Too und I. \ oil fti cliuilriag up lilo'H pathway— Going down am I; Youth's bright days o'er you are shining, Mine have all passed by; Yet I fain would bo remembered All the Journey through; Will you think oi me as kindly As 1 think of yon T s You are strong lor all endeavor— Weak and worn am I; You are longing for the conflict — For the rest I sigh; Yon have faith, and hope, and courage— Memory's wealth is mine; Yet a tie of love and friendship links my heart to thine. You are looking on to Rlory— Looking upward I; You have stored on earth your treasures Mine are placed on high; Yet no height or depth can sever Love's immortal baud; We shall sometimes find the level Of the heavenly land. —Christian Leader. TOM. Mrs. Hacker and her daughter sat t]ic little parlor behind the shop taking tea. It was a frosty winter night, and the brown teapot was kept on the back of the stove that it might not chill. So was the pan of sausages, which tasted all the more crisp and savory in conse quence. The door between the store and room stood open that any chance customer might be seen at once by the tea-drinkers, but the bell had not jingled since they took their seats. " Trade is dreadful, Emma Jane," said Mrs. Hacker, dipping her bread into the sausage pan and transferring it to her plate by means of the long cooking fork. "Trade is dreadful! I should just give up if it got a little worse; but, dear me, I never had any luck in any thing. There's Mr. Ninnevcr putting plate glass—whole panes—into his windows, and beginning to talk of hiring the second floor for ready-made suits; and my things hang on my hands though I'm sure I make better selec tions than he knows how to. Another cup, Emma Jane —what a comfort tea is. to be sure." "Then give me a cup, won't you, Mrs. Hacker?" said a voice behind them. " I want comfort, I'm aure. Here's grandma gone out and forgot to leave the key, and nothing for me to do but to sit on the stairs and cool my heels." "Thomasfjia! how you scared mc coming in so sodden! screamed Emma Jane. " Sit down, do," said Mrs. Hacker. "Take your seat here, Tom, and have your supper with us. Your grandma stopped to tell me she wouldn't be hack until late, and the. key is in the money drawer." "About all there is there, too," said Emma Jane, with a pout; "and I want a new winter bonnet." "Look here, Afrs. Hacker," said the young man, slowly turning himself toward the old lady. "Look here, ma'am; here's some one ready and will ing to buy that winter bonnet, and all the other bonnets Emma Jane will ever want. We've been engaged a year now, and at last I've got to be foreman in the factory. Why should we put it off any longer? Tell Emma Jane that it's all nonsense. She won't listen to me." "Well, I don't think long engage ments arc best." said Mrs. Hacker* "What I should say to Emma Jane would be, 'Have him row.'" "Ob, well! I suppose I shall be both ered until I do say yes," replied Emma Jane; and then the anxious lover, plead ing his cause earnestly, the wedding day was actually set for Christmas eve, which was at that time about a month off. This conversation, as well as the even ing meal, being over Mrs. Hacker dis creetly retired to the shop and left the lovers alone. However, she did not stay away long. In a few moments she came running in with her glasses on her nose, and an open letter in iter hand. "Read this, one of you," she said. " I've read it, but I can't believe I un derstand it. It seems as though I must be crnzy. Here, you read it Thomas: I have more confidence :n you." Then she pat the letter into Thomas Hunt's hand and sat down at the table. " I found it on the floor," said she. "The postman must have thrown it in at the slit. I don't know whether it's a hoax or not, but its got a regular stamp on, an' all. My gracious, bow queer I feel." Meanwhile Thomas Font solemnly placed the sheet of paper before him, read it through, and turned back to the first line. "It isn't a hoax," said he. "It's a regular lawyer's letter, and what it tells yr.u is that your old uncle, Samuel Hacker, of London, England, is dead, and you are his heiress to the tune of •100,000. It's down in pounds, but that's the sum in our money." " Pinch me! Emma Jane," cried Mrs. Hacker. " I mean it, dear; and if I don't wake up, I'll think it's true." "Ob, pahaw, ma! It's true enough," cried Emma Jane. "How splendldl When are we to have the money? Oh, isn't it just lovely?" But Thomas gave a little sigh. . , . ... ad " r.s. Hacker," lie said, "maybe you think a mechanic not rich enough or line enough lor your daughter, now you are as well off as that. II no, say so out and out, and I'll bear it as well as I can." " Why. Thomas, if I was a queen, I'd think you a good son-in-law," said Mrs. Hacker. "And you, Emma?" said Thomas. " I shall wait until I get my diamonds on before I take airs," said his lady love. Nevertheless the fortune made a change in the programme. It was neces sary for Mrs. Hacker to go to England, and Emma Jane must go with her, she said; and, on the whole, it seemed best to postpone the wedding for awhile. "It wouldn't be respectful to Uncle Simon to marry immediately," said the mother. So Thomas had the unhappiness of seeing his lady-love leave the shores of her native land, and went back to his shop with a very heavy heart. However, he worked hard, and many letters comforted him; and at last his Emma Jane returned gorgeous in the last London fashions; and there was all the bustle of buying a new home, fur nishing it, and Liking possession of it— and very little time for the lovers to he together. "You see," said Mrs. Hacker to Ihomas Hunt, " you see Emma Jane is all stirred up. She'll settle down after awhile; but joung people will be young people, you know." At home Thomas got less comfort. "Emma Jane feels her money; she shows it," said Grandmother Hunt. "And the place is too tine for me, ann the servants stare too much. Sarah Hacker is a sensible woman; but Emma Jane isn't much to depend on. You'll find that out, Thomas." And poor Thomas did find it out. "You see, Tom," said Emma, one day, twirling the cheap ring he had given her softly about on her finger— "You see, Tom, somehow I'd rather not lie married for along while. I don't want you to be angry with me; but I never was a rich girl before—and it's so nice. I get so much attention. I don't want to settle down as an old married woman yet." " I'll wait, Emma," replied Tom. "Ah, but—but you sec it might be no use," said Emma. " Perhaps I never may want to marry; and if you don't mind tnking hack the ring, why wo can be friends all the same." " Can we?" said Tom, in a strange tone. " Well, I shall never be your enemy." And he put the ring into his vest pocket; but he did not trouble the servant to open the door of the big house again. " What ails Tom, Emma Jane," asked Mrs. Hacker. "Why don't he come here any more?" " It's just as well he shouldn't," an swered the girl; "and if you could only drop the Jane, ma; I hate it so." "You didn't use to hate you poor grandma's name," said Mrs. Hacker; "but money has spoiled you, Emma Jane, if ever it spoiled a woman." " Don'i, be cross, ma," coaxed Emma " Tom is very well, hut he is common ; and you know how elegant young Mr. Vreeland is, and—and he pays mc a great deal of attention, ma." "Ah, that's it," sighed old Mrs. Hacker. " He's cut Thomas Hunt out. You've jilted the poor boy." And now Vreeland came often to see Emma Jane, was her escort everywhere, drove her out, walked with her, sang sentimental song 3 with his eyes fixed on her face, and all that might he done to show " what his intentions were." And a year from the day on which Mrs. | Hacker took possession of her new house, she was not surprised by hearing that Mr. Vreeland desired to see her nlone. "Yen, I'll go to sec him, my dear," said Mrs. Hacker, putting on her best cap at the glass; " but I can't help think ing of poor Tom." Mr. Vreeland sat in the parlor in ex actly the proper attitude, wearing the proper drpss, and propcrlv excited—no more. He informed the old lady that he had lost his heart to her daughter, and that ns he believed he had found favor in that young lady's eyes, desired to have permission to set the wedding-day. And Mrs. HaeP'r listened calmly, and answered thu? " Mr. Vreeland, I think you arc what hey call a good match for Emma Jane, and I've nothing against you. It shnli be as she chooses. Only it's but fair to tell you this. You must take her for herself, for in a week's time we shall leave this house, and I shall go back to my little shop. I've been speculating, and, well, you know how things go sometimes." " Yes, I know," replied young Vree land. He turned as pale as death as he spoke, and sat looking down at the carpet. After awhile he said: "Accept my condolences," and arose and bowed himself out of the front door. An hour nfterrwad Emma Jane, to whom her mother bad told the same story of speculation and loss, received a note, which the Vreelands' black ser vant had brought to the door. It ran thus: "MT I)A KM NO EMMA: You know I adorennri must adore yon forever; but my habits a:e extravagant. My father, like your mother, has entered into dis astrous speculations, ai:d I will not bind you to a marriage which could result in nothing but misery. Yours over, in deep despair. REGINALD VKERLANO." Ah, it wns all like a dream to Emma. They went baok u> the old house, and the shop was opened again. The dirty boxes were brushed, the oounter oiled, the pins and buttons, and striped blue elastic, and boxes of cheap thimbles, and the curd-board mottoes stamped for working in silk, graced the glass case once more. The same limited number of cus tomers dropped in, and Emma served behind the counter, and washed dishes in the back room. She was very, very wretched, and life looked dark indeed to her. Old Mrs. Hunt and Thomas still lived on the upper floor. The old grand mother told Mrs. Ilackor that Tom was beginning to like Fannie Earle, the hair-dresser's pretty daughter. Sometimes Tom would pass the win dow, but he never looked toward it. Emma used to sit behind the counter thinking of him. What a lover she had had, and she had cast him away for iortune-huntcr. Her verdict was that she deserved punishment, and she was very sad and very meek. She expected nothing now but to die an old maid, living behind that little shop counter, and never having any ad miration or attention again. In this mood she sat beside her mother one winter evening. The table was spread with the thick stone china; the brown teapot and the pan of sausage hissed on the stove. The door stood open between the shop and the parlor. All that had happened since might have been a dream, and it might have been the same night, a year before, when the letter had come to them which had made such changes, and Emma had even poured out the second cup of tea or her mother, when the door into the hall creaked, and looking up, she saw Tom, big and brown as ever, witli such a look in his eyes. But it could not lie for her; she did not deserve it. And Emma dropped her head upon her hands and burst into tears. Tiien she felt Tom kneel down beside her and put his arm around her waist. " Look at me, Emma," he whispered. " Look at me. my dear. I cannot bear t any more. I never can heip loving you, and forsl 1 that's come and gone, I believe you do love me a little." Then Emma found courage to put her hands upon his shoulders and whisper: " Oh. Tom, I believe I do." • •••••• They were married in a very little while, and it was only after the wedding that old Mrs. Hacker, with a very solemn face, informed them that she had a confession to make. " I haven't lost my money at all, my dears," she said. " I'm half afraid of it, for it seemed to bring unbappiness with it. Yet still it is comfortable to be rich. And now you are married to an honest man, that chose you when you were poor, my dear, wc might as well make the most of it, and ail go over together- Granny Hunt and all—to the big house the servants are keeping for us, thinking we're off on a joarney. I shall never blame myself, and 1 don't think any of you will blamp me, either." Tom looked at Emma, but she only threw her arms about his neck and hid her face in his bosom and said : " The money cannot make me any happier than I am, Tom." And even Grandmother Hunt de clared : "The house don't seem too fine to me now, for there's love in it. and truth in it, and my Tom is as happy as the day." Live Within Your Means. It is almost every man s privilege, and it becomes his duty, to live within his means—not up to, but within them. \\ ealth does not make the man and should never be taken into account in our judgment of men; but competence should always be secured when it can by the practice of economy and self denial to only a tolerable extent. It should be secured, not so much for others, as to secure to us the conscious ness of independence, and the constant satisfaction which is received from its acquirement and possession. There are families who endure miseries untold! because they live beyond their means, because they wish to dress and visit and entertain as neighbors do who have tenfold their income. Of this nar row and vulgar ambition, a brood of sordid and unwholesome things arc born. It is impossible that children shall develop symmetry of character in houses where life is a frantic struggle to appear as gladly as the occupants of the next one appear, the grandeur being all tnsel and vain show. A Russian journal gives some inter esting official information in regard to the drainage of the great Russian marshes in recent years. At the ciose of the year 1879. 30,000.000 acres of the Polessie marshes had been reclaimed by 033 miles of canals. During that year thirty-four bridges furnished with hy draulic machinery 'or the purpose of watering the Selds in the time of drought were erected on these canals. These, added to the number previously built, made sixty-eight. In this same district haifa million of these reclaimed acres are now arable land, which has added 14,000,0C0 rubles to the national wealth. Great drainage works arc car ried on in other Motions, which will give a great impulse to the wealth and pros perity of thateoumrv. There is a lake having an area of ninety acre# on Kern river. Gal. The lake is about] twenty-nine feet in depth at the lower end, and so clear that the fishes are seen swimming around. The lake is located ten miles, nearly east, from the Mineral King mine. A few miles higher up the river there are plenty of bear and deer, and eighteen miles higher up four waterfalls from 7,000 to 10 000 leet high each. DitINKIMU HOT BI.OOD. How I'ntlmf* Take Their Mnlallnal Ormutfht* at a New Orleana Hlauuhter-House. It is comparatively only within the lust fow years that the medieal world has recognized the vitnl properties of blood when tnken by the mouth ns a remedy against phthisis, or, as it is more commonly known, consumption. When in France it wasiirst proposed to give blood as a stimulant and nutrient in cases where the system had lecome depleted from the drain upon the sys tem by tubercles on the lungs, the idea met with great opposition, and for u lime there were long discussions be tween physicians in the leading medical gazettes. Hut some remarkable results in cases of great debilitation, which were well authenticated, gained for this treatment many friends, and a change was wrought even among those who had been most bitter in scofling at such a restorative. Now the abattoirs of I'aris are daily crowded with people suffering from lung troubles—in fact, from all pulmonary complaints. The treatment was not long being intro duced this side of the water, and in New York it was marked with more success than was anticipated. It soon came in use here, and sevral physicians have prescribed the drinki;. > -f blood to their patients, with goo res..lts in a number of cases. Besides blood, their is another remeay for consumption, called koumiss, which has also attained a high rank, and which is now being freely used through out the country. Koumiss is made by the Cossacgs in the steppes of Tartary, from the milk of the mare, which, owing to its liability to ferment and decompose, is not sus ceptible of transportation; but there is made an artificial article here which is said to contain all the chemical prop erties of that from Tartary. Many phy sicians, however, prefer fresh beef's blood to the manufactured article. Recently a reporter of the Democrat visited the Crescent City slaughter house, below the barracks, for the pur pose of witnessing some patients take their daily drafts of gore, and his visit was not without recompense. Meeting the genial superintendent, Mr. John Dolhonde, he gave many details of blood drinking which few people of cur city know of. He said that there ore now as daily drinkers some three or four ladies and the same number of gentlemen. They reach the slaughter house by the cars from Canal street by about noon,and stand near the slaughter pens, awaiting the killing of an animal. A beef is driven into the pen. and the door is closed. A butcher aloft on a scaffolding, armed with a long spear headed pole, watches his opportunity, and with a sudden thrust drives the steel point deep into the base of the steer's brain. The animal, paralyzed by the blow, drops to the floor, wben a second butcher advances and, after cutting d'.wn a portion of the skin, severs the an ries of the neck, and a crimson tide liows out. The ladies have their large pint glasses ready, and the butcher catches the blood flowing in a pulsating stream from the neck and passes it out. when the patients drink it down while still warm and before it has time to coagulate. After the slight feolirg of disgust at the first! draught has passed away, the patients nppci ently relish it and do not evince .tie least sign of hesitancy in'taking it. The taste is a sweetish, salty one, not very different from that of sweet milk, and is likened .to that experienced when a cut finger is involuntarily put in ones mouth to stop the pain. This taste lingers in the mouth for a considerable I time, but the blood-drinkers do not ! complain of it as being unpleasant. Mr. DoiLonde says that he has noticed several remarkable results from it. One —a young lady—who. when she first went down to the slaughter-house, looked exceedingly ill -uiu far gone with .consumption. ll* could mention her name, but it would not be proper. After some weeks' trial drinking blood, she began to improve and to-day is well and hearty. He mentioned several other cases where like good results had come from it, but said some came down there in the last stages of consumption, when, of course, it was too late to do any good. The ladies generally came to his office and he, with pleasure, escorted them to the pens about killing time, which is after twelve o'clock. The reporter then waited for some of the drinkers to appear, and presently a lady, exceedingly thin, with a hectic flush on either check, got out of the cars, and securing her glass, started with her escort down the walk leading to the ab\ttoir. A large milk-white beef had just been driven in one of the pens, and overhead, with pole poised, his execu tioner stood .waiting a favorable oppor tunity to strike. The blow falls, the brute lies trembling on the floor, and in a moment the knife at his throat has opened the dood-gates of his life-tide. The lady's glass was quickly filled, and as quickly handed to her. Without betraying the least emotion, she (pressed the crimsoned breaker to her lips, and, without withdrawing It, swallowed Ps contents and turned away as if she had *ust partaken of some soda water. There was none of that gagging and nausea that cod-liver oil excites, and the effect appeared to be almost its stimulating and exhilarating as a glass of cbsra agne. A brighter color came to her cheeks and her eyes seemed to gain a brilliancy they had not before. As the animals are all inspected be fore they can be slaughtered, perfectly healthy blood is insured, and It is said Ito increase the appetite wonderfully. An ex-sheriff, who is a gentleman ol large franje. after taking three glosses oi blood every day, says that his appetite for dinner is wonderfully increased thereby. It seems to set the organs of appropriation going, and food is more rapidly digested. Blood-drinking has 'become such a common sight at the slaughter-house nobody Beems to pay the least notice to the patients, and they take their gratui tous beverage and go away without ex citing the least attention. During the winter the number increases, but blood enough for a thousand runs off down the gutters of the pens. The treatment, to be of benefit, it is said, must be kept up some months, regularly taking a glass every day.— New Orleans Democrat. Lacked the Conveniences. •' My dear sir," began a cheerful looking gentleman,not particularlyiwell dressed or smelling very pleasant, as he broke into the EagWa sanctum yester day and grasped the city editor's hand. " My dear sir, do you not recognize me?" "No, I don't," rcspoc d <1 the city editor, gruffly. What's you. 'a :ket?" " Don't recognize me! Why, my dear Bir, don't you recognize—did you ever see Doctor Carver, the famous rifle shot?" "No, I didn't," replied the city editor. " Oh, well, that accounts for it," said the visitor, breathing easier. " Are you Doctor Carver?" asked the city editor, suspiciously. "The same," responded the seedy man. " I've dropped in to ask a bit of a favor. Coming across on the boat from New York I made a match with a man who is waiting downstairs for me. We are to shoot right away, and I have oalledin to borrow your gun until I eat him." " Where's your own?" "In New York. Haven't time to get it. The match comes ofl in an hour, and I must have a gun. Happened to think of you and stepped ia. Will re turn it in two hours." " Hut I haven't any gun," said the city editor. "Neverfdid have one. and don't want any." " Anybody round the got one?' asked the doctor. "Do you know any body who has got a gun?" "No, I..don't. Why don't you buy one?" "That's just it. This match is for •f 1,500 a side, and it took every cent of change I had to make the stake. Haven't got a quarter left, so I'm compelled to borrow a gun to win my money back. You wait here, and I'll see the man, and see what he'll do," and the doctor shuffled across the street to where the man in a slouch hat and toqp trousers was trying to decipher a theatrical poster. After a few moments'conversa tion the doctor hobbled back. "We've fixed it," he shouted, glee fully. "He consents to shoot with a pistol. Twelve hundred yards with a ; revolver, which lets us out. The man's a stranger to me, but lie seems to be a [ perfect gentleman. So now we're all i right, eh?" " It looks so," said the city editor fx>d day. Hope you beat him." "There is only one trouble." continued the doctor, "and that is, I haven't any pistol with me. ,If you'll lena me yours till I finish this match, it'll be the best thing you ever did for this paper," and the doctor winked mysteriously. " Hut SI haven't got any pistol," re monstrated the city editor. "There isn't a pistol in the office." " Well, that's funny. I'll ask him again what we'd better do." Once more Ihe shabby doctor and his shabbier friend entered into negotia tions, and the doctor returned, con vulsed with mirth. " He says be'li'throw [penknives at a mark with me, provided I furnish new imported stock. Of course. I can beat him at that, but I haven't the knives. He's thequcerest chap I ever ssw. You liaven't got a couple of nice penknives, have you?" " No!" responded the city editor; " I haven't any." " I don't see how we are going to have the match out, "said thedoctor, "unless he could consent to shy clubs. Hnve you got any Indian clut a or nice walk ing canes about you?" " Nothing of the sort!" " I reckon I'll have to go to New York for my gun, but the worst of it is I've put up my last cent of change on the match —91,500 in cash—and I haven't two cents to pay the ferriage. Of course, I must pay for him because he'a holding the stakes and I don't want to lose aight of him. Got a quarier?" " No," said the city editor. " Haven't anything of the sort." "Of course, 1 don't need a quarter, 'cause the fare is only two cents apiece. Lend me a nickel till I get my gun?" " Haven't got it k " " Very well," said the doctor, with a shade of disappointment on his fac "then the match is off. It won't be shot and I lose my money." Ten minutes afterward the doctor and his friend flew through the swing-door of a saloon on their way to the curb stone. and the city editor looking on from his window felt his conscience case up on him as he noticed that the doctor was a length and two necks ahead or bis competitor, and that he had won one match even if he had forfeited in the other.— Brooklyn Eagle. A return issued by the German post master-general shows the number oi post csxdsused in Europe in the year 187 J to have been *19,000,000. Hope. What is hope ? A moiling rainbow Children follow through the wet; 'fin not here, wtill yonder, yonder; Never tirehJn found it yet. What ia life ? A thawing iceberg On a ea with nanny shore. Cay, we nail; it melt* beneath u; We are annk and ecn no mo re. What ia man T A looliab baby. Vainly strives, and fights, and freta; I remanding all, deserving nothing; One small grave is ail be gets, Thomnt Carlytf HUMOKOUM. Sour feet—A balloon ascension. A woman's belt is always waist fu... A grave error—Burying a man aav*. No matter how old a crowbar may be, it remains a pry as ever. The barber's apprentice is usuaj.ya strapping fellow. Put your head in the cold and you shail be rewarded by having a co.d in your head. All reports to the contrary, tii" i<* I crop for 1%81 has not yet been d&mag'.t | by frost. DressmakTs who know their buain< -- I never make butls; they do all the goring themselves. " Ah," said a deaf man, who had a scolding wife, "man wants but hear below!" A man is a " perfect brick" when i,t shows himself all the better for brine i hard-press?d. Shell pink is a fashionable color. f :.< husband of the lady who w-ars the pink | usually does the shelling. The principal resemblance betw -n a j man who stops a team on the crossw . of a crowded street and half a barr< of ' flour is that both make about a hundred ! wait. " The difference," said the cook. " ( twef n a child of royal birth and a young , iamb is that the first is tended in sp.en dor and the other is splendid 'n teuriey unshcll them; husk corn when they un husk it; dust furniture when they un dust it; skin a calf when they nnskin it; cal* fishes when they unscale them; weed their gardens when they unwred them. The governor or a well-known prison extolled the liberal diet of the convicts under bis care in the following manner " They have not only thirty percent, ol azoted matter, twenty-seven of albumen, eighteen of gelatin, fifteen of fibrinc, and seven of phosphates, but alto ten cubic yards of air a day—upward of 500 gallons—a regular orgie." The Indian Herald says: We hear that a somewhat novel hranc.ii of trade —a trade in wives—has sprung np in some of the Punjauiy frontier districts. Women arc kidnaped beyond the fron tier. purchased by the Afredees and others from their kidnapers and hawked about for sale in British terri tory. These women are often forcibly married to their purchasers, in spite of the fact that they may have husbands and children at their own homes. The trade is extensively carried on in the districts of Dcra Gbaxi Khan and Ko hat. A gale blew down a circus tent at Ar genta, Ark , and two lions escaped from their broken cage. The beasts bounded through the frightened assembly and disappeared into the darkness. The rare opportunity of a lion hunt was not em braced by the inhabitants, who all got behind securely fastened doors as quickly *• possible. The circus employees, how over, provider" themselves with torriri*. pursued the ugitlves, frightened them with the farrg lights, and drove them I nto# cage