If We Had Hat a Hay. Ife should fill tlis hour with sweolcst things, If we hod hut n day ; We should drink nlons at the purest springs In our upwnni wsy; Ws should love with • lifetime's love in ui hour If the hours were few; We ehould rest, not for dreams, but for fresher iniwer To be and to do. We should guide our wayward or wrary wills By the clearest light; We should keep our eyes on the heavenly hills, As they lay in sight; We should trample the pride and the dis content Beneath onr feet; Wo should lake whatever a good God sent, With a trust complete. We should waste no momenta in weak re gret, If the days were but one— If what we remembered and what we regret Went out with the sun ; We should be from our clamorous selves set free. To work or to pray. And bo what our Father would havo us to be, If we had but a day. SO GOES THE WORLD. " Netta !" sang a shrill voice after me, as 1 ran down the lane. 1 am Antoinette—Antoinette Lang ley—and thev call me Tina, Toinette, Ante, anytiiiiig containing any of the syllables, in order to abbreviate the tiresome appellation. Indeed, I con sidered myself called too often. On the present occasion I knew I should be called back if I did not run. I ran, and was recalled notwithstanding; I returned to the house more delilx-rate ly than I had left it. "The most essential tiling I have forgotten," said Aunt Tilda—the thing forgotten was always most essential with her. " It din's not matter how many offers you get on the way, you an; not to ride. You will spill the custard and your dress will lie spoiled." " I promise," I returned, gravely holding the pail almost at arm's-length, "I will not ride unless Tom Armstrong or Susy Winters' beau overtakes me. I could not refuse Tom, you know, aunty, because 1 like him; nor the very sage Mr. Kverard. because I uo not like Susv. Resides, I have met hiin on occasions, and he—well, he in terests me." "As for Mr. Kverard, ho would never think of asking you. Susy is much handsomer—" "Than anything you please, Aunt Tilda, if you except your lovely niece." "Ride with Tom Armstrong, if yon think- best, Toinette Langley," said my aunt, suddenly leaving Susy; and she continued, bcr hand directl to ward me in the form of an index: "He hal better not bring his pink-and-white face around here any more, or I'll send you into the kitchen and receive his simpers myself ! I'ali ! I can't abide a pretty man." '"When I return I will toll you which of the two I honored," I said, turning from her with a low bow. Tom. whom my aunt calls a good for-naugbt, is the squire's son, and ha* always lieen my preux-ehevalier. I have buttered him and sugared him. as the mood seiz*l me, and snuhlied him unmercifully at times—he was so tiresome. Hut Aunt Tilda had fallen into the way of fretting aliout him. For this reason and liecanse lie often assured me that Susy Winters' tw-auty could I war no comparison to mine, I had favored him of late. Mr. Kverard is a new arrival, He has just built a cottage -an nrtistic, unpretentious structure- hired a I o i*e kecper. and settled down among us. His house just libs into the little nook where it was built, and seems to be a part of nature. The birds think it lie lnngs to them, hxi, and hover around it in ecstasy. Aunt Tilda it was who told me this, and she added that she did not at all wonder, for the other houses in Walton were an offense to architecture and the birds knew it. Hut I do not see hut there are feathered songsters enough in our •Ims, and I doubt if Aunt Tilda would exchange her gambrel-roofed home stead, that has servtxl the Langleys for four generations, for the "new-fangled concern," as Deacon Reward calls it, that Mr. Kverard inhabits. This Mr. Kverard is an author—a man who writes heavy articles on social science, or some other incom prehensible subject, for the (teeanin. We hardly expected that he would ass4K-iatc with us common raorta's, but he had twice attended our **K>rietica," each time bringing Susy Winters, wh*we father is his friend ; and Susy, since this distinction, had assumed high airs, thereby exciting our resent ment. I bait not proceeded ten rods on#ny way iK'fore John Seward, the deacon's son, drove up mid asked me to ride, '• I should lie so glad to, Mr. Hcw ard," I nai<l ; "lut Aunt Tilda Just back to say that on no ac count was I to ride lost I spilled the contents of thi# pail, which is to bo delivered intact to old Mrs. Turner." " We might look out for that, Miss j Tina," he said. " Oh, yes ! I ain not at all afraid of spilling it," I replied. "I only fear it i might offend aunty, who is inclined to | think well of you now." ' The young man drove on and 1 was exultant; for had not my aunt for | once been caught in her own trap? Of all the young men in Walton, bating Mr. Kverard, John Seward was the one she would have most approved of my riding with, and I had not the least objection to his escort on oeea- ] sions myself. 1 only felt that jealousy ; of my liberty which young America must have inherit**! from its Revolu tionary ancestors, and I did not like dictation in my choice. Soon after John Seward disappear**! I hoard another team behind me, sure footed and *triking in exact concert. I ( knew before he slackened his pace to pass mu that it was Mr. Kverard. I lifted my face shyly fit was shaded by a pink Mmbonnct j to make sure it was he, when, touching his hat, he said : •' Hut for your manner, Miss l.ang lcv, I should nut have been able to make you out. I do not think you could change that with your dress. Will you rjdo?" , " I ,1111 going to Mrs. Turner's," I replied, "and aunty said 1 must walk all of the way." '• Well," said he, smiling, "it is a long walk, but I must not urge you." " 1 don't need urging," holding up 1 my hand to be helped in. " I am too \ wise to walk that distance when I can ! ride as well." '• Why did she wish you to walk ?" he inquire*!, when I was seated. " Ostensibly on account of the ens- i tard," I said, touching the covered pail —"as though I would spill it—but J really lest I might ride with Tom Arm strong. She dislikes him, and thinks he is omnipresent when 1 am out." "Upon what is her aversion based?" j " I lis beauty. The same platform of my regard." Mr. Kverard laughed, and leaned forward to peer under my sunlwnnet, I was quite serene. "That is rather a shaky foundation.' is it not. Miss l.angley? It seems to mo a man should have something bet-, ter to recommend him to a true woman's regard." "Oh, well," I replied. "Mr. Arm strong is * lever. Not in the Knglish 1 sense of tin* term, perhaps; but I don't think he would harm a fly. Aunt Til- I da calls him innocent, because she j thinks lie lacks energy." ••Perhaps you are strong-minded.'' said Mr. Kverard. "and that accounts for your preference, as such people are strongly attracted bv their opposite*, it is said." lie was evidently making sport of both Tom and me, so I only answered with a toss of my head, for tlie time oblivious of my covered pail, and on alighting soon after at Mrs. Turner's door, Mr. Kverard exclaimed: " What a sight for gods and men !" The custard had spill**! a portion in my lap, and yellow streamlets trickled down from his side. 1 was Ailed with dismay; but lie seem**! master of the position, and looked down with a quiet, laugh. " You are distressed," he said. " Alt. Miss Toinette, forgive met I fear that ! have not looked out as gallantly for your custard as Tom Armstrong might have done; and then ' Aunt Tilda' might j take a dislike to me, and I had intended to make her a propitiatory offering, and try to induce her to let her niece take a long ride with me. It would give me pleasure to take you next week to the Falls." "To the Fall*!" I repeated, looking up with slow delight. I had not seen them sine® I was a j child. They were but fifteen miles | away; but aunty would never let me j ! " flam off," as she called It, that dis- ! tance, with "a parcel of giddy-jjeails;" so I had never been included in the distant excursions of the young folks. " Yes," he replied, to my exclama tion. •'Will you go?" " I could not think of refusing," I answered; •• and for Aunt Tilda, her heart must lie adamant to spoil such a treat." •• Well, we will go. then, and It will make me almost as glad as it will you, for it is long since I have seen a frank , look of pleasure like that wiiich beams from your face." Upon entering the house I deposited my pail in Mrs. Turner's pantry, And. ing that there had not so very much of the custard escaped. And with the anticipated pleasure promised me I felt less like a martyr than usual In trying to make myself useful to the old lady, who was not of a very genial nature, ; but disjioscd to be fault-finding even with thoan who were trying to benefit her. I walked home, and on entering ex claimed that I was nearly exhausted. "Then you should have ridden with John Seward," remarked my consistent aunt. " Why, aunty, you know you forbade riding." "And you know, Miss Antoinette, that 1 would have been perfectly willing to have you ride with John." " Flut there was the custard, Aunt Tilda, ami beside I wanted to keep my word." " You rode with Torn," said my aunt, looking a little wrathful. "I rode with Mr. Everard," I con fessed, and she made no comment. A few days after this 1 sat in the door picking over currants, when Mr. Kveiard mode his appearance, lie was armed with a Imuquet and a basket of luscious-looking strawberries. The former was for me, the latter for Aunt Tilda. She was pleased. And when an emotion of pleasure mover her she is ■ just lovely and nothing els*. 1 was half in fear that Mr. Everard would forget to invite me to the prom- 1 ised ride and engage my aunt instead. Hut no.be naked for the pleasure of taking us Isitb. Mr. Winters' family wastobe of our party, he said. Aunty graciously consented. Well, we had our ride, which was delightful ; and during tin* season 1 there were a series of societies, as 1 usual, and a picnic or .*>- the only means of dissipation presented to the rural mind in a community emiuenily staid and church-going. Occasionally I went with Tom. sometimes with Mr. Everard—Susy Winters coming in, likewise, for her share of attention fr on the latter gen tleman. At last, in its season came a grand nutting party. Tom was my attend ant. 1 bad used a little manuvcring —strategy I dignified it—to receive his invitation in good time so that I might say I was engaged when Mr. Everard came later with a reqin-st (which I thought he would), as a just punishment, you sis-, for bis having taken Susy to the last society when I considered it my turn to receive that attention. It was October at the last. The trees were half aflame, and the hectic leaves had whirled' into variegated hea|s that served us for seats when we grew weary. Mr. Everard took Susy and was more attentive to her than circum stances railed for I thought; and I got dreadfully tons! with Tom's inter minable nonsense, and slipped away Into the wood*. I rather enjoyed, in prospective, Tom's bewilderment when he discovered iny absence. I wandered down to a little stream and along its lstrder until I reached a slight bluff crowned with late (lowers. They were really beyond mv reach, I thought; but the unattainable lured me and I determined to attain. So I commcncisl climbing, and had almost reached the summit of my de sires, when I slipped, and caught by bushes, and struggled, until I arrived ingloriously at theltasc. My hair was disheveled—lt was my own—my dress torn, my arms bleed ing. I sat with tears in my eyes, in con fusion and distress, my sleeves pushed back, insis'ting bruises, when who should appear on the scene but the formidable Mr. Everard! " Tina Langley, by all that is love ly !" he exclaimed ; and his next move ment was to kneel at my feet, like an old-time knight. " Xow have Imy bird of the wilderness at an advantage. Torn and bleeding, her plumi>* ruflled, her spurs lost; no Aunt Tilda in the way and no Tom Armstrong." And then for the next half-hour that author of social science improved the time, saying the most foolish things in the most unscientific way, until Torn blundered along. He was not too obtuse to compre hend the situation, and on our way borne he dcrlnred that I bad ruined his prospecta, and he should die of a broken heart. I kindly promised to use my Influ ence with Mr. Everard to haven suit able epitaph placed upon his tomb, and he called me a heartless charmer, and left me at last, protesting that his earthly career was well-nigh ended. I did really feel uneasy respecting him; hflt w hen I had given to my aunt a correct account of the day's doings (and I observed that my disclosures respecting Mr. Everard afforded he r great satisfaction), she carried her chin high in air, as I expressed my fears and said: " We will aoe what we shall see." Well, we are to l>e married soon, Mr. Everard and I, and Tom Armstrong has broken hin heart, after the manner of men, by engaging himself to busy Winters, who, three months ago, • bought Tina Langley must be greatly | In need of an escort to go with that Tom Armstrong." "And so goes the world," says my reflective Mr. Everard. She Won't Need Them Any More. Nome days since a disseminator of ''fmff notice I a ragged little bootblack culling some bright blossoms from a bruised and faded bouquet, which a chambermaid had thrown from a window into the alley. " What are you doing with that bouquet, my lad?" asked the dissemin ator. , "Xawthin'," was the lad's reply, as he kept on at his work. " Hut do you love flowers so well that you are willing to pick them out of the mud?" " I s'pose that's my business, an' none o' yotir'n." "Oh I certainly, but you surely cannot expect to sell those faded flowers ?" "Sell 'cm ! who wants to sell 'em ? I'm g'lin' to take them to Lil." " Oli, oh ! Lil is your sweetheart, I i see." " No, Lil is not my sweetheart—site's my sick sister," said the lxiy, as his j eyes flashed and the dirty chin quiv ered. " Lil'* been sick a long time— an' lately she talked of nothing but (lowers an' birds, but mother tole me this iimrnin' that Lil would die b-lebe j fore tlie birds an' flowers came back." The Inty burst into tears. "Come with me to the florist's, and ; your sister shall have a nice laulqiiet." The little fellow was 5..,n bounding ■ home with tin- treasure. Next day h< i appeared and said ; " 1 came to thank you, sir, for Lil. i Tlifißmuqtict done her so much good, and She hugged and hugged it till she set herself a oouglun' again. Shu says she'd come hime-by and work for you. as soon as she gits well." An order was sent to the florist to give tlo- I toy every other dav a bouquet for Lil. It was only the day ivfore yesterday that the Imothla-k appeared again. !!•• stepped inside the office door and -aid: "Thank yui. sir. but Lil- Lil" (tears wa re streaming from his eye*) " won't need—the flow ers any more." He went quickly away, but Ids brief words bail told the rtory. Lil won't tiei-d the flow, rs any more, but they will grow above her and the birds will sing around her just the same.— Ihtroit Chuff. ■ The button Trade. Although this Country engages largely in the work of making certain kinds of buttons by machinery and stands unequalcd in the manufacture of tin- lira*-, ivory and machine covered varieties, Americans, according to a tralc j viper, cannot compete in the manufacture of the styb-* requiring handwork or the use of stone. Glass buttons are made mostly in Bohemia, and ehildren are largely employed at tlie work, which they do as quickly and as neatly as adults. The children get ten cents a day, men from forty tc fifty cents and women a little less. I'earl buttons are imported from Vienna, where they are almost exclu sively manufactured, and the all-im |Nrtant shirt buttons are received mostly from Hiriuingham, England, where the majority of metal buttons are likew i*e procured. The most ex tensive of all the button-manufactur ing, however, is that of the Parisian j and Berlin novelties, in which new styles are gotten up and sent to Amer ica Vverv week. In one manufacturing village near Paris, where there arp from live to six thousand inhabitants, all tin working people are engaged in making the agate button, which, even with thirty per cent, duty added to the cost sell, when Imported into this country, at the extremely low figure of thirty one cents per great gross. The material alone, it is reported, could not lie pro rured here for double that amount. Coffee a Disinfectant. It is not sufficiently known that when coffee Ivans are placed upon hot coals or on a hurt plate, the flavor aris ing is one of the most effivtive and at the same time agreeable disinfectants. If no heat is disposable, even the spread ing of ground coffee on the object to lie disinfefted, even If it be a cadaver, is most satisfactory. Some journals an nounce this as a newly discovered fact, but it appears by investigation that it was well known by nurses and house wives forty years ago, while some mem Iters of the medical profession became only convinced of its value some twenty years ago, while at present the majority of physician* are not aware of the virtues of this simple and agreeable remedy. The principal street car company in Boston has discarded the bell punches, alleging that dishonest conductors have discovered ton many ways by I which to cii cum vent them. TOPIC# OF THE DAY. Joseph Arch, the English land agi tator, was formerly a common lodger and ditcher -the best in Warwickshire, it is said. He is a stout man, with a round, red, good-natured face, and a ipuaker is often eloquent, though sometimes hesitating ami confused. ll* will endeavor to secure a scat in parliament at the next general elec tion. The lumber business of FugetSound, W. T„ is immense, arid its distribu tion is very wide. In one day, recent ly, vessels were seen loading for Bos ton, Ban Francisco, Valparaiso, the Sandwich Islands, Vallejo, Mexico, Japan, China, France, England and Australia. The export in 1881 was about 175,000,'J00 feet, valued at $1,700,000. Farmers in tin- United States have $12,210,2-53,310 of capital invested in their business. Of this amount the value of farms is placed at $10,196,- ■W.'>4s; farm implements at $408.- 510,902; livestock, $500,832,187; fer tilizers, and fence $79,- 705,723, From fhis enormous sum it is estimated that nearly sl'.io.<ii>o,o<# is annually > ollwted in taxation fur the sujijiort of the local and national gov ernments and purpose* of education. The total contribution or proluetion to be credit*! i , tin- farmers foot* up in round number* $2,500,<XX),000. The English paper* have had to pay dearly for their war correspondence, but the enormous demand for news ha* apparently more than compensated them. The press cen-.rship required ths dispatches to be sei t just as they were to ie published, a d would not permit "skeleton" in<- ages. Every word sent from Egypt c t about $1.75. and th* average expense of one London daily is said to have been $5,000 a w i-ek. The telegraph bill of the Stand nr>l, whose dispatches have l*-en the most complete and graphic, is believed to have averaged sl.2<>' a day. The last dog story is told by a Georg'.i paper, thi- Aincriciis N'jiubliran. It is to tbc effort tlmt a faintly in tliat town having a fa!*" grate in one of the rooms of the house, placed some re<l pap-r behind it to give it the effect of fire. One cold day the house dog caine in from out of doors, and seeing the paper in the grate, lay down to re ceive the heat a* it came from the lire. Feeling no warmth h< raised his head and l'sikisl over hi* shoulder at the grate ; fis ling no heat, he applied liis n<*e to the grate and sme.lt of it. It was cold as ice. With his tail curled lietwcrn his legs the disgusted dog trotted nut of the room, not even cast ing a look at the party in the room. t A quite novel theory a!out the ulti mate fate of the devil has lx*en pr<e pounded l.v Ir. Ilatcly Waddcll at Glasgow. The reverend gentleman se lected for his text the well known verse* in the twentieth chapter of Revelation "And I saw an angel comedown from heaven, having the key of the liottoinless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he lay hold on the dragon and lound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit." lr. Waddcll explained that the terms dragon, devil, or Satan w ere hut figurative expressions for what is called the principle of evil. If ever an angel, he informed his audience, came down from heaven to earth for a work like this, it was the angel of elec trical science. It caine direct from heaven. If sitHi an angel brought a chain in his hand, it was the telegraph wire and the electric cable coiled up and carriisl on his arm. If ever such an angel hail such a key as spoken of in the text, it was the submarine tele graph-Just in pn>|>orlion as electricity , risriixl the earth, just in that same pro portion would the devil lie defeated. The United States government own* much valuable projxTty in Washing ton. From the figures of the official assessment, it ap|x ars that the capitol building is assessed at $15,099,556, and the grounds at $7,907,595. The White House at $734,599, and the executive stables at $28,500. The treasury de- i partment building and grounds are' assesso 1 at $7,008,454 ; the state, war and navy department buildings, i $6,211,161; the agricultural department building. $331,825, and the grounds, $689,086 ; the Smithsonian, $492,651, and national museum, $250,000, and the grounds, $2,553,378 ; the national monument grounds, $1,815,781, and the Washington monument, $300,000 ; the national observatory grounds, $125,861, and the building. $255,284 ; the patent office building and grounds, $3,754,883 ; the arsenal buildings 6233,- 324, and grounds, $1.221,607; the J marine liar racks ground, $31,235, and buildings, $829,637 ; the naval hospital, $7 ,198,128; bureau of engraving and " printing grounds, $27,612, building,] j $327,537; Winder's building, used by J engineers' bureau of the army, $214,- I 307; United Mate* medical museum, j 590,280; general postoffice ground*, ' £312,495, building, $2,124,500; govern* ruent printing office, ju diciary square and city ball, $1,399,- 713; United Mat-s jail, $.525,5.50; United States navy yard, ground $1,413,500, building* and wharves, $3,615,808; liotani'-al gard'-n, grounds, j $1,402,251, buildings. $556,670, hot house*, $58,598. Tk<- aqueduct is valued at $3,847,547, arid water pipes and plugs, $172,270. The intersections of streets, circles and space* are down at $4,082,942. 'J lie department of justice, ground, $150,000, and build ing, $150,000; the government Insane | asylum, $1,349,775; the reform school, $221,056; the soldiers' home, grounds, $333,947, buildings, $350,000; naval magazine, $95,000; th* Georgetown postoflice and custom house, $',3,707. Curious Anrbnt Records. Many were the expedients resorted to by the early K<nl>e-> lor the supply ;of writing materials. There was no scribbling paper whereon to jot down t rival memoranda "r accounts, but the heaps of broken pots and eroekery of all sorts, which are *o a)>undant in Eastern towns, prove the first gug ge-tion for such china tablet* and slates as we now use, and bits of smooth stone or tiles were constantly used for this purpose, and remain to this day. I ragments of ancient tiles thus srrib bled on (such tih- as that whereon Ivzekeil was commanded to portray the city of Jerusalem jhave Ix—ri found in many places. The island of Ele phantine, on the Nile, is said to have - furnislied more than a hundred sjas-i- A mens of these BMBMnitdM which an . now in various museums. Oneof these 4 is a soldier's leave of absence, scrib bled on a fragment of an old vase. How little those scribes and account ants fan--.m the iiit< re-t with which learmxl d< sc ndant* of the barha* ri.ujs of tin- isles would one day treasure their rough notes. J quainter were the writing materia , of the am lent Aral's, who, before the time of Mohammed, used to earve their annals on the shoulder-blade* of sh<*ep; tin e "sheejeb Ji" chronicles" were strung together and thus pre servtsL After awhile sheep's lone* were replaced by sheep's skin, and the manufacture of parchment wax brought fo such perfection as to pi t it among' the refinement* of art. We hear of vellums that were tinted yellow, others white; others were dyxl of a rich 1 purple, and tlie writing thereon was I in golden ink. with border* and inany ijoloreil dis-orations. Tlo-*e precious manuscripts were anoint - ! with the oil of cedar to preserve tie-in from moths. W.-hear f one such in which (lie name of Mohammed is with garlands of tulips and carnations™ painted in vivid colors. Still more precious was the silky paper of thdl I'ersians, je>wdcr<*l with gohl and sil ver dust, whereon were print's! Illuminations, while the b • .1. was per fumed w itli attar of rose* or •>*< nee of sandalwood. Gmtl<man't Jfa</a?iiu. PEAKLB OF THOUGHT. The next dreadful thing to a battle lost is a battle won. . Memory is strengthened by exercise and life by remembrances. The history of the world is nothing hut a procession of clothed idea*. Every one has his faults, but we dc not aee the wallet on our own backs. Though authority lie a *tubl>orn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with ' g"M- Love is never lost. If not roripro oated it will flow lark and soften and i purify the heart. A lie Is like a brush-heap on lire ; It I is easier to let it burn out than to try I to extinguish it. The grand essentials of happiness I are something to do, something to love I and something to hope for. fl Fortune turns faster than a mill I wheel, aud those who w ere yi-steixlay I at top may tind themselves at bottom fl twlay. ■ A man whose reason is sound neverfl is without perception of truth, if only I he has the affection of understanding I truth. A man's first care should tie to avoid I the reproaches of his own heart; hoi next, to escape the censure* of world. A slave has hut one master. Ttofl ambitious man has as many as there are persons whose aid nmyH contribute to the advancement of hilH fort una An interest ing fact brought out byfl the British prntmasirrttneral'ianuufl report i* that during the last fiscal the United States sent Great 9,500,000 lie w spa per* and received | her 7,500,000. M I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers