Foar-Leared Clover. Once, when simplest (lowers of oetih genroll to be ol heavenly birth; When rnoli month was like the May And all life a holiday, Through the Held* we mod to go, Wandering gnyly to and fro, Seeking here and searching there— Searching tireless everywhere, Hill and vale and meadow over, Just to And a lonr-leavod clover. What triumphant shonts would rise When we HAW the fairy prise' Saw the precious, dainty thing Which, as wo believed, could bring Wondrous luck and boundleaa joy To the tavored girl or boy Who. in eeslacy of pleasure, First espied the magic Iron wire 1 Now, with steps more sad and slow, Through the autumns Holds we go, And our hearts less quickly beat To that musio at rouge and sweet Which the dreaming pocta hear Echoing ever, tar or ucar. Tot e an now, if happy chance Lores o ir meditative glance To some green and dainty cover Whore upspring* a tour-leaved olover. Straight a thrill of glad surprise Warms the heait and lighta the eyea, And we, hall in earnest, say: "This will be a lucky day." Ah! the simple joys and tros That our dreaming childhood knew! Let ns cling, through good and ill, To their precious memories still' Like soft wiads, from distant bowers, Waiting scent oiggyreetest flowers. Float they ronnd the darker ways All must tread in later days. Time, that steals lull many a charm From our lives, can do small barm It he leaves undimmed and bright Childhood's faith and pure delight In the lowly things that lie Everywhere beneath the sky. Kmtlint Sherman Smith■ UNCLE JEAN'S STORY. ___ Louis Bertliold, witli his hoe upon his shoulder. walked slowly down the path toward the potato-field. His Uncle , Jean, who was sitting among the hop .rines, smoking, called to him as he passed : " Where art thou going, Louis?" The boy stopped and renting his hoe Upon the ground leaned upon it. "To hoe potatoes," he replied; " but I don't want to." " Don't thou?" said his uncle. Jxniis looked at hiru mournfully. I "But my mother said I must." "That is another matter. Do you Plow, I*ouis, what once happened to me when my mother said I must?'' "No, Uncle Jean," frankly replied the ] boy. "I know verv little of what hap pened to you; anil f often think, when I grow up and become a soldier, that when I come tome again I will tell the boys of all that happened to me." " But I have never been a soldier," •aid his uncle. "No; but yon are a sailor, and you have been in many battles. You must often think of them, bn you never talk of them." His Uncle Jean looked at him gravely. "It is not fair, is it? There is Gustavo 1 Baliou—his grandfather lias many a tale of his old tialtles, and thou—thou iiast a glum and silent old uncle, who never prates ol days gone by. Well. If thou wilt finish thy work and come back I'll tell thee of this time when my mother laid her order on me." Louis shouldered his hoe again, and marched off. He did not hurry because •f his uncle's promise; hut he probably worked more steady. He did not stop to watch the robins; and the rabbit that ran leaping over the field was not chased by him. He thought of the story, nnd Loped It would be a good one, full of gin powder and hinting ships; hut he was not sure. His urcls was the dis- ! appointment of his life—that was the truth; and, as Ixmitanid it to himself, he dug hia hoe into the ground and rut a potato in two. When lie was a little ] riiap. lie was forever hearing of his Uncle Jean, who had fought so bravely, and who, it was said, was thanked hy the queen herself. The farmers all around the country would ask his father, " What of Jean?" and out on the green in the evening, when the young folks danced and the old fo'.k* sat and talked, there was many a t*!o told of what Jean Bert hold Imd dune—how he had gone to sea as a hoy of all work, and how lie had been made n captain, end had hail a medal given him for his bravery. He hal fought desperate battles; he had been a prisoner; there was no end of the glorious tilings told of him; nnd Louis often used to wiali that it was lie, in stead of his younger brother who was " named after him. for his brother eared nothing alwut heroea. But one day Dmi* saw from an old stone fence where he aat wat< hitig the •rows, noting how, as they flew, the wife carried the burdens, that there was a commotion of some aort at home, so lie at once got down and ran to see what it j meant. In the great kitchen, surrounded by the whole family, weeping and laughing, . stood a very fat man with blue ryes, a rosy, laughing fare, and dressed much as the men in the town were. This was Ids Unele Jean! Louis was an surprised that lie eould not look glad. He had often fanoied this coming home, hut in ids visions his uncle wa< tali and fierce. He had a long black beard, and he wore a sword and scarlet.snd-gold ! clothes, and walked like a soldier and aot like a duck. Whether this was a good picture of a French sailor or not, Louis never stopped to ask himself, hut he knew that it was the way a hero aught to look. Of one thing he was certain—a hero was never fat. Then, as time passed on. his disappointment deepened, for this uncle or his never talked of his deed*, and seemed ta take more interest in home affairs and farm talk than in scene* •f flory. When Iuis finished his work, he tood and looked at it. It was very good work. There was no saying more common in the Rertho.d family than. "Do it now and do your best," and Louis had caught the spirit of it. So theu be took up the hoe, put it in the barn, and started for the hop v'.nes to find Ids nncls. "Hastthen finished?"said be, " All finished," said I*nuls, sitting down on the grass, "and I do hope. Until* jean, that thy story is of war and of hears mew" " It certainly in oi win ; 'mt brave j wore tlio men tlou must decide. So. to begin: It was a down yearn ago, pretty j nearly, when I had just oome ashore ; from a long cruise, and was in the Krosi est hurry to ft" home nnd see my mother, that, just as 1 was fairly ready to go, the captain of the Deliverance foil sick, and 1 was ordered to take Ills place and l*c roaiiy to sail at once. 1 did not like it. It was a compliment, hut I would rather lave gone home —tou see I had been ,iway tor years. "'Fliou dost not wave , thy sworn over thy head,' said (Jount' Ilohonstack, who was my friend. ' I keep it for fighting. not waving,' said I, lut in truth I had no heart for wav- j in*. As for the Deliverance, she was a . good little frigate oi twenty-eight guns. | and had as a comrade, and under iny I orders, tlie Isabelle, with twenty-four j guns, and my old messmate, (iasper nriss.se, for captain. What we had to [ do was to take a fleet of twenty mer- ; chantmcn to Genoa. It was dangerous service, tor we were at war with Kng land, and her ships were lively enough : it there wait lie prospect of a pri/e afloat, i "We had to hurry our preparations,! as the captain's illne-s had put lliitics liaek, anil one day when 1 was at the inn, seeing people. I was tohl some one wanted to see me and wouldn't come in. . When I went out, long after, there sat my dear little mother, and near hy was OKI 'Gray Jacques,' harnessed to the cart, witli Jules driving. llow glad I was too see her! She had come, she said, to see mo before I sailed. lat once told everylKMiy that wanted me to eonte that night, and 1 took my mother off to the ship and showed it to her. All, how it pleased her to see me captain of it!] Then, as she stood on deck, looking at the busy rushing to and fro as the ves sels were loaded, and as she tried to un derstate just which belonged to my con voy.'.die turned and said: "Jean, art thou afraid?'" 1 No, mother. I mean to do my best. I did not ask for it. and if the wrong man was chosen the fault is ' not mine. 'Weil, well,' sain she, 're member this—and thy mother it is who says it—think of Jean Berthold last." Louis nodded Ids head, the story was of the right kind. "The next day, nt noon, we sailed, j It was all very good for a time, but off the coast of Spain we met the Knglisli- 1 nidi —two ships. One carried forty eight, the other forty-four gtins. It was great odds, Isiuis! My surgeon stood ny me at the moment. 'There's no u<f in it,' lie said. 'No use in what?' In making a show of light? We'll have to surrender at last.' This was a nice way to talk to a superior oftlccf, wasn't it? ' And give up the merchantmen?' said I. 'Of course. Tl.ey will necessarily i>e captunsl, and we have to think of our. selves sometimes.' 'Not first,' said I; 'we didn't come out for that .' So I just ordered him In-low, and told him if lie opened his mouth to the men in this way lie would never doctor any one again; and then we went into action. ! It was lively work, I-ouis, and enough, as the rnhin-boy says, to make a shark j laugh, to see how desperatelyJur guns j fired. We had so few in comparison witli the enemy that we had to do double work. Fortunately we had plenty of ammunition. There was but one thing to do—to keep lmtli Knglisli nien engaged and let the merchantmen get off. If we had let one of them flee our fleet would have Is-en kvt, so we kept at it. When the merchantmen were out of sight, when our docks were slippery with blood and our masts gone, we surrendered, but it was to the sec ond mate of one of the vessels, fur the* officers were all dead. There was hut a handful of us leff, and we were liurrieil on board the enemy, as our ship was sinking fast. As for inc. I had a ball in my h'g, nnd Ilriseao a cut on Ids shoulder." " What became of the surgeon?" asked Louis* His urn le smiled. " When I sent him lelow he went to the hold; he couldn't f;et any further down than he did, and tore the cook found hini and routed him , out to attend the wounded. 