Lightning and KIMM. The storm is coming on apace; The trees begin to ehivor; Big drops of rain drum on the pane, And set me all a-quiver; The elonda ore black as ink, oh—oh! How vividly it lightened! And this premonitory bush— Joe, I am sadly frightened. " No wonder, darling, you're afraid In such a storm as this is; Bnt never tear the lightning, dear, I'll blind your eyes with kisses." It's driving down upon us now; The very house is rocking; Wind-currents roar, rain-torrents pour— Oh, how my knees are knocking; The thunders crash and roll as though The sky had split asundor; Joe, I shall surely taint away, 1 atn so atraid ot thunder, " Darling, you well might faint away In such a storm as this is; But never tear the thunder, dear, I'll silence bring with kisses." " It's such a catching season, Joe, I'm in a constant panic; There's that about a thunder-cloud Which sceins almost satinic. What did yon eay, Joe ?—that you wish 'Twonld come on every day so ? You cruel follow—let me go— How do you dare say so T " Ot such a cruel wish, my dear, The explanation this ,'s: The grass anil grain need frequent rain, And I—need ireouent kisses." A BITTER GAIN, A remarkable affinity existed between the occupants of two separate windows in one of a dingy row of brick.houses one exceptionally hot summer not many years ago; it was the more remarkable that these two people were very unlike each other, being of opposite sexes, the one a grizzled, gruff, grumpy bachelor on the wro.-g side of fifty, the other a round, rosy, rollicking maiden of "sweet mad twenty." The man was evidently a foreigner, the woman an unmistakable American, and these two heads, framed by the embrasures of the separate win dows, formed a strong contract. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and both of them were looking for the postman— she from her attic window; he from his second floor front. They had been looking for the postman every day for fortnight, and hope deferred had paled the cheek and subdued the merriment of the maiden, white it deepened the already rubicund color and sharpened the already testy tempera ment of the man. Presently appeared in sight the brisk dapper little fellow, in the gray uniform, with his bag strapped over his shoulder, stepping along from house to house, dealing joy and sorrow, surprise, fear, eostary, all the emotions incident t j poor hapless huminity as he went. But he dealt nothing to the two anxious watchers in the dingy brick row. Their heads sim ultaneously turned to watch him as he disappeared around a neighboring cor ner. The man punted out a bitter ejac ulation. and slammed down the win dow; the girl sighed, and with diffi culty repressed a sob as she closed the Mind. The next day at four o'clock the same pantomime was enacted. The same anxiety, hope, fear, disappointment, e painted on the two laces. The girl brushed the tears from her eyes, and put wearily bark her hair. As the man with his usual expletive ol disgust and disappointment, tugged at the blind, a puff of wind blew the light ribbon from the hair of the girl straight into his eyes, and from thence to the floor of his room. He saw it at once. It lay upon the faded carpet almost un der his feet. His first impulse was to tramp upon it as he marched to and fro growiingat the hnrd luck that had ahu him up in this hot hole during the dog. days. His next impulse was to kick the bauble aside; but it was not of a kickabie nature, and clung close to his feet. He stooped at last and took, it from the floor and found it suspiciously damp. "bhe's been sniffling again," he said. " As usual, she gets no letter and cries; I get no letter, and I swear. I wonder which is the most consoling. And why in thunder don't she get her letter ? She •an't have any rascally lawyers to deal with, that lie, and cajole, and cheat and steal. She can't be waiting for a wit ness to come from the other side of the world to testify in a case that ought to have been settled before he went to sea. I believe it was a conspiracy on the part of these infernal lawyers to daw dle along with the ense, and not dis cover the existence of this Martin Mal loy till he had shipped again, and was well out of their call. And now it seems that the fate suit depends apon the testimony of this fellow before the mast. At least five thousand pounds of my money at this present moment is at stake in the life of a miserable sailor far out at sea." Here bis soliloquy was interrupted by a light tap at the door. "Come," hg growled, without turning hie fiend. He thought it was his landlady, Mrs. Matson, for whom be had no particular affection,.or her rough-featured domes tic, that he felt certain was shortening hie life by her miserable cookery. But a gentle voice said, " Did you want any thing. sir P" And torning he beheld his inndlndy's daughter. And how in the world she could bear that relation to the fnt, swarthy, coarse and commercial female who kept the house, this lodger could not imagine. Her eyes were so soft and brown, so pleading and inno cent. frank and confiding as a little child's, whereas her mother's were narrow and sharp, distrustful and cun young girl flushed under this scrutinizing gaze, and said again ■ " You didn't want anything, then, Mr. Mc- GrawP Mother said you pounded on the •oor." ** Founded!" said Mr. McGraw; •• of •em se 1 pounded. If I don't get a letter ■ooa 111 make smithereens of some of this horsehair furniture about me. II your mother has any regard for *h<r squint-eyed ancestor over there, she'd ff* down and out of the "StiL following me about with that damaged leer of his for the I. Its a mercy I haven't stabbed him through the canvas. And say, H he added, for the girl was fast vanishing out of Lis sight, and she was wondrous pleasant article to look upon in this gloomy old barrack—"say." said Mr. McGraw. He was still twlrl lig the bit of blue ribbon in his lingers mad now held it out to the young girl. "It fell in the window to-day as we were both looking for that confounded postman. I hope we'll have better luck to-morrow, Maggie." " I thought sure wo would to-day, sir," said Maggie, blushing and sighing. " I had a good sign this morning." " TV hat WHS that. Maggie?" said Mr. McGraw, still holding Ins end of the bluo ribbon. ' Why. see, sir," slie said, and pointed to the skhtof her dress. " I put it on wrong side out this morning, and never changed it, for Martin used to say it was sign of good luck." "And who is Martin?" said Mr. McGraw. "It so happens that lam in terested in that name." "The one I'm looking for a letter from, sir. The vessel was due a month ago;" and here her voice broke, and the brown eves tilled with tears. " A sailor with the name of Martin?" mid Mr. McGraw, with increased in terest. "What's his last name, Mag gie?" " Malloy, sir—Martin Mailoy." " God I)less my soul!" said McGraw; "this is a remarkable coincidence! Why, Maggie, this is the very man I'm waiting to hear from. A heavy sura of money depends upon this friend of yours. I suppose he is more than a friend, Maggie?" " We're promised to be married, sir, after this voyage. He hod a chance of rising to second mate; and oh, I'm so sorry we waited!" "So am I." said Mr. McGraw. "If he'd stopped long enough to be married wo might have got hold of him for a witness, and that would have been the making of many a thousand pounds for mo; but never mind, Maggie; let's de pend upon the augury of the pt ttieoat. You see our fates are linked together, and as only one of us wears a petticoat, the one garment must serve for us both; and I'll tell you what, Maggie"—forstie was fast vanishing again, and he hated to see her go—" I'll tell you what, when Martin comes back, and wins for me this money, a good round sum of it shail go for a wedding outfit for you." "If he only comes back!" said Mag gie, and went out of the door, leaving the ribbon still in the hand ol Mr. Mc- Graw—a meditative, softened, alto gether changed expression upon his face. "A most remarkable coincidence!" lie repeated to himself. "This accounts for the interest I've taken in that girl from the start. A queer freak of destiny has thrown us together, and here we are both hanging upon the fate of this sailor. I don't suppose he's worthy of her. No doubt he's a rough, common, abusive brute; but he's young"—here Mr. McGraw gave vent to a grunt that was meant for a sigh—"and, I suppose, after his low fashion, good looking." Here Mr. McGraw kicked over tlie ottoman that obstructed his way, put the biue ribbon ift his vest pocket, drew a chair to the window, filled his pipe, and looking out upon a triangular bit of the western sky tell into a profound reverie. The next morning Maggie was at her old post at the nttie window. Mr. McGraw was also rattling at his blinds; hut he looked fully as often up at Mag gie as he did down the street for the postman, and was quite jocular and smiling for a man of his nervous tem perament. " Any more signs, Maggie?'" he said, almost dislocating his neck to get a good look at her pretty face. Maggie shook her head, and smiled mournfully. " I dream:d of white horses, sir, and mother says it's a bad sign." " Your mother is always a f—" Here the postman stopped at tfie door, and nobody will ever know whether Mr. McGraw meant to call Ills landlady a fine woman or a fool, for all further conversation was stepped by the coming of the long-looked-for letters. There was one for Maggie, and one for Mr. McGraw. Maggie had run down to the door, taken both letters, and fled up stairs again. Her hand was trembling and cold as she put the letter in Mr. McGraw's hand. " I'm afraid to open mine," she said; "it's in a strange handwriting." Mr. McGraw watched her disappear, then tore open his own envelope witiiout a tremor. At the first sentence, however. Mr. McGraw started, and put his spec tacles firmer upon his nose, and by the time he had read the missive naif through, his face had become the in dex of many conflicting emotions. All at once there was a heavy thump upon the floor of the room above. " My God!" said Mr. HcGraw, "she's got the news already. And rushing out of the room and uo the stairs as fast as liis rather gouty leps rould carry him. he saw the poor girl stretched lifeless upon the floor, the fatal letter crumpled in her hand. Then he pounded in right good earnest; and being a man of action, had proper restoratives used, a doctor brought, and alter a time poor Maggie wearily opened her eyes. The moment she saw Mr. McGraw she screamed and fainted again. " I'm a bitter reminder of her loss, said Mr. McGraw. The doctor nnd Maggie's mother looked at him inquir ingly. wondering how Mr. McGraw could remind Maggie of the drowning of her lover. But Mr. McGraw did not explain; he merely stepped aside when Maggie opened her eyes again. After her first long, sobbing breath, her first words were for Mr. McGraw. " Wlrre is he?" she said. " Let him come to me. He has lost his money, and I have lost—" Here the words froze on her lips, and she held out her hands to Mr. McGraw, who had reached the couch upon which they had lifted her. She put ner arms around his neck and sobbed there like a little child. Mr. McGraw had lived a lonely bachelor's life; liis kith and kin were faraway This was a new experience to him— new and strangely sweet For years and years the fragrant breath of a wo man had not touched his lips. Hit eyes wre wet and blurred; a queer choking sensation arose in his throat; hit voice was husky at he blmted out tome con soling words. " He can never come back to speak Idr you,"said poor Maggie. "You have lost a) 1 your money. I'm very sorry for you. Mr. McGraw." Slio meant site was sorry lor herself, but the poor child craved companion ship in her grief. Heaven knowt the got it from Mr. McGraw. From this time out he be came devoted to the duty of assuaging the grief ol the bereaved girl. He filled hit pockets with bonbons, and ribbori, and the various gewgaws he thought would soften the affliction of a gin of twenty, and failing with those, sought to distract her by junketings to parks and promenades and shows, and finding these wera distasteful to her, at laat yielded to ber desire to go down to the wharvee where the big ships lay. Hera they spent hoar after hour, Mr. MeGraw content to hold one of her hands in his. while the other lay idly in her lap, and her eyes went wistfully wandering out over the water, till the shadows grow longer and longer, and the day was done. Then fie would say, gently, "Come, Maggie,"and she would obey inasweet, dutiful fashion, lifting her face to his, full of some Bort of affection —ho didn't stop to consider what it was; but Maggie knew that she owed this luxury of melancholy entirely to Mr. MeGraw. lie had coaxed her molher into giving over Maggie's ordinary drudgery to other hands, so that she could have the comfort of nursing her grief under the auspices of Mr. MeGraw. His landlady had, indeed, needed very little persuasion, and mcthiß entreaties half way. Mr. MeGraw found nothing distasteful in this maternal solicitude, ha vin g for years parried the thrusts and caterings ol anxious mothers in behalf of their portionless daughters, the more so as it furthered his own happiness, and rendered him more and more com fortable as time went by. Now that the hot summer was gone, and the stormy winds of winter began to blow, the old brick lodgings were not so gloomy. The obliquely visioned ancestor had been taken from the wall; the horsehair furniture covered with a gay chintz; the rusty grate was rubbed nto a rubicund brightness, and therein he coals blazed generously. There was no stint in the maternal blessings show ered upon this lodger, and Mr. MeGraw for the first time, appreciated his deal ings with a commercial woman, who was willing to spend money when there was considerable to Ire made by it. This excellent woman even endeavored to put an air ot smartness into Maggie's wardrolie, and garnished her cloak with a crimson trimming. Maggie wore the cloak, but her face was sadly out of keeping with the brave garment. She had grown so much more subdued, and so much in nomerer manner and ap pearance, that Mr. MeGraw felt more and more at ease in her society, and of the two he began to appear the bright est, and wore an air of briskness and vigor that went far to make up tor bis me lure years. Ilis