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
|