TOILWOMMAIGENCIP. 10 / 1 *trAggulaAooo4ll. ear ~i PqmiNginiMilhvi , , Irm 11 3 , 74 x , , ntr,f 1..11017/.1/i1111114il) (finale. / 1 i•/i. 11,• /1 /1,11/66.1.0114•T1N 1:1.01.1,1 11111, 'l , t„ •11 It,-., .1 ,•) nr,llll I , IIW/119AI }llthigt m . o. :- Er , 111J,'' , 11.&..31 1 eirlintgle• , . /it. lin &X ••,.// ./ •1 1 't ) , li• , . 1........ tl r tll - -•/" a yyy ,, ,al i • ~ (I 71 /:. 1 ,1 ~( 1: 1. , ' ) •A ' 14 ' 41 B r Tr _ APl :o°ll ' 4 *i W` I *OW= ,PPNWeI il. aßciaq9 B, n.' , PliT'"r , , ~ ~ ci , (1 , 0 , " 'III , , I 1,/ ..,17711i;.111.11 / - 7/ A fiti ZAl4l9iiinetePAErii innlittlO'NNcriE4 tia pblished died letianing;Sulitlaylarpted;, MI per annum in advan03.1,,,, T , . n, . ,1.,,, . • - , ' II el . . 11 r tlletrlot.4inthrwsEriVciaxim , br , .• ,;',l. oettny ' • Wl:walleye you hend:tldsjong,llrlght. day?" I said rod.,night Le oks Sir od ehltdl . ,..., il i "I've ben t o the ivoti to ell if 'Mai . Is, co Ing," ahe'sald, and. Orattgo• Addled. "Andlrhatdlr‘u find:sweet searcher—what? H0V114% ,wondareward you quest? "1 fo d ,tiluts target, me-not, Andiro ip, thrnying iholtt her nest: "'A Malang greases and aloVer-shoots, 'A.nd , a bluebtribsinglng .overhead; .A•lolets:under SCUM gttartcri Old. rots, . . th,og . And nodaalt.n.ahntes white and , red; "Porn(' stal.-flo*ers, too. by a shady pool— SueMweti white , things'!-and I bathed my /feet In adanclog rivulet, clear and cool, And ,I gathered fermi [tad mosses street; "0, and SO m a ny things besides! • liut.now lam tired ; pleane—good night!" And Win lays her hand in mine and alltlins (len Li,y; gracefully out olnlglit. • BM: het last wordi haunt me, ion. and low— " 0, and no many Lathan besidde Ah,sweetdreamer I yen little _knew All the meputug that in them bidet, , . Faith in'an End as'yet unseen, Mitindiens thiht In 'h promised Gond There were the spells that you brought yestreen Richest of from that titm,oLd wood 1 _ I:WTI, 0 robin, your downy neat! ISlng,.o bluebird, and dance, 0 atrearn ! Spring:Ml green things, and own her guest tkrrue, 0 May-time, and urowg her dream ! THE BULB T OAT STOOD ON A STEVIE BOAT -DECK. 1 he rani° utood on a steamboat. deck, The land he would not tread; That' polled the halter round hie neck, And crocked 11 ho o'er the head. Yet firm and Mendfust there he Mood Jixtlimigh formed for to rule; A. critter of heroic blood Wun thut. [Litre rumed mule. They en.Sed rind swore—he woeld not go Until he felt blelined; And though they showered blow on blow lie wauldn't change hls mlnd. The deck hoods to the shore then cried "This here mule's hound to stay," And still upon tilP critter's hide With lush they tired away. II In master from the shore replied ..The bnat's about to mill, And every other meat+ you've tried Suppose you to let Ms tail!" "lex likely that will make him lar Tho deck marl, brave, though liar Approached hl,n with outstretched band To twilit that there mule's tall. There came a sudden kirk behind! That man—oh! where Wee ? Ark of the eerily blowing wind, The &hes in the sea. For a moment there was not a sound Ax that mule winked his eye, An though to ask of those around, "Now, how Is that for high ?" " Cut that there mule' ti throat right away The captain did MAlll.lllllld. Rut the uohlemt critter killed that day Was the fearless, brave leek-hand. itliscellanrous. I From AM/111,01CH JOUrlllti.l The Death-Watch. " Didn't you hear it?" " When?" " Just now." n No." " They say it foretells death. Hush!" The two men sat motionless. Not a sound broke the silence, not even a creak of the old boards in the floor, or a sigh of wind, or a flapping shutter. They say it foretells death. I heard it last night and the night before. What's that?" " Nothing. It's stiller than a grave yard." " I heard it last night and the night before about this time, near one. 'Tain't ti very pleasant sound, and this old gar. ret's dismal enough any way." "Monk, you're afeard, nothing. Don't waste no more time. I'm dead tired and sleepy. You wouldn't have been in this old hole now if it hadn't been for Peters." " NO; if it hadn't been fnir Potorn, strike, liko enough, would have took. lint he won't stand in nobody's way again." While Monk spoke, be drew out a sharp, slender knife, and run his auger along the blade: "I tell you, Shlllet, we must do it the night after this blast's done, and the men in the shed say the coal will run out on the flth, that's to-morrow. When Peters is lixed, the malinger will have to give in or quit runnin' the furnace." Both men sat with their arms leaning on the table, and the flickering light of the tallow-candle between them showed two faces, rough, begrimmed by smoke and soot, and tilidigured by evil passions, that grew fiercer as they calmly plotted against the life of a fellow-being. 'We'll meet at one, where the roads cross. It'll be quiet then, and Peters' house Is alone." "I'll he all right," said Hid'let, with a grin that rendered his brute-like coun tenance doubly repulsive. "I'm con found ed tired, Bring your candle and light me down them infernal stairs.' The men stood up. Monk, small and was dwarfed by the almost, giant stature of hie companion. With a few parting words as to secrecy and silence, they separated. Monk stood on the upper step until Hhillet disappeared, then closed the door and replaced the candle on the table. The room, neither large nor small, was a mere hole, smoked, dirty, and un phtstered, high up In a frame tenement house. Two or three chairs, an °Mellott of drawers, a rickety bedstead, and pine table, composed its furniture. Some old boots and brokenpieces of pig-iron lay genttered about. The small, box-shaped window weS set Just below where th ceiling or roof sloped to the wall. The only door led directly to the stairs that went down two, three flights to the gronud. There were many such places in Agatha, where the furnace-hands lived t Monk' walked rapidly up and down the room, as If making an effort to wear off the excitertient that the last few mo ments had brought upon him. His fea tures had lost much of the malignant expression, which was by no means habitual. His countenance was not hardened or stamped with the impress of crime like Skillet's, who had Just parted front hint at the door—a counte nance in which every trace of conscience had long ago been erased. Monk's face was neither good nor bad, neither bright nordull ; but he was a tnnn easily wrought into n passion, governed by Im pulse. Crossing to the table, lie slung his coat over a chair, and stretched out his hand to extinguish the light. Midway in the action lie suddenly checked him self, looked hurriedly around the room for an Instant, and stood motionless, with inclined head, listening intently. Not around disturbed the .stillness.— Pinching out the light, he threw him self on the bed, and in the darituess there soon came the heavy regular res piration of Bleep. The houses at Agatha nestled under the north °HIE A hundred feet above them the railroad lost itself in the black mouth of a tunnel and re-appeared be yond, a Ii igh wall:of : trestlework stretch ing southward do wit the valley to Ely's Mines. Hours ago, the toiling men and cattle had laindeviu to rest, and now the wild, rocky hills around slept is the moonlight. Na. sound broke upon the etilless but the muilled.puff, pull, of the furnace, and a murmur of frogs that rose.and , fell interruptedly along the shtunken: , water-course.' The cabins under the chit' shone white and sharp; the' iron' on the' metal-swlteh :Embed witfeatnillitin'gerns; ;the rails up , * the trestle,. reeeding, ' turned to sliver, the 'foliage of early di W. red ou the trees.., A. few passionless sirs blinked feebly in the yellow light, where.the cat against the sky, and sank below the , verge.i Calmly, peacefully'watied the n ighti—caltuly and ' peacefully, as though the spirit of evil had.'net'ilalked abroad' plotting the death: and,intit' of liteti's heilles and souls. . .„ • That narrow spot aground, with the houses down in tha.,v.alley, formed the world ,for ,four hundred! people.. The furnace-hands and their families saw nothing:beyond the hills and roeks that hen:Midi:l' l M their knew tioth ing of the mad 'tumults outside.• 'An untanght, sturdy raket if men, dif ferthey e 4 little from one another.' Every, day, ,W,hen,tba Sun rose,.., they f o rth,to ant every night, whefftbe great furnace, ver the. reek glimmered red they lay down. to sleep. ,But. ignor ance audsuperstition-idled their hearts,' and anger and hate; and jealousy, were as rffinitriOug - them ati the"crdwded • tkildthEj444l4' ) V aged, and,,'pe IsA4VII Nov i 1 Z P,4 freA 14 1 1= fox vlast-iini Or rim. 'OOOll/3 0 blue Seines leaped up from the furnace, lurid as the fiery tongues of a volcano. ..1. 1 . ~ 1 - - a k_/_L 1_ ../_ -- I_llJ_ e -.I- ..AtI. , LJLCALD._ ielk--LL-4-. Y,/ • O_A_A_t_ , .._, e_l_i...._f_. 7,..".4.i—L.i.._i_u_i_.... . _.—... - --- , .b9,Hrit:buo') - unit - ctlal;qs.l odr ' .cu 11510) ittiol. ed elqbaL fr:lU • uz,ll A r - .1)5 - Zis lilt' 5. qua odT i .fla. - A-UX 50 no ectrilsd?, fr.ilfrii . ) . sdi 14. :::-ii!:10,1,5110-..) 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It crayriedi, and turned . and , crawled, rib after rib, until it lay like some huge skeleton, stretchedatipen the ground., A. thin vapor floated up lathe, a iiipbu rou 5 iiiF an dquiverpdrivit4 reflect id snleridOr.', The scarlet:a rted men, looked' weird . In: the uneart , y bright, ness. The yellow glow , f" ed to red that deepened to a blood-Coloied spot in the night. The, bell rang to discharge the hands, and aquadk oftleubroke up, scattering in the dark.' ' ' ' Monk went to his garret-room, hesi tated a moment at the door, then passed in and shut it so vlolentiy that the floor shook. He' struck a 'match. In :the brimstone light a hotrible demon Coun tenance wavered, blue and ghastly ; but, when the candle flamed, it 'grew Into Monk's face, covered by the black scowl of rage that had disfigured It once before —a rage that was freshly roused. If I'd bad my knife, I'd have done it Just now, when .I stumbled against Win. But be dies to-morrow night at—" The words froze on his lips, •and his black, scowling face was suddenly over spread by a strange pallor. He stood motionless, as if chained to the floor, his eyes darted quickly about, and lie seem ed to suspend his very breath. A clear, distinct, tiepin g mound occur red at regular intervals for ,a minute, and left profound silence. Monk raised his bead. " It's a sign of coming death. That's r Peters. There it is again !" The strange sound, like a faint me- tal lie click, repeated itself several times. " D—II it! I don't like to hear the thing. But there will be a sudden death." Time after time Monk heard at inter vals the maple faint sound, like the tick ing of a watch for n minute, and it made his blood run cold. He found himself listening to it with terror, and in the long silence always straining his ears to catch it, always expecting, dreading its repetition ,until the th ing grew more bor ri ble to him than a nightmare. eldme times he would fall into a doze, and wakening with a start, hear it, while cold perspiration broke in drops on his forehead. It grew intolerable. He swore he would find the thing and kill it, but it mocked him in his search. The sound seemed to come from the table, but when he stood beside the table it ticked so distinctly at the window that he thought lie could put his linger on the spot; but when he tried to, it had changed again, and sounded at the head of his bed. Sometimes it seemed close at his right, and he turned only to hear it on the other side, then in front, then behind. Again and again he searched, and swore in his exasperation and dis appointment. The sound became exaggerated by his distempered imagination, till lie trem bled lest some one else should hear this omen which so plainly foretold his an ticipated crime. Once an hour dragged by, and his unseen tormentor was si lent. His eyes that had glittered with deadly hatred, now wore a startled look and wandered restlessly about the room. An owl, that perched on the top-most branch of a high tree near by, screamed loud and long. A bat flew in at the open window, banged against the ceil ing, and darted out. Monk shivered. Leaning his head between his arms, he drummed nervous ly on the table with his fingers. In stantly the clear metallic click sounded again. Ire looked up, and a strange light broke into his face, a mixed ex pression of amazement amid fright. For moment he seemed stupeheu, raising his hand he tapped lightly against the wood with his finger-nail. The last tap had not died until it was answered by what seemed like a fainter repetition of itself. Uttering a fearful oath, Monk recoiled from the table, but, as if drawn back and held by a weird fascination, he sat an hour striking the hard surface with his nails, and pausing for the response that each time came clear and distinct. Gray streaks crept along the east, and ulvered like a faded fringe bordering the black canopy. Still he sat tapping, but no answer came. He waited, listen ed vainly ; no echo, no sound, •and the (lull, hueless light of the cloudy morn ing glimmered at his window. Then he threw himself on his bed and fell into restless slumbers. A damp thick fog enveloped the houses in its slimy embrace. At night fall its reeking bolds gathered them selves from the ground, and a noiseless dizzle came suddenly down. Monk had not stirred from his room all day. The feverish sleep Into which he had fallen lied frtfithim before noon, and now he stood Ills window looking out into the blackness. A clammy air blew against his face. lie stretched out his hand and drew it back suddenly, as if he had touched the dead. It was cold and moist. Ho rubbed It violently against his clothes, as though he could not wipe our the dampness. A tremor seized pon hint. 1-lark! was that the dripping of water? No. A sickly smile played over his countenance. He went to the table and tap ped lightly with his lingers, as he had clone before. In an other moment the taps were answered, and he involuntarily counted as they came, one—two—three—four—live—six seven—then all was silent. Ho made the call a second time, he tried It over and over, and at each response it ticked seven times, never more, never less, but seven times clearly, distinctly. Sudden he sprang up, and through shut teeth hissed " The seventh day, by Heaven ! But I'll cheat you—l'll not kill him ! " He darted noislessiy down the stairs, and struck out through the woods. In half an hour lie emerged on the edge of a clearing, a dozen . yards from a chop per's cabin. Creeping stealthily to the door he shook then, after a moment's irresolution, cried out: " Peters ! Peters ! look out for Shiflet. He hassworn to murder you to-night." Without waiting for a reply he sprang away, and was quickly lost among the trees. A moment afterward a tall form prose out of the shadow of a stump near the cabin, and passed rapidly in an opposite direction. At the summit of the hill east of Agatha, a steep precipice is formed by a great, bare, projecting rock. From the valley, its outline resembles an enor mous face in profile, and they call it "The lievil's Head," The full moon rendered the unbroken mass of cloud translucent, producing a peculiarly sin ister effect. The mist still blew through the air, but in the zenith there was a dull ashen hue, and the surrounding cloud was the color of earth. The far-off hills loomed up majestic, terrible, against the gloom; nearer objects were strangely magnified in the tawny light. At the foot of this phantom crag, on a terrace, Is the ore-bank and blackened coal-shed. Below rose the metal-stack, from whose stone...hearth a waste of eand sloped gently tothe creek. The furnace squat , ted grim and black. Its blood-shot eye' was shut.; its gaping-throat uttered no sigh, no groan; its throbbing pulse was stilled—tiae fierce, struggling monster was dead. The only bright spot in all I the:valley was the yellow circle made I by, the watchman's lantern in the wal -1 shed. ' Afterleavingthe " ehoppings," Monk threaded his way .through. the torest, coming out at last. on the 'opals road.. This road led direetly over the" Head," :and entered" the valley 'liY:a r steep &Scent half a to the south,' At the precipice' Morik' wised. , The, wind eddied with a mournful wall,;and: the constant motion of tall trete gavethe. scene almost the wavering,. unsubstan tial appearance of a vision. There was something oppressive 111 - this" strange midnight but Monk. did not feel it. He only felt inexpressi ble'..relief ; he Only • stopped' there 'tifi breathe, to breathe' freely once ntord with the ,heavY thrown , trona' him. After a monaerithe ran.earelesslY, down the hill, passed under the ore-cars. and into the coal shed. Elo hailed Pat - tenon, the watchman, aid , the, lantern. threw gigantic shadows of the,two:rnen over the ground. Then he walked along the , narrow cindered-rOad lead in s kto the e o bridVer the' ereek.“ f3oliieti s the thht ofi e}ther Adde;:Wept .theirda~splttatr alter hl4:.f be„ n. .4c* 44 . 09. Y9. 41 4i m stasrted,*(viiki: ,fleeded ,nOt,,,toZ ke„wao rites and lighforhatirt,ii f..1.[ pi I Monk reached the stairs, and ascend ed room. As he passed in, the • , ai 11 1411 H, 1411 .901' \ •011:11.10.: a • • • • , •vt 11. -- ,3 , 1 .•Lii flOictilitgl figure:'rereid of 131affiat sprang' upon. him front - I:whin& The're norm) muttecesi:oathai:ltheit a heavy fall. Monk IskystrOctked_npon glot-itonrrfinot. ticmlesa r lifeieaa, amithe eckp,okftecing steiSq aled:',. l 4WAY; ie-sag P**lit4lP. 13 0 th6..4*. "The Steilanes briTyinen) ",The hard and unpleasanttruthmay. at Well be stated," say, !apperaiig.B " githlig9 B qo4 l 4o.isC4ViclitX;ce , with large generil facts e overfwhich it dividuals can e?tereir, that in numbers, tA:i .y ,pi,,Fise af fected by the teMPer and w*ea of, the people. , This,tilat fact about.,MArtlage; is not only prosaic , , but huiniliatsg. Shall not these ,people choose cornpan-c ions for life, and, listen to the clerical " What God bath Joined together let no man put. aeunder,?, such time aa. they : ra may ntillilly' agree ,upon:?. ) i tY means. The laws says they sh 1.,d0 neitherof these things; and the peculi arity of.this law is that it cannot be vio lated. .Furthermore , all who desire it will not be permitted to Marry: •What is to be said of such immitigable tyranny as this? Not marry when we'chocise, or whom we choose I Not to be coMmited as to whether we.shall marry or not: What is life worth if these things are to be decided without our knowledge or consent? Net much, perhaps; but we might just as well learn the disagreea ble fact at once and submit to it. Na ture is fund of cheats, and plays her charlatanry irrespective of perstms— "Mon aro the sport of circumstances; when The circumstances seem the sport of men. Prospero, and that Puck is after all noth ing but the personified price of corn.- These illusions and hallucinations are results of the operations of law, and we cannot disturb them, though we pile formula on formula, and equation upon equation, until the revolving earth is light as a feather, compared with the weight of the argument. Per contra, what carespassion for the multiplication table, or love for the differential calcu lus? A Pico for you, law of statistics! Nevertheless, Maud commits an unin tentional perjury when she vows her husband shall be the man of her choice, and we all know that Adolphus Fitz herbert will repeat Romeo's blunder. " Leaving the domain of fancy, 'we find the plain statistical facts con cerning marriage running somewhat in this wise : " Youth has its illusions and middle • age its hallucinations, wherefore these teachings of statistics may go hang. Does not Romeo actually know that he chooses Juliet In preference to Rosalind? Is it at all probable that Miranda would have escaped marriage with Caliban if she had never met the shipwrecked Fer dinand'? Whereand what Isthe tricksy Puck that makes maidens see as he wills and transforms Demetrious and Lysander, subject to no law save his own? Alas ! this plodding and prosaic statist, this withered and be-spectacled mathe matician will prove to you that Romeo is mistaken. "The average age of women, when they marry, i; 25.i0 years, and of 100 who reach this age 21 will never marry. With menit fares differently ; for, strange a.e it may seem, more women than men get married, and, of 100 of the latter who reach the marriage age of 25:9 years, 22 will die bachelors. Thus, about one fifth of our people are doomed to die un wedded, whether they prefer it or not. WIDOWS AND WIDOWERS " Now, the marriages that occur in New York number, year by year, about 9,280-18,560 persons—and for every one of these marriages there will at some time be left a widow or widower; for it rarely happens that husband and wife die at the same moment Some of those widows and widowers will remarry— more of the latter than the former—and rnrai ri,e gerril numtwr of women who marry exceed e actual number of men. The rule seems to be that about one in three widowers and one in four widows remarry. "Of 100 marriages, about 13 of the men will be widowers, and only 11 of the women will be widows, the bache- tors numbering 87 and the spinsters 89. On general principles, there may be no serious objection to old Weller's advice, 'Bevare of vidders ;' but we, not.basing our conclusion upon domestic experi ence,:but upon a series of mathematic calculations, can absolutely affirm that widows do not, by any means, monopo lize the matrimonial market, and that there is more to be feared from one spin ster than from a dozen widows (let bach elors make a note of this fact), for the truth is that spinsters have a better sue cess against widows In the hunt for hus bands than the bachelors have against widowers in the winningof wives. And, as all the hunting and winning is above the will, and superior to It, wo cannot say 'beware' to any, but simply admon ish all to accept the condition and to yield as gracefully as possible to their predestinate fate, whatever it may be— whether single blessedness or wedded woo ; conjugal felicity or unwedded dis content. " Suppose there be a hundred wed dings In New York within a given time, In all respects of the average kind how many of thesepersons will be min ors? From Paracelsus and Cagliostro down to Home and Fox, not one of all the soothsayers and clairvoyants can tell you that. No palm-reading glpsy, no spirit from the vasty deep, let him be called by no matter What boasting Glendower, can tell half so much of. these occult events as this interroga• ting mathematician will learn from his curious figues and bewildering signs. Ask him, and he will reply, without any mummery or gibberish, twenty four will have been married and about nineteen will be under age. Of this latter number all but one will be women —spinsters not yet out of their teens.. At all events, this is the result of his present calculations, and if time and increased numbers should alter the averages, he will learp the fact sooner than auy one else. The remainder will be bachelors and spinsters of the aver age age of 20.5 for the former, and 25.46. for the latter. "What the law is that makes bachelors so much more prudent than spinsters we will riot undertake to say; but cer tain it is that maidens make much more haste than young men in getting into the matrimonial net. Still, it must be remembered that girls, whether prudently or not, are regarded as marriageable at fifteen, and .are cer tainly so at seventeen ; so that in view of the fact that only eighteen in every hundred of the delicate creatureswho marry are under twenty years of age, while forty-three of th e same hundred are between twenty' and thirty-five, and twenty-tWo more between twenty-flve and thirty, we must candidly confess that they manifest a degree of prudence in the matter that would seriously dis turb Mr. Malthus were he only aware of it. We will not say that marriages pre vious to the adult age is invariably .In discreet ; but we will defy nny. „amen to form ajust conclusion in regard to the age of d iscretion from the stinly Of mar riage statistics. To find this result, the marriage and mortuary tables must .bg: studied together. The question is of, some. importance, but it must be unwil litigiy deferred. - --• , THE); ELIGIMIE " But if , women come upon: the' may , riageatile list earlier than men; they'ailf. ter the Inconvenience of being ,Striciceit' ear ier 4 5 , :Eit*Pjp! iortgretieo Ft, 40,.p 1 6 1 b, e t . rias,trlnacair; ally, and the _demand for wives Ofitlita •age is , so alight as to, he hardly,,wordh. considering, although , we find .1111,oeca sional widow—still more ramly a spin ng to marry even after having , passed- the ,- sprightly , 'age' f threescore' years and tetk. ,, Under 23•yeatit‘of'dge the' *hob& of wonien 'Who Muhl , ie . little more than' 'f f iViee"as great' 'ha the number of men ; but, atter43, the num ber cd.Benedicts is nlcitetlian thrice that, of the '' Tn 1,090 marriages (f 4 the. average to ages; 14"Worneti, 49 men will have 'passed their:ninth lustrum. Widows remarry aan aver; age, iige of 39 years, while the, average age of widowerii who again take to theni seltreie 'ccinjugtil partnere Is 41 or theie ,) aboUt. : I ' TABLID OF CHANCES. We,wili not undertake .to ea of our fair readers hbV"old she will tk what led to'the alter a`bliishhig bride; if that should prove to be her • &tinny i• but we can tell her what4he chances are lit the ,presentistateeflour knowled gaol' etatistkal facie,' If wetakeithesselisitngs, ,that , actutdly occur,iweishaiktinduthati , in ievery,!thousand, I luirebwillilberpl99l ssilves under 20 years, .while,these mill be only 9 husbands of that age. But perhaps these facts will be better stated i 4.: 1)1,1, et 1,1 • :,:,/,i;iern ; -:1!/;rfl WOOTFatitl.,:p4;l; irt4it '. ' rcal texmilto time Lin-every then sand,marriages-ithewndll Vie, ~., i...:. , , 'lstak. , -. , .z.„„,. _:: itin, tt: , n11.., ,,- In.f.' ,, - , ~: baads , .:l YrlYel• Il'ii , , ACM 11,:, ,- .1,! , 1. , 1.1 9' ......,Mt-L. :..;;Ages years or a. zat.l7!..:%..::t4s4 , ...'...eiiuliarantrsss/antiaMe. '1348.r.v.,:.. /558,....113.3tirien 26arata0.years orage... , ita_...un.,...si..:_ißezweensa slid ti Yells:of ote; 834 , 4.1,--ria....80 1 1404 Z.SOOYalifil Of, NO. 44---i 2 4. 7 -1 3 erer404 , d 5 YAWS Pf OP. 2 d .-'...'.... B......nerween - 45 ' 50 Vara aeags, .., : : t .....:.i. ' 1 7 •:1V..11=t1= 541-'- g f rZ , ~ " The r emainder , nide , inenland 'five Worn en iv/ill:kid scattered Vms .k isOtweert 60 and , 80 , yetirs- , - , itztigerit'tlilqialmost r ._,,,otie“trotild 'lO, e - peeto,' ` 'know trti''-lt r *P l :it Oth? , ; /i.kiNV.# , 4_, , 'Lllt t ' 4 4e§/tPika - 'f ,M the ql?tkt. OtPhY or ItiatTrilo.9iii:l4.4 l 4 6 ..P.igtlit r 54 . 11, 4exes. affer4o7,-uP.t44oat, age:both seem.•to, in crease., I In '274000. marrlagesynr or. them. will he 139artert and only 16 women between 60 and 70 years of. age, while 14 men and 4 women will be be tween .70 and 80, • - orn MAIDS.. "Interesting ' as these ancients are, there is 'still anothei, Class deaerving.Of something more than apasslrig :notice. We mean old maids. Blow many. are there, and what are their ixiatrinarmial chances?,We have:already stated that 21 'tin t'Of every' 100 women who reach the marriage age, namely 25.48 years, never marry. .But even this does not tell the exact number of marriageable Women who are waiting for husbands, if indeed' So ungallant - a 'thing as this maybe Said of any. But, then; how is it posisible to expect an algebraic sign to be guilty of gallantry? From the best authority that can, be had upon this ex ceedingly interesting topic, it appears that the n umber of unmarried and mar riageable women, within those hereto forementioned as the marriageable ages, namely 15 and 45, about 2.5, per cent. of the whole number of women living between those A.,ges. ” It seems to be a part of the creed of the discontented sisterhood, whether wives or spinsters, that one of the in alienable rights of , woman entitles her to a husband. It will be seen that na ture sets her face' against this assump tion, and Makes a very different decree. The truth is that every woman living between the ages of 15 and .45 has 25 chances in 100 of dying an old maid— that is, her chances of marriage are as four to one. This is just enough to give them all hope, and not sufficient to drive any to despair The complaints of man aging mammas are of no avail. Even the ballot will not bring them a better fate, and, with suffrage or without it, one-fourth of all between the above named ages are doomed to live in old maidenhood and to die unlausbanded. "Our task Is done. In dealing with these secrets we have doubtless been dull; but these bard facts will . not ad mit of poetic treatment even if we were capable of treating facts poetically.— When Benedick enumerated the vir tues of the woman he would con sent to husband, he said: ' Her hair shall be of what color it please God.' He might have trusted the same good Providence—call it fate, des tiny, or. whatever you will—for all the other qualities just as well. An old adage says: 'Marriages are made in Heaven,' but I3enedick's was made in old Leonato's garden, as all know ; and it is absolutely tree in every case, as it was in the one we are considering, that those most interested have less to do with the result than they can well imagine, or, if they knew, would be willing to admit. For the individual that which he desires is good, that which he would shun is evil; but in the grand economy of the universe the two are so evenly balanced and so closely intertwined that he must be bold, indeed, who would undertake to say which is which. Talleyrand, upon being introduced to two young men, one recently mar ried, the other still a bachelor, called the former a happy man, and the latter a lucky dog. This is the broad philosophy W e amln t c t tioa3. Those who live un die married are worthy of no envy, for which of the two events is better no one can possibly determine." , An In• Door Photograph The woman who Is able to systema- the and carry on smoothly the work of an ordinary family illustrates higher sagacity than is called for by seven eighths of the tasks done by man. Men take one trade and work at ft ; a moth er's and housekeeper's work requires a touch from all trade, A man has his. work-hours and his definite tasks; a wcitdan has work at all hours and an incessant confusion at all tasks. Let any man'do a woman's workfor:a single day; wash and dress the children, having provided their clothes the n ight before ; see that breakfast is under way to suit a fault-finding husband ; the wash-boiler on with water for the wash, and the clothes assorted ready for washing ; the dish-water heating, and a luncheon thought out for achool-goers ; a nice din ner in the good man's dinner-pail ; the beds made after proper airing, and the bugs fought oil' and kept down • the father's convenience exactly hit for family prayers; the systematic sweep ing of the house at least once a week, and of living-rooms once to three times a day, according to the number of men to bring in the mud; the actual washing and outhanging of clothes; the drying, sprinkling and folding and to-morrow, the Ironing of the same ; the sorting and mending of them, and provision of new ere the old gives out; the making of bread three times a week, with cakes and pies In tercalated judiciously ; pickles, pre serves and cellar-stores to be laid In and not forgotten In their seasons; chil dren's manners tote attended to ; com pany to be entertained; her own person to be tidied up to please his eye ; the tired him to be welcomed and wait ed on by the no less tired her, and the home made cheerful ; his trow sere to be patched after he goes to bed, "so he can put them on in the morning ;" the children to be helped about their lessons and reminded not to forget their Sunday school lesson, the shopping and marketing to be done for the household ; house repairs attended to, and matters In general kept straight around home. Meanwhile " pap must not be troubled or hindered about his work," because his work brings in the money. Yes, the • man's work' brings the money. But man's work does not tax the head and heart and hands as woman's work does. Besides this, man is helped by many 'strong relishes and incentives to labor.. He is out In .the world among folks. He comes and goes and is refreshed in spirit. But woman works alone and almost unknown: To please her hus band, and her God is possibly her only motive, and alas, how manywlvestherw be who sob In secret before their, God because they fail to win one smile ,or ,word of praise from their husbands. Ti Is stupid and brdtal for any ordinary man to be finding fault with women. The Influence or Pretty Women Life becomes more harmonious, it beet? .with wkeener pulse of enjoyment, in the pFesencebf pretty women. • After all,"aeharrnlng little figure, a piquant little face, Is the best remedy for half the ills of existence, for worries, HA vex . - anew, ills dullness, ita disappointnaente .Apci eyep in,the larger, apel.mure.piad. tyt of behuty,'ln the or a Lady Du belle, if there is it tinge of attifddity; Uwe is, , at'any ratiyatv , atmoVhett of tepose, a genial influence, moulding our social converse and ..icalats into gentler 1 3. haPPP7 • „' It 48 irtnusieg to ,see hp*, the:prettiness ,pf vklinatc fel - 1k nil'her"dresk lidiv' thg eriffir mid •ttiehonie.. of -beauty,:the , habg, of,preitipess, givenn ideal dignity. •to t r. 57 very firrangeinent,of her ,boon t. s •eVery niovenierit, fhb ")•4 ijideep' of fier'inadfile"folds' • Exhirof her liingubri,iinftliettly kart of er-rateitementi one•feeht the. softening;, armonizipg.ind cffi tier ; last A4.19,k In the glw.. .4,xnay, ,ful 'or 'energOtio,'but ming be, ptetby eXerefaeli arc 'inifieVeeP-' Aiblecerdpulsionliveristir,vrhb3hlmoulds her WhOkeafe.intpgrAcefuttuld lsarmon-i lona forws. r l,i,r.,FlF,l§43 rims 4pt.pt,Al4e men 3 hkithing, of i r j antp. .FegionB ' Eidfkibkbf 1:66 fait Aawaked •edusidehithitikAila bisferhannbraleir'or .01orpfxnatrasta I oorresimuidenoles, cat, aatiStßellttC* l . o lA l M-. 11 4 1 4 qlA4 l 4Oi! dictate.M. 9lY*P e ..nt4l47 :l . 4 n t a of itticidi. • • • • And ad on /hit hainertinowersgliotinea,i Weeny. nt'44lt9f prtitc4,9lkontheee tor r it el tiVaae:tgi n ilifrOffMk sciiiitatitrge mil setting of preityilvomeml ~ l lliftfaitrof the boudoir tells on all but•the chaos of the husband's study. Around that last -r .17,Toi i • . .Ki: •' ~ 1 AyYMO 1 1 refuge of bartuirism goats soldrhosp ere of taste - iiiid.'rernernerit ' - 'irtifcb: the pretty veffei3ittif4.o4 l ml64 and !Miler b Ili '4.tidfreitifthfitOfie kif ;the - bag oO*Of ; thOtone 'Of abefetY;thAphaidla l / 4 0, 0 4°0 Xufwiki 10.Frgtr f fir? ktralo. .eatiNgeill49n .f or other .-of geuMenees of vivacity. Illo:veryikisks of the rough-tonea 'that have thundered over Peloponese es :Pericles. bends.-Oves Aswan; ths:littietunisanct delieAcies at phrase; the joyotiSserfdonSs stididlenik4 of the •an stillest epd 'most 'energetic 41 ;Leh; tells of the Iriustipti," pretty, Thb,swfich It-ran thus: "It's , nigh onto. eleven. years; alr, since P Came on this roact. For the ffrst three years X" Was 'lsfileeki7 fatin,ltredif I had 'Wok t6'lt,;l,`,#4.lglit, have If I COPie 4.69neducPar by Who yOtwA, My character weep:KA:and, r ya, ways been. a steady man,: at YPti see it. wasn't to My old woman al, ways objected to me , rtiorting,on, the train, it ,kept me so much away from bBnie;' not to speßk of the'clabger; and at *he end'of the third year, when' oui , little boy was born; she begged so bards to give it up that I consented, and tlmi company put me in this, plac.e where I've been ever since. It's not hard, I've only got to tend one switch and'do Mid jobs about the depot, the pay is just the same as what I got before, only there's no chance for promotion,. but then I'm always at home, which makes it up. I live only a little way across the bridge, in the outskirts of the town, yonder, on the other side of the river—a small white house with au elm tree in the yard—you can see it from the °Wei...end of the switch. "So you think the river is very beau tiful at this season of the year? Well, sir, I dare say it, is. I thought so. once myself; but I 'don't take my pleashre in looking at it now, nor have I done so for many a day.' Ifs green banks and its clear water, with the sunshine' sparkling on it, only makes it seem the crueler to me, as if it laughed over the misery it had caused to human beings; but my opinions havn't gotanything fo do with what you come to ask me about so I'll try and get to the point at once. " It will be three yearecomeildundan the 13th of next month, WI/101/.ls May, that after eatin' my breakfast and smokin' my pipe, which latter opera tion I generally gits through' with about' seven o'clock, I started across the bridge, takin' with me my little boy Wilie, who was at this time just risiu o' five years. He was awfully tickled at the idea of bein' allowed to go 'out with me, as his mother kept him most ly around the house, havin' like nearly all women, great fear of the trains. .1 don't think, sir, I ever seen a finer naornin'—the sun well nigh up, but not too warm, with a white cloud here and there in the blue sky, the trees and grass green and fresh, and glistenin' with the dew, and underneath us the river flowin' bright and • clear, just as you see it now, sir. My heart felt light, and havin' nothin' on my mind—l had just finished payin' for my houSe the week before—l began to think on corn parire my troubles with my blessins'' that after all it would be hard to find a better place than this same much.abused world we live in. " The time-table was a little different then from what it is now. The freight train came down at 7:30 a. in., switched off, and waited for the express to go by, which followed in fifteen minutes later. I reached the switch about ten minutes ahead of time—l always do—and sittin' down on the tic, I filled a fresh pipe and smoked away, while little Willie gathered pebbles, and throwing 'em in the water, laughed and shouted at the splashes they made. Finally growin' bolder he ventured to the river's edge, and pluckin' one of the lilies that grew there in abundance, he came in'great glee and laid it at my feet. I put the flower carefully in my packet so as not to bruise it, intending •-• it trb his mother. e tinned out that pretty blue ones grew fu H rther down, and begged to go and get one of them ; but as it was almost time for the !rain, I refused my permission, and takingliim some ten or fifteen yards from the track, sat him down at the foot of a tree—the maple yonder—and bade him remain there till I called. The time for the train came and passed, and still no signs of it. •I grew nervous and did not notice my ,boy. , *Minute after minute passed away, and at last when I began to be certain that some accident had occurred it hove in sight just five minutes before the ex press was due, which I knew could not be more than two miles behind. I saw at once the causeof the delay ; the train was unusually long and heavy, and the engine number forty-two, which the firemen had christened" Old Hicketty," Was the worst on the road. The switch was all ready, but the train moved so slowly that the last car had hardly loft the main track, when I heard tile whistle of the express, and the next moment she rounded the bend at full speed. I knew that I didn't have any too.much time to get the switch in po sitiou, and want/Amy work with u will when suddenly I heard a child's scream, and turning round I saw little Wilde straggling in the water. Fortin instant tile sight of my child's danger overpow ered every other consideration and I sprang for the river, but before I got half the distance the hoarse whistle of the approaching train rang in my ear like a trumpet, and the thought of my duty, and the hundreds of lives that would be sacrificed if I deserted my post, went through my brain like a flash of lightning, While all the time there was a feeling about my heart I can't tell in so many words—l only knew it was worse than death—beseeching me to save my boy. " The whole thing couldn't have last ed more than two seconds, and how the one feeling got the better of the other I never knew. I have no recollection of turning back, but the next thing I re member I was at the switch working away like mad. I never had such strength. I felt that I could have wrenched up the solid iron rails in my agony, and bent them like straw; and I did not seem to see anything about me distinctly neither rails nor ties—but dimly and vaguely, as if In a dream, or at a great distance. What-did see as plainly as I do now, although it was be hind me, was the .clear and beautiful river flowing-on in the morning sun, and in the midst of it little 'Willie weak ly struggling foi help, while the hright, cruel waves smote him in the' face'and laughed. I had no ear for the nearing train, but all I heard—or seemed to, for I can't rightly say—were his cries to his father for help, growing fainter and fainter; and then the horrible bubbling sound, as he sank finally, and his last breath found its way to the surface. "At length the switch was in posi tion, and although it's a short job at best, and I must have accomplished ft at that time with a quickness I can never again equal, yet it seemed longer than the longest Summer's day.; but it 'wee dtaie; and I rushed to the river and gazed eagerly around for some sign' that might tell me where to plunge in to rescue my child; but there was nothing, nothing, but the sunlight that brightly on the little wavelets that smiled mockingly in My face 'as - they' hurried .onwards I lion't ren3einber any thing farther. .There Was agree*. ahok,.; ihgAtt my tluvat,A4uge l wAighl. of Aqui. teenqed to fall on nay, b'l.l.B""gin°'ailL7A bleak," When Came yse was' thtee weeke after Ward, with my' old Winaan---13od herl.isitting alOhiniido me , lieldite , my hand .its heia, re doptqr saltilhadroatle a close miss o it gut at grit I felt,Sbrry had qit"itll.;-btit 'that ' T dldn't . {akif long ? !foe knew there rid ,-she who sat ibesidelme4--who thee Std.,: feted more than I had and stood it nobly, 'So I tried to get better in order to con 'Aele her. ,It was two, weeks more before 'Lgoit Ord of hed; . atitt i qfilte'tWo ' Months beforeli was abletb - go-anindw I I-will never bathe. same man .agaiMo. i• A y,%''lM n ( MI PfLPY -rtßi9ne4 ,nttin Matt on twantme t t q cl i o anymore Wo all, " i t titt-Cduldn't bear tote idle- ou, see, eft; k Atquin't brought' tip , to , Jt kked ,strange as.it May appear. didn't feel hice.working anywhere save Int,the old, Place ; I seemed to be ,closer to my boy. •theiej found' he lily 116'1110 gatbibtee; last as I had placed it In .tripjlicket pbcket, and gave it to his.mother. She hail It yet all, withered and colorless, In 8.; }age glatisqn the Mantle Ptec43;:and 'ts re; remain hi sight or bo uhtil Mir. time oomee fr :.r, •.,, I,,j9p9B,Firig i to irfe TldNatillsr'raVreteit's Mestmoreland county, thatilkilled bushel of rata In fifteen minutes—seven ty-one rata in all. 74.1 "(I , ..ttii.v.l l 4f•ni— b iii 1.11 , 0 ~ 1 -0•.!: (,dl The 4Di-drier - er :ill: '