly back to his room, took out two rolls of ducats from a drawer, and returned to the sleeping ir whose side pockets he gently slid the rolis of money, Then betaking himself | again to bed, the king consi lerately left exhausted nature to restore itself, Fritz at last awoke with a start, find that he must have slept for several hours: and, wher finding his pockets heavy, he thrust his hands in and pulled out the precious rolls of money, he con- | jectured at once what had happened. Fear made him tremble, for iL was a heinous offence to be caught asieep al his pest; but in spite of the fear and shame he experienced, he cou rejoice, for now he had ampie assist his mother for a long come; and he hoped that the king in the goodness of his heart, had ducats into his pockets, woul grievous fault, In the morning hb opportunity to approa knowledge the derelict which he had been guilt) beg for pardon One hurried glance at his m arch’ benevolent countenance was enough, for there he read not only forgiveness but approval; the kind eves bent | him melted him to tenderness, and it was | with a faltering voice he now gave éx- | pression to his heartfelt gratitude and thanks for the munificent gift his ma- iagty had bestowed on him. The king did not attempt to conceal the high admiration he felt for the filial ioae which had prompted Fritz to such noble, self-denying exertions. He made a few kindly Inquiries regarding his mother’s circumstances, assured him of his entire sympathy, and promised that from that day it would be hisendeavor to promote the interests and pave the way to atvancement of such a faithful, lov- ing son. And Frederick the Great was as good as his word. Step by step, as years rolled on. Fritz rose from one position of honor to another, and as a brave and skillful general he served his beloved king faithfully and well even to old age. Horse Fiesh for Food, } hy ¢ Uy Lis yO page, + * his $ haw t he ¢ seize bh "ne upon or - About a mile outside the fortifications {n the little old suburban village of Pantin is located the abattoir, where the horses that are eaten in Paris are slaughtered, and, judging from the fonrscore of horses on hand, one would think that everything in and about the city in the horse line that did not die suddenly while in harpess was sent there to be killed for food. | horse beef is about the only thing that the better class of French do not care | to talk about, and about the only thing | among their many customs and pecu- | liar institutions that they appear to be | a little ashamed of; as they never speak | of the ** Abattoir des chevaux de !'all- large let | roofed slaughter | From the answers received to many in- | quiries as to where this establichmefit | was located it appears that but few Parisians know auything about it, and, | like all other disagreeable things, they | probably | the better, if many French One thing is certain, that people who occasional ly eat the filet. of horses and declare it to be delicious were to visit the abat- toir they would never eat any more. With now and then an exception, the horses killed are all sbout alike, all “eripe,” blind, maimed, battered bruised, And scarred with a lifetime of hard service, hoofs worn ou joints weakened, swollen and out of shape | pulling heavy loads over slippery streets on sm ed until they could no longer earn their daily rations, and then sent here-it sick at the time—to remain in the care atures coafided 10. shelr his Suk horse tal, asylum for the bliad and : iment at same time, then to furnish i : food for the Lord only knows who, and Fetiohism In China. the less one thinks about it the better, The foreman told me they pay 30 | francs aplece for such a: the poorest in | liglon in the Celest | the stable or that stood in the court- | near Pekin, a few miles from the walls, | yard on the outside—a poor brute of | on the east, is an enormous tree which | that kind I followed from the end of | rell more than two centuries ago and the tramway as they led him between | which has been there ever since. It is | two others.to keep him from falling, as | called the divine tree and a temple has | he reeled and staggered at every step. | been erected for its worship. The peo- I asked the foreman what they wers | ple believe that a spirit lives in or near { going to do with him. Oh! he will | the tree and should be worshiped from motives of prudence, The immense | be made into ‘‘Lorraine sausage,’’ | The price paid for what I judged to|size of the tree is the result of the spirit’s energy. IL is believed that it | be an average one was 60 franes and | for the best 100 frapes. An ac- | could not have grown s0 large without | quaintance said he bought a saddle | a present divinity. | horse for which he paid $300, but he At Hanton, five or six days south from Peking, there are some iron Lars became unmanageable, would buck, | | kick, bite, and strike a la cayuse, so he | ina well. In times of drought they are sold him to the Pantin abattoir for 30 | taken all the way 0 Peking to be pray- | francs. They slaughtered on an aver-|ed to for rain. They are placed in one | age about twenty-two per day, or 8,000 | temple after another and prayers are a year, | offered to them till the showers fall, The first we saw killed was the only | The bars are reverently escorted back to decent one of the lot—u large Percheron | Hanton and placed in the well tifl they stallion, not so old but there were still | are again needed. In such a case tue some dapples on his broad hips; he was | Chinese believe that there is a powerful to all appearance, healthy and all right, | spirit or genius in the well and in the except that one foot and pastern bad | bars and that this spirit ace ompanies rendered him useless—only a plug Dow | the bars te Peking and back agaln. —but his eyes were as clear and bright | This Chinese contemporary feli- a8 at 2 years old, and he still car ried his | chism, but in books thers head as high as ! of thor- | is no trace of fetichism. The objects of oughbreds as he unhe gly followed were either individual spirits he The ruling powers the highest to the ! four great Jasses—(rod, the subordinate heavenly he higher earthly powers, and : spirits that peop.e eal th subordinate heavenly tlie 8 « OO A recent writer on the subject of ré= ial empire states that the ancient the deat worship, or parts of of the universe, from were divided his butchers on to the where must be re his pature, i Timed die, Ding One placed a eyes, another drew curly foretop bas broad forehead—a forehead thal much intelligence and stren a third stood before him with a dandled ten-pound hammer, W h a swift overhand stroke, strucs lv sure that the high royal b the floor before his body. was long in him and he died hard, two | or three more blowsended his struggles, Nothing is said of It seemed almost | murder. We con- | these were worshiped fess a feeling of pity for these poor crea | the ancestral temples. tures—man’s best friend—but here,ina | ship in this instance, consisted « country thickly populated, where the | kneeling, praying and offerings. | struggle to live makes all strive | ee there is no time nor place ngs A Word to Brothers. of sentiment. — The next was one not crippled but Be courteous !| Young men seldom blind, so old that Le was as while as | realize how happy they can make their snow: his ears bent forward as he besi- | sisters by small acts of courtesy. How tated in the. to him, eternal darkness, | many brotl or to their sisters the and did not move fast enough, but le n , they instinctive- ling hands with clubs from beh ly offer to other girls or women ? Nay forced hum forward, stumbling into and low many are there who do not {eal across the drain against the slaughter- | themselves justified in wvenling upon house door, where he stood trembling | their sisters the irritated feelings which with fear and shivering with : have felt obliged 0 conceal in blow from the sledge put him urse with the world ? A the reach of his tormentors. would not wrong his sis- A hole is cut in the skin on the inside | east of her rights will of the thigh, the length of the steel that | yet inflict upon her the grave and the butcher carried was run forward | almost {irreparable wrong of rudeness between the skin and body, the nozzle | —a wrong as irreparable as il 18 das of a bellows inserted, and after | tandly., For rudeness hurts—hurts as five minutes of pumping the skin was as | grievously and lastingly ; and what tight as a drum-—the skinning is nec- | man is worthy of the name that hurts essarily slow-—like skinning a hog or a | a woman ¥ jrothers do not realize as the hide sticks close. The | how far a want of courteous conduct whole legs and hoof are left on the hind | at home may go to wreck their sisters’ quarters, the {i ff at the | lives, nee, bt any de- They wonder at the unaccountable lik- left on | iug of girls for men whom the brothers ww 10 unworthy—men whose very attentions they feel to be almost an insult to a woman’s good sense. Do they not see that it 1s the surtesy of these men—iheir “company manners,” if you please-—which makes them agreeable to women Women so seldom have a high standard of man- hood | They so seldom see the best of the men they know the best. How should they not be deceived and mis. take that outside veneer of a courtesy which makes pleasant the present hour for that inward truth of character of which shall be a benediction to all their future lives ? Brothers, if you would have your sisters love worthily et tl at least be accustomed to gen- igs thick, k gth--while shiort- the SEASONS, Lr + - anid arid g § Ars, cold and heal, Uf The earthly powers w a ricl and struck mountain 2 . named are the 8 f he ¥ iv ¥ ol i beings ¢ ¢ LOT 1eell , g | win, Oue i bevond rid about beaver, 4 » we .degs arecul o so as not to allow of “ f the head $e wed FERAL capLion i y fore-quarter. kn be "hen one of the butchers ded the flesh on the back of neck of Lhe showed an abundar put his knife in his cap, and, knees, parted the neck, head. and, with a twist ¢ and down, his hair was « tion, and then rubbi through his hair he spat o: knife before sharpening it ed with his work. The wholesale price at abatiol: varies with the condition of the meat from 4 cents per pound up, and it isdis- tributed about the city in wagons with the French for “horse beef,”’ “Viande | tle manners, that when they see them de chevaline,’’ printed ou the sides. and (n strangers they nay nt be so dazzled is sold by the retail dealers for from 20 | as to become incapable of distinguish cents per pound for the fillet down to 6 | ing a true man from a sham cents for the poorest parts, soup boues | and the like. : ——— I A had the Lis scab ling hol : proceed. eI ——A A ————— A Growing Industry. An Old Wateh. The slate industry of Northampton | County. Pa. continues to increass,and is David Minthorn, of Pamelin, N. Y., attracting the attention of capiiatigis i is the owner of a watch which was| SEVIS States. New quarries are bing made by Thomas Linford of London. | opened every week, and hie hon 126, and which, accerding to the re- | of new companies is frequently Spo an inate : of. Among the latest capitalist to en- cords of the Minthorn family, bas the re the mdustry isJ. Bradford following history: It was presented by | §33° In A ¢ Justice of New Mexico George III to Sir William Johnson Prince, : ch ustios het. he h when he left England to take charge of under President Arthut, u 0. N88 Bn his Majesty's affairs in the colony of cepted the 2 residency 5a BAY Souk New York. Sir William presented it to | FEY De Kupwa) as oD rty adjoining Joseph Brant, the famous Indian chief, | Mining 4 ompany od Rope xt B | with the remark that it was “surely | *2° Old Bangor Slate pany ¥ an worth at least forty rebel scalps.” gor. Operations ob ct 8 ew quarry When Brant had his headquarters in the will be commenced DEX be ik on Schoharie valley the watch was taken ll the quarries in the county ik from him, with other booty, by Evart | now being worked to their fullest capa- Van Epps of Fultonvilie, who was a city, and give employment to several paymaster in the Continental army. | thousand men, many of whom earn ages. The opening of the quar- Van Epps was afterward taken prison- good wages, opening of the quar | er by Brant, and thechief recovered the ries has greatly increased the price of watch, The grandfather of the present real estate in the slate region, and prop- owner of the watch became a Warm erties that were then sold for a trifle, x 3 friend of Brant's in Canada after the because their value as slate lands was war, and Brant made him & present of | | not known, are now being held at high : | ) t JOATS AZO nu BOTes | the timepiece. It has been in the Min- | pares. 7 nes F - oh infield ere | thorn family ever since. 13 hag aiuase | ship were sold for taxes by the County Kept Sue, And has ve wae fred | Treasurer to three Eastonians for $45. | but three times--first in 1835, again fn | A seks ago the purchasers sold | 1831, and the third time in 1847. oe for §3.000, A good vein of | alate was found on the land, and a quarry | wall be opened before July 1. Slate | manufacturers speak favorably of the future,and believe the time is fast ap- proaching when their industry will isad all others In Northampton county. ————————— AI A Big Horse, fs 14 ia — Ws — i CHieoory Root. | This root used in adulerating coffee, resembles & parsnip. The stem grows {to a height of two fe and appears | much like an overgrown lion. The One bt the largest horses in New Jer soy was recently shipped from NewYork City to a Trenton beer agent, by whom it will be used asa lead horse. The animal is 18§ hands high and weighs over 1000 pounds, There was no car convenient it is said large enough to transport him and ouly one boat; a side wheeler that plies between New York and New Brunswick, could as. comodate h The beast was brought to New Brunswick on that vessel. A onlored man was then hired £2 walk Lim to Trenton, sn AI AIL SB A “As a ruie we only practioe virtues that pay. This world belongs to the encrzetio, Ho said Emerson are the most honorable who are coke fire and ground into a very fine brown powder. The root is grown ex- tensively iu Belgium, Holland and France, and is shipped in large quanti: ties to all parts of the world, —“—— An Expensive Lusary. Intoxication seems to be a specially sive luxury in Madagascar. An fish newspaper states that the ar Government imposes on any Sakon found drunk in the distriet of Imerina a fine of seven oxen seven dollars; and the introduction of any quantity of rum into the district is E Those the most useful |
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers