VOL. 48
The Huntingdon Journal
.1. K. DURBORROW,
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A P. V. JOHNSTON, Surveyor and
INALIIL. Civil Engineer Huntingdon, Pa.
Orrice: No. 113 Third Street. aug21,1372.
DR. H. W. BUCHANAN
DENTIST,
No. 22S Hill Street.
HITNTIN6DON, PA.
July 3, '72.
CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
Dario. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
by Messrs. Woods t Williamson. [apl2/71.
DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
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EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
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_ . .
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(2. L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
'LA
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•
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j FRANKLIN SCHOCK, Attorney
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. S. GEISSINGER, Attorney -at
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"By Jure!" was Mr. Montague's ex
clamation, as he opened a daily paper, and
jerked himself up from the easy posture
he had assumed in the seat of a car just
crawling out of a New York depot..
"What is it ?" Charles asked, looking
down from his superior stature.
LATEST AND MOST IMPS ROVED !"It is the fourteenth," was the reply.
"Well ?,,
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I stood upon a precipice,
That overhangs "Blue Juniata's" tide,
Whose base the pearly wavelets kiss
As oceanward her current glides.
The sun's meridian lustre fell
Sublimely on the tranquil scene,
The sunny hill, the dewy dell,
Alike were robed in garb of green
The farmer left his weary toil,
And to his midday meal repaired ;
The ripening product of his soil
Gave promise of a rich reward.
The cattle in the pasture grazed
Upon the river's sandy bank,
And eagerly their lips they laved
As from its crystal stream they drank.
The distant mountain, rising high,
Whose summit cleaves the pendant veil
But dim my searching view descried,
Commingling with the ether pale.
Reluctantly my steps I turned
And homeward took my weary way,
But on my memory's vision burned
The landscape that before me lay.
THE 'WESTERN COUSIN.
Mrs. Montague, opening the door of her
sewing-room, where her two daughtersand
niece were stitching busily upon finery for
the forthcoming ball, presented an unmis
takable vision , )1 a matron very much an
noyed, not to say out of temper. In her hand
she held an open letter, which she had
just finished reading.
Irene, the older sister, spoke first.
"From father ?" she said, pointing to
the letter.
"Yes. Your father will be at home on
the fourteenth, in time for dear Clara's
ball; but—l never was so vexed in my
life—he is going to bring Charles Easton
with him."
"Who is Charles Easton, Aunt Ella ?"
Clara West asked, looking up from her
work, and revealing a very beautiful face,
of classic regularitythf features, with large,
violet eyes and a profusion of short, au
burn curls clustering above the broad
brow.
"No relation to us, my dear," said Mrs.
Montague. A cousin of the girls on their
father's side. He is one of Mr. Montague's
sister's sons, and was born in Illinois
twenty-three years ago, moved out farther
and farther West, as his father speculated
more and more in land, until now he is
settled in Minnesota. You may imagine
him, Clara, when I tell you he has never
been east of his birthplace in his life."
"A nice addition to a ball to which all
the aristocracy of G- have been invi
ted," said Lois, the younger daughter,
speaking for the first time. "I suppose
he will wear homespun, out in the fashion
of sixty years ago. I have a vivid recol
lection of my uncle Easton, in his butter
nut suit, as he appeared here ten years
ago, and fould not talk of anything else
but 'my boy Charles.' "
"Well, my boy Charles is coming now,"
said her mother, "and your father will ex
pect us to make as much fuss over him
as if he was heir to the throne of Russia.
I will see about his room."
In the meantime, as fast as steam would
bring him, the unwelcomed guest was
speeding across tho iron road to 0-
with his uncle Montague.
Mr. Montague, a tall, powerful man,
past sixty. was a rare combination of the
physical development of a Western firmer,
which he had been until past thirty, and
shrewd mental activity of a city merchant,
which he had been for the last thirty
years. A man of ample means, he drew a
large proportion of his income from spec
ulations in 'Western land, conducted under
the management of his brother-in-law,
John Easton, and made yearly trips to the
land of the setting sun to look after his
investments.
During this last visit he had been much
pleased with his nephew Charles, and bad
proposed to him to make a trip to 0-,
stopping at some of the large cities on the
journey eastward, where the young man's
own native good sense and tact had taken
note of city manners and bad replenished
his trunk with garments of the fashion of
the season.
All at once, Mr. Montagne remembered
it was the day of the ball, as he said to
Charles, "which your aunt is going to
give to her neice, Miss t.lara West, to cel
ebrate her coming of age, and also coming
into possession of a neat hundred thousand
dollars."
"And we won't be there. I should be
outof my element altogether, I presume."
"Not a bit, boy, not a bit. Let me see.
This train is due at G- by nine. I'll
tell you what we will do. We will go to
the hotel, and put ourselves into dress
coats and white kids, and go to the house
when the later guests arrive. You'll have
an early chance to air that new dress suit
you got at B-'s."
Mrs. Montague heard the mantel clock
chime the half hour between ten and eleven
with a sensation of unbounded relief. The
ball, upon whose preparation she had spent
many days, and drawn heavily upon Mr.
Montague's hank account promised to be
a success. Already her lirge rooms were
filled with the cream of G- society, and
theee girls, in stylish and becoming cosi
tomes, were the belles of the evening.
BUSIN - ESS CARDS,
LEGAL BLAN KS,
Clara West was smiling graciously upon
the son and heir of the Montagues, Wal
ter, and raising his mamma's hopes of a
match upon which her heart was set ; and,
beat of all, there was no sign of the com
ing of the Western savage.
"They could not have come on the nine
o'clock train," thought the matron, "or
they would be here by this time. Once
get the ball over, and I do not care so
much about the backwoodsman. Indeed,
I imagine he will be a good foil for the
elegance of my Walter."
As the thought passed through her
busy brain "my Walter," with his cousin
Clara upon his arm, left the crowded room
to find cooler air in the wide hall, and en
evuntered at the doer her father and a
stranger, at whom the dapper little dandy
gazed in half envious astonishment.
Walter, small, dark and dainty, dressed
in the extreme of fashion, certainly pre
sented a strong contrast to the young giant
looking down upon him. Tall, fully two
inches above the regulation six feet, broad
shouldered, and perfectly proportioned,
PA3IPHILETS
Original *Mfg.
A Landscape ,
BY THE BARD OF TOR MOrIiTAIN
at
gitoril-Mer.
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1873
with large, brown eyes, blonde riair and
whiskers, and clear complexion, young
Easton looked like some Norse warrior
newly sprung to life. His tailor had pos
sessed sufficient discrimination to tone his
garments down to au easy fit of his grand
proportions, and while they were handsome
and becoming, they avoided the dandyism
of extreme fashion.
But it must be admitted the stranger
was decidedly shy. Thrown suddenly into
a sea of beauty and fashion, finding him
self towering above the heads of the entire
company and all eyes turned upqn him, he
felt his face crimsoning with confusion,
his hands and feet seemed to swell to
twice their usual size, and be would have
given all he possessed for a good excuse
to run away.
The introduction to his aunt and cousins
did not mend matters. They but thinly
disguised their reluctance to welcome him,
and after the merest civilities of greeting
left him to himself. Mr. Montague was
surrounded by old family friends in a
moment. and supposing his family would
entertain his nephew had also deserted him.
Charles stood at one end of the large
rooms looking down the long line of hand
somely dressed guests moving gracefully
to one of the most inspiring waltzes of the
band:feeling interested and amused. yet
hurt at his chilling reception, when a
low, sweet voice spoke his name, and he
started and looked round, too see Clara
West's beautiful face beside him.
'You and I are both strangers here,"
she said. with a wish to put him at his
ease, and if possible to make some amends
for the rudeness of her aunt and cousins,
and I imagined you felt lonesome as well
as myself."
"Scarcely lonesome," he answered, smi
ling, "but very much out of place. Our
Minnesota balls have more of the social
element, I imagine, Miss West; or per
haps it is because I know every face in
the room, there."
"Do you live at Minneapolis ?"
"No. We are country folks compared to
the people of Minneapolis or St. Paul.
My home is a large farm-house, nearly
half a mile from any other habitation
and four miles from the nearest village.
But we cheerfully drive four miles fur a
merry-making."
Questions skillfully put soon roused the
young farmer's pride in his Western home,
and he gave eloquent descriptions of the
scenery, the hunting, the bitter winters,
when the snow lay piled upon the ground,
in an atmosphere so clear and dry that one
could walk miles in moccasins and not feel
any moisture under foot. He told his
listener of the hunting expeditions the
young men joined in, and Clara found her
own pulses quickening as he described
some of the wild scenes and hair-breadth
escapes of his adventurous life. Suddenly
he pulled himself up with a short laugh.
"I am wearying you," he said.
"No, you are not," he answered, truly;
.
"you must tell me more another time."
"Might I venture to ask you to waltz ?"
he said. "I cannot see any difference in
this step and ours."
Without hesitation Clara put her little
hand upon his shoulder, and with a grace
ful movement he led her to the floor. She
was surprised to find the tall grand figure
could move so easily as Walter's own,
while the strong arm held her firmly yet
delicately, giving her perfect support,
while allowing her graceful freedom of
motion.
"How beautiNly you waltz !" she said,
as the music ceased.
"There was a German dancing-master
in Chicago when we spent a winter there
some five years ago, and I took lessons of
him. We aro not quite savages in Min
nesota, Miss West, for most of us remem
ber homes further cast."
"1 never supposed you were," she re.
plied.
. . _
"1 think my cousins imagine I would
scalp them upon small provocation. They
looked absolutely horrified at the sight of
m?.."
"I see many bright eyes looking this
way that have no horror whatever in them,"
said Clara, pleasantly. Let me introduce
you to same of my new friends.
For a week the young heiress found her
self a self-appointed companion of the
young Western cousin, whose position in
the house was far from pleasant. Mr.
Montague, absorbed in business, left his
nephew to the mercies, far from tender, of
his family, and the family voted hint an in
truder.
Walter was, ealous of him. Mr. Mon
tague heartily wished him back in Minneso
ta, and the girls voted him stupid. He
could not talk small talk, could not inter
est himself, as Walter did, in fashions,
operas and parties, and they could not fol
low him into the regions of literature, or
sympathize with his enthusiastic love of
nature.
But Clara, aimingonly at a good-na
tured endeavor to put the strang,er more
at ease, fiend herself repaid by a compan
ionship far more congenial than any she
had before found at U-. The young
farmer had been a student in a western
college, and had a love of reading, equal
led by a keen appreciation of the best lit
erature of the day. Loving deeper studies,
he could enjoy also the beauties of poetry
and fiction, and meet Clara in many an an
imated discussion of her flivorite authors.
He was fond of music, too, and Clara
soon dropped the waltzes and polkai she
at first thought suited to his comprchen •
siert, to give him rare musical treats in her
requisite rendering of Mendelssohn and
Beethoven. Corning in from walking•one
morning, when her cousins were out, Clara
heard the grand piano swept by a toaster
hand to a glorious march, quite new to her.
She entered the drawing room softly and
took a seat unperceived in a for corner,
from which nook site watched Charles
Easton, as he took, one after another, the
sheets of music from her portfolio, nod
played the airs with a grand touch that in
vested them with a new power and beauty.
It was like a trumpet blast after the flute
to hear his rendition, after her own.
Then he played other new music from
his own memory, till suddenly rising he
turned to face his audience. In a moment
he crimsoned as if detected in a theft.
"How long did you propose to listen to
me without doing your share ?" Clara
asked very gravely. -•I hope yen admired
the Jenny Lind polka and Uncle Ned as
much as you said you did, the morning
after you arrived ?"
"I will ten you what I did admire," he
answered, earnestly : "I admired the
gentle kindness that prompted the fingers
to play what was presumably suited to an
ignorant ear, instead of trying to dazzle
the country mind with a grand display of
brilliant execution."
What more might have followed can
only he imagined, for at that moment the
Montagoes entered the room, and the be
wildered Charles found himself the centre
of most smiling attentions.
Mrs. Montagne, sweet and gracious, paid
him more compliments in five minutes than
she had found time for in the entire pre
vious week. The girls found Cousin Charles
was the very min they wanted for a series
of future festivities, and Irene was already
sketching scenes for the introduction of a
blonde giant in a thrthcoming tableaux
party.
Walter, meantime. was hovering around
Clara, trying to regain some of the ground
lost by certain sneering criticisms of his
cousin, by loudly declaring he was a "first
rate fellow ," and he "wished he had his
inches and strength "
That was the introduction for the second
week.
Charles accepted the overwhelming at
tentions of the fami:y as coolly as he had
their rudeness, making himself agreeable
while in the house, but finding much em
ployment outside.
While Clara West had been listening
to the music of the grand piano, Mr. Mon
tague, in his office. had been signing a
check for a family shopping, and as he
presented it to his wife, he said :
'Did you know Charles is negotiating
for the purchase of the Will's place ?"
"What ! I thought it was worth fifty or
sixty thousand dollars."
"Quite .correct. lie talks of settling in
G-"
"But the money !" gasped Mrs. Mon
tague.
"Oh. he can well afford it. His father
gave him a start in the grain business two
years ago, and he is worth two or three
hundred thousand dollars. Besides being
an only child, he will fall heir to all his
father's immense wealth. The old folks
talk of coming hero in a year or two if
Charles concludes to stay."
"And you never told me:" cried Mrs.
Montague. "Have you no interest in your
own girls ?"
"Oh," said papa, grimly, "that's the
idea, is it ! I am afraid, my dear, you are
too late."
And Mr. Montague was right. In spite
of Walter's elaborate compliments, rare
boquets, and devoted attention to Clara.
her interest in the Western cousin could
not be shaken. In spite of "the girls"
sweetness and new dresses, their readiness
to chat with "dear cousin Charles," to play
for him, dance with him, ride, drive, walk
with him, his allegiance to Clara's violet
eyes, was firm.
I:nd ;when the Will's place became
' , Easton's place," was refnrnishe4, deco
rated and beautified, the master thereof
brought home a ' bride, whose name
was Clara West, but who bears now the
title of Mrs. Charles Easton, wife of the
Western Cousin.
patling tor tite pillion.
Good Manners a Duty.
BY HENRY WARD BEECHER.
Men often speak of good manners as an
accomplishment. I speak of them as a
duty.' -What, then, are good manners ?
Such manners as the usages of society
have recognized as being agreeable to men.
Such manners as take away rudeness, and
remit to the brute creation all coarseness.
There are a great many who feel that good
manners are effeminate. They have a
feeling that rude bluntness is a great deal
more manly than good manners. It is a
great deal more beastly. But when men
are crowded in communities the art of
living together is no small art. How to
diminish friction ; how to promote ease of
intercourse ; how to make every part of a
man's life contribute to the welfare and
satisfaction of those around him; how to
keep down offensive pride; bow to banish
the raspings of selfishness from the inter
course of men; how to move among men
inspired by various and cbnflictive motives,
and yet not have collisions—this is the
function of good manners. .
It is not effemiate to be refined. And in
this land ho man should plead inability.
There may be a peasantry in other coun
tries,
there may be a elass in foreign lands
who have no opportunities; there may be
those whose toil is so continuous, whose
opportunities for knowing what constitutes
good manners are so few, and whose ignor
ance is so gross that they are excusable;
but this is not the else with any within
the sound of my voice.
r That a man is a mechanic is no reason
why he should not be a perfect gentleman.
I affirm for every American citizen the
right to be not simply a man, but a gond.
mannered man. I have seen men at the
anvil who were gentlemen as men of books
or men of society. I know no reason wh
a man who tans hides should not be a
gentleman. I know no reason why a man
who digs in the Foil, a man who works in
metals and woods, a man who builds,
should not. be a perfect gentleman. There
is nothing in mechanical occupations
which is incompatible with the highest
courtesy.
Not only is the violation of' good man
ners inexcusable on ordinary grounds, but
it is sinful. When, therefore, parents and
guardians and teachers would inspire the
young with a desire for the manners of
good soeiety, it is not to be thought that
they are accomplishments which may be
accepted or rejected. Every man is bound
to observe the laws of politeness. It is the
expression of good will and kindness. It
promotes bdth beauty in the man who pos
sesses it, and happiness in those who are
about him. It is a religious duty and
should he part of religions training.
There is a great deal of contempt ex
pressed for what is called etiquette in soci
ety. Now and then there are elements in
etiquette which perhaps might well be
ridiculed; but in the main there is a just
reason for all those customs which come
under the head of' etiquette. There is a
reason which has regard to the facility of 1
intercourse. There is a reasou in the 1
avoidance of offence. There is a reason in
comfort and happiness. And no man can
afford to violate these unwritten customs of
etiquette who wishes to act as a Christian
gentleman.
I may speak, also, of a tendency which
is bled by our institutions—the want of
veneration. There are various ways in
which this want of veneration shows itself.
We often hear that there is not the same
respect shown to the aged that there used
to be. We know that there is very little
respect shown for magistrates and men in
authority. This is partly dud, I think, to
the institutions under which we live. One
of the unfortunate effects derived from the
early stages of Democratic training is the
sense of personal sovereignty; the feeling,
that we stand on as high ground as any
body else. Under monarchial institutions
men are taught to revere the great and
glorious in government. The feeling of
reverence does not prevail to any great
extent among us. I discern a great lack
in this respect. Children, nowadays, are
brought up to be pert, to be saucy, to be
almost without restraint. They are brought
up to have very little regard either for
their parents or their superiors. And,
although there are a great many Christian
households where ehikdren are rightly
bred in this regard, it Seems to me there
has been a decay of that instruction which
used to prevail, the tendency of which was
to make children modest and respectful.
We bring up our children to be old and
smart and impertinent.
This courtesy, which carries with it
respect; this testimony of veneration to the
aged; this yielding one's self in a thousand
little soeiety rites for the sake of making
others happy—oh, what brightness it gives
life What beauty, what adornment it
gives to Christian character.
There are many other points that I
might speak of. The effect of punctuality
and order; the relation which men sustain
to each other's convenience and necessities
—these and a hundred other branches of
this subject I might discourse upon, but
it is not necessary that I should go into
them I have given such examples as I
have merely as specimens, for the purpose
of calling your attention to the minuteness
and carefulness with which the Scripture
inculcates these things. It enjoins not
merely the right spirit, but theright spirit
manifested in the most beautiful way.
-••-~-~-
[For the JOURNAL.]
Wolves and Wolf-Children
BY REV. J. D. BROWN, INDIA,
According to Vedas and Shasters, of the
Hindoos, it is sinful to destroy life of any
kind, hence India, although densely pop
ulated, abounds with wild animals, such
as tigers, wolves, bears, deer, &e. Hun
dreds of children are carried away by
wolves every year, and thousands of men,
women and children are killed annually by
poisonous snakes. The myth of Romulus
and Remus is in reality repeated again
and again in India. Danfinism finds its
counterpart here in human beings devel
oping into wolves, under the training of
wolfish foster mothers. Every year one
or more of these strange creatures is cap
tured by men who are hunting wolves.
The following, taken from a daily paper
published in Allahabad, gives us another
instance of this kind :
" It would be interesting to know if the
Asiatic Society has heard any more of the
wolf-children of the Secundra Orphange.
At a recent meeting of the Society a letter
was read from the Superintendent of the
Orphangc, and it was resolved that furth
er inquiries should he made, but the re
sult of these inquiries, if ever made, has
not yet beet., published. Our only infbr
mation on the subject is from the Rev.
1 Mr. Erchardt, Superintendent of the Or
phanage, who,
in the letter we refer, says :
'We have had two such boys here, but I
fancy you refer to the one who was brought
'tous on March sth, 1872. lie was found
by Hindus, who kad gone hunting wolves
in the neighborhood of Mynpooree, was
burnt out of the den, and was brought here
with the sears and wounds 'still on him.
In his habits he was a perfect wild animal
in every point of view. He drank like a
dog; and liked a bone and raw meat better
than anything else. He would never re
main with the other boys, but would hide
away in any dark corner. Clothes he nev
er would wear, but tore them up into fine
shreds. He was only a few mouths among
us, as he got fever and gave up eating.
We kept him wive for a time by artificial
means, but eventually he died. The other
boy found among wolves is about thirteen
or fourteen years old, and has been here
almost six. He has learnt to make sounds,
speak he cannot; but he freely expresses
his anger and joy; work he will at times,
r, little; but he likes eating better. His
civilization has progressed so far that he
likes raw meat lea, though he will still
pick up bones and sharpen his teeth on
them.' The writer also refers to 'an el
derly fellow in the Lucknow mad-house,'
who some years ago was dur , . out of a
wolves' den by a European but infor
mation on the subject of his career is not
sufficiently trustworthy fbr the guidance
of physiological science."
Had these poor children, instead of be
ing carried away by wolves, been trained
by careful and conscientious mothers,
how
different might have been their fate ! Run
ning on all fours, and gnawing bones in a
wolfs den, may develop muscle—but what
becomes of the intellect ?
After all what creatures of habit we are !
Few of us realize how much our intellec
tual development depends on the charac
ter of those with whom we associate. And
if this be true of intellectual development,
to how much greater extent is it true of
moral development ?
Much is said by some about natural
goodness and natural perception of right
and wrong. But where is this natural
goodness found ? Has man naturally any
just conception of what may be called mor
al, good or evil ? Ilse, why do not these
Htvolf children show sonic signs of such
perception ? These children might have
become philanthropists under proper train
ing ; but for want of that training they
would delight in nothing more than eating
human flesh, or even gnawing the bones
of the mothers that bore them. From these
oft-recurring instances I can readily un
derstand how a human being may fall to
the level or the brute; but of all the
thowatals of monkeys I have seen roaming
over the plains of India, I have never yet
known one to drop his caudal appendage
and give his measure for a suit of clothes,
as the first step toward humanity. And
yet it is not for want of being with human
beings, for they see and hear thousands of
the natives every day, who are very low
in the scale of humanity, but still there
remains a dividing line between men and
monkeys.
Disowning Christ,
Be not ashamed of Christ. Disown him
never. Whatever dangers or troubles
threaten, •'stand up for Jesus !" It was
Peter's sin to deny Christ fur fear of the
Jews. It is many a man's temptation to
disown Christ in the throng of fashion, or
in the press of secular vacation. But let
it be remembered that the truths of Christ,
the name of Christ, the ordinances of
Christ, the Sabbaths of Christ, are an
honor to his people. Everything which
associates with Christian service is honor
able and elevating. The apostles were not
ashamed of Christ, though they were per
secuted for his sake. They owned him
because they loved hint ; they preached
him ; they followed him ; they suf
fered for him. And teen by multi
tudes were saved by their instru
mentality. Let Pagans be ashamed of
their timber gods; let Turks be ashamed
of their Mahomet ; let Mormons be asham
ed of their brass; but let not ehristians be
ashamed of Christ, or of any of his truths,
or of any of his requirements.—Recerder.
Tit-Bits Taken on the Fly.
A Madison, Wisconsin, boy earns money
at the wash-tub to go to school.
Several prominent pysicians of Memphis
fled ingloriously before the yellow fever.
Planters who have no money send cotton
seed to Memphis for the relief of the
sufferers.
Mr. Alexander H. Stephens denies that
be is to form a connection with a Wash.
ington paper.
California proposes to cultivate buckeye
trees for the purpose of making starch out
of the fruit.
Miss Theodosia Brown, of Whitehall,
lives on one egg per day, and weighs four
hundred pounds.
Some medical students at South Bend,
Ind., stole a wooden Indian from a cigar
dealer for dissection.
The Winchester armory at New Haven
is mtnufacturing 100,000 catridges for the
Turkish government.
Sandusky, Ohio, has a machine that
beheads, opens and dresses from sixty to
ninety fish per minute.
All the books of the Indiana Historical
Society library have been stolen. There
were once 3000 of them.
It is definitely settled that General F. P.
Blair. Jr., will be the new Missouri Super.
intendant of Insurance.
The citizens of Portland, Oregon, have
presented the widow of Gen. Canby with a
portrait of her late husband.
The Rev. Dr. W. H. Lord, of Mont
pelier, has been chosen president of the
Vermont Historical Society.
There is more confusion in Chicago
over the mayoralty than has existed in
Cincinnati in any legislative contest.
There is in Virginia City, Nevada, an
old colored man who has mane about
$50,000 in the boot-blacking business.
The Spanish Minister of War on Satur
day presented to General Sickles an elegant
sword made expressly for him at Toledo.
The Democrats want to have Allen in
augurated as the Governor of Ohio on the
anniversary of the first battle of Bull Run.
The valuation of Milwaukee has increas
ed $2,000,000 during the past year, while
the increase of business done wee $l2,
000,000.
A favorite amusement in San Diego,
California,s to enclose a mouse and a
tarrantula in a bottle, and let them fight
it out.
It is said there never was, on the face of
the earth, so much salvation and so little
soap in one place as at Rome, except per
haps at Naples.
Capitalists are now jingling the keys in
their pockets, that they may not be alarm
ed at the sounds of the precious metal, a
little while hence.
A Danbury man woke up in the mid
dle of the night to comment upon the
extraordinary faot that the heaviest end
of a match is its light end.
Complaint is made that science is show
ing that Saturn a Rings aro nuisances,
whereby Saturn is proved to suffer from a
complaint that prevails in our own planet.
The troubles of the Tennessee doctors
are greater than they can bear. If the
patient recovers be never pays his doctor's
bill, and if he dies bis relatives kill the
doctor.
The cotton ports generally have received
one-third less cotton during the above pe
riod than for the same time last year, so
that the delay in marketing the crop is
universal.
Telegraphing is a game that prairie
chickens do not understand, and in conse
quence many of them are killed bycoming
iu contact with the wires in their flight in
large flocks out West.
An Illinois mechanic has invented an
improved tail light for railway trains. It
is so arranged that the engineer of a train
can tell with some degree of certainty
bow fur the signal of warning is distant
from him.
Of tho one hundred and sixty-four
country banks in Massachusetts only nine
suspended currency payment during the
late panic, and these only temporarily.
All have since resumed. This speaks well
for the financial strength of that State.
A Kentucky firmer has a saddle-mare
which was taken from him by some sol
diers during the war, and was gone nine
years and nine months, to the very day,
when she astonished the whole family and
neighborhood by returning home by her
self and of her own accord.
It has been found upon experiment
that the exportation of live beeves to Eu
rope will not pay at the present freight
rates of steamship companies. Speculators
who have endeavored to make a feature of
this trade, state that the margin of profit
is too small and that the risks are too great
for them to continue it.
An exchange says : "People who care
what they dream about had better keep
away from Bad mountain, Tennessee,
where a noted den of rattlesnakes has
long been the terror of the country. For
ty have been counted on a single rock,
and on any sunny day 500 may be seen
projecting from behind a circular ledge
The British government offered a free
passage to Australia, New Zealand, or any
othey of the colonies, to the three young
women who were formerly connected with
1 the American forgers on the Bank of
England. Two have accepted the offer,
but the third prefers to remain in London.
All three are well provided for.
A man in San Francisco, who had a
fire extinguisher in his house, has get
disgusted because the house does not take
fire, and offers , the machine for sale at a
discount. "Sold," he says, "only for want
of use." He had better keep it, for so
long as he has it he is not likely to have
any use for it, but as soon as he gets rid
of it there will be a fire in the house,
sure.
The honest farmers of Rhode Island are,
ne doubt, a God-fearing folk, but they are
gradually acquiring modern ideas of
"business." An enterprising rustic near
Providence had a cow to sell lately, and a
purchaser made an appointment to come
and see her. The firmer arranged that
his man should be milking the cow when
the purchaser arrived, and had three pails
on hand, each half filled with water. The
man milked vigorously, and filled the
three pails one after another, to the aston
ishment of the purchaser, who at once
closed the bargain at a very high figure.
NO. 44.
I 4round flu • tiroidt.
Death of Summer.
Another summer, with its smiles and flowers.
Hath passed away into the sea of years I
Where lies engulfed the loveliest forms
That nature e're put on since God
Spake into being this fair earth,
To mirror forth His glory.
How rapidly
The odorous months have Bed !
And now all that remains to tell
Of summer's sweet-breathed Bowers
Are dry and wither'd leaves, that sigh
Ia mournful cadence on the autumn breeze.
The sweet-voiced birds
That sang at early morn in tree and copse,
And oft at set of sun, until the stars
Twinkled their pleasure in the crown
Of meek brow n'd eve, have gone
To southern climes, where warmer suns
And milder airs bold sway.
A nameless sadness steals
Over my spirit as the crickets sing
In the dead heart of summer blooms
Ere long the foliage of the billowy trees
Will den autumn hues, and soon
Their leafy glory will be laid
In tinted robes on the dead summer's tomb ,
llethinks I bear
Summer's last sigh, low breathing still
Amidst the faded bowers that she loved,
As loth to leave her roseate throne
To autumn's chilling blasts.
While 'midst her wither'd blown! I stand
And lay this little tribute on her grave.
There is a dime
Where everlssting summer reigns!
. . . .
No frosts there nip the bode, nor roses pale
From cheeks aglow with full immortal bloom
May we, when mortal life shall close,
Ascend to that bless'd clime, to dwell for aye
'Mid all its glory, loveliness, and song,
. _
dad from the pearl gemm'd goblet of eternal life
Quaff the pure nectar of unbounded bliss.
RE, C. HARTLEY.
Death of the First Born
This beautiful extract from Dr. Hol
land's new book, Arthur Boanicastle, will
be read with deep and tender interest by
many whose experience it truthfully por
trays:
:4 stand in a darkened room before a
little casket that holds the silent Wm of
my first born. My arm isaround the wife
and mother who weeps over the lost treas
ure, and cannot, till tears have their way,
be comforted. I had not thought that my
child could die—that my child could die.
I knew that other children had died, but
I felt safe. We lay the little fellow dote
by his grandfather at last; we strew his
grave with flowers, and then return to
our saddened home with hearts united in
sorrow as they had never been united in
joy, and with sympathies forever opened
toward all who are called to a kindred
grief. I wonder where be is today, in
what mature angeihood he stands, how he
will look when I meet him, how he will
make himself known to me who has been
his teacher! He was like me! will hiv
grandfather know him' I never can
cease thinking of him as eared for and led
by the same hand to which my own
youthful fingers clung, and as hearing
from the fond lips of my own father the
story of his father's eventful life. I feel
how wonderful has been the ministry of
my children—how much more I have
learned from them than they ever learned
from me—how by holding my own strong
life in sweet subordination to their help
lessness, they have taught me patience,
self-sacrifice, self-control, truthfulness,
faith, simplicity and purity.
"Ah! this taking to one's arms a little
group of souls, fresh from the hands of
God, and living with, them in loving com
panionship through all:their stainless years
is, or ought to be, like living in heaven,
for of such is the heavenly kingdom. To
no one of these am I more indebted than
to the boy who went away from me•before
the world had touched him with a stain.
The key that abut him in the tomb was
the only key that could unlock my heart.
and let in among its sympathies the world
of sorrowing men and women who mourn
because their little cones are not.
"The little graves, alas ! how many they
are ! The mourners above them how vast
the multitude ! Brothers, sisters, I am
one with you. 1 press your hands, I weep
with you, I trust with you, I belong to
you. Those waxen, folded hands, that
still breast, so often pressed warm to our
own, those sleep•bound eyes which have
been so full of love and life, that sweet,
unmoving, alabaster face—ah ! we have
all looked upon them, and they have made
us one and made us better."
Cultivating a Pure Expression.
Every word that falls from the lips, of
mothers and sisters espeeially, should be
pure and concise, and simple; not pearls,
such as fall from the lips of a princess, but
sweet, good words, that little children can
gather without fears ofsoil or after shame,
or blame, or any regrets to pain through
all their life.
Children should be taught the frequent
use of good, strong, expressive words—
words that mean exactly what they should
express in their proper place,.
if a child, or young person, has a loose
flung-together way of stringing words
when endeavoring to say something, he
should be made to try again and see if he
can not do better.
It is painful to listen to many girls'
talk. They begin with "my goodness !"
and interlard it with "on and "sakes
alive !" and "so sweet;" and o ao queenly!"
and so many phrases, that one is tempted
to believe that they have no training at
all, or else their mothers were very foolish
women. There is nothing more disgust
ing than the twaddle of ill-bred girls; one
is provoked often into taking a paper and
reading, and letting them ripple and gur
gle on, like brooks that flow they know
not whither.
My heart warnm with love for sensible
glris and pure boys; and, after all, if your
girls and boys are not thus, I fear that it is
not our fault, that this great truth rests in
the hearts and hands of the women of our
land. If we have a noble, useful purpose
of life, we shall infuse the right spirit in
those around us.—arthur's home Maga
dote.
Tu URE is folly at being disheartened at
delay. God sometimes takes natural meth
ods of removins , , obstacles even when they
appear most dilatory. Philip II used to
say, "Time and I will work wonders."
WITTY sayings are as easily lost as the
pearls slipping off a broken string; bat a
word of kindness is seldom spoken in vain.
It is a seed which, even when dropped by
change, springs up a flower.
WHAT is my duty in all my perplexi
ties? Humbly to , wait on the Lord, and
to seek his guidance step by
GRATITunn is a keen sense of favors lo
cone.