1 put a man over hini to make him dress a wound, , and never saw him afterward." I*ouis nodded his head and drew closer to his uncle. " We," continued the old sailor, "were taken to Portsmouth, and w|ien we reaebed the shore we were ironed! "Think of it, Loui*. we Frenchmen. ' taken in battle, fighting like tigers and fighting well, put in irons! Ah. it makes my blood boif when I remember it! I could not walk to the prison, an.l we were not on parole, so we were put into a cart, and the people crowded around us. hooting and scoffing. I told Itriar to fancy it applati-e. nnd then the louder they s'Tcameif tlie hotter he atouid like It, hut lie shook bi head. IW was sick and he was disgusted. As for me, I was furious! Never would I so treat a Pris oner of war! They nut us in s sort of an inn. up in the tipper room, where the windows were tightly barred and a guai d pared the hall. " For some days an English doctor i ante to see us and dre-sed our simni s, I hut we hnd no confidence in him; but < ne day the guard passed in a little fel low and said, "There, go work for thy bread.' He was a Frenchman—a stir- j gron; and now lie came and often talked of our escape, for upon it we were re solved. The surgeon had more liberty i than we, ns he went from room to room, | accompanied by a guai d. hut lie never left the house. Had I been in his place I would soon have been free, but ItC ] could not see Hint it was possible. | Then, one day. he came to us in great ' joy. for he had secured a file, and that he gave to us. It made our way clear, for if onrc the windows were open to is we felt sure of escaping, and now. every dav, we talked and planned, and we railed the file 'a wound.' and France ' a '•Ure,' and the guards 'objections.' fear ing we would he overheard. The file was poor, hut little by little the bars were sundered until they were held to gether hy almost a thread, and our pro gress was concealed by bread crumbs rubbed in soot. " When the surgeon found that he would have company in eacaning, he was cheered, and llinugut ol new ways of help. There was a Swiss who brought cheese to the soldiers. He had been in Paris; he was not unfriendly, and he wanted money. Of this we gave him nearly all we had. and promised much more. Of course. If we accepted, we would have to go to sea. but how? No Englishman would have sold his boat, and the Swiss would not have dared to buy; he was known to he poor, and lie was no sailor nor fisherman Ho the days went on, the bars were sawn almost through, but yet we were prisoners. One day, however, iu a little tavern where the Swlse used to go, there eat a Norwegirn, who owned a sloop, lie drank and he drank, and he went to ■deep with hie head on the table. To him 'be Bwise went, and shook liltn. * Aiouee,' sain ae. * you must go to your boat:' unci sohe took him hy ttif niui nnd i< d hint to bin own room, put him to hi-il, took away his clothes iiml locked the door. Then lie camo swiftly to the surgeon nnd told him to prepare. That nigiit we would he off! Then he bought t bread, cheese and water, and put on the shallop, and took her in the twilight up a little creek. "And wet Worried in each other's arms Allien the surgeon told us that lib erty was no clone at hand. France and liberty! Never in battle had our heart* beat HO fiercely 1 And yet I—l wan un easy. 1 had a sense of what my part was to be. hut I could not think of it; and I talked and talked to Hrissnc of whatour plans would be. The surgeon was sure he could escape, for he was no longer closely watched; and at midnight a stone was to he thrown against our window by the Swiss; and then we were to bieak the bars, and. Upon ropes made of our bedclothes, we were to descend. It was near midnight when, as we sat and watched the minutes slowly creep ing by. that I took my courage in my hands, and I told lirisaae he would have to go alone! (don't like to-day, Ixiuis, to think of what lie said, and how he begged, l could not persuade liini that I could not walk to the boat. Kven if I could not, be said, there would be three of them, and they would carry me. He could help me out of the window, and the others could receive me at the ground; then he would follow ; and, be tween them, they could get me easily to the boat. I reminded him of my size— that I was not a slim young fellow like him, but heavy and almost helpless. He would listen to nothing. The v. it was. for me especially, tliat ali he • dd was true, and that it could have becen managed just as lie said, if it had not iiecn for the fort of the danger of detection, I could have slid down the rope and, with their help, I could have got to the boat, if we were unmolested ; hut if we should have chanced to meet any one, my presence would have been fatal to the whole party. I could not run. i would at once lie known ; and Brissac, I knew, whatever the others would do, would never desert me, and the end would Iw* that we would be shot. To this the faithful fellow an swered that the night was dark, the hour Ist", and the road led out of town ; so the chance* were that we would meet no one. We kept up this discussion, I sometimes sadly, sometimes with Ileal! and sharp words until after a stone struck the window; and even after Bris- 1 sac had the rope r<itdy, and had em- I braced me, he urged me to go. ' No! j said (.finally. "If you are in France, you ian work for my release. If I go, ! wc uiav nil lie lost; and if you stay, as you still threaten, of what use will it be? \Ve shall come to feel that God gave us an opportunity and wc rr'used it. Go, then, urge my release, and tell my j mother that I still retnemlior not or think of Jean ltcrthold firt.' " Well, he went. We both wept; but he went. Tie n I crept to my l<ed; I was alone. The guard passed the door. 'lf he should come in.' I ' bought, 'even ! vet they could be overtaken!' ami. in English, I .all out, * lirisaae. my lad. give me the water; I die with tinrt" and then I upset a chair The guard paused, and I heard him laugh, and he j went on. In the morning I thp w up ' the hed-clothe* on Hrissar's lied and When onr hrnkfa*t came, the guard said : "That lazy fellow, is he not up yet?" It w.as noon before it was dis covered. for I sang and talked, and it was thought wc were both within. The surgeon was first missed." " Wasn't there a great luss made?" ask'-d Ixtuis, excitedly. "Indeed there was; the drum* w<rc bent, the guards put under arms, the country scoured bv horsemen, but. as I repealed again snd again, that lirisaae j was a good walker, tliev did not set sail ■ to look for him. The Swiss was never thought of Until, when I was relenaed, I sent the Norwegian money for his shal lop," "Then you did get off?" said 1/iui*. "Of course I did," replied his uncle, laughing, "bow else tbinkest thou I would lie here?" " And how?" asked Isiuis. " My king sent for me. ' said Jean IW thold, proudly. J The merchantmen bad to'd wonderfiil tales of what we did to saTe them, and it was thought we were all lost; so when ItrisSae reaehed St. Main and it took them forty-eight Imur* the people rose and would have smothered him with kindne-s. They took him in triumph through the streets, and lie broke from them and told them I wm in prison yet I don't know what ponscn*e he talked, hut the queen heard of it. and she sen? for him. and the end was the king paid for my release." "Hid you ever *<• tin? king?" cried I/tni*. "Yes, and the qnecr, and one of the princes. There was too much fuse made ' ahou* all that, I/hiis.'' "There couldn't be!" cried I/mi*. ■ standing up in front of bis uncle, and , looking at him with flashing eye* " Uncle Jean. 1 think you aie the great est man alive." " I am one of the biggest," said bis unde, with n smile, looking down at himself, "and if I sit aliout at home and tell stories I shall be largcryet!" -C'Arpi ftoit Union. For the Ud Time. There I* a tcucli of ? atho* about doing even the simplest thing " for the last time." It is not alone biasing the dean that gives us this strange pain. You feel it when you have looked your huit time upon tome scene you have loved— when you stand in some quiet city street where you know that you will never •land again. The actor, playing his part for the last time; the singer, whose voice is cracked hopelessly, and wlis niter this once will never stand before the sea of upturned facet, disputing tnr plaudits with the fresher voices and fairer forms; the minister who lias ' preached Ids last sermon—the e all , know the hidden bitterness of the two i words. " never again." How they come to us on our birthdays as we grow older Never sgain young—always nearer and nearer to tht very last. the end which is universal, "the lost thing which shall follow all last things, and turn them, let us hope, from pains to joys." We put away our boyish toys with an odd heart ache; we are too old to walk any longer on our stilts, too tall to play marbles on the sidewalks. Yet there was a pang when we lliourlit we had played with our merry thoughts for tin- last Urns and life's serious gmwn-up work was wait ing for us. Now we do not want the lost toy* hick; life has other and larger playthings for us. May it not be these, too. shall seem In the light ol some far off day* as the boyish games seem te our msnhood. and we shall learn that death I* but the opening of lbs fate lato the new land of promise? TIMKI.Y TOl'lb'B. Among flic laws passed last winter by the New York legislature was one per mitting historical societies to acquire and hold the site ot any battle or fort, that is notable in the history of the coun try, for the purpose of erecting monu ment* or inclosing in ten-sling remains. The limit of occupation is six acre*. The property is to be free irom taxation and free to visitors. The land cannot be used for any business purposes, except, perhaps, peddling peanuts and lemonade at anniversary celebrations. At the eiosc ot iast year there were 81.H41 miles of railroad in opera tion in the United State*, with a popu lation of about 3H,000,1KK). The number of mi ies of road in operation in Europe was about 1)4,000, for a |Kinulation of something over 300,000 000. I'lie United States thus has a mile of railroad to aliout 401 inhabitants, nnd Euro;** one mile to about 3,31*3 inhabitant*; or, in other words, every inhabitant of the United States has about seven times as much railroad as every European. Courting in the Azores, if one can credit the correspondence of the Phila delphia TV me*, is done at long range. Passing n house the correspondent saw a young man standing in the middle of the road talking to a young lodv who was leaning over the railing of the balcony. When lie saw he w:i* noticed he walked away, hut presently returned nnd re sumed his conversation. On inquiry the corrcsiKindi-nt learned that they always begin that way, and that the ygung man is never admitted to the house until aliout to he engaged to the young lady, anil then he sees Tier only in r lie presence of other members of the family. A congress for the improvement of ! the condition of the blind has been held in Berlin. Foremost among the ques tions wo* that of the printed or written character to V U'<d by t .e blind, and i the congress decided that the system of writing nnd printing hy combination of raised points, first introduced hy I/iui* B ail!e in IKM. should be adopted in ' Germany without modification. Another i important decision was that the prae ticcol uniting the blind and the deaf in the same institution was highly objee- i ttonahle. Ihe congress also recorded the fact that in tie c\p< rienee ol German institution* tope-making i* one of the best trad en there practiced hy the blind, i The funeral of Herlig. a Soeinlist mas ter tu' ner. was the sceiic of a great So cialist demonstration at Dresden. Sev eral t'lou-and sympathizers followed the b< Iy to the grave, but the police t*ik i ivantu .T'■ of an old Saxon law against the public exhibition of repult lleon emblem* to forbid the wearing ol political insignia. No funeral oration wn* permitted, and wtcn n woman | stepped forward nnd spoken lew word* an order was given to arrest her, the execution of which wa*. however, rt-n -der-d impossible by the closing in of the crowd Several wreath* were thrown on the coffin, hut not before the police ' hod insisted r.n the removal of th? red silk ribbon* with whh h they were tied. _____ A man has gone moon-blind in Bos ton. He applied at a police station for lodging* m a Sunday evening, and be ing told tlial lie must goto tie- Hawkins Street Home, answered that lie was moon blind, and unable to find the way. in explanali'-n. lie said be wa* recent,y a member of the night gang at work on the new sewer in Dorchester. One night the men took an hour's rest a* midnight, and lie fell into a doze while reclining on an embankment. The moon was stiining bright and clear. When lie awoke at one o'clock ami nttcmplcrto return to lit* work, he found that lie could not see. In the daytime nnd by the aid of artificial light, be can now see as well as ever, but alter duk and in the open air hi* sense of sight i* wholly lost. A great business is being done this year in the importation of iron from Africa for u*c in American manufac tories. The great nas in for preferring Afriean iron to native ore is, of course, its cheapness, hut it has the further ad vantage of remarkably free from plawpborus. Tin* ore lias >een imported to some extent for two or three years, but never in such quantities as now. one authority estimating that two hun dred thousand tons wi" be shipped to New York this year and half as much to Philadelphia, the latter for nseattlir iron workstn Bethlehem and Johnstown and hy the Pennsylvania Steel Com pany. Another notable feature in the iron" trade i* the importation of Bessemer pig. of which forty five thousand tons are known to be tinder contract for the United Stat" *. There have been no im portations of ibis wort before sinoe 1*73 England ha* been slmcl d by a blun dering execution, nnd it ippcar* to be setta-d that Marwood, tl • hangman, is an Ignoramus, who i p< emitted to try experiment* at the expel *"' of the con demned, At Newgale one -tarn"* Dilley was to he put to (lentil. Mar wood nr rnngrd for a fall of six feet. The man. after experiencing the horror of such a fall, finally "lied oniy ol strangulation. Scientific jpcrson* are of the opinion that the wretch must have been torturously racked and have died in gr<*t agony. The long fall Is a failure. Ibe old gal lows. it is tbought, killed much more mercifully than the new-fangled ma chine* which have been introdu'-ed. The British press Is discussing Mr. Mar wood, and with all the more vigor because by an order from the Home Office the representative* of the pre** are hereafter to be excluded from execu tions. Escaping their Foes. The escape of the troopers who were out foraging at the time of the Uahul massacre is paralleled hy that of an English soldier who was acting as ser vant to one of Sir Willinm MeNagbten's officers, in Afghanistan, in 1841. Having h en sent out on an errand hy bis mastei shortly before the attack on the British began, be took alarm at the uproar trom the direction of the residency, and at once mode Ids way out of the town. A Sikh trooper, who likewise belonged to the doomed band, baffled tlie vengeance of his raptors by a singular stratagem Knowing well tnat bis exploits during the war liad marked him for the worst tortures which Afghan cruelty could In flict, he declared that were his life given Idm, be would reveal a charm making the wearer invulnerable, the power of which lie was willing to test on bis own person. The superstitious Afghans at >nee agreed, and the prisoner, covering Ills breast with a white cloth, bade them fire at i. and see how It would turn their bullets. Every rills wss instantly discharged, nnd the Sikh fell dead en the spot, thus esos ping the to rates U in store for him. Anecdote of Arteinu* Ward. Inu t Artemus Word but once. I was quite young at the time and W/L* acting as city editor of the liar, published at be. etmcUdy, N. Y. The paper's whole uamc was the f.vcniny >Oir. Well, while I was city editor of this sheet I met Ar temus. He had came among us to de liver his famous lecture, and the whole place turned out to hear him. Strange as it may appear I didn't go. Y„u H ?e, I wns fathoms deep in love with a girl at the time, and had a rival. This rival, whoi.ml recently blazed out In anew suit of clothes, was at the lecture, and, sitting by bis side,as happy aa a kitten with a gill of sweet milk concealed about it* person, was the idol of my heart—the, alas! Hcklcquecn of my young affection*. This is the reason that sn hour after the lecture was over I happened to s'.and on a canal bridge, looking sadly down into the water. Although I heard no foot step* I suddenly became conscious of a presence. I/ioking up, I saw standing lieside me a slender form, whose face in the dim starlight seemed to be an un usually sad one. "Pardon nie." be said; "saw you looking dreamily into the water as if you might be a poet, or |M-rhaps a coro ner, and was attracted to your side. Has misfortune overtaken thee, or art thou thinking of :i lost one—or two, or a nearer one yet. and a dearer one still, in the shnneofa V?" I explained that I had lost no money, and during the course conversation re vealed the fa? t that I was a local editor. " It must be a terrible strain on the intellect to attend to the duties of a local editor." he remarked, tenderly. " I/>ng, long time I had a relative— it is a family tradition— who wns a local editor. He succumbed to bis tremen dous intellectual exertion at an early age. Noble soul, he died in the harness—at all events a stub lead-pencil and an old note bi/jk were found in his coat-tail pocket after his demise. His last words were, "Set 'eni uii again,' alluding, you under stand, to the type." I was about to say something in re gard to my heavy editorial responsibili ty. hut Ward cheeked me by asking: " What creek is this?" "Creek!" I exclaimed. " Why, this is the Erie canal!" " How far is it navigable?" "Why. of course it is navigable from one end to tne other," >va my sur prised reply. " Weli,"solemnly replinl Ward, "that heat* all the stream* 1 ever heard of. By the way, I think I can make out some large boats anchored up th<* stream there —what arc they, propellers or sidev wheelers *" I replied that they were merely eanalboats. moved i.y horse power. " Ah! I didn't think the stream was as shallow a* that," said Artemus. " A* shallow a* what?" "Why you say that those 1 its are pulled along by horses. Now. of course they must walk along in lri<r:t oi the boat, mustn't they? I used to run a stoneboat on my lamented Uncle John's farm, and I distinctly rememoer that the horses walked along in front." I mentally declared that I had never before met with such ignorance. I spent some time explaining the peculiarities of the big ditch, and ju*t a* I had begun to lliink that at la*t I had >-'-t the stem -er right on the subject, be knocked my hope* into kindliogwood by remarking: " I suppose that when the stream "fries up in the summer they put the boats on wheels, don't they?" Then I began again to explain every feature in the < anal from New York to Erie. How attentively he listened t<> my words. I can still sIS that melan choly face lit by the ad light of the stars, and those mournful eyes looking into mine so earnest iy; and again 1 hear, . * I did then, after I had taik'-d for ne.arlv lulf an hour, going fully into the details ot twiating. the low, pathetic drawl: " Any sawmills on this sit cam that you know ol?" Shortly after some gentlemen ramc along who seemed to be acquainted with my obtuse friend Presently one called him Artemus and then I commenced to reflect. I always reflect best when I'm bid away somewhere, so I went and bid myself.— lhtrotf Frtt /Vr*s. Mexican Horses. Hore* are fired in great number* st the different I aeiendo* in provinces, some tit the lsrger e.tate* having eighty or a hundred thousand cattle and fifteen or twenty thousand mules and bore*. The pastursge * green nil the vear round, and the animals receive no other food Tliey multiply a* the birds do. and with a* little profit to their ownirs. Generally speaking. tb<y run wild until wanted, when they are caught with a !a**o, hood winked and immediately mounted, tor the first lift n or twent *• minnt-s thev e\et tth-lr whole strength to throw thi ir rider, hut, finding their effort* unavail ing. patiently submit, nnd geniraliy give but little trouble nft<Tward. Owing to their immense numbers, finr* •* are *>,<! very cheap, the av tag prii-e for an un broken hen! i>eing eig! I or ten dollars a 10-nd. will hut little <l< mand at that It sometimes occurs that the government purchases a few hundred lor the armv, out. generally speaking, there are few occasions when they <an lie sold. Mexi can horses, as a rule, are not hsndso i f, and are scldonitmoiv than fourteen hands high; still they have nothing of the je cuiiar build < t the pony about them. Fed entirely upon graas, tliev yet endure more fatigued nd are cnpahlc of main taining a rapid gait for a longer t'me than the gratn-ici liorsea of other lands. In the towns and cities they receive the is antiest of care and the mrsfemit nllowanc* of food. Tied up the whole day in the stifling courtyards, they stand pat ion Iy availing their evening meai. Frrvuently they are turned loose together- whm it requires the use of a la**o to' eateb tbeni. So familiar with this Instrument do they become, that the moment the animal f-cl* the rope about its neck it stands stock still, when with out it it would not uffer itself to be saddled or bridled. American Imentlve Genius. An English paper gives credit to American genius for at lea-t fifteen in ventions and discoveries, which, it savs, have Ieen adopted ail over tIM world. Those triumphs of American genius are thus enumerated: First, the cotton gin; second, planing machine; third, the grass mower and grain reaper; fourth, the rotary printing press; fifth, navigation hy steam; sixth, hot air or caloric engine; seventh, the sewing machine; eighth, the India rubber In dustry; ninth, the machine for manu facture of horse shoes; tntb, the sand blast for carving; eleventh, the gauge lathe; twelfth, the grain elevator; thirteenth, artificial ioe manufacture on a large scale; fourteenth, the electro magnet and iU practical application; fifteenth, the comparing macUne far printers A TKKKIIiLK NIGHT. Thrilling ErptrkMM of a Detroit Ulrf in ihr lliilimrlta of • Klnlilat Pfojn Her. 'I he I> troit Free Vrm ha* the follow ing account of the experience rf Mia* Hello <lllllllllOll, a young lady who was < aboard the propeller IV-rfM-hy wlien il wjiji wrecked on l.ake Huron: After leaving Hay City we had much heavy weather and had become rather accustomed to the tossing of the boat. Thuixla v night no change was observe i and the lady passengers, myself among the number, collretra in the after rahin to listen to the stories of several Kouth ern Indies— refugee* from the fever epi demic, who haoi lioaen the Jake a* aaf reaort. I wa* standing within three feet ol my stateroom when the conversation * wan ended by a teridble erasli which threw me headlong aero** the cabin. The other 1 adieu were crowded in a cor ner, not one le-ing able to apeak For aoine minute* no one moved, and I only heard an occasional prayiy above the hoarse roar. One lady, like myself, had iiad experience in similar emergencies, and we with difficulty gained the deck. The night wan very daik. and nothing could he le-en except the lighthouse hea con, aeveral mile* away. Our steam whistles had been sounding signal* of distress. hut the water dashed over tha engine fires and they were put out, and theonly signal on laiard gradually died to a moan and then failed quite. W• looked (or torches, hut there were none on hoard. Our lamps had t>*en dashed out and we were left gror ing alxiut in tlie darkness Captain M'Gregor had bren sick in bed, but I could distinguish bim on deck, giving directions for th* launching of a boat which wan to make an atti-mpt at lar.ding in order to secure assistance. The Iwint was in the water but a minute, and then I knew by th* screams 1 heard that it bad roue over. We passed the night in this way, comforting each otli<T :ind assisting tha •Tew as ould. The male passenger* on board 1 hI secured their liie-pre*erv ers and sa vith tbern on all night, but the w<>m< ad given everything up and I refused i put one on, thinking it would on. irolong my suffering. Karly Friday nn ling tlie steward came itelow and insist' t upon buckling on the pre server. It stwmed like getting into my collin. (i I had said rny last prayer and j wtw reaoy. After securing the beit* we were led to tlie upper deck, and. :is the i boat threatened to part every minute, we were lorhcd one iiy one to the outer j bulwarks. Whenever tlie sea pound over me the rope* held nie fast, and I sat j tied there three hours looking into tho water and wishing I could go down and 1 have it ended. The captain*passed by, and, with his glass, 1 could see some ol our men cling | ing to the foot of a j*erpcndi'-u!ar cliff alaiut forty feet in height. They had been drifted ashore tlie night before, when the small boat was swamped. I also saw the lifeboat 'sing launched, and the crowd of men hurrying ui> and down the shore as though lewiiiered. The life-saving boat could be seep an instant, n tben it would sink in the trough of tlie sen, and we thought it wis lost. It gradually neared us. and a line was thrown out and secured by Captain Kiah. Then two men were seen rlimbing out I on the ropee and through the water to ward our boat. It took them along time, but they were at last on Imard and knew how to direct our rfforta for salely. Through their management the boats , came near by and we were hauled on board :u.d then taken to land. Not until i stood on solid ground rould ! think that it was pi sihlc for me to crape death. The greatest j.raise is due the men in the lifilioat. 1 visited their Matiott Saturday, and found the road over w liii ll tii< y carried their boat rough and sandv. As it was about fire milo from the propellt r's wr<-k. it seemed marvel- I out that they could reach her at all. Why the Light West Out. Next time you go out on the Michigan Central road take a acat on the right h;Uid side of the car, so that you may notice, about ten tniies down the road, a little old red farmhouse. The curtains will be down, the doors shut, and rank weed* and tali grass.-* will meet the fly ing glame in the front yard A month ago old Nan Roger* livid there; to-day the p)m i in tlie keeping of rat* and mice and desolation. The old woman was a widow nod rhildless. If she had a relative anywhere in this great world, thou wlio buried her wire not aware ol the f,i< t Nl.r li*i<l *ll alone, having only a bit ol land and biing aiiled by kind ncighbots t<> raise cm-ogli to supply lor want*. Seven or cielil yar* ago. wlo-n li" l iat In id left home to mt-r t a \ iuient d- otli on ttii* same road, tlie me* :>f the rails ber-une Interested In tliat ' quaint old faimle-use. Qne night they ' aw a bright light in on* of the win dows. lis rays strained out over lbs flowers and fill uisin the rails along I which the wheel* thund<-rrd, and the engineer wondere<) over the signal. Tha lamp was there the next nignt and th* next, ami it wa* never missed for a I single nil fit until one evening a month ; ago. Old Nan. deprived of husband and ! children, made frond* with the rushing i train* and their burdens. Tits trainmen soon foetid that tlie lamp wa* for thorn, and they watched f„r it. During th early evening hours they saw old Nan- I ny's face behind the li lit or at the door, : and a thousand time* conductors, engi i neers and hrakemen have railed cheerily through the darkness: "flood night, old Nanny; God bless yon!" Winter and summer the light was there. Winter and summer tlie train men looked for it, and the more thought ful one* often left a bit ol money with the station men beyond to help the oM woman keep the bright rays shining. Tlie lamp was not 11 tore for one train, hut for all. and all men understood tha sentiment and appreciated it. One darx night not long ago. when the wind howled and the raindrop* boat fiercely against headlight and cab, th* engineer* a missed the signal light. The* looked for it again and again, as one who sud denly misses aa old landmark in a city, and when they failed to find it the hand instinctively went up to the throttle, M if danger lurked on the curve below. Each trainman aboard that night looked for tlie signal, became anxious at its ab sence, and made Inqulrh* at tho stations above and below. Next day men went down to the Utile old house, fearing old Nanny might he ill. There sat the lama on tlie window-alll. but the oil was ex hausted. In her bed, seeming to have only fallen asleep, was the pom old f woman, cold and dead, lift and lamp liad gone nut together, and men of rough ioo and hardened heart replied, as they board th* new*: "Poor old woman! May her spirit rest l hc*\*o'"—/-riruif Jfto* /tm
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers