A Lessen.
A little elbow leant upon your knee—
Your tired knee that bet to much to bear—
A child's dear eyee are looking lovingly
From underneath a thatoh oi tangled hair.
Perhape you do not heed the velvet touch
Of warm, moist Angers holding yours to
tight
Too do not priae the bleatingt overmuch—
Ton are almott too tirod to pray to-night.
Bat it it bleated neat! A year ago
I did not tee it at I do to-day—
We are all to dull and tliankleta, and too tlow
To catoh the aunahine till it slips away.
And now it teems tnrpaating strange to me
That while I wore the badge ol motherhood
I did not kias more oft and tenderly
The little ehild that brought me only good.
And ii tome night, when you tit down to reat,
Tou miss the little elbow on your tired
knee—
This restless eurly head from off your breast,
This lisping toDguo that chatters constantly;
If from your own the tjimplod bands had
slipped,
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again,
If the white teet into the grave had tripped—
I could not blame you for your heartache
then.
I wonder that some mothers ever fret
Their little children cling to their gown;
Or that the footprints when tho days are wot,
Are ever black enough to make them frown;
_ If could And a little muddy boot,
Or cap or jacket, on my chamber Aoor—
-111 could kias a rosy, restless foot—
And hear it patter in my houso once more.
If I could mend a broken cart to-day,
To-morrow make a kite to reach tho sky,
There is no woman in God's world oould say
She was more blissfully opntent than I!
But ah ! the dainty pilllow next my own
Is never rumpled by a shining head!
My singing birdling from its nest has AOWL
The little boy I used to kisa is—dead.
ANGELICA'S MAYING.
"No May-flowers in May! What is
it called May for, then? Why, Kent is
ftill of themcried Angelica; and she
tied her hat with a flirt—a pretty flirt
that only made her the more charming.
For little Angelica, who had happened
to spend several summers at school in
England, could not be brought to un
derstand, after returning to her native
wilds, that the climates ot all English
■peaking people were not as much one
and the same as the tongues they used.
And having settled the point to her
satisfaction, as usual, bv declaring it
was so, anyway, and if it wasn't, it
ought to be, delighted with such form
of speech because it would never have
been allowed her at school, she started
out to make it so, apparently, by letting
the climate see what was expected of it.
"I hope you have ovcrshoeson. Angel,"
said her grandmother, rather timid
about encroaching on Angelica's newly
fledged liberty.
"Nonsense! Overshoes! This time
of year! Well, to oblige you, little
granny;" and she called for her tiny
sandals. But a moment after Angolica
ran back. " I believe I had best take
overshoes," she said, and she tore off
her sandals for Nora to put away. " Let
us sec—where's my blue scarf?"
"Take your tippet. Angel."
"Furs in May, grandma!" and she
was gone again, only to run back,
nevertheless, and exchange her mantle
for a thick sack. "And they're bare
headed In Kent to-day," she said.
"Angelica," called her grandmother,
" if you really are going Into the woods,
do put on another flannel petticoat."
" Humor the weather in that way?"
with a laugh like a bell. And this time
she was decidedly off, by the slam of
the door, enjoying tremendously those
first experiences of her American liberty.
" How absurd!" said Angelica to her
self presently, as she was passed by a
band of ragamuffin children decked out
in paper roses and garlands. As if they
could not have some real flowers by
this time, the idle little things! With
the woods full of them, too! "If there's
anything disgusting, it's the unreal, the
artificial," she thought, and she still pur
sued this line of meditation after getting
beyond the garden border* of the town.
" All the girls are now wearing false
white-weed in the bosom, when the fields
are white with them probably. How sur
prised they will be at home when I come
in with my hands foil!—things are al
ways there for the eyes that know how
1o look for them. Mr. Wilston had to
confess that he had picked liverwort
himself in the third week of March. I
wish lie wasn't so positive about the bad
walking and the cold ground and the
swamps. He acta as if he had a right
ovei me already, and I've never said
whether I meant to give him the right
or not. And if he isn't careful, I'll say
'not,'and he needn't be looking at me
with his lordly glances. I don't care
whether a man's as handsome as An
tinous or not, but I don't want a tyrant
for a lover. And of course," she con
tinued, coherently, " everybody knows
there are violets, and columbines, and
ground-laurel—" Here Angelica paused
to rescue an overshoe from the mud,
and, finding itdifficult, to leave the other
ene beside it. " I don't carc," she said.
" Good thick boots do for England;
they'll have to answer here," and she
went gayly 'or ward into the edge of the
wood by the river.
"The idea!" said Angelica. "I'ui
awfully afraid they're right at home.
Not a leaf on any tree, nothing hut tho
beggarly willow catkins, and the oaks
looking callow as goslings. Why, isn't
America a civilized country? Oh, yes,
there's a maple, all red and blushing.
I told you so. I knew there were flow
-And she stooped for a cluster of
yioiets that were shivering in the
breeze, and put them into her basket.
'Dear me! it won't take long at this
Pan I Bbal i iu f l 16,1 Mr - Wilston that
1, ! . ™y b ket in half an hour, fir
all his theories, and we have as many
' n New England as they do in
Old England- so!" And the sanguine
little creature hurried on to do it. She
L ou ?d one pale little hepatica, and a
bud beside it, and after an hour's dill
*enc? 51* / ou "d nothing else, not one
sweet bit of eplgsea. and she was getting
highiy irate with the American flora,
when she paused to see a bird wing
through the spaces, and to toll hiin how
silly he was to think it wis summer
yet, after all. " Mr. Wilston wlil be so
pleased!" sho said, indignantly, as If
nature ought to take her part. It was a
picturesque bit of woods just there; the
lon* lofly stems of the undraped trees
crowding up into the light, and the
aisles on one hand extending into
shadow, and on the other huge moss
frown bowlders and thorny thickets
ining the bank, where, some eighty feet
below, the river went brawling along
over rapids and falls in away to please
a poet or a fisherman. And it was a
picturesque little body in the wood that
Angelica looked, the wind tossing her
liat half off, her glowing cheexs, her
sparkling brown eyes, and her great
sliock of light brown curls blowing
all ways at once as she leaned over
the edge of the bank to gaze into
the scetning torrent below, and won
dered, meanwhile, whether pond-lilies
Srew in that sort ot water. Just then
le wind slapped her skirt round a
young walnut sapling. Vexed with the
rudeness, she slapped it back again; she
lost her balance as she did it, and over
she went with a cry.
Poor little Angelica! How many
thoughts there are in a second! Her
first thought was, " It's the end of me;
I'm being torn topieces on those rocks!"
Her second ane was, "Oh, what will
grandma do without me now?" The
third one ran, "And I've been so bad
nhout Mr. Wilston.and he'll be so sorry
for his little Angelica; and I pushed
Tommy yesterday: and once I told
grandma a lie—" " And then there was a
wild whirl of horror, of sharp rocks and
drowning whirlpools, and great gulfs of
hated and oblivion.
When tho little body came to herself
she was lying comfortably suspended in
mid-air, in acra 110 made of wild plum
bushes and the old horse-brier and
grapevines that had interlaced them
selves together there, growing from the
crevices. Above her was more than
twenty feet of almost sheer rock, and he
low her the boiling river, rushing and
roaring on. With a start of terror, as
memory swept back upon her, she
seized a stout stem of the vine, and
clutched it with all her might; but a
gust ot wind coming at the moment,
and rocking the cradle well, assured her
that her clinging amounted to little, and
she presently found the thousand and
one briers of the wild smilax holding
her more securely than it was possible
her tiny fingers should.
Before long she was able to gather
her senses from their trance of horror,
in which all reason had been dissipated,
and she loosened her dress, and sat up
in her nest to look about her. " It's of
no use," she Baid at last. "The only
way to get down is to free a grape-vine,
and climb down on it: and it wouldn't
be long enough, ancl it wouldn't he
strong enough, and if I got down at all,
it would only be into n boiling pit of
deep water, and in freeing it I might be
like the man who sawed off the end of
the branch he sat oil—if I could free it
any way. And I might as well die of
starvation and he picked by the birds,
as die cf drowning and be picked by the
fishes. But, oh, dear! dear! dear!
what are they doing at home now ? Why
cant some of them come after me P Why
doesn't Mr. Wilston know how horribly
I hang here between heaven and earth?
Why doesn't somebody follow me? Oh,
what have I done, what have I done,
to be punished this way? Oh, you don't
suppo9? I nm really going to be left to
die here! Oh, how eruelP' And then
there was a great hurst of sobbing, and
she wrung her hands, and cried again.
But the crying over, for the time be
ing, Angelica began to look about her.
The blow had been struck too power
fully to do much less than stuw, ancl she
yet hardly realized her situation in full.
"I don't quite give it up," she sail.
"Somebody may come this way;" and
she hallooed till she was out of breath.
"It wouldn't bo a bad place for pleas
ure," she thought, "if one could get
down or up when one wished, and if one
had plenty of books and a lunch basket.
Oh. how hungry I am!" Certainly it
was not at all a bad place of its sort —
swinging cradled there securely in mid
air, with tho birds darting all about
one; with the great sky full of sunshine
overhead; with that fish-hawk sailing
in slow circles ere he plunged. "This
is the way some of tho Puget Sound In
dians bury their dead," she thought,
"high up in air among the branches.
Only they have tin pans hung with
them. And that docs so put me in mind
of our Nora's cream—the very last pan
she let me skim. And now I'm hungrier
than ever. I wonder what time it is
long past lunch, of course. I'm hollow
now; I shail be famished by dinner
time; to-morrow morning I shall be
giddy. I wonder how long it takes peo
ple to die ot starvation, and if it's very
fearful? 1 mustn't think about broths,
and haricots, and stews, and chicken
pies, and—" And Angelica paused,
holding this unprofitable meditation for
one about to die. " I ought to be read
ing my Testament," said she. * "And yet
the only thing I should enjoy reading
just now would be a cookery book. Oh,
I didn't know I was such a glutton! I
suppose in my heart oi hearts I am sure
that Mr. Wilston will come alter me."
It was in the pause of thought follow
ing that she heard voices—a myriad, it
seemed to her. She had shouted from
time to time ever since she fell: now
she raised her voice again, and she
couldn't make ou' whether it was the
children answering her or a flight off
echoes from the opposite rock. No, it
was the children, she at length was sure.
Yes. yes, indeed, there were the Mttle
faces peering over lilt brink, through
the stems of the saplings—faces ol those
very children at whose paper garlands
she had laughed; and she called out
lustily ngain—called, and called, with
furious and half-frenzied cries, till her
voice refused to come for more. Plainly
as she could see them, looking up, the
children could not see her for the
interlacing and protruding vines and
brandies. But they could hear
her all too well—a viewless voice;
it roused all their little imagina
tions, and _ they scampered away
as fast as their feet could carry them, in
ninnzement and fright, to tell of the
mysterious sounds they had heard.
"Now I must die," said poor little
Angel; and she fell back in her nest,
worn out with her frantic exertions.
" I suppose there is some purpose in it.
If sparrows don't fall to the grouno un
heeded," she said, "God knows I am
herq." And it would have been very
much fo her surprise, if it had been pos
sible for her to know it, that here she
fell: sleep.
The nun WM still shining brightly
when she awoke; but she wu unable 10
tell whether she had last herself for A
few minutes.or hnd slept over night And
it WAS now next dny. Site felt so faint,
however, tliat slie WAS quite sure it WAS
next dny. " And 1 £ hasn't come for me
yet," she sighed. "There is a great
deal of vitality in young people, she
said,"and lam only seventeen. '* And
then in spite of her effort at rsiena
tion, tears welled over her eyes, to think
of the light of her swsst seventeen year
BO early extinguished. She put her
hand into her pocket for her handker
chief, to wipe the tears away, before she
remembered that site had hung it out as
a signal ol distress; and she drew forth,
instead, a letter, one that Mr. Wilston
had slipped into her hand the evening
before, and that she hnd crumpled up,
hardly glancing at it, and had then
taken with her in the morning, thinking
she would read it in the wood.
What did ho write Her such letters
for? Why did he wnnt to love hor?
Why did he urge it again and again?
She was only a child; she had just be
gun to taste the sweetness of life. Why
couldn't he let her alone for a little
while, till she had looked on her sur
roundings and seen what the world
was; laid had a little freedom and
pleasure—at any rate, till she needed
nim P
Till she needed him! the next
thought came. All, Ileavcn! did she
not need him now? And a storm of
tears answered for her. "Oh, if he did
love me, if he really did love me, he
would know what I am suffering; he
would come and help me and save me.
It would break his heart to see me!"
she sobbed. "It would breuk mine to
see him so." And then all at onoe she
paused in her crying and exclaiming,
and opened her brimming brown eyes
wide to the sunshine, what! Would
it really break hor heart to see Mr.
Wilston suffering so? Would she care?
Did she—could she— Oh, if she never
saw him again at all! Was it possible
that, after all, she really, really— Was
it possible that site—she loved Mr. Wil
ston?
And if lie never knew!—if he never
knew! How good he hud been to her!
how patient with her! what a noble
fellow he was! how tenderly, how pas
sionately, his eyes had followed her! If
he was ugly—well, she had never
thought so. Now that she should not.
see his fnee again, it seemed beautiful to
her. It was the first faee she Bhould
look for when they both woke at last
in the life beyond this. And what a
forward nnd perverse child she had
been! What had he ever seen in her to
loveP But he did—he did love her. And
she hugged her little hands over her
honrt, suddenly conscious that the fact
was precious.
Well, if she must die, she must. But
here was a mercy in the very act of
dentil. It had been given her to love. It
seemed as if the Angel of Death had
touched her heart with the living fire.
This great joy, this great rapture had
buoyed her heart over the abyss. There
was a first moment for everything, and
the first moment of her awakening love,
of her recognition of her love, had been
like a winged spirit soaring over death,
the seraph springing from the grave.
"My love is my HOUI." she cried, "and
my dying sets it free."
Ard now if he never knew! But he
should know. Some dny they would
find her, and the letter in her hand.
And she refolded that letter, took her
pencil-case, and addressed it to Mr. Wii
ston, and wrote with her trembling fin
gers underneath: "I never knew I
loved you. You must forgive me. But
I do—indeed I do. I am going to die
presently. If I had lived, I would have
tried to be a good wife to you." And
she signed herself his angel, and lay
back in her nest, half coutent.
She lav there a little while, looking up
at the blue of the sky rising from the
red and purple of the rooks, with the
white flashes of wings across It, her
mind so mad" up to the inevitable that
she had hardiy any fear; and she began
softly singing a hymn to herself. "If
man s love is so precious." she was
thinking, " what must God's 1 .ve be?"
In the midst of this trannuil moment,
however, she was roused by a singular
vibration running through the stout
vine rones of her cradle, and quite
another lino of thought as instnft'.ane
ously suggested itself. She had been
fully prepared for this fainting, pain
less passing away, high up in air. al
most in the blue sky itself; hut falling
on the jagged rocks and boiling water—
all that was horrible, and she felt her
heart shaking.
All, yes, orrtainly the vine ropes were
shaking, too. Were they loosening?—
were they falling? Oh, what was this?
And gome great flapping object was (ly
ing over her with a scream—an eagle
startled frorm its perch—and a rope was
following it, a great noose, nnd then a
hand andarm had suddenly closed round
her from behind,and a voice wascurtly
toiling her to "obey, and spring back
ward. ' And Mr. Wilston was drawing
her out ot the nest of the cradling vines,
and she was standing, trembling in his
grwp on the shelf of rock where he
leaned, with a ropo round his waist
made fast to a tree above —a shelf of
rock, she thought, with a swift pulse of
chagrin, that had been there all the time,
in a crevice round the corner of the cliff,
and leading a narrow way up to the od
and the saplings above, if she had only
had the sense to turn her head and look
for it.
Mr. Wilston did not sneak a word.
He was white as ashes, and she thought
she could hear his heart heat. Still
holding her and his rope, he crept slowly
up the narrow shelf; then he set her
down before him, untied I.is rope, and
slowly coiled it away, looking at her all
the time, with her downcast eye and
reddening face half hidden under all the
right brown blowing hair.
" Now, if you please," he said,gravely,
at last, " I will take that letter which I
saw you had addressed to me."
"A letter addressed to you 1" she said,
looking np then, a spark of the old spirit
half eclipsing that new light which had
dawned in her face.
_"Angel, how much longer—"
" linger! I wish yon would tell me,"
she said, " how long I have been bore
already, and whether It is to-day or to
morrow, and what—"
" How much longer." he cried again,
"do you want to torment mef 1 could
claim you as my property by all the laws
of saivage," he said, stepping toward
her. " Hut it isn't necessary, tor I read
the letter as you held it in your hand
before I threw the rope over you. You
signed yourself my angel. You said
you would be a good wile to me."
"Well—l-will," said litt 1 Angelica,
And her face grew so rosy red that she
had to hide it, whether she would or
no. in the first shelter at hand—and if it
was her lover's arms, how was that to
be helped?
" It wasn't such a bad Maying, on the
whole," she said, presently, as they
wi nt their way home together. " After
all, the American flora isn't much be
hind the way-side hedges in Kent. I
didn't get much of anything but a fright
and a cold, to be sure, and tome love-in
idleness, but you got an armful of An
gelica."
"The sweetest flower forme." he said,
"that blows under heaven."—Earner's
Batir.
PA KM, UAKDKN AND HOUSEHOLD.
IV•adieu at the Barn.
It is not necessary for the farmer to
build a highly ornamental edifice in
ordor to have a neat and attractive ap
pearance in his barn and about his barn
yard. Specimens of neatness and purity
are often seen where the owner could
afford only cheap and imperfect struc
tures. The management depends on the
man. not so much on the character of
his buildings. Nevertheless, when the
owner takes the pains and incurs the
expense of finished erections, he will be
more likely to feel an interest in keeping
everything in and about them in good
condition.
ltmustbe confessed that there is great
room for improvement in the majority
of farmers in this oountry, although
much progress has been made, an<l a
number—happily a very large number
are models in this respect? We have
seen barns and stables kept as neat as a
parlor. Some men think this is attended
with.too nuich trouble and labor —like
the hoy who combed his hair once n
month, and finding it difficult and pain
ful, was unable to comprehend how any
one could endure to do it every day. It
is not the process of cleaning that we
recommend, but keeping clean. A nur
sery man was asked how he killed the
weeds in his3s-acre grounds. "I do not
kill them," was his answer; "I allow
none to enter or grow."
We mention a few examples of de
ficient care in this particular. Among
good managers, the common recommen
dation and use of manure cellars is a fre
qu'-nt cause of foul air, which more or
less pervades the building, injures the
sweetness of the hay, and compels cattle
and horses to breathe noxious odors.
Manure should never be kept in a barn
basement without the constant use of
absorbents in tic shnoeof straw,chopped
stalky sand ( or dry p at, to hold all the
effluvia. The difll u!ty will be much
lessened as farmers io.irn the ad vantages
of drawing and spreading manure in win
ter, as we have frequently recommended.
Hut care is necessary, even for the small
daily accumulation.
No animal is s > badly abused as the
pig, in being thrust into apartments
which are permitted to become polluted
from neglect. The hired man, to whom
we gave the pigs in charge, thought it a
great hardship that we required uira to
clean the floor thoroughly twice a day.
But he ultimately found it much easier
in the long run, as each daily cleaning,
was a mere nothing. I'igs are naturally
clean, if they are only permitted to be
so, and when comfortably provided for.
thrive better and fatten faster, and one
would think the farmer would prefer to
eat such pork to that taken out of a ma
nure hole.
Sweep the harm floor often, sweep out
the horse stalls at least twice a day, pro
vide clean and dry litter for all animals,
give them pure water, let their food b"
sweet and nourishing, avoid all fet'd ac
cumulations, shelter your barnyard from
cold winds by evergreens, and keep
every square foot of ground about your
buildings free from offensive rubbish,
and you will not only preserve more
self respect for this care, but will en
joy the pleasure of giving comfort to the
living creatures under your control; and
wiiat is not least in the eyes of money
making managers you will derive a
greater profit, preserve yonr buildings
from decay, and will have a place that
will sell at a higher price if you should
wish to dispose of it.— Country G nile
man.
Trnlt froiu Barren Trees.
A correspond-nt of the American
AijricuUuri.it says: I wish to describe
to you a mthod of making fruit trees
bear, that I blundercc' % on. Some fifteen
years ago I had a small apple tree that
leaned uonsiderably. I drove a stake
beside it, tied a string toa limb, and
fastened it to the stake. The nxt year
that limb hlwssomed full, and not
another blossom appeared on the tree,
and, as Tom Bunker said, " It set mo to
thinking," and I came to the conclusion
that the siring was so tight that it pre
vented the sap returning to the roots;
consequently it forme d fruit buds. Hav
ing a couple of pear trees, that were
large enough to bear but had never blos
somed. I took a coarse twine and wound
it several times around the tree above
the lower limbs, and tied it as tight as I
could. The next spring all the top
above the cord blossomed as white as
snow, and there was not one blossomed
below where the cord was tied. I have
since tried the experiment on several
trees, with the same result. I think it
is a much better way than cutting off
the loots. In early summer, say June
or July, wind astrong twin the
tree, or a single limb, and tie it, the
tighter the better, and you will be bless
ed with the result. The next winter,
or spring, the cord may be taken off.
ItonMhold Hint*.
Cream of tartar rubbed upon soiled
white kid gloves cleans them well.
To ex tract grease from papered walls
dip a piece of flannel in spirits of wine,
run the greasy snots once or twice, and
the grease will disappear.
To make paper fireproof take a solu
tion of alum and dip the paper into it;
then throw it over a line to dry. Try
a slip of paper in the flame of a candle,
and if not sufficiently prepared dip and
try it a second time.
To prcveift iron from rusting, warm
the iron until you cannot bear your bond
on it without burning yourself. Then
rub it with new and clean white wax.
I*ut it in again to the fire till it has
soaked in the wax. When done rub it
over with a piece of serge. Tilts pre
vents the iron from rusting afterward.
To take stains out of linen, place the
stained spot in a tin pan; pour boi ling
•water enough to entirely cover; let ft
steep like you would tea or coffee, then
rinse well, and hang it out of doors;
iron the spot and it will not show. For
fruit stains you must wash directly after
pouring on the boiling water. We know
this to tie good, for we get all the stains
out this way.
"Steveplpe" lints n Relic of Bar
barism.
Speaking of what are known in this
country as "silk dress hats," Charles
Blanc, member of the French institute,
and formerly director of fine arts, Paris,
says:
Our tabular hats, which artists, in
their every-day discourse, have cast
sucii withering scorn upon— these hats
without front or back, without direc
tion, w thout.a culminating point, and
whoso cylindrical shape is altogether at
variance with the spherical form ol the
head—are assuredly the last relic of
barbarism, and we must not be aston
ished if their use spreads in our day
over the whole world, sinee nothing has
more chance of lasting success than
uglintesand absurdity.
ro* THE FAIR HEX.
VMhlon R*lm.
Grenadine dresses entirely black are
made over glossy Surah skiris to make
them light.
Barberry fringes are in vogue, of long
ish satin drops strung in musters from
the. head ing.
Plaited skirts forming double kilts are
very fashionable for foulards and for
thin wool dresses.
The gay cotton dresses are quite as
effective as those of foulard, and are se
cured for Newport and Saratoga.
A new fancy is that of using creamy
white India muslin shirred inside of
open necks of grenadine and foulard
dresses.
Satin drop fringes mingle with the
Chinese nettings, and add variety to
the three thousand and odd styles al
ready known .
Hoods are about to be revived, and
are mode on round capes that reach only
to the elbow, as well as on the long
straight gowns that form overdresses
for suits.
Large pelerine collars, reaching far
down on the shoulders and finished
with a high fraise in the noek, are
found among collections of fashionable
lingerie.
Dragons, beet, butterflies, and birds
in shadowy forms, almost hints of the
real objects, appear among the palm
leaves and other Oriental designs of
late importations of dress goods.
Handsome brocaded wool goods have
delicate tinted grounds—cameo, sal
mon, cream and sky blue—while the
brocaded figures are of satin in dull red,
old gold, heliotrope and sapphire blue.
A novelty in hosiery consists of a
Lisle or silk lack sto king; at the clock
covering the entire stocking is very
open, the hose is worn over another
stocking of the same or a contrasting
shade.
Directoirs collars and square cuff J are
made of jetted net, and edged with a
row of cut jet beads like thote used on
the brims of bonnets; these trim basques
of black grenadine, and also of silk
suits. Surplice and square necks of such
dresses have black beaded tulle draped
inside of the opening.
Two kinds of black grenadine are in
the same dress; that for the plaited
flounces is striped with satin, and the
stripes are made to go around the
figure, instead of being lengthwise. For
the body and overskirt satin grenadine
with transparent open figures outlined
with jet is used, also the large satin
frills and olka dots.
flow on Amrrlron Momma Manogrd.
A Paris newspaper gives a recent in
stance of the great success of an Amer
ican mamma. Her elder daughter had
sailed from New York with some
friends for a tour of Europe, and, after
doing the continent had returned to the
French capital for several months of
rest and pleasuring. Attractive and
clever, she had many suitors, sooi"
more, some less desirable. She could
not marry them all, so she adroitly re
duced the number to two—the best of
the lot, of course. Then she wrote the
fact to her mamma, adding that they
were both so handsome, agreeable, wcil
connected and rich that she could not
decide between them, and closed with
the question, " What shall I do?" Ten
days later she received a cablegram from
m'mma, " I sail to-morrow. Hold both
till I come." The next transatlantic
steamer carried Mrs. with her
younger daughter, turned eighteen, and
just out of school. On arrival she im
mediately took the helm of affairs, and
steered so deftly through the dangerous
waters that in a few weeks she had
reached port with all the colors flying.
To drop metaphor, she attended the wed
ding of her two daughters at the Amer
ican chapel the same morning. After
due examination, she had decided that
neither ot the nice fellows should go
out of the family.
A M>-frr ofth* Hone} moou.
The courtship, the rngagein n nt, the
ceremony are over. The bridegroom
hands his bride into the carriage, and
the lmn"yraoon begins. Now observe
one of the most singular facts in the
whole history of courtship, a fact to
which there is no known exception: The
bridegroom never can recall the first
words spoken by him to the bride in
that carriage. Why? This question bas
been asked a hundred thousand times,
and never satisfactorily answered yet!
Some attribute the forget fulnrss to joy;
some to confusion; some fancy the
words are of such an extremely roman
tic nature, the man finds it more consis
tent with his dignity not to recall theai.
The answer is none of these. It is much
more prosaic and practical. The secret
of forgelfulness is that he has already
said to her everything he could think
would interest her, every thing that does
interest him. His conversational re
sources are exhausted and he has noth
ing to say. Instead of an important
speech, he utters some dreary ommon
place, throws him elf hack in the cush
ions. devoutly thanking heaven "the
thing is over. 1 ' Thus, before the honey
moon is fiveminntesold the bridegroom
breaks down.—TTinsfey's Magatint.
Fighting Sharks Under Water.
A sea diver tells the following story
of the way lie managed to keep out of
the laws of the sharks: I dived onee
in Mobile bay, where I put over 300
chains under an ironclad. The greatest
annoyance that we had there was
sharks. They didn't hatdlv tackle us,
because with our armor we looked more
like scarecrows than anything else. They
would conic sailing along, and gradually
swim toward us with their big mouths
wide open; but when within a few feet
of us lliey would stop and Ho there
flapping their fins, and looking, i
seemed to me. like the evil one himself.
Finally, we devised away to scare them
off that never failed to frighten them,
so that they would stay away an hour
or longer before the.v dared to come hack.
The armor we wear is airtight, you
know. Our jacket-sleeves were fastened
round our wrists with an elastic, so that
the air could not escape. By running
my finger under the sleeve of my jacket,
I could let the air out, and as it rushed
into the water it would make a sort of
nissing noise, and a volume of hubbies
slioot up. So, whenever those sharks
would come prowling around me, I
would hold out my arm toward them,
and patting my finger under the elastic
of my jacket-sleeve, I would let a jet of
air out and send a stream of bubbles
into the shark's face with a hissing
noise, like steam from a go age
cock. The way those sharks would
go scooting off was funny to behold.
AMKKHA'S MINERAL WEALTH.
The Amount of 001.l eut lUttr |
the Oiuntry-The Onilook.
In the opinion ot soim: experts the
production *f precious metaU in the
United Slutes Is but just beginning
In the last ten years we hare a£
vanned from $17,330,000 in siiv-r and
$33,750,<5X) in gold to $45,846,109 j ( , B j|.
ver and $44,800,833 in gold, but it is said
that the next census (tn years) will
more than quadruple this production
During the lirrt seven years from 187 it
to 1877 the production of go.d exceeded
that of silver in our country, but since
then the production of silver lets ex
ceeded that ol gold 95,502,505. This
was caused in part by the discovery of
I the great silver mines at Leadvilie,
Colorado, and in part by the decrease
in the gold production of the Comstock
lode in Nevada. It is a fact not gener
ally known that in the production of
the Comstock lode 41 30-100 is go d.
The decrease of yield in Comstock was
$13,404.48) in silver and gold during
1878-1870, while the increase of silver
production in Colorado was $",000,000.
The exact production ol gold and silver
during the last census, as near as it can
be ascertained, was as follows:
Year. Silver. Cold,
187 $17,390,000 $33,750 000
187 19,386,000 34,308,000
1973 1 024.499 38,177,305
1873 97,483,303 30,306.558
1874. 20 60 1,133 38,466,488
187 \ 31,635,330 30.068.101
187 39,309,034 43,936 035
1877 45,846,100 44,800 933
187 37,348,137 37,576,030
1870 37,032.857 31,470,363
In this country $4,000,000 iB annually
consumed in making jewelry and forth"
arts. Last year about $74,700,000 in
gold was imported to America, and his
added to the home production gives an
increase of floe 170.363. If w add still
further the $37.n32,857 in siiVir pro
duced, we have $143,3*r2,119 of a mone
tary increase to our national wraith.
Large as this increase may appear, it is
as nothing when compared with our
future possibilities. The sudden influx
of Eastern capital to the trans-Missouri
country will meet a want lone felt and
cause the great mineral wealth of the
West to be rapidly developed. Tic
rich deposits of gold and silver there
bidden in the earth will now IK- brought
forth, converted into money and made
to administer to the wants and conve
nience* of mankind. America will as
tonish the world in the next ten year*
and perhaps shake the value of precious
meta's by her enormous production of
them. General Ilrisbin, of the United
States army, says: "I have lived ten
years in the West, and I sineereiy be
lieve 1890 wiil not pass without giving
us an annua! pre>du< tion oi $400.000 000
of goid and silver in these United Start
Hiiladiltihia Time*.
What Doctors Should Know
An exchange which devotes S| [*]
attention to sanitary affairs KUggtsts
tiial the several hundred young physi
cians ju't graduated should supp in'*nt
; their studies by a course in hygiene.
The advice is eminentiygood, hut many
a man will open his eyes in astonish
ment when he rcalir/s that fdiysi' ians
need any such counsel; iw r'etus as
stiange as to advise business men to
study arithmetic or preachers to p' rus
the Bible. Tiie plain truth is, how vtr,
tiiat while the medical schools teach
young men how to alleviate pain and
heal the sick the greater art of prevent*
ing disease is in its infancy. How many
physicians are competent to discover
whether the atmosphere of a residence
i is pure or poisonous by reason of im
perfect drainage? How many ran de
tect impurities in drinking water—one
of the l most prolific cause* of dt alb in
country houses? Have dcath-d- aling
hot air furonces been banished from
every considerable number of hone s by
medical advice? Have manv fami
lies boon instructed by tli ir re
spective physuntss upon the
i ncceesity and methods ol home venti
lation? Is the faniiiy food supply an J
the manner oi preparing it a frnjU'nt
subject of professional advic ? All
j these are mntt-rs of the gravest impor
j fnnce as fiflfecting huu an life, yet nine
| families in t< n are continually vio'.vinc
sanitary rules regarding one or the other
I without a word ot remor <rancc from
i their medical advisers, and there if good
1 ground fcr belief that physicians' own
families suffer as much a* any others
from neglect of these and kindmd hygi
j onic requirements. Until the days of
this ignorance are gone medical atten
tions will not rise above the >v< . "i
i mere pottering. I>et tfie new genera
tion of phy*ieiaiis regard these things if
they wouid secure and retain a flood
class of patients. To atUnd a family of
children through diphtheria without
losing any is quite a success, but a
greater one wou<d be to discover and
abolish the cause when the malady
first manifests itself, and the same is
true of the ni.-sny other diseases that
are due to local conditions.— Sew York
■ HtraUl
Hari-kari,
Hari-kari is a form of suicide per
formed in Japan by cutting open the
abdomen by two crosswise ruts with a
short sword. Nearly all Japanese
officials carry on their person two
swords; one long, to fight an cncniv
with, and the other short, to perform
hati-kari with, if their own honor is at
ail damaged. It is a very common
practice, and by so doing a man's honor
is saved. Officials are often commanded
to kill themselves by this method when
by any act they have fallen into dis
grace, and by so doing their children
inherit all their property and their
father's position, but notso if the suicide
has taken place unbidden. Persons who
have suffered unendurable affront,
which cannot otherwise be satisfied,
sometimes kill themselves in this way,
ard thus satisfy their revenge on the
enemy.
Wards of Wisdom.
He shall be immortal who liveth till
tie be stoned by one without fault.
One of the beat rules in conversation
is, never to say a thing which any of the
company can reasonably wish had been
left unsaid.
It is good in a fever, and much better
In anger, to tongue kept clean
and smooth.
Only that which we have wroughtinto
our character! during lite can we tsko
away with us. '
A good constitution is like a money
box—its full valu-i it never know until
it has been broken.
.Taking a penny that does not belong
to one remove* Uie barrier between in
to rascality.
Will petitiona that do not move the
ot the suppliant, move the heart
of Omnipotence?