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1 EH ANNA'S POET,
3 U', 'tilth hi I'i' riiiilii.il J Irs. Si'i ifl's PorritS.
* BY EMMA b. STII.WEIJ..
| 1 walk amid the scenes she loved
'•¥ With eyes anointed new to sec
J! fiie glory that c-nfoldi tli all—
j| Eh towering mount, and rock, and tree :
f And sec- in leafless branches east,
,|i Against the winter's boding sky,
3 The beanty that withstands the blast—
I fair Nature's perfect tracery ;
k Ami leafless stems in fancy bear
ij s.iih marvellous blooms—such shapely leaves
That shed their perfumes on the air
fi in tangled meshes sweetness xvears.
j- li-i. sun breaks thro' the leaden pall
And greets the river of her love,
'J? Ih.it mocks the season's chilling thrall
J Vml mirrors clear the rift above,
I And softly sings about the base
If (if stern grey stone, the bridge's piers,
f I hat binds the near to farther land,.
if As memory connects the year.
Y s, 1 dim the paths our minds retrace,
f' As looking back with longing eyes,
A To hours illumined by her face—
:!jf To music sweeter for her siglis :
8 And like the precious withered flowers,
| That keep thro' years their odorous breath,
!, if r sweet thoughts nourished in those hours
| Survive the claims <jf time and death.
111 music is more musical
3 That h-r sweet voice hath thrilled the air,
jij And loveliness more beautiful
® lor eyes—"the homes of earnest prayer."
lni silver sweep of a mighty stream,
And the islands in its xvave,
j, An- lovelier for the poet's dream,
t And holier for her grave.
1| November, 1*65.
=?dcftvil Suit*
I THE PAINTER OF ROTTERDAM^
|| BY MISS AMELIA B. EDAVAKDS.
§• My father was a trader and distiller at
l|i !vliii dam, on the Maas,. Without being
I w. althy.we enjoyed the means of procuring
II ••very social comfort. We gave and receiv
* | '■ ! visits from a few old friends, we went
| is: ■nally to the theatre, and my father
J 1 itail his tuiip-gardeu and summer-house at
| t little distance from Schiedam, 011 the ,
• - uia! which connects the town with the j
■
J But my father aud mother, whose only j
I 11 was,cherished one dream of ambition,
iji rtunately, my own tastes led me to par
? tifipate: tliej wanted me to become a paint-
I " Let me but see a picture of Frank
I Linden in the gallery of Rotterdam," said
I my father, "and 1 shall die happy." So, at
I !"iirU'on years of age, 1 was removed from
| '""I. and placed in the classes of Messer
| Ki sier, an artist living at Delft. Here I
| ''L -"eii progress that by the time I had
I tclii dmy nineteenth birthday I was trau
f '■••i'eii to the atelier of Hans van Roos, a :
I ' " '•mlaiit of the celebrated family of that
1 Van Rous was riot more that thirty :
I ght or forty years of age, and had already
i :ii'd considerable reputation as a paint
§ ' i l, "traits and sacred subjects. There
ft " an altar-piece of his in one of our fin-!
f ■ inirches : his works had occupied the
■ '• "t honor for the past six years at the
I - exhibition ; and for portraiture he
if ' led among his patrons most of the
$ 'mlthy merchants and burgomasters of
1 mty. Indeed, there would be no ques
ff that my master was rapid y acquiring
§ rtune commensurate with his popular
'if "y.
II he was not a cheerful man. It was ,
'P'Ted by the pupil that lie had met
a disappointment early in life—
'•'t he had loved, been accepted, and on
'' "f inarrige was rejected by the lady
! a more wealthy suitor. He came from
'Lund in the north of Holland, when a
HTV voting man. He had always been the
' k'loi.iuy, pallid, labor-loving citizen,
was a rigid Calvanist. He was sparing
''"'"•■■" tic expenditure, and liberal to the
I his every one could tell you, and j
'in- knew more.
Lie number of his pupils was limited to
He kept us constantly at work, and
" ly permitted us to exchange a word
1 each other during the day Standing
; , TC among us so silently, with the light
: m above pouring down upon his pallid
: ■ and becoming absorbed in the somber
"I iiis long black dressing-gown, he
r "'l almost like some stern old protrait
In tell the truth we were all some
vt a I raid of him. Not that lie assumed
undue authority ; on the contrary, he
s tatoly, silent, and frigidly polite ; but
!'"liteuess had in it something oppres
'■, and we were all happier out of his
' \olle of us resided under his
I had a second floor in. a neighboring
'" ( 'L and two of my fellow-students oc
",-d rooms in the same house. We used
"eet at night in each other's chambers,
' ' "lake excursions to the exhibitions and
"'es ; and sometimes on a summer's
" we would hire a pleasure-boat and
■ hir a mile or two down the river. We
" merry enough then, and not quite so
"L 1 promise you, as in the gloomy stu
■ j' "I Hans van Roos.
'' 'he meantime, 1 was anxious to glean
') Benefit from my master's instiuctions.
' 'pioved rapidly, and my paintings soon
'"lied those of the other five My taste
,! "t incline to the sacred subjects, like
K. O. GOODRICH,
VOLUME XXVI.
that of Van Roos, but rather to the familiar
rural style of Berghcm ami Paul Potter. It
was my great delight to wander along the
rich pasture-lands ; to watch the amber
sunset, the herds going home to the dairy,
the lazy wiud-ini'ls, and the calm, clear wa
ters of the canals, scarcely rufiled by the
passage of the public tercksrhuyt* lit de
picting scenes of this nature— ,
The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale,
The willow-tufl'ed bank, the gliding sail—
I was singularly fortunate. My master
never praised me by word or look ; but
when my lather came up one day from
Schiedam to visit me, he drew him aside
and told him, in a voice inaudible to the
rest, that "Messer Franz would do credit
to the profession which so delighted the
good distiller that lie straightway took me
out with him for the day, and having given
me fifteen gold pieces as a testimony of his
satisfaction, took me to dine with his friend
the burgomaster, Von Gael. It was an
eventful dinner to me. On that evening 1
first fell in love.
Few people, 1 think, would at that time
j have denied the personal attractions of Ger
! trude von Gael ; yet Ido not know that it
■ u "8 so much her features as her soft voice
and womanly grace that fascinated inc.—
Though so young,she performed the honors
of her father's princely table with self-pos
session and good breeding. In the evening
she sang some sweet German songs of her
own simple accompaniment. We talked of
books and of poetry. I found her well read
; in English, French and German literature.
\\ e spoke of art ; and she discovered both
judgment and enthusiasm,
j As we took our leave at night, the bur
gomaster shook me warmly by the hand,
and told me to come often. 1 fancied that
Gertrude's blue eyes brightened when lie
said it, and I felt the color rush quickly to
my brow as I bowed and thanked him.
" Franz,' said my father, when we were
; once more in the street, "how old are you ?"
"Just twenty-two, sir," I replied, rather
surprised at the question.
" N 011 will not he dependent 011 your
brush, my boy," continued my father, as he
leaned upon my arm and looked hack at
the lofty mansion we had just left. "I
have been neither wasteful nor unsuccess
ful j and it will he my pride to leave you
an income at my death."
1 inclined my head in silence ami wonder
ed what would come next.
" Burgomaster von Gael is one of my
oldest friends," said my father.
" 1 have often heard you speak of him,
sir," I replied.
" And he is rich."
" So I should suppose."
" Gertrude will have a fine fortune," said
my father, as if thinking aloud.
I bowed again, but this time rather nerv
ously.
"Marry her, Franz."
I dropped his arm and started back.
"Sir !" I faltered,"I —I—marry the Frau
lein von Gael ?"
" And pray, sir, why not ?" said my fa
ther, curtly, stopping short in his walk and |
leaning both hands upon the top of his
walking-stick.
" \\ by not, sir?" repeated my father,very
energetically. " What could you wish for
better ? The young lady is handsome,good
tempered, educated, rich. Xow, Franz, if
I thought you had been such a fool as to
form any other attachment without "
" Oh, sir, you do nie injustice ! I have
done nothing of the kind. But do you think
that —that she would have me ?"
" Try her, Franz," said my father, good
humoredly, its he resumed my arm. "If I
atn not very much mistaken, the burgomas
ter would be as well pleased as myself; and
as for the fraulein—women are easily won."
We had by this time reached the door of
the inn where my father was to sleep for
the night. As lie left me his last words
were :
" Try her, Franz—try her."
From this time I became a-frequent visi
to at the house of the Burgomaster von
Gael. It was a large, old fashioned man
sion, built of red brick, and situated upon
the famous line of houses known as the
Boompjes. In front fay the broad river,
covered xvith merchant-vessels, from whose
mast fluttered the flags of all the trading
nations of the world. Tall trees, thick with
foliage, lined the quay, and the sunlight
flickered through the leaves upon the spac
ious drawing rooms of Gertrude's home.
Here, night after night, when the studies
of the day were over, I used to sit with her
beside the open window,watching the busy
crowd beneath, the rippling river, and the
rising moon that tipped the masts and city
spires with silver. Here we read together
from the pages of our favorite poets, and
counted the first pale stars that trembled
into light.
It was a happy time. But there came at
last a time still happier, when, one still
evening, as'we sat alone, conversing in tin
frequent whispers, and listening to the
beating of each other's hearts, I told Ger
trude that I loved her ; and she, in answer,
laid her fair head upon my shoulder with a
sweet confidence, as if content to rest for
ever. Just as my father had predicted, the
burgomaster readily sanctioned our betro
thal, specifying but one condition, and this
was that our marriage should not take place
until 1 bad at.ained my twenty-fifth year.
It was a long time to wait; but I should
by that time, perhaps, have made a name
in my profession. I intended soon to send
a picture to the annual exhibition—and
who could tell what 1 might not do in three
years to show Gertrude how dearly I loved
her !
And so our happy youth rolled on, and
the quaint old dial in Messer von Gael's tu
lip-garden fold the passage of our golden
hours. In the meantime I worked sedu
lously at my picture. 1 labored upon it
all the winter ; and when spring time came
1 sent it in, with no small anxiety as to its
probable position upon the walls of the gal
lery. It was a view in one of the streets
of Rotterdam There were the the high
old houses with their gable and carved
door-ways, and the red sunset glittering
on tlii'l panes of the upper windows : the
canal flowing down the centre of the street,
the white draw-bridge, with a barge just
passing underneath, the green trees deep
in shadow, and the spire of the Church of
St. Lawrence rising beyond against the
clear warm sky. When it was quite fii ish
ed and about to he sent away, even Bans
van Roos nodded n cold encouragement and
*f'ana!-t>o!it.
TOWAXDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., FEBRUARY I, 1866.
said that it deserved a good position. He
had himselt prepared a painting this year,
011 a more ambitious scale and a larger can
vass than usual. It was a sacred subject,
and represented the Conversion of St. Paul.
His pupils admired it warmly, and none
more than myself We all pronounced it
to.be his master-piece, and the artist was
evidently of our opinion.
The day of exhibition came at last. I
had scarcely slept tire previous night, and
the early morning found me, with a number
of other students, waiting impatiently be
fore the yet unopened door. When I ar
rived it wanted an hour to tiie time, but
hall the day seemed to elapse before we
heard the heavy bolts give way inside, and
then forced our way through the narrow
barriers. I had ilowu up the staircase,and
found myselfin the first room before 1 re
nlembered that I should have purchased a
catalogue at tire door. I had not patience j
however, to go back for it ; so 1 strode !
round the room, looking eagerly for my pic- j
ture. It was nowhere to he seen, and I
passed on to the next. Here my search
was unsuccessful.
"It must be in the third room," ["said to
myself, " where ali the best works are
placed ! Well, if it be hung ever so high,
or in ever so dark a corner, it is, at all
events an honor to have one's picture in the
third room !"
But, though I spoke so bravely, it was
with a sinking heart 1 ventured in. 1 could
not really hope for a good place among the
magnates of the art ; while in either of the
other rooms there had been a possibilitv
that my picture might receive a tolerable
position.
The house had formerly been the man
sion of a merchant of enormous wealth, who
had left it with his valuable collection of
paintings, to the state. The third room
had been the reception-chamber and the
space over the magnificent carved chimney
was assigned, as the place of honor, to Ihe
best painting. The painter ot tiiis picture
always received a costly prize, for which he
was likewise indebted to the munificence of
the founder. To this spot my eyes were
naturally turned as 1 entered the door. Was
I dreaming? 1 stood still—l turned hot
and cold by turns—l ran forward. It was
110 illusion. There was my picture, my
own picture, in its little modest frame, in
stalled in the chief place of the gallery !
And there, too, was the official card stuck
in the corner, with the words" PRIZE PAINT
ING," printed upon it in shining gold letters
I ran down tiie staircase and bought a cat
alogue, that my eyes might be gladened by
the confirmation of this joy; and there, sure
enough, was printed at tiie commencement,
" ANNUAL PRIZE PAINTING-- View of Rotten
dam, No. 127--FRANK LINDEN." I was never
tired of looking at my. picture. 1 walked
from one side to the other, 1 retreated, I ad
vanced closer to it, I looked at it in every
possible light, and forgot all but ray hap
piness.
"Avery charming little painting, sir,"
said a voice at my elbow.
It was an elderly gentleman, with gold
spectacles and an umbrella. I colored up
and said falteringly :
" Do you think so ?"
" I do, sir," said the old gentleman. " I
am an amateur —I am very fond of pictures.
I presume that you are also an admirer of
art ?•'
I bowed.
" Very nice little painting, indeed ; very
nice," he continued, as he wiped his glasses
and adjusted them with the air of a connois
seur. " Water x'cry liquid, colors pure,sky
transparent, perspective admirable. I'll
buy it."
" Will you ?" I exclaimed, joyfully. " Oh,
thank you, sir !"
" Oh," said the old gentleman, turning
suddenly upon me and smiling kindly, " so
you are the artist, are you? Happy to
make your acquaintance, Messer Linden.
You are a very young man to paint such a
picture as that. 1 congratulate you, sir ;
and —l'll buy l't."
So we exchanged cards, shook hands,
and became the best friends in the world.
I was burning xvith impatience to see Ger
trude, and tell her all my good fortune; hut
my new patron took my arm, aud said that
he must make the tour of the rooms in my
company ; so I xx'as forced to comply.
Wc stopped before a large painting that
occupied the next best situation to mine ;
it was my master's work, the Conversion of
St. Paul. While I xvas telling him of my
studies in the atelier of the painter, a man
started from before us, and glided away ;
but not before I bad recognized tbe pale
countenance of Van Roos. There was
something in the expression of his lace that
shocked me—something that stopped my
breath, and made me shudder. What was
k ? I scarcely knew ; but the glare of his
dark eyes and the quivering passion of his
lip haunted me for the rest of the day, and
came back again in my dreams. I said
nothing of it to Gertrude that afternoon,
but it had effectually sobered my exulta
tion. I dreaded, next day, to return to the
studio ; but to my surprise, my master re
ceived me as he had never received me be
fore. He advanced, and extended his hand
to me.
" Welcome, Franz Linden," he said smil
ing. "I am proud to call you 013' pupil."
The hand was cold, the voice xvas harsh,
the smile was passionless. My compan
ions crowded round, and congratulated me;
and in the warm tones of their young,cheer
ful voices, and the close pressure of their
friendly hand, I forgot all that had troubled 1
me in the manner of Van Roos.
Not long after this event, Gertrude's fa-!
ther desired to have her portrait painted, to
console him for her absence, he said, when
I should be so wicked as to take her away
from him. 1 recommended my old master,
whose tutelage 1 had recently left; and
Van Roos was summoned to fulfill a task
that 1 would gladly have performed had it
been in my power to do so. But portrait
ure was not 1113- line 1 could paint a sleek,
spotted milch cow, or a drove of sheep, far
better than the fair skin and golden curls
of 1113' darling Gertrude.
She could not endure the artist from the
first. In vain I reasoned with her—all was
of no use ; and she used to say, at the end
of cveiy -uch conversation, that she wished
the portrait xvere finished, and that she
could 110 more help disliking him then, than
she could help loving me. So our argu
ments alxvlys ended with a kiss.
But this portrait took a long time. Van
Roos was in general a rapid painter ; 3'et
Gertrude's likeness progressed at a ver3 T
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER
stow pace, and, like Penelope's web, seemed
never to be completed. One morning I
happened to be in the room—a rare event
at that time, for I was hard at work upon
my new landscape ; and I was struck by
the change that had come over my late
master. He was 110 longer the same man.
There was a light in his eye, and a vibra
tion in his voice, that I had never observed
before; and when he rose to take leave
there was a studied courtesy to his bow
and manner that took me quite by surprise.
Still, I never suspected the truth, and
still the portrait was as far as ever from
being finished.
It all came out at last, and one morning
Hans Nan Roos made a formal offer of his
hand and heart. Of course he was refused.
"But as kindly as was possible, dear
Franz," she said, when she told me in the
evening, "because he is your friend, and
because he seemed to feel it so deeply. And
—and you don't know how dreadfully white
he turned, and how he tried to restrain his
tears. I pitied him Franz, indeed, I was
very sorry."
Ami the gentle creature could scarcely
keep from weeping herself as she told me
of if.
I did not see N an Roos for some months
after this disclosure. At lust I met him
accidentally in front of the stadhouse, and
In my surprise, for the second time in his
life lie held out his hand.
" A good day to you, Messer Linden,"
said lie. " I hear that you are 011 the high
road to fame and fortune."
" I have been very prosperous, Messer
\an Roos," I replied, taking the proffered
hand. " But f never forget that I owe my
present proficiency to flic hours spent in
your atelier."
A peculiar expression flitted over iiis
face.
"If I thought that," said he hastily, " I
I should esteem myself particularly hap
py"
There was so odd a diflerenci in the way
in which he uttered the beginning and end
of his sentences—so much hurry and pas
sion in the first half, such deliberate polite
ness in the last, that I started and looked
him full in the face. He was us smiling
and impenetrable as a marble statue.
" I, too, have been fortunate," he said,
after a mement's pause. " Have you seen
the new church lately built near the east
end of the Ilaring-vilet ?"
1 replied that I had observed it in pass
ing, but had not been inside.
"I have been intrusted," he said, "with
the superintendence of the interior decora
tions. My 'Conversion of St. Paul' is pur
chased for the altar-piece, and I am now en
gaged in painting a series of frescoes upon
the ceiling. Will you come in one day,and
give me your opinion upon them ?"
1 professed myself much flattered, and
appointed to visit him in the church on the
following morning. He was waiting for
me at the door when 1 arrived, with the
heavy keys in hiis hand. We passed in,
and he turned the key in the lock.
" I always secure myself against intru
ders," he said, smiling. " People will come
into the church if I leave the doors unfast
ened, and I do not choose to carry on my
art, like a sign-painter, in the presence of
every blockhead who chooses to stand and
stare at me."
It was surprising in what a disagreeable
manner this man showed his teeth when he
smiled.
The church was a handsome building, in
the Italian style which imitates the antique,
and prefers grace and magnificence to
the dignified sanctity of the Gothic order.
Corinthian columns supported the roof at
each side of the nave ; gilding and decora
tive cornices were lavished in every direc
tion : the gorgeous altar piece already oc
cupied its appointed station ; and a little
to the left of the railed space where the
communion table was to be placed, a lofty
scaffolding was erected, that seemed, from
where I stood, almost to come in contact
xvith the roof, and above which I observed
the yet unfinished sketch of a masterly fres
so. Three or four more, already completed
were stationed at regular intervals, and
some others were merely outlined in char
coal upon their intended site.
" Will you not come up with me ?" asked
the painter, when I had expressed my ad
miration sufficiently ; " or are you afraid of
turning giddy ?"
I felt somewhat disinclined to impose this
trial upon my nerves, but still more disin
clined to confess it ; so I followed him up
from flight to flight of the frail structure,
without once daring to look down.
At last we reached the summit; as 1 had
supposed, there was not even room enough
lor the artist to assume a sitting posture,
and he had to paint while lying on his
back. 1 had 110 fancy to extend myself 011
this lofty couch ; so 1 oulj lilted my head
above the level of his flooring, looking at
the fresco, and descended immediately to
the flight below, where 1 waited till he re
joined me.
" How dangerous it must be," said I,
shuddering, " to let yourself down from that
abominable perch."
" 1 used to think so, at first," he replied,
" but 1 am now quite accustomed to it.
Fancy," said he, approaching close to the
edge of the scaffolding, " fancy falling from
here to the church below."
" Horrible?" cried I.
" 1 wonder how high it is from the level
of the pavement," continued Van Roos, ;
musingly, " a hundred and eighty feet, 1
dare sa3 r —perhaps txvo hundred."
I drew back, giddx* at the thought.
" No niau could survive sucl a fall," said
the painter, stiii looking over. " The thick
est skull would be dashed to atoms on the
marble down there."
"Pray, come axxuy," said 1, hastily. "My
head sxx ims at the very idea."
" Does it?" said he, turning suddenly up
on mc, with the voice and e3 - e of a fiend—
" Does it ? Fool 1" he cried, as he seized
me round the body in his iron clasp—"fool,
to trust yourself here xvitii me—nie whom
3'ou have wronged, whose life 3 T ou have
blasted —me whom you have crossed in
fame and in love. Down, wretch, down !
I've vowed to have 3~our blood, and my
time has come."
It sickens me even now to recall that
desperate struggle. At the first word 1
i had sprung back and seized a beam above
;my head. He strove to tear nie from it.
; He foamed at the mouth ; the veins rose
I like knots upon his forehead ; and still
j though 1 felt my wrists strained and my
I fingers cruell3 T larcerated—Htill I held on
with the terrible energy of one who strug
gles for dear life. It lasted a long time—
at least it seemed long to me —and the scaf
folding rocked beneath our feet. At length
I salv his strength failing. Suddenly I
loosed my hold, and threw my whole weight
upon him. He staggered, he shrieked, he
fell.
I dropped upon my face in mute horror.
An age of silence seemed to elapse, anil the
cold dews stood upon my brow. Presently
1 heard a dull sound far below. 1 crawled
to the brink of the scaffolding and looked
over. A shapeless mass was lying on the
marble pavement, and all around it was red
with blood.
I think an hour must have elapsed before
I could summon courage to descend. When,
at length I reach ed the level ground, I
turned my face from what was so near my
feet, and tottered to the door. With tremb
ling hands and missy eyes, 1 unlocked it
and rushed into the street.
It was many months before I recovered
from the brain fever brought 011 by that ter
rible day. My raviugs, I have been 'old,
were fearful; and had any doubt existed
in the minds of men as to which of us two
had been the guilty one, those ravings were
alone sufficient to establish my innocence.
A man in a delirious fever is pretty sure to
speak the truth. By the time I was able to
leave my chamber, Gertrude also bad grown
pale and spiritless, and all unlike her for
mer self. Rottcndam was insupportable to
nie. I found myself a hero of romance—a
lion—a thing to be stared at wherever I
went; all of which only served to shatter
jmy nerves still more. 111 short, change of
j air and scene was recommended for us both;
;so we thought X\ T O could not do better than
1 marry, and take our wedding tour for the
I sake of our healths. And I assure you,
reader, it did us both a great deal of good.
THE OLD STORY.
My heart is chilled and my pulse is low,
1 But often and olten will memory go,
Like a blind child lost in a xvastc of snow,—
Back to the days when 1 loxed yon so.—
The beautiful long ago.
j I sit here, dreaming through and through,
j The blissful moments I shared xvith you—
The sweet, sxveel days when love xvus nex\,
When I was trustful and you were true—
The beautiful days, but few.
: Blest or wretched, lettered or free.
Why should 1 care how your life may fie,
(•r whether you wander on land or sea?
T only know you have been ruin to roc.
Ever and hopelessly.
i < >h! how often at day's decline,
, 1 looked from my window upon thine,
To see from your lattice the lamp light shine
Type of message that, hall divine, —
Flashed from your heart to mine.
; Once more the starlight is silveiiug all :
The roses sleep by the old garden wall—
The night-bird has ceased his madrigal.
And hear again through the sweet air fall
The evening vesper call.
But summer will vanish and years will wane,
And bring 110 light to your window pane,
Nor gracious sunshine, or patient rain.
Will bring other love to your life again—
Nor eall up the past in vain.
My heart is heavy, my heart is bold,
And that proves dross which I counted gold :
I watch 110 longer your curtain's fold.
The window is dark and the night is cold.—
Is the story forever told ?
—-
CHINAMEN AND THEIR WAYS-
A California letter lias the following :
Queer chaps these Chinamen are, aud
queer customs they have. In one corner of
the room sits my Chinese boy, reading a
book upside down, and after the manner of
iiis country, grinning like a chimpanzee
over hieroglyphics that look like bunches
of black radishes. He understands it all,
though, and probably finds that style of lit
erature very funny. I attended the Chinese
dinner which was given to Colfax, ate with
chop-sticks, swallowed a little of each ot j
the hundred and eighty-nine courses that 1
that constituted the repast. We sat down !
at six sharp,aud got through at one prompt. !
Yes, 1 ate boiled bainho, and stewed whale- j
hone—which perhaps may be styled the j
spring vegetables of the Chinese—sharks' j
iius, birds' nests, and other delicacies too '
recuperative to mention. Byway of des- !
Bert they have pickled cucumber and mel- j
on seeds, and all manner of sweet things. |
Taken as a whole, however, 1 don't think 1
should like a steady course of Chinese diet, j
though the tea which they gave us was of j
a most wonderful flavor. It was served up j
without sugar or cream, and cost £SO a J
pound, wich is perhaps the reason why they |
did not ask us to take a second cup. You j
would have been amused could you have j
seen each guest making frantic attempts j
to get something into his mouth with the {
chop sticks. Try to eat with knitting nee- j
dies, and you will have some idea of the j
difficulty of the feat. If I were a board
inghousc-keeper I think I'd ring them in up- j
011 my hoarders to use instead of knives i
and forks. A little hash would go a won- j
derfui great way with them. 1 flanked the j
( itfieulty by taking hold of anything with '
them by sharpening mine off at the end and I
harpooning the meat and vegetables. ;
HE WADED. — It was election day, and
Grimes having assisted on the occasion hy !
the deposit of his vote and tiie absorption i
of about as much old rye as ,ie could walk j
under, started with two of his neighbors,!
who were in the same state of elevation, to j
make their way down to their homes. They
had to cross Brandywine Creek by a foot
bridge constructed of a single log thrown I
across, and hewn fiat 011 the upper side,but
without any hand rail to aid in the transit.
There would have been no difficulty with a j
clear head and steady legs in crossing; but
with our party it was felt not to be devoid
of difficulty "under existing circumstances."
However the creek must be crossed. Grime's
two friends took the lead and with much
swinging of arms aud contortion of body
reached the farther side. It was now
Grimes' turn to face the music, and making
a bold start he succeeded in getting about
one-third of the way over, when a loud
splash announced to his friends that he was
overboard. Emerging from the water, it
being about to his breast, he quickly said,
as if this course was the result of mature
deliberation, " I guess I'll wade."
per- Annum, m Advance.
' FUN, FACTS AND FACETLE.
I BIGOTRY murders religion, to frighten fools
I with her ghost.
I'OOR consolation to us survivors that "the
j good die first."
W HEX we think of good,angels are silent;
j when we do it they rejoice.
I A distinguished teacher defines genius to
j be the power of making efforts.
| THVXDER threatens but never strikes. The
j bolt comes from a silent source.
j IIOGS have an excellent ear for music—
| but it takes a dog to pitch the tune.
THE best government is that in which the
law speaks instead of the lawyer.
MOTHER. —\\ hat comfort there is in the
| name which gives assurance of a love that can nei
| ther change or fail.
1 HE remains of a bachelor who "burst in
j to tears ' at reading a description of married life,
| has been found.
I HERE iz men ov so much learning impi
dence that tha wouldn't hesitate to critisize the
j song of a bird.
. MOST of the shadows that cross the path
way in life are caused by standing in our own light.
No snow tails lighter than the snow of
| age ; none heavier, for it never melts.
DOMESTIC magazines—Wives who are al
ways blowing up their husbands.
AGE is venerable in man, and would be
in woman—if she ever became old.
WHEN a man passes a day without reflect
ion, he might well exclaim at uiglit "I fear I have
done something wrong."
A Coquette uses her lover like a boquet
—carries liini about a certain time for amuseni-nt,
or show, and then quietly picks him to pieces.
A contemplative life lias more the appear
ance of a life of piety than any other but is the di
vine plan to bring faith into activity and exercise.
" WHAT a fool !" said Patty Prim, when
she beard pf the capture of Jeff. Davis ; "of course
the men would all run after him if he was dressed
as a woman, and he was sure to be caught."
"MY Herman friend, how long- have von
been married' t " Vel, dis is a ting vot I seldom
don't like to talk about, but vcn 1 does, it se ms
so long as it never vas."
" WHAT is colonizing, ma ?" queried a
hopeful miss of seventeen. "Colonizing, my dear,"
replied her mother, "is having a home, and raising
a family. - ' "Oli! ma, how 1 would like to colonize! '
exclaimed the expectant daughter.
"MY dear Nicholas," said Lord Strang
lord, "I am very stupid this morning ; my liraius
are all going to the dogs." "Poor dogs!"' replied
his friend.
DR. JOHNSON said of a widower who was
about to 'marry, that it was a remarkable case of
the triumph of hope over experience.
"TIME works wonders," as the lady said
when she got married after an eight vears* court
ship.
Ir was the custom of an old lady who
formerly entertained travelers, before her guests
commenced a meal to ask a blessing, which she
generally concluded in this wise : 'Make us truly
thankful for the food before us. Nancy, hand
around the corn bread first, and then the biscuit
afterward. Amen."
A physician, who is a truly pious man,
was speaking in u prayer meeting lately of the duty
of impressing the idea of salvation upon those near
death, and of a physician's opportunities in this
way, and made use of the following language; For
my own part, I am never called to set- a patient
without feeling delighted to learn that he is pre
pared to die."
FLATTERY is like a flail, which, if not
adroitly used will box your own ears instead of tick
ling those of she corn.
No pains will be spared,'' as the quack
said when sawing off* a poor fellow's legto cure him
of the rheumatism.
Daniel \\ ebster used to say that the word ;
icotdtl, in liufus Cheat's hand writing, resembled a !
small gridiron Struck by lightuing.
AN exchange paper begins a forcible ap-1
peal to its delinquents by this touching appeal : !
"We must dan or we must be done"
A BOY entered a stationery store the oth- i
er day and asked the proprietor what kind of pens 1
he sold. "All kinds,",was the reply. "Well then I'll
take three cents' worth of pig-pens."
\\ HY are the Southern negroes now like
United States bonds?— Because they are non-tax- ,
able property; and because they are a burden upon
the poor white men.
HE who indulges his sense in any exces-I
ses renders himself obnoxious to his own reason,
and to gratify the brute in him displeases the man, \
and sets his two natures at variance.
"How is it, my dear, that you have never !
kindled a flame in the bosom of any man said j
an old lady to her pretty niece. To w'liich the young
lady replied, "The reason, dear aunt, is as you well
know, that I am not a good match."
A coon story is told of a Methodist, at
whose house an itinerant preacher was passing the
night, who, when bed time came and family pray
ers were suggested, in searching for a Bible, tiniil
ly produced a couple of torn leaves of the good
book, with the naive remark, "I didn't know I was
so near out of Bibles."
Theodore Hook once said to a man at
whose table a publisher got very drunk : "Why,
you appear to have emptied your wine cellar into a
book-seller."
"I WANT to buy a sewing machine," said
an old lady, entering a shop. "Do yon wish for a
machine with a feller?" inquired the clerk. "Sakes,
no ; don't want any of your fellers about me."
"JANE, has that surly fellow cleared off
the snow from the pavement?" "Yes, sir." "Did
he clear it oft' with alacrity?" "No, sir ; with a
shovel."
AN irisman was about to marry a South
ern girl for her property. "Will you take this wo
man for your wedded wife ?" said the minister.—
1 "Y'es, your reverence, and the nagers, too."
A Yankee being asked by a Southerner
why Yankees always say "1 guess," while the
Southern people say "I reckon," gave the follow
ing explanation : "That a Yonkee could guess as
well r.s a Southerner conld reckon."
(hit "devil "says, the reason why the
i printers are so agreeable to nice young ladies, is
because their words are always chaste (chased).
\\ HO was the first jockey ?--Adani, lor he
was the Father of the it ace.
WHY is AU eruptive disease an advantage
to a man in .tail ?—Because when he gets it he
I breaks oof.
THE man who " took a walk " the other
! day brought it back again ; but the next day he
took a ride aud has not since been heard from.
ONE ot our exchanges praises an egg,
which it says was "laid on our table," by Rev. Mr.
Smith. Mr. Smith seems to be a layman as well
as a minister.
WHAT is that process by which twenty
woman, assembled in one room.canbemade equal
ly handsome at the same moment ?—Putting out
the light.
No man can be witty when be wants to,
any more than he can be hungry when lie wants
to, —it comes to him, as love does, he can t tell how
nor why.
THE PLAGUE OF LOUUSTB—SISGULAB
SOENE IS JAFFA-
A letter dated at Jaffa, Palestine. June
20th, describes a visitation of locnsts as
follows:
In April last we twice observed large
dark clouds, resembling smoke, moving to
and fro as if swayed by the wind. One
morning these clouds came down and proved
to be locusts, so great in number that the
whole land was covered with them. The
grain at that time was full in ear and near
ly ripe, but the locusts did not touch it, or
auy other vegetation. Soon after, how
ever, it was observed tnat they buried
themselves in the soil and there deposited
their innumerable eggs. The Arabs and
peasants saw the approaching mischief,and
went through the lands in thousands dig
ging for these eggs ; they succeeded to a
certain degree, and destroyed incredible
numbers with water and lire, but all their
efforts had very little effect.
About the middle of May small black
creatures, at a distance resembling large
ants, were observed accummulating in large
heaps throughout the country, and a few
days after they had been thus seen they
began to leap, and manifested the coming
calamity and invasion of the fearful army,
as described so emphatically in Joel ii. The
people now began to sweep thern together
and bury or burn them in ditches dug for
the purpose. But all to little or no effect;
and so they grew a little larger the effect
of their multitude began to be seen, and
the coming catastrophe could not be mis
taken. The roads were covered with them,
all marching in regular lines, like armies
of soldiers, with their leaders in front, and
all the opposition of man to arrest their
progress was in vain.
NUMBER 36.
They first consumed the plantations ar
ound Rainleh, Lydda and the smaller vil
lages near them, and entering the towns
and villages consumed the victuals, etc., in
the market and streets, by degrees forcing
themselves into the houses aud covering
the walls outside as well as inside. It
seems that everything which is moistened
by their saliva is poisoned, for the cattle
that feed on the remnants which are left all
die. 1 myself saw fifty oxen dead in the
village of Delta, Daggon and Zaffarish that
had fed on the remnant of durah (Indian
corn) left by the locusts, and the night be
fore last twenty more died
cause.
About two weeks ago they were seen to
a fearful extent all around Jaffa, but still
without wings. The town for several days
appeared forsaken ; ail shops were shut, all
business suspended. Almost all the inhab
itants had gone out to destroy and drive
away the invading army ; they made tre
mendous ditches and buried and burned
countless myriads, but, as before, all in
vain, for the more they destroyed the more
seemed to arise from hiding places, and as
they grew in size the more they seemed to
grow in multitude, and toward the east
from here they covered the ground for miles
and miles to the height of several inches.
As their wings are still too small to enable
them to visit the several hundred gardens
within the cultivated part of the district of
Jaffa, they have hitherto confined their de
structions to the outer gardens, of which
about fifty have been completely laid waste,
every green leaf, vegetable, tree and even
the bark of young trees, devoured, and
these beautiful gardens look like birch tree
forests in winter.
Our garden was one of the first attacked.
For s iveral days we saw the destructive
host advancing ; all our farm servants, as
well as some hired laborers, were employed
to keep them off, to drive them away, or
bury them, but we found them as Joel de
scribes them, chapter ii., verse 7, " They
shall not break their ranks." Who can
doubt the word of God when we have these
evidences before our eyes ? True, our men
broke their ranks for a moment, but no
sooner had they passed the men than they
closed again, and marched forward through
hedges and ditches, us it united by some
mysterious power, causing them to open
before man and to close again as soon as
they passed him. On the 14th instant they
forced their way into the garden, defying
all human efforts to prevent them, and in
less than a day the whole garden, an extent
of eight acres, was covered with them, and
the trees, to the number of three thousand,
as well as every other green leaf, with the
exception of the palm trees and the prickly
pear hedges, were stripped.
Whether eating or drinking, reading or
writing, or lying awake in bed (for it is im
po sible to sleep) one hears the noise of
armed hosts as of the running of many wa
ters, and within they keep dropping on and
about you. At meals lam kept busy driv
ing them away ; while 1 drive half a dozen
away from the bread as many will jump in
to the sugar basin, or even into my tea,
etc., and when undressing they leap out of
our very clothes, without our having known
they were there.
News has just reached us from Nablous;
the olive trees in these mountains have all
been stripped, and near the river Oudge
the soil is so thickly covered with these
creatures that many of the animals led there
to drink refuse to pass on.
Another letter of a later date says that
they are in no wise decreasing, rather the
opposite. Every native inhabitant has
been ordered by government to bring fif
teen pound weight of locusts daily, and
those who do not are fined fc.'l sterling each
time.
HCRIWJ !—The exclamation of "Hurrah!"
which is so powerfully sounded through
the air wherever bravery, courageous au
dacity and energy are intended to be prais
ed is a Slavonic term meaning in English
"to the Paradise ?' The origin of Hie word
is derived from the primeval idea that ev,
ery man that dies as a lieio for his country
will forthwith be transferred to Heaven.
During the heat of fighting and the strug
gle of a battle the combatants wiil sing
out tliis call with the same religious feel
ings as the Turks cry their "Allah" The
Hurrah will fill every warrior with enthusi
asm, inspiring him with the hope of instant
ly receiving the heavenly reward for his
bravery.
A I.E.ADIN<; democrat with pretty strong
opinions, who superintends a Sabbath
School in Detroit, a few Sundays since, was
discoursing to his classes of the Israelites,
and the enemies they encountered in the na
tion of Moabites, when, byway of illustra
tion, he put the question :
" Have we any great public enemy in
this country ?" evidently intending to see
how much his little auditors knew about
the rebellion.
" Yes, sir !" responded a bright little six
year old.
" Who, my sou ?" queired the gratified
superintendent.
"i'he Copperheads," responded the boy.
The illustration was not any further
pressed on that occasion.
A WRITER beautifully remarks that a man's
mother is the representative of his Maker. Mis
fortune and mere crime set no barriers between her
and her son. While his mother lives, a man has
one friend on earth who will not desert him when
I he is needy. Her affection flows from a purefount
| ain, and ceases only at the ocean of eternity.