thanksgiving at Homo.
Oh ! precious I lie memories which Hleal o'er
tho heart,
Like our hopes of woct heaven thojr oouie;
But the ncluwt remembrance tho eoul am
revive
Is the thought of Thanksgiving at homo.
No eyoe into oure have more beautifully
gun),
Since we froiu tho homo*toad did romn;
No *milc* ever cheered, no tone* are liku
tho*e
Which blewed our Thanksgiving at homo.
Tho feast was more luscious than any our
lif>A
Since trotted ; and love it did bloom ;
Till wo felt that the present can never com
pare
With the dear old Thanksgiving nt home.
•
Ruoh music as floated through parlor and
hnll, .
Such xcoating of every old tome —
Even life growuth sweeter it* wo feed on
them now,
Reviewing Thanksgiving at home.
Alas! then our hearts did bask in the smiles
Of many who sleep in the tomb;
No more will re-echo their voice* again,
In tho earthly Thanksgiving at home.
There arc "loves" which live longer than all
human thing*;
These recall u*. when thought* they would
roam.
Bo we'll gather tin in closely, till our children
shull t> II
Cf a blessed Thanksgiving nt home.
THE TURKEY'S STORY.
A T.VI.E OF THANKSGIVING.
I claim no sort of distinction for
having been born a good-looking tur
key. One shouldn't ho too proud of
natural advantages. Candor, however,
forces nte to admit that I rather prided
myself on my brown mottled breast
and creamy wings, which made it an
easy matter to single nte out of a barn
yard of fowls, ordinary in most re
spects.
1 was brought out of my babyhood
and early trials under the personal
care of a very kind little boy, who
used to stulT me, however, in a hor
rible manner with cornmenl dough
until the water ran out of my eyes.
His kindness in this respect was a
gnat drawback to my happiness. If
1 could only have been let alone to
wander around the farm and into the
haymows and granaries at pleasure, I
should have liked it better, but as 1
said before, I should hate to be un
grateful. 1 had a twin brother who
was a good-natured fellow enough, but
he was not handsome. A* soon as we
Chipped our shell ,ve were claimed by
the farnv-r's two sons, who wrangled
a good deal over what to rail us. A
young turkey, as you may know, isn't
particularly lovely, and at that age I
saw no reason to bo vain or
haughty with my brother, who
afterward turned nut badly.
" You may rail yours Hilly or Jack,
if you like." aid my little boy, sitting
under a chestnut tree untying a lot of
cotton twine to make a kite-tail. "As
for me, Charley, I have already named
my turkey Mustapha."
"Sounds like mustard," said Charley,
throwing a chip slyly at one of my
toes. "What does it mean? it's
awful queer.ain't it?"
"Yes; but it's got some style to it.
He don't look like a common turkey
and he ought to have an uncommon
name."
" Well, you've got it, I should say.
I never heard of no Mustaphas in all
my t>orn life and you neither, I
guess."
" You ain't read no tales of kings, 1
reckon." said my master, Freddy,
turning very nd in the face. " Mua
tapha ha* been the name of a lot of
kings and princes in story Ixs.ks, don't
you know -them stories Sallie Horton
used to read to Kitty when she sprained
her knee falling out of the cherry trie-
Mustapha means a great lot of things!
I don't know what all; ask Kitty. If
1 was you. Charley, I'd call mine Ali-
He's another of the same kind of
Chaps. It's most as pretty as Mus
tapha, too."
" I'll see," said Charley, taking a
U 'tter aim at me this time; - I'm going
V) have a christening soon as ever mine
can stand a ducking in that old trough
yonder."
This chance remark came near cost
ing us our lives, as we were both held
tinder water so long that our teeth
rattled, or they would if we hail had
Buy. Mrs. Thompkfns gave Charley
and Fred a lot of cookies and bakixl
apples for their picnic the following
Haturday. without suspecting their
dark and'deadly designs, and so my
brother and I were dragged to the old
horse-trough—the fresh spring water
was pumped in, and we were baptized
and christened, respectively, " All
Charles Thoinpkins and Mustapha
Frederic Thoinpkins, K Squire," and
" the Lord have mercy on your souls,
Amen !" This was the winding up,,
and I suppose the prayer was beard
immediately, as we both gavo a gasp
and come to with a shiver.
Ali's legs were a liUIo wobbly and
queer after this, ami I think his chris
tening went against him. Nothing
unusual happened after this for a long
time. 1 shall never forget those long
sunny days, when All ami 1 prowled
through our neighbor's wheat fields,
and picked up many stray bugs
and calcrpillcra on the green hills
and meadows around. 1 think we
were favored in many ways, when
it came to he known at the house that
we were eivili/ d turkeys, and bad
names like Christians, though I have
doubted this since, having heard some
of tho goings-on of certain Mustaphas
ami Alis, who were not to
know. Hut the bays meant well.
Sometimes I think Ali got his badness
, with his name, il • was always scrateh
| ing up garden sped and running the
young chickens and pecking at the
! ugly little g islins h -fore tii *y feathered
' out. Hoys were alway* llaiging rocks
'at Ali, and otic- Mr. Hrvau's hired
man, I'ete, shot an arron into one of
his wings, which he always dragged
after that.
Mrs. Thoinpkins was a kind-hearted
woman, and I felt very sa l to see lu-r
moping around with anaprou over her
Ilea l, crying in the pan full of dough
• ho mixed for us morning an I night.
Her husband was a .stem, grulT tn in,
i who had no patience with anybody but
! Dan'l, who was a r> gul.ir ">atan, and
; his mule, >!igo, who kicked every
! hitehing-post down on t!io place.
J Things were going wrong, even a scat'
tercd-braincd turkey could sep that,and
i we soon lcarm d what it was all about.
While quietly feeling in tho yard
J during the milking and the doing up
I of chores. I gathered stray bits of talk
which alarmed me dreadfully.
I There was a heavy' mortgage (what
ever that was) and the talk of a fore
closure soon unless something was
! done. The crops were all bad, the bay
had Ileen spoiled by the rains, and
Farmer Thompkins needed money
badly.
"I don't see as I can help it, Mary."
he said, puttiug up the bars after Hue
and lb—s, the cows. "I hate to part
I with lies.*, she's a line milker, but I've
been Offered a good price, and I am
going to take a lot of chickens and
turkeys to town for Thanksgiving.
Thev'ro a nice gang, and ought to
bring twenty or thirty dollars more."
Freddy sitting on the chopping
blocks gave a little cry and ran to ine
instantly, tying a faded bit of red
tlannel around my n--t k. " Not my
Mustapha, father—l i ouldn't eat him
if I starved myself, let alone seeing
other greed doing it."
"Well, you needn't *•■• it, you know,"
said Farmi r Thompkin*. with a laugh.
"You won't know n> thing nlmut it. I
guess. He ain't no letter than the
other turkeys. As like a* not he'd be
knocked over f--r our own Thank-giv
ing dinner. If I'd let y>u boys alone
I'd have ,i Jot of pi ive.l-.,ut old t 4
key* on the p p . every y. ar. eating
their heads off, ! mse you an't bear
to see them k: 11 •I. All b> -h!"
I'.eir Freddy ! I must -ay that I felt
staggered myself, but he < rnsl so loud
that Charley . am,-, running, and he
joined in, and Kitty • ameout in afresh
clean apron, and she began to crv,
which t.H.k all tie .tarch out of it.
"\\ ell, b<>} . -aid Mrs. Thompkins
in a troiibb i way, "this ends you hav
ing p t turkeys and chickens. I can
not stand -n< h ems* everv year. I
sympathize with you, but your father
is right; he i* sadly vexed now. and
you mustn't add to it. lam sorry for
poor Ali and Mu-tapha, but it isn't as
if they Imd souls, you see."
Cruel woman ! What should she
know about turkey*' - ails?
" Ali and Mu-tapha have got souls,"
said Charley, in a gr. at rage. "We
hapti/od them and christened them,
and they ain't like no common turkeys
I ever see."
Kitty felt our misfortune keenly,
but she rather grieved the most for
Hess, who wa* a kind and lovely crea
ture and as soft as *dk. Hess looked
lat Kitty with her mild eyes wonder
ingly, as Kitty leaned over the bars
and Bobbed as if her heart would break.
"Oh, dear, what a bard old world
this is! Darling Hess, I shan't ever go
j over to the daisy meadow after you an\
i more."
Mrs. Thompkins wiped her eyes
slyly and went into the milk-house,
I while that ugly Sligo carried on scan
dalously and laughed if ever a mule
did In this world. He hated us all, I
believe, anil Dan'l put him up to it.
I cannot dwell on the sorrowing
scenes connecter! with the severing of
those home ties, nor tell how Freddy
swore he'd run away with a circus
nor Jpiw Charley in a (It of rage
strangled joor Ali nt early daybreak,
while his father was putting Dolly and
sligo to the wagon.
We were all dreadfully hnstlcd and
crowded, and a horribly fat goose
stood on my corns the whole way, and
this with grief for All and the loss of
Freddy, made me really hardened and
caruir.n. F.ven turkeys can feel after
tbey have b cn christened.
Wo were all glad to get to the
| butcher's. 1 hoped it would bo over <
I soon, (Jrcat red-faeod rooks and loan
I old in on rarno in and poked and
I squeezed iih until tiiore wasn't a sound
spot left on our bodies. 1 think 1 ac
tually grew thin in two liours. I
couldn't eat nor drink. I was so
homesick for the old liarnyard and
freddy, and Hess, and Sue, and Kitty
anil the old trough, and all the rest -
lost to mo forever I would havegivou
worlds to have been strangled like Ali.
One by one the chickens and geese
and turkeys wont, and ft last I
wandered around alone. Everybody
praisud ino and thought mo a beauty,
hut nobody bought ine.
" Why, Schneider," said ono man to
the huckster, "1 wotildn't eat that
turkey for a farm. He's got eyes like
a human being, lie's too knowing."
" I'd like t . know what's the matter
with that dunged yellow turkey," said
S lineider to his wife, at last. "I
believe lie's -■ • -li. If 1 didn't think so
I'm blamed it I wouldn't have him fur
my own Thanksgiving dinner, fur
ipite. He < ist me an awful siglit."
" You might get the hydrophoby,"
said Mrs. Shm-idcr. " I don't want
to eat him. I don't like yaller tur
keys, nohow."
Finally a customer cntno in who
wanted a live turkey -a young man
who didn't know a good turkey from a
had one - and Schneider and I parbsl
with no lasting regrets on either side,
I fancy.
My customer's wifo was a pretty
little thing, who was playing at keep
ing house. Shut alked a guud deal of
nonsense to her husband, and some to
me, and then coaxed me to eat, whieh
I declined to do, knowing what wpmld
ho the result. I tamely submitted to
her caresses and leaned against her
hand, and she gave a little scream of
dismay,
" Wiiy, Arthur, darling, this Is a
tame turkey; xoniclssly's poor pet; see,
lie has a string on his io ok. Why,
dearie, I couldn't kill that turkey and
cat him for anything in the world. I
should choke."
" Non sen e, Dora." said my new
master. "Wo c.m't throw away money
like that. If anybody was so hard
hearted as to sell a pet turkey, I don't
see why we shouldn't eat him, my
precious."
" Hut I e.an't eat a pet turkey, dear;
I'd r.ithcr not have Thanksgiving
dinner. It's too horrible. I had a pet
turki y one."
Here Uie door-hell rang loudly, and
a hale old gentleman blustered in,
with a huge br >vn parcel m his arm*-
My new master's father-in-law, Mr.
Hornli k, who. by the hiiv. hel l that
mysteriousinortg.ige untie Thoiupkins
farm. He ha 1 brought adr -•• -11nrk v
l>v way of a presi-nt, with the prop..sj
tion that lie should coine and help eat
it. Then Dora relatisl Artimr's • xjes
rience in buying live turkeys, and I
was paradni Is fore l'apa II rnbe< k.
"I declare," -aid he, refle* lively,
" that liH.ks hke .i handsome turkey old
iiian ( Thoinpkiris had; a pet of his little
boy, Freddy, who . ailed him some out
landish tiling. He's been stolen, proba
bly."
The kind old man actually made in
'jirriv* the n*-xt day, and meeting
Freddy first, lus sympathies were en
listed, and I was -ent home. Mr.
Hornlieck, finding that matters were
rapidly going t the bad on the Thump
kins farm, redu. id the interest on the
mortgage, and from that time things
took a turn for the better, and Mrs.
Thompklnslwgan to look more cheerful.
I was very, very happy and glad to lie
at home again, though the fate of my
comrades and my own hair-bn adth es
capes made me a changed turkey.
Kitty and Fred v pamper me a good
deal, but life is a very uncertain thing
-s-spocially with turkeys about Thanks
giving times.
Treasure Found In a Bedstead.
Luck sometimes strikes in the rigid
place, as the following shows: A
i young St. Louis housekeeper, who had
read in a Paris letter that four-post
Insist ends were again in fashion, started
in search of one of them. She finally
found what she desinsl in the house
and under the person of a sick Hun
garian, whose wife was painfully sup
porting him l>y sewing, and who valued
it as a heirloom, hut was willing to
supply his necessities by selling it.
The next day she took a dealer to fix
the price, and, having lieen purchased
for a lilieral sum, it was sent to Ids
shop to lie fitted with new ropes. It
was, in fact, a mahogany fonr-poster
of admirable workmanship, nnil the
dealer was examining the carvings
with delight when lie accidentally
pressed upxi a carved rose which
yielded ami disclosed as s-ret receptacle
in which was tightly wedged a leather
hag, containing Italian coins worth
several thousand dollars. The money
was promptly handed to the poor
Hungarians, whose amazement wa.4 so
great that iu all probability they have
not yet recovered from It.
rrog ntorles.
Tho supposed reappearance from
time to tluio of the sea serpent Is not.
a more open subject for credulous ad
miration or scoffing ridicule, as the
rase may he, than are tho innumerable
stories of frogs or toads said to have
been Imprisoned for centuries, if not
for unnumbered ages. In cavities in
sandstone or in coal, or in the heart of
a tree, and living through their long
confinement- seemingly in the enjoy
ment of excellent health. The cred
ulous or incredulous respectively be
lieve in or utterly reject all hiicli
stories. Among the latest of these
remarkable accounts is one- given in
the Tlmm of J.i'liit, when* we are told
that a live Irog was recently exhumed
fr--in among some Buddhist relic
which had Jain buried fur sevcnteei
bun Ire 1 years near a place called Ba.x
se-iii.
Stlppo-'-d ea es of toads bein
found alive in lb* heart of living
trees, or in anibtone, or coal, have
been very numerous, and it is needl'
to point out that a frog only i-venteei
centuries old must feel that it is
mere raw youth in tlie- pre-ejjee-of ;
toad wlii- h ha-, watched the- formatior.
of the coal Is-ds. Unfortunately ji
can rarely be pus ible to g.-t scientilb
evidence of a rase of this kind
There may be no que tion that a toa
lias been found in the center of a
Solid hhs I, of stone, but the Stone \v a
broken before it wa< found, and tlia'
thi r- was no crevice leading to its po
sition could only he proved by fitting
the piece , arefully t -gether again
This has generally Is-come inip . sildi
before any -cientilli- man hears of tin
ca In 1 ~_!.* Dr. Bm-kland ma le ;
series of experiments to test the pos
sihiiities of toads surviving lonj
p- riod* of eonlinement without fo -
ur air. He made twelve cells in
large block of por -us limestone am
put a t'-ad into each, covering tin
mouth of a cell with a plate of gla*
carefully cemented on. The block wa
then bur - i ' up * d< ej. in bis gar
den. Alter hut • than a year it wa
dug out ami examined, when most <>!
the t ad-- were found still alive. Soiiu
were emaciated, hut in two of th<
relis the pr:-- ner-i had actually growi
heavier. In one of the--- the gla
plate was found to be cracked, s.. that
minute in-ects might have ent- r—l
but the other < ell was .j ntcM-und. am
yet the t • >.i 1 ha 1 gaim-d a quart* r - I
an oun- - in w< iglit.
To explain this Dr. Du< klarid i
driven to the hypoth- -is that tlo r
must have been une llaw in t •
cement with which the gla>* w.,s fa '
ened. All f'.o* surviving t-.tds wop
buried again, ami before the end of th
S'-cond year they werealldea-1. Twel-i
toads were al - inimun-d in mu
smaller cells in a block of hard
Bt.-ne. not ja-rvi-iiis t - air r v. r
and tloy all |-ri> I -ait; -i one s..i•
Dr. Dockland w i- •si t ntly n -t <jii '■
satisfied with the result <f th
periim nt s. and indeed they pr ve .
good ileal in favor of the load'- p w
ers. while th ex Disprove n< -tiling. T!
priveth.it at 11 immured in a *! --■
cell, w itli no \ioi l • ere.. - for tin .
mission of food, may not only snrvix
for a year, but i tu.ally grow, wh
they do nt provi-tii.it it may net
the - line thing t--r a century un-l-r
better conditions. For Dr. Dockland
admits that he had caught the t -
two months before lie experiment
with them, and that they were in
meager or unhealthy condition; at. i
there is a point even more important
which he does not touch on, naim-ly,
that they may not have lx-en at that
particular time di*p"-d t-i tor; -r.
There must Im-a very great differen- •
between the stat- of an animal impris
oned against its xvill, and that of one
prompted by its own instincts to seek
retirement. A bear in a cage
dying for want of food does not
prove that liears never hibernate.
And Dr. Dockland himself men
tions casually that when he examined
the toads, as he frequently did, during
the second year, he found them always
wide-awake with their eyes open. This
alone seems to deprive his experiments
of all the value as evidence of the
kind required, tor the very possibility
of any animal surviving long without
food depends upon its lM>ing In such a
state of torpor that all vital functions
are entirely or almost entirely sus
pended. In that state the need for
food Is reduced almost to zero, and
considering a t--ad has been known to
live an active life in captivity for forty
years, and then did not wear out, but
met a violent death, they must be
marie of gissl wearing material, and
there inay be no assignable limit to
tho time for which one, properly put
to sleep and hermetically sealed, will
"keep." I do not know how long
frogs live.
The Mormon recruits that have ar
rived in New York from the Old World
during tho past year number more
than 4,000.
i
How the Frost Work*.
There is no greater engineer than
! the frost, even although its work Is
devoted to tearing down rather than
to building up. Hi traces arc often
..cen in tlm housi iof Northern climates
in the bursting of Jugs filled with
water and of water pipes. To the
farmer it is of inestimable value. In
the fall lie plows his farm and digs his
garden. leaving the blocks of earth as
I coarse as possible, and trusts tlo: work
of pulverization to the frost. Its
action is very simple. The rain* of
the autumn and the moisture from tie
early snows percolate through the
I earth In all directions, filling it as a
1 Bponge is filled with water. In this
condition it is caught by tho frost—
which expands and contracts accord
ing to tie- degree of heat and cold
breaking and crumbling the grains of
earth, until in the spring they are
perfectly soft and mellow. At the
same time the same agency is at work
on the fenee-po-d* ami foundations of
hou-.es and barns that are above frost
depth. S ttling bi-u- at h tie ■- p- Is
arid foundation the ea r th i- expanded
at the sides and b ittom ur til thepo-ls
and foundations are forced upward,
partially out of the ground. It travels
along the highway also, and in the
spring, utile-s the road has b n made
with the greatest -are, it is soft and
springy b<-n< itli, while la r-- ami there
the water come- bubbling up and the
small stone-* nr< pr bed aside to permit
the escape of water and mud. But
its work is far greater than even this.
The rain falls on the rocks whieh are
more or 1- -s porous and r aks into
the surface to t-- m<- degree. On
breaking a great pressor i* exerted,
and they i riitnl ]e, and a ust follows
which is sin < ceded by v<- tat ion, and
soil is ma b\ On the sea- -re and the
nn.urita.n-sidc. also, larg< crevices are
filled by tin- rains, and in th-- former
c;vse by th-- beating waves as well. In
vi ry cold weather these fill with ic-,
winch expands, and yar after year
large masM *of rocks are f-*r <<l out
ward. until at last they break off and
fall to the bottom of the precipice.—
i tnimr.
Some Small Thine*.
Tim short'-.? \i-r--- in the Bible is
tlie tbirty-lift!i \ -r-o of the eleventh
chapter of St. John.
The mule has the reputation of b >•
ing tin v-naib ' a- ! da n' ■ -t foot, for
its -,/!■ of all h<> f---l animals.
Wati :il a- - arly a- 17 - ' were
. ib-lii at -ly . i, it.- ted l.v band and
> -.'liall Sto I adly !.t 'oi tlf top of a
lead pen< tl.
It is w- rthy of retnark that a inoe
quit" has • • ti- < a!' -1 in its bill six com
pb-te snrgi'al instruments, each so
i.iji'i .it-; -■■ ni'ii ■ - r:u 1- to the
naki-d i ye.
Th-- t ' cf ah' -nry 1-"-. w ),• nrr m
j-ir'd with the point •.f aline ne**ile
under i powerful magnifying glass, is
-' t: 'ls <i. '1 '[ he ] ■ tit of the
needl' -• tnisl t • 1"- a!i"Ut half an inch
in breadth.
A very cor; i* little toy is the mi
'r '■ opi- <-ontainiiig tin I. ri' Prayer.
Tin- wholepravi-r - <-ti a j f glass
not larger tl-an tin- head "fa pin, yet
it is inagniti'-l b. sm li an extmt that
it '.in be r-a 1 • a-ily by i" ng through
the mil r ope.
The snialh- • h"g* in th" world are
quartensl in the Zo-ilogii id gardens in
London. Tiny came fr"iu Australia,
and are known a* the "pigmy hogs."
They ar*- well formed, are frisky, good
natur- I and make excellent pets-
They are about the si/- of a wild hare.
An Ingenious mechanic of .fames
town. N Y., has i instructed a perfect
I'MMinotive, said to be the smallest in
the world. The engine is only eight
and n half inches long, with a tender
twelve inches long. The pumps
throw adr p -f water je-r stroke. As
many a* .V.'i screws were required to
put the parts together. The engine
itself weighs a pound and a half and
the tender two pounds a half ounces.
The mechanic was at work upon the
locomotive at intervals for eight years.
Japanese Journalism.
The method in which Japanese news
papers are conducted is often amusingly
naive. A recent i*suc of the Sieki
Xiehi SiimbuH— which, like all ita n
live contemporaries, is printed, not iu
columns, but in squares—came out
with one square blank, the empty
space being covered with a number of
straight lines. The editor apologizes
for the extraordinary appearance of the
paper, informing his readers that at
the last moment he found that what he
had written was nil wrong, and had to
he token out. He luul no time to fill
up with anything else, ami there was
nothing to be done but to leave the
space with nothing in it.—A'cw Fori
I'ort.
Now Hampshire has sixty-five Driv
ings institutions, with |3t>, 161,186 de
posits.
Jllowa I'p On a Hteawboat.
"Did you ever meet with an acci
dent while traveling?" Inquired the
reporter, of a flolicr-looking individual,
a* they Rat smoking on the upper dock
i of a Bound steamer.
" Well, I don't know whether it wan
an aeeident or not," he replied, "but I
was once blown up on a steamboat."
"Ah!" ejaculated the scribe, as he
whipped out his pencil and note-book;
" tell us about it."
Lighting a fresh cigar, the serious
chap began:
" It was iri the summer of *74, and I
had just eoiaph'ted a big contract up
at Alhanv, and soeur"d pa age for ray
s'l f and wife on one of the steamlioats
for New York. IJeing very tired, we
went directly to our stateroom. Just
as 1 he gun to doze, my better half ex
claimed, 'John! where are the checks
for our baggage?'
" 'Don't know,' 1 growled.
*• 'lJut didn't you have the trunks
sent alioard 'f
" 'Oue s not,' says I.
"'Well, you are a nice one, you are J*
she shrieked. ' Don't you know, you
Illustrious, half-baked idiot, that all
toy best clothes are In thoee trunks?
Don't you know, you miserable vil
lain, that every valuable I have in this
world is in that baggage?'
" She kept up a running lire of abuse
nearly all night long. I could hear
lie rin my *]<•• p, and when I told her,
a-- soon a* sh< became exhausted, tbat
the baggage had been sent by rail, she
started off again with the furore of a
mad bull."
Here he stopped and re-lit his cigar. •
" You must have hail a hard time of
it," said his companion, "hut how
about the acejdent?"
" Why. I've just been telling you,"
he replied.
" Well, there's nothing brilliant in
that."
" There Dn't, eh ? If you've never
been blown up on a steamboat by a
mad woman then you d n't know any
thing about explosions—that's all."
lie flung the sf uuip of his cigar over
the rail, and went b'low to seek the
seclusion that the > abin grants.—
Itrah'i Mujiziru.
" Esq."'
An exchange has tin* to say about
the title of c-quire; The legislative
prohibition by the I'nited .States of
title- of nobility ( uid not eradi <ite
the trial of human nature which makes
such titles, or any verbal b.i Ige of dis
tinetion. ad arly < rav. 1 prize to the
mass of pe -pie; lint in our eagerness
for the-, we have done more toab dish
them than any laws, by making th<m
ridi il uis. A title given to everybody
is asi If oontr.vli'l: in and absurdity,
for it distingu -h>- no one and implies
nothing; an I in lev>eratic society
no one is willing,to give others the
monopoly of such distinction*. In
consequence -evcral titles which were
tolerably definite in meaning once
have !"■ mie tigs that do not add a
hair to the meaning of th" name it
-< If. Among these is "Ksq.," once
a coveted badge of professional dis
tinction and in early New England
times confined rigidly to its narr w
use—lndeed. even "Mr." was only
allowed to respe table housekeepers in
good standing. Coming to us from
feudal England, "E-|." marked mem
bers of the legal fraternity and kindred
occupation*. It was at lengt h assumed
by or conferred by courtesy upon
prominent and wealthy citizens, and
at last has come to m an only an adult
citizen —the same a* "Mr." or. in gen
eral, the same as the name would im
ply without addition. It is therefore
utterly useless, a b >rp and an offense,
for a meaningless title is an insult to
any n>.n. It should be disused alto
gether. Md left to be marked "obso
lete" in the dictionaries. Write "John
Smith," or "Mr. John .Smith," if you
please, but let us have no more of
• John Smith, Esq."
Fair I.nna.
No one pver gels tired of the moon. ,
Goddess that she is by dower of her
eternal lieautv. she is a true woman l>y
her tart— knows the chartn of being
seldom seen, of coming by surprise
and staying but a little while; never
wears the same dress two nights run
ning. nor all night the saiue way; com
mends herself to the matter-of-fact
people by her usefulness, and makes
her usefulness adored by poets, artists,
and all lovers in all lands; lends her
self to every symbolism and to every
emblem; is Diana's bow and Venus'
mirror, and Mary's throne; is a siekle,
a scarf, an eyebrow, his face or her
faee, as looked at by her or by him; is
the mailman's hell, the poet's heaven,
the baby's toy, the philosopher's
study, and while her admirers follow
her footsteps and hang on her lovely
looks, she knows how to keep her
woman's secret—her other side un
guessed and ungueMabl*— Walt Whit
* M