lawyers declared that never, in the whole course of their experience, had they seen a man pos sessed with such admirable philos ophy. As the months went by, it began to be generally conceded by all concerned that Mr. MeGraw was " paying atten tion " to Maggie, and she ws treated with that rare consideration that her good luck demanded. The only creature that seemed utterly ignorant of the situation was poor Mag gie herself, who had never for a moment forgotten her dead sailor, cr ceased re viving his memory to Mr. MeGraw. who seemed the only one that could fully sympathize with her and console her. Prodded on bv the encouraging hints and allusions crotho girl's mother, Mr. MeGraw had endeavored to infuse into his manner something of the bear ing of a lover, but Maggie invariably received these advances with the gentle gratitude that had become a part of her nature, and Mr. MeGraw instinctively shrank from anything that might shock her delicacy, or estrange her lrom him. One morning, as they stood upon the long pier and looked out to sea, he said to the girl clinging to his arm: " Shall you be sorry, my dear, to see me one of these days sailing away from you in a ship like that one over yonder, never perhaps to look upon your sweet lace again ?" She snid no word, clung closer to his arm, and two big tears rolled out of her eyes. He took courage then to put his arm about her—not but that it had often been there before, but that was in a fatherly sort ot way. "Would you be afraid, Maggie, to cross the sea with me?" he said. "Afraid!" she replied; "I could never be afraid of the sea." There was an unpleasant inflection in these words that was closely connected with the dead sailor, and Mr. MeGraw essayed still another inquiry. "Don't you love me a little, Maggie?" he said. " I love you better than anybody now," she said. He longed to ask her if her love was anything of the nature of the ardent passion she had once held for the sailor Malloy, but of course lie refrained, and indeed he was well content with his present happiness. Mr. MeGraw felt certain of the future. There seemed no obstacle to his happiness, and that very day he resolved to get his affairs in shape so that he could leave the country at a moment's notice. He stooped and kissed Maggie good-bye. and started off blithely to see his lawyers. " Don't be long," she called from the window. "I shall wait here till you come back." "God bless the child!" said poor Mr. MeGraw. "There certainly now is nothing to hinder our happiness." The lawyers were out. and the office was in care o:f the boy. On a low chair by the door a man sat, with his head resting upon his knees. Ills whole ap pearancc was of tlint slipshod nature that it seemed as if he might fall to fdeccs at any moment. His frame, of lerculean dimensions, was the more pitiable that the flesh had shrunken from the bones, and the features ol his face were harsh and forbidding in their prominence. His clothes were faded and patched, his hat was pulled over his eyes, and altogether he was a most for lorn and pitiable object in this office of a prosperous solicitor. In the heyday of happiness, how could Mr. MeGraw pass this wretched fellow creature by without a word? " Good morning, my poor fellow." he said. "You seem to be in a sorry plight. Can I do anything for you?" " You can tell me, 'said the man. In a hoarse and hollow voice, "if it's true that these people here will be glad to see me. I'm told there's a reward ofiercd for any news of me, and I'd like a little money to prink up before I go to sen my sweetheart. Shell be thinking it's my ghost if I go to her like this." " Some wretched criminal," thought Mr. MeGraw. " who has risked every thing to see this woman he loves. See here, my good fellow," he said, tower ing his voice, "if this money will he of any use to you, take it, and go; but I'd keep clear of the law If I wore you." " Why, thank you, sir." said the man, putting back the hills, " but I'm no beg gar. rll wait and bear what these land sharks have to say." At that moment the senior lawyer en tered, and turned upon the fellow a dis trustful glance. "What do you want beref" he said, sharply. " I want the money that was offered for news of a shipwrecked sailor called Martin Malloy^ " I offered ten pounds." said the law yer, turning to Mr. MeGraw. "The deuce you didf said Mr. Mo- Graw, who had fallen into a chair, and was gazing at the man with strained eyes. "This Malloy is dead," he added, still keeping his eyes unon the man. " He ain't quite dead," said the man, " but as near as he likes to be." Then he went on to tell the story of the wreck, the exposure in tho open boat, the agony and starvation, the death and insanity of most of the crew. It was an old story, repeated vry often, but the lawyer and Mr. MeGraw seemed to hang upon every word that fell from the lips of the miserable mariner. Mr. McGraw's face grew old and wrinkled as he listened. The lawyer at length uttered an ejaculation of joy. " I con gratulate you, Mr. MeGraw/' ho said, turning to his client, " your money is as safe as if you held it in your hands." But Mr. MeGraw had fallen back against the wall. They loosened his necktie, and threw water in his face. "ByJove!" said the lawyer, "your joylul news has been too much for him. A big part of bis money was at stake, you see, and he's bidden his feelings so long under a mask of resignation that now he is overcome. Get a cabal once," lit added, to the boy. But Mr. MeGraw revived, and by the time the cab reached the office he was able to go home alone. He, however, asked Martin to go with him; and as the cab rolled along, his eyes were still fixed ui>on liis dilapidated companion. " Nobody would know you, I sup pose?" be said to the sailor. "Not a soul, sir," said Martin "Not even the—a —the person you spoke of as your sweatheart?" "She least of any," said Martin. "I think she'd run away from me on sight." " You think so?" " I'm sure of it. I bet you a dollar she would." " Yet it wouldn't pain you? "Why, no—why should it? Women folks are made that way. But I'll soon prink up if I get a chance." He began to prink up already, put bis hat back, and brushed bis rumpled hair from his forehead, looked from the win dow of the cab with the air of a man to whom life was unspeakably rare and sweet. He was eiqaeiatcd, shrunken, sallow, tierce-eyed and forlorn; he was poor and patched; but Mr. MeGraw would willingly have taken bis place in the race for happiness; he knew ttiat all was lost. Here was Martin Malloy; that was the end of everything. The thought came a little too late that seeing her long-lost lover might kill the girl or drive her mad. He began to ex plain to Martin, as gradually as be could, that the house to which they were iourneying was the one that con tained his sweetheart. Mr. MeGraw chose the most careful phraseology he could muster, but the sailor seemed all at once to gel on fire. He flung his bat upon the seat beside him ; he stretched from the window his long shrunken neck. "You'd better get out and come in after I've broken it to her. It may kill lier; it may drive her mad. The shock was a Urribie one to mc," said Mr. MeGraw. "That be hanged !" said Martin. "You're an old man, you know, and thought of your money—but my Maggie!" here he stopped, an i the flame of de'Jght burned in his cheeks and eyes, lie grew suddenly young and strong under the gnze of poor Mr. MeGraw. Maggie sat there by the window, as she had promised. Oh. the bitterness ot that moment to one, the happiness to the other! One moment Mr. MeGraw saw her as he had left her—pale, calm, subdued, patient; the next, n crimson glow bad leaped to her face, then left it paler than before; suddenly it disap peared. and Mr. MeGraw thought it i had fallen away somewhere in a faint; but presently it shone on the breast ol the sailor, so radiant and beautiful that it dazzled poor Mr. MeGraw. " Why, you did know me." said Mar tin, tears bursting out of his burning eyes. "In spite of everything, she did know me! I owe you a dollar, Mr. McGrnw!" "And, ' Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound,'" quoted Mr. Me- Graw, with a bitter grin. What more can be said ? The wedding too* place a little later on, after the lawsuit bad been decided in favor ot Mr. MeGraw. Maggie's wedding trip was across the sea, but not in a steamer. Tt was in a trig little vessel, which Mr. MeGraw gave as a wedding present, at the express request of the bride. "Martin wouldn't give up the sea," she said. "And you wouldn't give up Martin," said Mr. MeGraw. "Why, no, sir, not for the world," said the foolish girl. So poor Mr. MeGraw took passagi alone.— Harper's Weekly, A Wonderful Mesmerlser. Strange stories come from India ot the feats performed by a native mes merlser named Buni, whose magnetic fiowcr would appear to to found quite rresistible by trie lower animals, upon which he exclusively exerts it. He gives seances, to which the public are invited to bring all manner of ferocious and untamable wild beasts, and holds them with his glittering eye. In n few seconds tliey subside into a condition of enta'.rptie stiffness, from which they can only be revived by ocrtain pauses which he solemnly executes with his right hand. A snake in a state of violent irritation was brought, to Buni ky a menagerie proprietor, inclosed in a wooden cage. When deposited on the SI at form it was writhing and hissing crcely. Buni bent over the cago and fixed his eyes upon its occupant, gently waving ills hand over the serpent's rest less head. In less Llian a minute the snake stretched itself out, stiffened, and lay apparently dead. Buni took it up and thrust several needles into its body, but it gave no sign of life. A few passes then restored it to its former angry a tivity. Subsequently a savage dog. held in a leash by its owner, was brought in, and, at Bunl's command, let loose upon him. As it was manic? to ward him, bristling with fury, Uc raised ills hand, and in a second uie fierce brute dropped upon its oe.!y as though it was stricken bv lightning. It seemed absolutely paralysed oy ome unknown agency, and waa unable to move a muscle until released iron: the mag neliser's spell by a miyestic wave oi hit hand. One day during an eclipse of the sun a boy sold smoked glasses at six cents apiece. " You ougnt to make money," said a purchaser. "Yes," said the young merchant, "ours would be a good business If the dull season wen not so sn *' M _ The Texas Pacific company has built 444 miles of railroad at a cost of #27,- 000,000. An additional 600 miles will be completed by January 1,1865. FIENT AMERICAN NEWSPAPER. ISoma Account ol tha Hoitoo gnmlcl tar. I'rlntart Una Hundred Toara A*o. It is a fact worthy of record that in Boston was made the first attempt to set up a newspaper in North America, and that this attempt dates back nearly 200 years—to the 2511 i of September, 1000. Tlio title of this ancient sheet was Pub lick (Jccurrencen, both Foreign and Do mctlick. Only one number of this paper is known to have been printed, and this bore the date of September 25, 1000, but whether it was suspended for lack of patronage, or because the legislative authorities spoke ot it as a pamphlet published contrary to law. and contain ing "reflections of a very high nature," is not known. It was printed by Ben jamin Harris for Richard Pierce, and, so fax as known, the only copy in ex istence is deposited in the state paper office in London. It was printed on the first three sides of a folded sheet two columns to a page, and each about seven by eleven inches in size, and was to have appeared once a month. It is still a more significant and im portant fact that the first newspaper that was published in North America was published in Boston. It was called The Boston NCWS-IAUCV. and the initial number bore the date of Monday. April 24, 1704. It was a half sheet of paper, in size about twelve by eight inches, made up in two pages lolio, with two columns on each page. The title is in Roman letters of the size; which print ers call French canon, and under it arc the words " printed by authority," in old English. The imprint is: " Boston; printed by B. Gieen; sold by Nicholas Boone, at his shop nearthe old meeting house." The proprietor was evidently John Campbell, postmaster, as indi cated by the following advertisement, which was the only one the paper con tained • " This New.*-filler is to be continued weekly: and all persons who have any houses, lands, tenamonls, farms, ships, vessels, goods, wares or merchandise, etc., to be sold or let; or servants runa way, or goods stolen or lost; may have the same inserted at a reasonable rate, from twelve pence to tivc shillings, and not to exceed: Who may agree with John Campbel, postmaster of Bos ton. All persons in town or country may have the Ntws-lMter weekly, yearly, upon reasonable terms, agree ing with John Campbel, postmaster, for the same." Campbell was a Scotchman, and be sides attending to his duties as postmas ter and editor ami publisher of the Ntws-LtUer. did some business as book seller. Judglngfrom copies of his pa per, his literary accomplishments were of a limited charatcter, for what little original matter there is, is poorly con structed, without regard to punctuation or grammatical construction, and con sisted mainly of his own business advir tlsemenls. The paper was chiefly made up of extracts from Ix>ndon papers, which were necessarily several months old. consequently its support was feeble, anil its circulation limited. The paper was issued weekly, and the second num ber contains three printed pages, the iourtb being left blank, evidently for the want of news to fill up. This piece of enterprise was apparently not appreci ated, as but two pages appeared in the next number, and ah-o in the issues for manyyears thereafter. Up to November 3. 17of. the NCWS-IAUCT was printed by Bartholomew Green, and from that date to October 2, 1711, it was " Printed by John Allen in Pudding-lane (now Dev onshire street), and sold at the postcffice in Uornhill (than a part of Washington street)." At that time the postofflce and Allen sprinting office were destroyed by fire, and the paper was again printed by B. Green, for John Campbell, postmas ter. till the end of the year 1722. Campbell made frequent importuna'. c calls upon the public to support his en terprise, "so as to enable the under taker to carry it on effectually." In January. 1719, Campbell proposed pub lishing his paper on a whole sheet. " because with half a sheet a week it is impossible lo carry on all the publick news of Europe; " but his expectations were far from realized, judging from his statement that " the Undertaker had not suitable encouragement, even to print half a Sheet Weekly, seeing that lie cannot vend 300 at an Impres sion, tho' some ignorantly concludes he Sells upwards of n Thousand; far less Is he able to print a sheet every other Week, without an Addition of 4, or 8 Shillings a Year, as everyone thinks fit to give payable Quarterly, which will only help to pay for Tress and Paper, giving his labor tor nothing." In the latter part of the same year another postmaster was appointed, who began the publication ola rival newspaper. This disturbed Campbel] greatly, and when, in 1721, James Franklin estab lished a third newspaper, the New Knglarul VMr ant, his ire was aroused, and he expressed his feelings in the News-Ijetlcr more forcibly than elo quently, as follows: "On Monday Inst, the 7th Currant, came forth a Third Newspaper in this town, entitled the New England (\mr rani, by Homo non unius Ncgotli ; or Jack of all Trades, and it would seem. Good at none, giving some very, very frothy fulsome Account of himself, but lest the Continuance of that style should offend his readers; wherein with sub mission (I speak for the publisher of this intelligence, whose endeavors have always bean to give no offense, not meddling with things outside his own Province.) The said Jack promises in pretense of Friendship to the other News Publishers to amend like Ale in Summer, Reflecting too, too much that my per formances are now and then very, very Dull, misrepresenting my candid en deavors (according to the Talent of my Capacity and Education; not soaring above my Sphere) in giving a true and genuine account of all Matters of Kan. both Foreign and Domcstick, and well Attested, for these Seventeen Tears and half past," etc. The quarrel between these two papers added to the prosperity of both for a while, and for two months Campbell issued a whole sheet every week, but at the.expiration of that time the News- Letter was rednni to its original di mensions. No copies of the early num bers of Franklin's papers are in exist ence, but It is safe to assume that his replies were <quallv as caustic and bitter. Tbefllei of the News-letter down to 1722, when Bartholomew Green became proprietor, are very im perfect, but Uie most oomplete are found in the library of the Massachu setts Historical society in this city, and these are alt bound in two volumes, embracing not half ol the numbers for the years previous to 1790. The New- I Alter was printed upon the coarse p'per In use at that day, and as the type was of the ancient order, with " Pa" for "•V its print is rather difecult to de cipher, but well repays one lor the effort. As previously stated, most 01 the matter is copied from the Ix>ndon papers, but occasionally there is refer ence t<< local events, which are remark able aliko for their quaintness of compo sition and the singular character of the events recorded. The Newt-letter was published without interruption for a period of seventy-two years, and was the only paper printed in Boston during the siege. I'erurian Village Life. Ernest Morris, the young American naturalist, who is on an exploring tour along the hanks of the Amazon, draws this interesting picture of a Peruvian village: The Iquitos of 'o-day has a population 0f2,5i>0, and is a quiet, s cepy place, as are all villages on the great Amazon. The principal business of the place is conducted by foreigners, and their stores are stocked with foreign articles, ail of which, however, are very dear. For example: Flour is worm twenty-two dollars per barrel; butter, in cans, one dollar per pound ; coffee, tnirly cents per pound; tea, in c,:n, three dollars per pound; shoes, French, seven to ten dollars per pair (I never have seen a pair of American-made shoes on the Amazon); coarse prints, thirty cents to tifty cents per yard; rice, three dollars for twenty-nine pounds. House rent is very dear, from ten to tw< nty dollars per month, but liquors and onions •< . cheap. It may besaid without r-xagzer ation that the Indian population ot Iquitoes subsists on the last mentioned articles—onions by day and liquor by night. The inhabitants amuse them selves by dancing the fandango. When a schoolboy I read often of the Spanish dance called the fandango, and I aiWays associated with it a bright starlit night in the tropics. A dance in open air under the shadow of the great palms; young girls with countless lire-flies in their hair; dark, swarthy-looking men. with broad-brim hats, smoking large cigarettes—ali this did I read of. and I longed to see this Spanish dance. Since I have been in l'eru I have witn''ed nianv of the dances of these people, and the fandango so caiit d is. I regrc t to .••ay. nothing more orlr*; in my opinion th in a drunk'n orgy. 1 have witnessed no dances under the palms, seen no swarthy men, but 1 am bound to say that fire flits are no? wanted to set off the beauty of these Indian girls. Though Iquitos has no inn. yet two billiard ana gam bling saloons are to be found, in one of which the Willi are decorated with a most fanciful likeness of Columbia sur rounded by the eagle and shield; her re be is most gracefully pinned up, and in her hand she holds a bottle which sets forth on its label the excellences ot American champagne. 1 mention the above, as the picture al ways attracts a great deal of attention, and 1 have been repeatedly asked if the scnoritas of my country were as pretty as Columbia, f always answer in the affirmative. The major iiv of the inhabitants of Iquitos are of Indian or mixed blood, and in general appearance differ greatly from ttie Indian population of the villages of the Lower Amazon. The men are al, below the average stature, with pale, sallow complexions, coarse black hair, and whose deeply sunken ryes tell too plainly of nights spent in drunken rev elry. In all the Brnzidan villages on the Amazon combined 1 have never seen one-tenth part of the drunkenness that I witnessed daring my stay in lauitos. As to women, I will say but little, lest I should be called a second Gibbon, who. you will remember, was constantly writing ot the pretty girls he met with during his journey through Peru and Bolivia. Those ot Iquitos are beautiful, and the ease with which they can roJ and smoke a cigarette, drink a glass nf liquor and assume modesty will astonish a stranger. It must be remembered that the above remarks apply only to the Indians and Creoles. Of the higher class I wish to sav nothing. Indigo Factory, Have you ever thought what indigo is. and where it comes from t Near the city of Ailahabnd, in India, our mis sionaries may see the little indigo plan growing, and tLe factory where our in digo is prepared for use. The follow ing account of the preparation of the indigo from the plant was given by the proprietor to one who traveled in that country: It is the young shoots of the bumble plant you see before you which provide us with the precious material for dyeing, and not the flowers, as is common,y supposed. The gathering of these shoots is a very delicate operation. When they have arrived at a proper de gre Of maturity, they must be speedily removed, and rich cutting must beexe cuted with rapidity and during the niglit, for the sun would wither t.,e branches, and deprive them of their properties. We therefore re-quire a great many hands; all the villagers on my estate are placid in requisition. The workmen are all dispersed in the fields at midnight; and in the morning the produce of the harvest is deposited in these stone troughs, which have been previously filled with water. Then is the time tor the sun to nerfrm its part. Under the Influence of ft* rays the sub stances undergo a species of fermenta tion; the water becomes colored with variegated tinges and rapidly turn* blue. Alter a space ot about fort y-eight hours, the liquid is drawn off from the smallest troughs. It now emits a slightly ammoniacal smell, and the color is almost black. It is allowed to evapo rate again, and is then placed in meul vats, heated by steam, in which, when the evaporation has ceased, a deposit of Cre inaigo is formed. It only remains dry thfi deposit, pack it, and send it to the market at Calcutta. Altitude •! < kurrk To wars. The Cologne GantU stales that the lowers *>f Cologne cathedra] are now the highest fn the worM, the height they have attained being five feet higher than the towers of St. Mcholas' chorcn in Hamburg, whkh has hitherto been the highest edifice. Ultimately they will be 61 ft. 10 In. higher. The follow ing are given as the heights of the chief lofty buildings in ths world i Towers of Cologne cathedral, 594 ft. II in. from the pavement of the cloisters, or Sift ft -1 tn. from the floor of the chnrch; tower of St. Nicholas, at Hamburg, 473 ft. 1 In.; eupolA of 81. Peter's. Rome. 4<W ft. 9ln -; cathedral spire at Strnahurg. 4 ft. Ilia.; pyramid of Cheops. 449 ft. ft In.: tower of Bt. Stephens, Vienna. 443 ft. 10 in.; tower ot St, Martin's, Laariihut, 434 It. 8 in.; cathedral spire at Freiburg, 410 ft. I In.; cathedral ot Antwerp, 404 ft. 10 fn.; cathedral of Florcnoe, 390 ft. ft In.; St. Paul's. Lon don, 383 ft. I In.; ridge tiles of Cologne cathedral, 300 ft. 3 in.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers