NIGHT THOUGHTS, The day 1s done, and I for one, Would at its close review, ‘What in the light have done "twas right, And what have failed to do, Whether, throughout my daily hours, I've tolled for self alone, Or whether by some small denial, Have helped another one. The crickets chirp their mournfull lay, With never-faltering voice, To the great God who reigns above, And bids the world rejoice, They use the talent God has given, Inferior though it be To that of man endowed with wisdom And a soul for eternity To whom the Lord hath given much, Of him much is required; Then let us work with dilig Never becoming tired. mee, mission hare below is but to wo will, To help some ow-traveler Striving to climb life's hill, Perhaps o Perbaps a little friendly word Is all that we can say, But even that is better far Than idling time away. fo let us work as God directs, Asking of him each day To show us where our duty lies And help us to obey. When day is done, then we as one May, at its close, review How in the light we've walked aright, And tried much good to do. A ETSI, NELLIE’S NEIGHBOR. “At last,” said Nellie Parsons, as she folded the letter she had been reading, “iat last I am an heiress! Who would have thought it poseible? girls?” which consisted of two factory girls, and toil, with but few pleasures, The collar at Nellie's wiute throat was gnowy in its cleanliness; but the plain, dark dress w patched and darned in many places; { while the face would have graced a palace the attire spoke of pinching poverty in every one threadbare folds, “A fortune!” said Mary, There will be one less drudge on our floor.” be our misfortune, for we two will be alone, reom-mafte, Mary.” or take a cheaper room, -s letter once more. ‘‘My brother, who left home when mother died, and never seemed to care for me at all, has remem- bered me on his death-bed, He has a little child, and in looking about for some one with whom to leave him, Dan be kind to him, eight miles from bere, His lawyer writes built exsetly alike, of them, if I will be a mother to Willie; and Willie is to have the other when he is a man. In the meantime, the rent of it is to support us two, Well, I only hope that I will like the child, and that he wont quite distract me with his noise,” The uext dey there was an affection- been companions for many a weary month, and a few tears were shed at the parting. hopefuily. you can sfiord to visit me occasionally, and remain with me over Sunday. I'll have something extra nice for you when you do come.” Nellie felt just a little nervous at the she had never seen, awkward with her new responsibnlity, and perhaps canse the child to aislike eyed, golden-haired little boy of six sunny summers bounded into her arms, and showered his affectionate kisses upon ber face, calling her, “My darling Auntie Nell!” how could she help giving him ‘‘love for love?” And the strange- ness of the new position was gone in an instant, “You're to be papa an’ mamma an’ everybody to me,” eonfided Willie, when they had examined the new home. “Yes, darling,” said Nellie, gently, “Now run out and play, while I make some arrangements for dinner,” Willie did not need a second invita- tion, and he soon discovered that the other house had well kept grounds, and that there were lovely flowers blossom- which piece, “That's my house over there, an’ of course I've got a right to the posies, ’ he reasoned, “I'm a-goin’ to make my Auntie Nell a present of them.” But when he attempted to squeeze through the opening in the hedge fence, 8s dozen thorny branches reached out and clutched him firmly, A moment later Willie's lusty screams bad brought a gentleman to the scene of the aceoident, “Make ‘em let go of me!’ cried Wil. lie, as the gentleman, in dressing gown and slippers, approached from ‘Willie's cottage.” “I was just agoin’ to get spme of them posies to take to Auntie Nell, They ‘long to me, ‘cause that is my hotse, Do you live in my house?” “Yes, my little man; and because I pay for the use of it, the flowers are mine, But I will send a bouquet to yonr Auntie Nell,” Willie eyed the stranger for a mo- ment in silence, “Where are your little boys?” asked after having settled some . a i el AT laughed the stranger. had quite an opening in one ” Gb he walked away, disdaining to notios the stranger further, and quite forget. ting the flowers, “Auntie Nell,” he said, on entering the room where Nellie was preparing their noon meal, ‘there is a horrid man lives in my house; and when 1 asked where his little boys were, "cause he's too big to fight, an’ I thought maybe Lio had a littler boy'n me, he said there wasn't any little boys, ‘cause he was a patcher!” “A bachelor!” laughed Nellie, mer- rily. ‘Is he old, Willie!” “Old, I guess he is, Hum! he's got the biggest lot of tisker onto his face ever was.” “1 detest old bachelors!” soliloquized Nellie, with a half-pout on her rosy- lips; ‘and he's my nearest neighbor, too. Dear me! I hope he doesn't keep dogs.”’ And Mr, Leroy, as he gathered a bouquet of his choicest lowers for Wil. lie's “Auntie Nell,” mused in this fashion: boy. Delightful neighbors, I must say, old maids, and especially cats, she is one of those spinsters we hear of occasionally who don’t keep cats.” The flowers were sent to his neighbor | by a boy who consented to do the er- rand for a dime; but Nellie received them as coldly as they had been pre- | conversation with their next door neigh- | bor, to him,” she thought, with a warmer glow on her cheeks, even,” The next day Nellie dispatehel Willie to their neighbor with a dish of deli- { cious cream cakes, Many times she obliged Willie to re- presenting them. | obliged for the flowers,” she said, “and | cept these cakes in return,” “Because,” she added, reflectively, in undertone, never thinking that the an message, ‘‘an old bachelor like him will | be glad to taste a bit of nice,” em,” he mused, ‘Horrid old butcher! many at home for me,” When Mr. Leroy opened the door in answer to Willie's knock, Willie was cream-cake which he had been eating, many cakes might make | sick, about the child's rosy mouth as he said, speaking rapidly, as though repeating a well.learned lesson: “Auntie Nell is much welcome for She said that an oid think these the cakes to me.) butcher like you would cakes was awlully nice, “What did he say, Willie!” asked Nellie, as soon ss the child reached home, “He ain't got the least bit of mau- pers,” said Willie, disdanfally, ‘‘May- be, though,” he added, reflectively, "he was 80 glad to get the cakes that he couldn't say much, well, it meant ‘thank you;' an’ then he got red in the face, an’ coughed, an’ I heard him a-coughing | in his room "till 1 got home, I wouldn't wonder ‘s he's got the hoopin'.cough.’ “] am sure there was nothing about my simple little return of favors to laugh at,” said Nellie, with tears of vexahon in her eyes. Oo Sanday, amuse himself, ehnrch, Nellie while Willie to attended loft she with dismay that it was raining, umbrella,” she said, regretfully. | dressed young man stepped forward, | snd without waiting for a reply, held his wmbrelia over her pretty new hat All through the service he had ad- mired Nellie's fresh, sweet face, and wondered who this little stranger, in their quiet village could be, Glanecing up, she discovered the one face which had attracted her own atten- tion, Having introduced himself and learned ber name, in return he said: “As you are a stranger in our village and to me, it will be necessary for youn to direct me to your home.” On giving the desired directions, he | anid; “You live on the street with myself.” Then began a pleasant conversation on various topios, and each discovered that the other was a most delightful companion, leng before they reached Nellie's gate, “Such an entertaining young man!” thought Nellie. “Can converse well on apy subject, I hope I shall haye the privilege of meeting him often,” “Bach an agreeable little gill” thought Me, Leroy. ‘Tt really does a fellow good to meet a sensible young lady, who oan think of somelhing be- sids her own pretty face. I shall make this event the begioning of a pleasant acquaintance, if I can.” “This is my home,” said Neliie, paua- ing at the gate, {0 glanced up in surprise, At that moment a golden head ap- peared at the door, and Willie's shrill voice ealled oat; “That's my Annile Nell, Mr, Bulcher- wan, an’ you can't have her! Hay, did 1 the cakes?” people in the drizeling rain at the ooked into each other's ein “Won't you come in and have'an- other?” she asked, shyly, with a merry light in Ler blue eyes, He did not wait for a second bidding, but accepted the invitation at once, As for Willie, Mr. Leroy soon won pockets were perfect mines of wealth to good little boys with blue eyes and golden bair, Willie was Mr. Leroy's sworn friend from that day, and sounded ‘‘Auntie Neil's” prawes in his ears from morning until night, Through the combined efforts of Mr, Leroy and Willie, the opening in the hedge-fence was made large enough to endangering face or clothes, and hie was ullowed to wander about at will, with the understanding that Mr, Leroy was “Auntie Nell,” the course of for all three; and when Nellie’s two young avd gathered flowers to his heart's con tent, mime AAI SI Ten Plantations In India. India. The soil and climate in their production. During years of resi- terprise. Chinamen, trained in their own country to grow and manufacture tea, were brought to the province, and tea The gov- lent quality was produced, field open to private enteprise, greater number to companies, ori ted and sustained by European ci The management of some of { est plantations has been intrusted Scotch gardeners, have soon made themselves acquainted the tea growing and tea-making, and have dispensed with Process Of whom have returned to their own coun The entire work is now done by of the province under Europe- Most of the gardens are laid out on tracts of mountain and for- the land has conse- qhently been acquired with an which would not have been practicable such matters are mancavring to a de- gree which few Europeanscould follow and haggling to an extent the most pa- tient can scarcely hear. Of the many thousands of pounds laid out on these plantations a large portion of wages, We have often seen the people in the flelds and in the factory, and we do not remember to have seen them once subjected to the whip or the They are well looked after to prevent them from shirking work and from stealing tea, but we have observed no instance of cruel treatment. In fact they know well that if cruelly or unjust. ly treated they have only to go to the authorites to obtain a patient hearing We have occasionally approached a tea plantation on a Saturday afternoon, and we have seen them trooping away were miles distant—with their week's wages to spend the Sunday with t] families and return on Sunday night to the plantation to resume work on Monday morning. Among tea plan- tat the diversity rthaoir iia wie which is found in every class, but if we can judge from what we have seen-- and we have seen much—of their rela- tion to their workmen, we can say the relation is as pleasant as can well be Ms Esproration of Alaska. tender, Thomas Pope. Purcell reports that before proceeding up the river the volcano. They noticed little change in it, except less smoke, and sand spit was forming to the westward of it, July 8 Story reached Hatham Inlet, Into which the Putnam river empties. He intend- ed to ascend the river as far as his barge jJaunch would carry him, then go nto winter quarters. The expedition would then divide up into sledging parties for the purpose of exploring Northern Alas ka. As socn as navigation reopened he intended to come down Patnam river and explore Natak river, which empties into the inlet north of Putnam river. Lieutenant Purcell reports the party all well at the time be left. The expedis tion intended returning next fali. Afghan Boundary. Sir Peter Lumsden, who was recently disappointed in not meeting the Russian Commission’ on the Afghan boundary, Las turned his recent travels {o good account. He recently read a paper be- fore the Royal Geographical lety, London, in which be described the Marghab Valley and its e. He also quoted from Captain Yale a very interesting account of the salt lake of Yan-Otlan. The valley of the lake is said to be some six miles square, sur- rounded by high hills go dificult of ascent that there is bot a single road by which baggage animals can reach it, The bed of the lake is one mass of solid salt, perfectly level, covered by an inch or two of water. To ride over it was like riding over ice or cement. After ng away a surface sediment, pure is found, whose bottom no ta oth a egos 5 e : which the salt is not 80 pure. Smmmm—————— “You really do not seem to know,’ said Mrs, Moore to her husband. “how ugly that little one is. Is she not Wil- Ham?" And Mr. Moore gravely answered his wife: “But my dear, you have already said it 100 times, and were you to say it 100 times more Rose would not become less ugly for ygeir saying so.” Rosanna was a little girl of about 14. She was their only child, and, to do her mother justice, was really very ugly— nay, almost revolting—with her little gray eyes, flat nose, large mouth, thick, protruding lips, red hair, and, above all, a form remarkably awray, Rose was then very ugly; but she was a sweet girl, nevertheless, Kind and intelligent, she possessed a mind of the highest order. compensated her with every good quali- ty of the heart for the want of every beauty of person. : The poor little thing was profoundly hurt as she listened to her mother’s ob- will never get a husband.” Eight o'clock was sorely vexed, “Go to bed, Rosanna,” ", struck, Mus, her mother to give her the kiss of good- night, “Tis useless, ” you little monster,’ A tear rolled from the little one’s eye. presented him the yet He kissed her tenderly “1 am not altogether miserable,” murmured leaving the room. she be able tb present it to her mother when she rose in the morning. The She had just finished, and, putting it by, the little 1 calmly resigned herself rest, repose was undisturbed, On the morrow Rose presented What was the pain little ones experienc when motlher received it and expressed ¢ of nder sentiments which were 10 have been the sweet little one’s reward. Her eyes over a neighbor: Y es she ¢ fe gil LT) Her $1 wie Ci 4 LLOse Le 2, glanced " 8." “1 am ugly-they are it" '—and she sought Ler young hea UR LNess, And then | wounded the littl first lmpressio girls of her own age; 80 good, so amiable, § they approached, then then eid her. Now * indee was Lappy. One day Mr, Moore went home in a violent passion, and became, in conse. quence of some trifling prevaracation, highly incensed against his wife, Their domestic felicity was troubled for eight long days—for eight long days Mrs, Moore was costinually crying. pa in vain racked her young brains Lo discover why; but her father still con- tinued angry and her mother was still continually weeping. At last she flected in her mind how to reconcile them. irid-—new pangs wae's heart A all the young one ¥ ¥ x lor Mr. Moore was arranging the fire when this was concluded he threw the 1 again, in a violent humor, cast a ferce glance at his trembling wife, and hur- Rosanna, deeply moved, clasped her arms about his neck as he was about to rise, and affectionately caressed him, He could not reject her mmnocent coax. ing, and the li succeeded in ching his heart, Look in her hands moistened handkerchief ber weeping éves, and dried them a ly embraced her mother, who returned er's fondness, The parties being now favorably dis- posed, naught remained but to establish the peace. This was 00 easy matter neither would make Lhe {rst overture little reconciliation would uot i She took her father’s hand between pressed it to hand and joined it to her father’s, as it lay near her heart, Human pride could embraced each other. them both, Six years after this, Rosanna, the ugly Rosanna, was the ornament of every society to which her mother presented her. Amiable, witty and observing, her conversation was universally court. One summer evening the sun, which, during the day, had shed over nature an intense heat, had just disappeared, leav- ing the horizon covered with long wide braids of red—clouds more and more dark were heaping themselves on the eastern sky-the atmosphere was suffo- cating, and one would deem the earth was returning to the sun the heat she had been receiving from the latter du- ring the day, All was heavy and weary ~the air inhaled seemed rather to suffo- cate that nourish A drowsy languor overcame every one, In a saloon, whose every window was thrown open, might be seen ghding hers and there in the darkened jight, groups of young females, whose white dredses slightly agitated by the rising breeze of the evening, offered something mysteri. ous and poetical wherein the imagina- tion loved fo dwell, A low, languish. ing whisper was then heard, like the soothing murmur of some distant rivu- let. A young woman sected before a plano, was expressing ber heart's senti- ments by an ext now and tender, now vis: wh but a 0 more general silence, took place, for ers was a celes- tial symphony, Lord iit fis, hanson melody that bis frame seemed by a momentary the monizing with the sweet tones of the instrument, and felt an indescribable sensation thrill through his frame, The music ceased, but the sweet voice vibrated on Malton’s ear, and there was a charm in the witty and original trifle where he stood, “How beautiful must that young girl be,” thought Melon, * Happy the man on whom may fall her choice,” and he involuntarily sighed, Suddenly lights are brought in, The young woman was the ugly Rosanna. Lord Melton was stupelied he closed He gazed on her her less haunted his memory. a second time, and he found Lord Melton wedded Rosanna, and men most of women, Beauty deserts us; talents, the falthiu lives accompany us even virtue and ns of our r graves, EE Indian Juggliers. The jugglar is perhaps the execution ost famous neatness of m They generally travel in pairs, one being the musician and the The musiclan’s dress is certainly grotesque, and con- wrapped around his between his legs in many a fold, Around such a manner that it lips a reed chest in iNsLT FF ( keys widely sepa the squeak of a pig to the mel Shaking out his bag of deat proceeds to the exect an innocs YiCl ts all tl Lal emp i yt Pax i t «1 from his nose and mo after swallowing a pound of raw fine thread is drawn (ron nose. This is all done by a half-nake man in an open plain. But perhaps the gore gushes « e ton ii F134 iis iila + 3 i which may with justice in this connec- tion be repeated here is the mango trick, Taking up a common garden pot, the juggler hands it round for inspection. He then scrapes up some of the earth and filling the pot places over il a shawl, and blows on the sarth, also re- peating a prayer. This he continues wows Lo the bystanders a green and ten- Again he covers the pot and uncovers. There is a tree in a muniature, with shapely leaf and blossem-—and agam the tree has height of four feet, with full turned fruit and bark and then he t, and before the eyes of the spectator the tree has vanished and the garden pot and earth are away the shawl: the sprouting head of there alone. A A—————_ To Kill the Biues, Generally speaking if fed with the “blues,” and cannot why, you may be certain that it springs from physical weakness. Instead of iving on a sofa and courting painful you are a despairing lover, a hiypochondriac, or a valitudinarian, you 1 be up and stirri yourself. of a melancholy man Is thick and creeping sluggishly through Is like muddy waters in a canal; the blood of your merry, chirping phil pher is clear and quick, brisk as a newly Try, therefore, to set your blood in motion. To effect go to guzzling down brandy gin-cock-tails, or any of other juggling compaunds ehohol is disguised, for every artificial stimulant will drag you down two de- it lifts at barter. Try, walk will do for motion on rough, you are troub- shoul wl up. always bealg you; sel your pegs in build a stone wall; swing an ax over a pile of hickory or rock-mapie; lofty tumbling," pour ard you will soon cease to have your Cowper did, “like an inferpal frog out of Acheron, crowned with the ooze of melancholy.’ SAI AI Slag Wool. The production of slag wool and the appear 1o be largely on the increase, By the action of strong jets of steam the slag is transformed into a fibrous, whitish silicate cotton, which, being mineral, is Incombustible, like asbestos; it is advantageously and extensively pew houses with Mansard roofs, the espace between the interior lath or pan- eliing and the exterior covering of zinc, slate, or tin, being filled with wool, the effect being to protect from the rigor of frostin winter and from intense heat in stunmer, It is also said to pre- vent and bursting of taps spouts and water pipes if these are cov. ered by the wool in winter. Ws sn, A————— A Riek Temple. A A SAIS THE FASHIONS. ~In relation to new dresses a fresh design in jackets for the autumn shows | straight revers buttoned back ou the garment from the throat to the edge of the loose hanging fronts, a high, straight | collar, and sleeves of rather more ample | size at the wrist, The first choice for street costumes | of the highest grade thisseason and the | coming winter will be a woolen fabric, The richer muffs, silk velvet, plush, | ete,, occupy a secondary position, save i for full dress apd in-door occasions, —A handsome tollet has the skirt of cream-colored pongee edged with che- | nile, The bodice is of cream and olive- | green striped faille also edged with che- The hat to be worn with this is | of olive~green straw, lined with cream | satin and trimmed with grasses and oats. The parasol is of olive-green crape lined with cream lace, i nille, | Figaro jackets are made sleeveless, | with a small epaulet, under which are | worn sleeves to match the skirt, These | sleeves attached to an underbodice, and | if the jacket be open, a vest of the dress | material forms the front of the bodice, | If the bodice of the dress worn be in- | tact, the jacket is #lipped on without 11s accompanying underbodice, —A new feature in the models for | autumn tailor-made costumes is the long draperies which the English tailors call second or double skirts. Flounces | are abandoned on the skirt, and when plaits are used they are shallow instead | of being folded nearly double, as were | the heavy skirts formerly worn, The | plain skirt will meet with great favor { on account of its light weight, —The *“dalmatique Theodora” is a Parisian novelty for full dress, tis a revival of the Greek chiton, so dear to the hearts of the classic beauties ten As its name implies, it re- the dalmatica, It is mads of transparent materials of and is Wort over princesse robes, It } gathered at 8 in folds to the edge ned 10 the walst sembies lace, faster the 1 8 coniined 1 ¥ an cash manu. texture, and of boucle, tra- ne or many white bands of together, when they yusine cloth both in Others are fine and ors, one of them form- t or other small pattern. materials for autumn 1 winter wear show the roughest ef. Many of the goods are so shabby jt is doubtful whether they will prove acceptable to persons of quiet taste. The preference for tailor-made dresges is an indication that soft woolen fabrics will gain the ascendency. In Paris there is a decided tendency in favor of smooth-faced materials, and the English models show a preponder- ance of soft-finish and diagonal cloth, —Some of the elegant fancy woolen fabrics brought out recently are as ex- pensive as silk or satin goods of fine quality, and are far maore popular for | street wear than either of these materi- , if we except perhaps the dark dura- le surahs., The new vigognes, for in- tance, are shown with exceedingly rich broche figures, small, but magnificently colored, over plain, rich, darkly dyed grounds. The broche designs, although showing a mingling of Dersian colors, are always in perfect harmony with the | prevailing shade of the goods they dec- orate, reminding one of the autumn foliage, a trifle subdued from its Brst vivid brilliancy of coloring, against the background of a dull, dark September { sky. These rich figures are nol woven in clusters, but detached and sprinkled at quite wide intervals over the soft, yandsomely finished fabrics. —Mantels and visites are shorter than ever; they have backs which are ery little longer than the waist. Some of these have large jet epaulets which | fall over peculiarly cul sleeves lined colored silk. They are trimmed with Jace plaitings, draped back and front in fichu style, and have long, square ends drooping jet ornaments. Jerseys | retain their hold on favor. They are trimmed in many showy ways, and, when of silk, are very costly. Among | the most elegant jerseys one may be mentioned of light-colored silk with a | fichu plastron of garnet velvet, cuffs to match and passementerie epaulets, Small shawls, mantiilas, scarfs and | hoods of lace, lined with silk, of fine woolen goods, or of surah, tulle or em- | broidered silk, 15 the latest style. The mantillas and scarfs are arranged in various ways, They are of the usaal | fabrics, —A Parisian costume for country | use is of woolen guipure lace over silk. | The false skirt Das a deep plaited flounce, The guipure tunic forms & | kind of round skirt raised near the left | hip under a worsted cording. The | waist isa kind of cloth, cuirass, It | forms a deep point back and front. | Over the point in the back are ribbon | loops and Jong ends. Around the bas {que is a fancy woolen galloon. The | same trimming starts from the neck and is taken down the front of the | waist in the shape of a *‘veste Figare."™ The straight collar and tightGtting sleaves have the same galloon, Another simple model 1s of veiling and change- able silk. The milk skirt has a narrow | plaited flounce of veiling. In front of the skirt is a plaiting of veiling. Down either side of the skirt is a breadth of d as Ww the —~Are very ¢ wd with Binge iin striped will ayven zy rd » Some of the with
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers