Be Uretal What You May. In aponking ot a person'a faults, Pray don't forget your own; Hemetnber those in houses glass Bhould never throw a stone. li we have nothing else to do, But talk ot those who sin, 'Tie better we oommenoe at home, ▲nd from that point begin, We have no right to judge a man Until he is iairly tried; Should we not like his com|wmy. We know the world is wide. Some may have faults— and who has not? The old us well as young; We may, perhaps, for aught wo know, Have titty to their one. I'll tell you ot a better plan, And llnd it works lull well; To try my own detocts to cure Before ot others tell. And though I sometimes hope to be No worse than some I know. My own shortcomings bid me let The taults ot others go. Then let us all, when wo commence To slander friend or too, Think ot the harm one word may do, To those we little know; Itemember curses sometimes, like Our chickens, " roost at home;" Don't speak ot others' faults until We have none of our own. A Lesm and How Two Learned It. Betty sighed. Now why she should hnvc sighed at this particular moment, no one on earth could tell. And it was all the more exasperating because John had just generously put into her little, shapely band a brand-new ten-dollar bill. And here began the trouble. "What's the matter?" he said, his face falling at the faint sound, and his mouth clapping together in what those who knew him but little called an "obstinate pucker"—"now what is it?" Betty, who had just begun to change the sigh into a merry little laugh rip pling all over the corners of the red lips, stopped suddenly, tossed her head, and with a small jerk, no ways concili ating, sent out the words: " You needn't insinuate that I'm always troublesome 1" " I didn't insinuate —who's talking of insinuating?" cried John, thoroughly incensed at the very idea, and, backing away a tew steps, he glared down from his tremendous height in extreme irri tation! "It's you yourself that's for ever insinuating, and all that, and then to put it on to me—it's abominable!" The voice was harsh, and the eyes that looked down into hers were not pleasant to behold. "And if you think, John Peabody, that mi stand and have Buch things said to me, you miss your guess—that's all!" cried Betty, with two big red spots coming in her cheeks as she tried to draw her little, erect figure un Jto its utmost dimensions. " Forever insinu ating! I guess you wouldn't have said that before I married you! Oh, now you can,of course!" " Didn't you say it first, I'd like to know ?" cried John in great excitement, drawing nearer to the small creature he called " wife," who was gazing at him with blazing eyes of indignation; "I can't endure everything." " And if you bear more than I do," cried Betty, wholly beyond control now, "why then I'll give up," and she gave a bitter little laugh and tossed her head again. And here they were in the midst of a quarrel! These two but a year before bad promised to love and protect and help each other through life. "Now,"said John, and he brought his hand down with such a bang on the table before iiim that Betty nearly skipped out of her little shoes, only she controlled the start, for she would have died before she had let John see it, " well have no more of this nonsense !" His face was very pale, and the lines around the mouth so drawn that it would have gone to any one's heart to have seen their expression. " I don't know how you will change it or help it," said Betty, lightly, to conceal her dismay at the tarn affairs had token, " I'm sure," and she pushed back, with a saucy, indifferent gesture, the light waving hair from her fore head. That hair that John always smoothed when he petted her when tired or dis heartened, and called her "otaiM." Her gesture struck to his heart as he glanced at her sunny hair and the cool, , indi rent'i-.rndcrnenth, and before he knew it he was saying: "There is no help for it now, I suppose." " Oh, yes, there is," said Betty, still in the cool, calm way that onght not to have deceived him. Bat men know so little of women's hearts, although they may live with them for years in closest friendship. " You needn't try to endure it, John Peabody, If you don't want to. I'm sure I don't care !" " What do you mean !" Her husband grasped her arms and compelled the merry brown eyes to look up to him. " A c -n go back to" mother's," said Betty, provokingly. "Bhe wants me any day, and then yon can live quietly and live to suit yourself, and it will be better all around.'' Instead of bringing out a violent pro testation of fond affection and remorse, which she fully expected, John drew Limtelf up, looked at her fixedly for a long, long minute, thai dropped her arm, and said, through white lips, very slowly: " Yes, it may be as you say better all around. You know beet," and was gone from the room before she could recover her astonishment enough to utter a sound. With a wild cry Betty rushed across the room, first tossing the ten-dollar bill savagely ns far as she could threw it, and flinging herself on the comfortable old sofa, broke into a flood of bitter tears—the first she had shed during her married life. 7 "How could he have done it—oh, what have I said—oh John, John t" The bird twittered in his little cage over in the window among the plants. Betty remembered like a flash how John and she filled the seed-cup that very morning, how he laughed when she tried to put it in between the bars, and when she couldn't reach without get ting upon a chair, he took her in his great arms, and held her up, just like a child, that she might fix it to suit her self. And the " bits" that he said in his tender way, why they had gone down to the depths of her foolish little heart, sending her about her work sing ing for very gladness of spirit. And now ! Betty stuffed her fingers hard into her rosy ears to shut out the bird's chirp ing. "If he knew why I sighed," she moaned. "Ohmy ' husband!' Birth days—nothing will make any difference now. Oh, why can't I die?" How long she stayed there, crouched down on the old sofa, she never knew, i Over and over the dreadful scene lie went, realizing its worst features each time in despair, until a voice out in the kitchen, said: "Betty!" and heavy footsteps proclaimed that some one was on the point of breaking in upon her uninvited, Betty sprang up, choked back her sobs, and tried with all her might to composo herself ana remove all traces of her trouble. The visitor was the worst possible one she could have und r the circum stances. Crowding herself on terms of the closest intimacy with the pretty bride, wtio with her husband had moved into the village a twelvemonth previous, Miss Elvira Simmons had made the very most of her opportun ities, and hy dint of making great par ade over helping her in some domestic work, such as housecleaning, dressmak ing, and the like, the maiden lady had managed to ply her other vocation,that of newsgatherer, at one and the same time, pretty effectually. She always called her by her first name, though Betty inwardly resented it; and she made a great handle of her friendship on evtry occasion, making John rage violently, and vow a thou sand times the "old maid" should walk! But she never had—and now, scenting dimly, like a carrion after ks prey, that trouble might come to the pretty little white house, the make-mischief had come to do her work, if devastation had really commenced. " Been crying!" she said, more plain ly than politely, and sinking down into the pretty chintz-covered rocking chair with nn energy that showed she meant to stay, and made the chair creak fear fully. "Only folks do say that you and your husband don't live happy- but la! I wouldn't mind—l know 'tain't your fault." Betty's heart stood still. Had itcome to this! John and she not to live hap pily! To be sure they didn't, as she remembered with a pang the dreadful scene of words and not tempers; but had it gotten around so soon—n story in everybody's mouth. With all her distress of mind she was saved from opening her mouth. So Miss Simmons, failing in that, was forced to go on. "An' I tell folks so," she said, rock ing herself back and forth to witness the effect of her words," when tbey git to talkin' so you can't blame me, it things don't go easy for you I'm sure!" "You tell folks so?" repeated Betty, vaguely, and standing quite still. "What? I don't understand." " Why, that the blame is ail his'n,' cried the old maid, exasperated at her strange mood and her dullness. " I gay, says I, why they couldn't no one live with him, let alone that pretty wife he's got. That's what I say, Betty. And then I tell 'em what a queer man he is, how cross, an'—" " And you dare to tell people such things of my husband?" cried Betty, drawing herself up to her extremest height, and towering so over the old woman in the chair that she jumped in confulon at the storm she had raised and s:ared blindly into the blazing eye >uid face rosy with righteous indigna tion, htronly thought was bow to get away from the storm she hau raised, but could not stop. But she was forced to stay, for Betty stood just in front of the chair, and blocked up tbe.way, so she slunk hack into the smallest corner of it. and took it as best she could. " My husband!" cried Betty, dwelling with pride on the pronoun—at least, if they were to part, she would say it over lov ingly as much as she could till the last moment; and then, when the time did come, why people should know that it wasn't John's fault—"the best, the kindest, the noblest husband that was ever given to s woman. I've made him more trouble than you can guess; my hot temper baa vexed him—l've been cross, impatient, and—" " Hold I" ctied a voloe; '• you're talk ing against my wife!" and in a moment big John Peabody rushed through the door, grasped the little woman In bis y arms, and folded her to bis heart, right before old maid and all! 11 "Oh!" said Miss Simmons, sitting up a straight, and setting her spectacles more j firmly. 0 " And, now that you've learned all that you can," said John, turning round g to her, still holding Betty, " why—you j may go!" The chair was vacant. A dissolving e view through the door was all that was r to be seen of the gossip, who started r up the road hurriedly, leaving peace be hind" , "Betty," said John, some half hour hour afterward. "V'hat was the sigh e forP don't care o w, but I did think, , dear, and it cut me to the heart, a how you might have married richer. I y longed to put ten times ten into your e hand, Betty, and it galle dme because I j couldn't." r Betty smiled, and twisted away from 8 his grasp. Running into the bedroom, a she presently returned still smiling, _ with a bundle rolled up in a clean towel. 1 This she put on her husband's knee, e who stared at her wonderingly. e "I didn't mean," she said, unpinning " the bundle, "to let it out, now, but I shall have to. Why. John, day after to-morrow Is your birthday!" "So 'tis!" said John. "Gracious! lias it come around so soonP" B " And you, dear boy," said Betty baking out before his eyes a pretty 3 brown affair, all edged with silk of the bluest shade, thnt presently assumed the proportions e r u dressing-gown— "this is to be your present. But you • must be dreadfully surprised, John, when you get it, for oh! I didn't want you to know!" ' John made the answer he thought , best. When he spoac again, he said, , perplexedly, while a small pucker of bewilderment settled between his eyes: r " But I don't see, Betty, what this } thing,"laying one finger on the jown, ! " had to do with the sigh." "That," said Betty, and then she broke into a merry laugh, that got so mixed up with the dimples and the dancing brown eyes that for a moment she couldn't finish. "Oh, John, I was worrying so over those buttons; they weren't good, but they were the best I could do, then. And I'd only bought em yesterday— Two whole dozen. And 'when you put that ten-dollar bill in my hand, I didn't hardly know it, but I suppose I did give one little bit of a sigh, for I was so provoked that I hadn't waited buying them till to-day." John caught up the little woman, dressing-gown and all! I don't think they have ever quarreled again—at least I have never heArd of it. Queer Insurance. A New York correspondent writes: I lately discovered a sort of life insur ance that rather surprised me. I had occasion to go through a large tenement, of the worst class, swarming with chil dren and reeking with horrible odors. It had been leased to a man who sub let it, and who cared nothing about its Condition so long as he got money enough out of the tenant* to pny him for bis risk. On one of the landings I met a young man who was writing something in a memorandum book. Half a dozen women were talking to him at once, and several children seemed interested in what he was doing. Being a little curious to know his business in the place, I waited at the door till he came down, and asked him. He nn swered promptly that his business was to insure the children. He represented a company (naming it), be said, that made a specialty of insuring the live* of children in tenement-houses. The com pany did quite a large business, too. The risks taken were generally small— from ten to twenty dollars on each chi Id insured. The premium was payable weekly, and ran from five cents to twenty cents a week. Tho company had several canvassers employed, going from house to house in the tenement quarters, When a child died the insurance money was promptly paid. It was not much, but at all events it helped the parents to bury their child. If the parents failed to keep up the weekly payment of prem iums, of course the policy lapsed. As the mortality among children, especially in tenements, was very great, I thought the business of insuring their lives could not be profitable, but the young man said the company was doing very well, and had already made a good deal of money. The True Wife. Oftentimes I have seen a tall ship glide by against the tide, as if drawn by an invisible tow-line with a hundred strong arms pulling it. Her sails un furled, her streamers drooping, she had neither side-wheel nor stern-wheel; stili she moved on, stately,in serene triumph, as with her own life. But I knew that on the other side of the ship, bidd' n be neath the great bulk that swam so ma jestically, there was a little toilsome steam tug. with a heart of fire and arms of iron, that was tugging it bravely on; and I knew that if the little steam tug untwined her arms and left the ship, it would wallow and roll away, and drift hither and thither, and go off with the effluent tide no man knows where; and so I have known more than one genius high-decked, full-freighted, wide-sailed, gay-pennoned, but for the bare toiling arm and brave warm heart of the faith ful little wife that nestled close to him so that no wind or wave could part them, he would have gone down with the stream and been heard of no more i 0. W. Holmes. New night robe* have large full sleeves shirred in at the srmhole, and shirred also at the wrist to a narrow embroidered cuff. t THE OBELISK. The Historic Wonder in Wow York—lis ' Trus Story- What Those Monoliths Aro S ..Contemporary With Mooes The Christian at Work, published in ] New York, has an interesting article on 1 the great historic obelisk, known as i Cleopatra's Needle, presented to the United States by Ismacl Pasha, and 5 brought to New York by Captain Gor -4 ringe on board the steamer Dessoug. • Obelisks belong to the oldest and most . simple monuments of Egyptian archi tecture, and are high fodr-sided pillars, r diminishing as they ascend, and t terminating in a small pyramid. He rodotus speaks of them, and Pliny gives ' a particular account of them. The lat I ter mentions King Mosphres. or Mcstres, of Thebes, as the first builder of them. It Is probable that these monuments were first built before the time of Moses, at least two centuries before the Trojan 1 war. There are still several obelisks in • Egypt. These exclusive of the pedes • tals, arc mostly from fifty to 100 feet 1 high, and of a red polished granite; a few later ones are of white marble and • other kinds of stone. Some are ndorned on all sides, and some on fewer, with j hieroglyphics cut in them, sometimes to ' the depth of two inches, divided into r little squares and sections, and filled with paint. Some are entirely plain ! and without hieroglyphics. The foot of the obelisk stands upon a quadrangular l base, commonly two or three feet j broader than the obelisk, with a socket, ; in which it rests. They were com | monly hewn out of a single stone, in the - quarries of Upper Egypt, and brought i on canals fed by the Nile, to the place of their erection. Acccording to the ac ! counts of travelers, there are still to be found in Upper Egypt, old quarries with obelisks already hewn out, or with places whence monuments of this form ' r must evidently have been taken. Ol their origin nothing is known i with certainty. Perhaps the first images , of the gods, which at an early period were nothing but stones of a pyramidal form, gave occasion to them. Accord -1 ing to Herodotus they were first raised in honor of the sun, and meant \o repre sent its rays. They might also have been raised to perpetuate the memory of certain events, since the hiero glyphics contained the praises of their gods and their kings, or inscriptions relating to their religious notions. After the conquest of Egypt by the Persians no more were erected, and the succes sors of I.agus adorned Alexandria with the obelisks of the ancient kings, from whence the Roman emperors carried several of them to Rome, Aries and Constantinople, most of which were afterward overturned, but have been put together and replaced in modem times. Cnptain Gorringe has rectified a little mistake of I,sooyears that the American press made in estimating the age of their obelisk. He produced authorities who distinctly remember that the obelisk was constructed in the rein of Thothmes ll..about I,s6oyears before the Christian era, and not twenty-three years before, as the American public was led to be lieve. Something did happen to the obelisk at the latter date, however— viz., its removal from the Temple of Amew, at Hcliopolis, to the Temple of Cicsariem, at Alexandria, by order of the conqueror, Augustas Cvsar, and in the eighth year of his reign. What a long and wonderful story this obelisk could tell! More thau fifteen centuries before Christ was born there reigned in Egypt one of its greatest kings, Thothmes, the second of that title. He was such a brave and success ful warrior that no nation of either | Africa or Asia could stnnd against him. He brought even the far off King of Nineveh into subjection and compelled him to pay heavy tribute. He was also a noted hunter, and a painting shows him in the act of slaughtering 190 ele- | phanta. So proud became Thothmes through his unbroken career of suc cesses, that he had his name engraven in one of the temples as "The living good god, lord of the upper and lower world, the lord of diadems!" At his order, hundreds of men were set to work to hew two obelisks out of the hard granite rocks at Syene, in Southern Egypt, near wherr the Nile dashes tiirough the cataracts. He was deter mined that the memory of his victories 1 and of his greatness should be preserved 1 forever on these pillars of stone. After the patient labor of many months the huge monoliths lay finally separated ' from the bed rock in the quarry. They ' were then transported a distance of 500 ' miles to Heliopolis,or On,the City of the Sun, near the delta of the Nile. So the ] stone was moved across inclined plat forms to a raft, which iiad been brought to the edge of the quarry through a 1 canal, and then it was floated down the ' Nile during an inundation. On its ar- ' rival the granite was carefully polished. ! Next the figures and inscriptions were 1 skillfully inscribed, vet very slowly, on aocount of its extreme hardness. The ' base of the obelisk was then set within ' a groove in the pedestal, and the entire ' monument was raised to a perpendicu- < iar by building up a ridge of earth be- < neath it. < The obelisk presented to America, to- I gether with its mate, stood as guardian i deities, before the grand entrance of the ! Temple of the Sun at On. They were i symbols of the rays of the rising sun, as I the pyramids to the westward were of I the slanting or setting ray*. In that | idolatrous age, they were even wor- 1 shiped as divine images, and oblations, I were offered to them. These monu- l ments may have been standing at On i when Joseph became vlslcr over Egypt, i and was wedded to a daughter of the < Priest of On. It is hardly to be doubted I however, that they were in their place I when Moses was being schooled "in a the learning of tho Egyptians," and thai | he may have often looked upon theli faces. While the Hebrews were sink i ing from free-shepherd life into bond i age in Egypt, another great and vain i glorious monarch arose. This wai • Barneses 11., a pompous, cruel king w I his own inscriptions show. He was sc • boastful that he often engraved praisei - of himself on the monuments of earliei - kings, and thUB it came that his deeds - are mentioned on the obelisks. It was • this Rameses who compelled the chil- I dren of Israel to build him treasure cities ofbrick as the Bible records. The 1 plagues and the exodus of Israel took place under the reign of his weaker son, Manephtha. After the Romans Lad conquered i Egypt, centuries latcr.these two obelisks were removed from On to the city ol 1 Alexandria, on the const. They were then set UD before the new temple erected for the worship of the Ciesar ol Rome, the then sovereign of the world. 1 This was in the reign of the Emperor Agustus, 1800 years agp, and shortly after the death of Cleopatra, the last Queen ol Egypt. In after years the 1 Egyptians gave currency to a tradition ' that she had conveyed these monoliths ' to their new station, and so it chanced that they have been ever since known as Cleopatra's needles. In the lapse ol centuries one of these obelisks fell pros trate and that is the one which now adorns the Thames embankment, the other being the one so successfully brought to this city by Captain Gor ; ringe. This needle has stood erect throughout the entire period of the Christian era, though a part of its base has gradually worn away, and the column has rcquireu to be kept in posi ion by inserting loose stones. The in scriptions on the east and south sides have also been somewhat defaced, either by the action of the sea-breeze, or the steady cutting by winds laden with sand from the desert. Still, it is in re markable preservation, and when set up will prove one of the greatest attractions of New York. The entire cost involved in bringing it here will be about SIOO,- 000, which it is understood, is to be borne by William H. Vanderbilt, Esq. Harvest Straws. A twenty-acre lot, cultivated by Joseph Stevens, Hampton, Md., yielded 550 bushels of screened wheat. Berry Bradford, of Clinch oounty, Ga., Wis four.d dead at his plow handles re cently. He is the third brother that has died suddenly at the plow. - Peter Williams, of Brunswick county, Ga., had just housed his large tobacco crop, when in a storm his barn was blown down and 30,000 pounds of the article ruined. The intense heat during the day, to gether with the brittlenessof the straw, caused Lancaster county. (Pa.,) farmers to do their harvesting by night by tlr: aid of artificial light. I-ahor during the haying and harvest this season in Indiana has not been so scarce and high-priced in sixty-five years. Two women have found con stant employment in a harvest field af two dollars a day each. Pennsylvania claims to have the pre mium wheat-field. It is a part of the I farm of Mrs. Dr. Nathan Miehcner. of Coventryville, Chester county. From a four-acre field 3,500 sheaves of wheat were hauled into the barn. The army worms, says the Reverend Thomas McCormick, of Baltimore, who is now in his ninetieth year, suddenly made their appearance in the year 1800. A fine wheat-field adjoining the Newiin j mill property w.w the first attacked. I They were countless in numbers, and, after stripping the wheat, continued their march into the adjoining wood lands, which they left entirely denuded of foliage and presenting the appear ance as if a mighty hail storm had passed through the woods. The wheat field had at the east end a running stream of wafer that the worms could not have crossed, so that the eggs must have been deposited in the wheat by 1 the moths. How to Jump from a Steamer in Case o icriaeat. It is worth while for pirsons who travel on steamboats to know and re member that they have little chance of escaping with their lives if, in the event of an accident, they leap into the water in front of the paddle-wheels while the wheels are in motion. In spite of their efforts they will bo drawn close to the side of the vessel, and suffer a blow from the wheel, which will either kilt hem outright or disable them so that they can no longer help themselves. They should leap from behind the wheels if possible, when they find it necessary to take to the water. A per son used to the water. If ooapelled to leap from in front of the wheels, may escape the stroke of the paddle by div ing as deep as possible.without making pecia) effort to dive away from the ves sel. If the boat is moving with nearly her usual speed, the wheel wili be likely to pass over him before tie rises, and his chances lor escaping will be fair. In cases where communication with the after part of the vessel is cut off by flame, it is best to remain on the boat as long as possible, and. if forced to taks to the water, to plunge headlong. Per sons diving in that manner do not come to the surface as soon as they would if tbey descended to the same depth drop ping feet first, and they go deeper with the same effort, unless they have trained themselves to bold the limbs entirely rigid, descend perpendicularly and not move hands or Jfeet until they begin to rise. Very few persons who are ac customed to swimming la salt water have acquired the ita sinking feet foremost to any considerable depth. 11 Question and Answer. it Whit is the good and what is the b*d T lr Where is the perfectly true ?j [• Whet m the end you lire lor, my lad ? 1- And what, may I ask, are you T I- Unproven, I fear, is your heaven above, LS Ule is Irot labor and sorrow; is Then why should we hope, and why sbonld to we lore, And why should we oars lor the morrow r There may be a nght worth lighting, rnj 8 Iriend, • Thoagh victory there 1* none; And though no heaven be ours at the end, c .Still we may stear ■freight on. e And though nothing be good, and nothing f q k bud, '• And nothing be true to the letter, Vet a good many things are worse, rny lad, '1 And one or two things are better. ® —Tkt Sptctalor. >f , e " le ITEMS OF INTEREST. >f '• The baker always has his hour of ,r knead, y lt "I am shocked," as the cut grain re e marked.— Marathon lwlepewleni. n The combined capital of the Boston H national banks is fifty million dollars. " In Ireland last year $7,500,000 less 8 were spent for drink than in the pre f ceding year. 1 Mrs. Hiidreth committed suicide at Des Moines, lowa, bscause her husband ' wouldn't take her to' he circus, y The sun's rays, foc&liz jd through tLe , t glass ola round water bottle at Alyth, e S.otland. set fire to a house, e A yacht, two mi es at sea, was thrown e out of the water and capsized by the ex i- plosion of a mine near Ancona, Italy. '* Mtn who never advertise, live and die H without ever knowing that theyhav never touched the true lever of success. A man digging clams, says the New Orleans Picayune, hardly knows whctb< r p he is lishine or engaged in agricultura s pursuits. J A Berks county (Pa.) hen laid a nest - full of eggs in the forks of a tree, twelve e feet from the ground, where she hatched the eggs out. Small checked ginghams made in Wat • teau basque pattern are trimmed with J ginghams that have very large plaids of the same colore. This world is the book ol women, ' Whatever knowledge they may possess ' t is more commonly acquired by observa tion than reading. The head of an empty barrel in tbe • corner grocery may support the curb ' stone orator, but it won't feed his lam | ily.— Waterloo Obtcrvcr. W hen a locomotive engineer runs over his accounts, neither tbe coroner nor cowcatcher are called into requisi • lion.— New Fork Newt. . A Reading (Pa. J man >t