H. H. FR_A_ZEER. Publisher.
VOLUME 11.
Business girettatl.
Dn. C. J. DRINKER,
EITINICIAN AND ISDRONDN. Mon Dom Pe.. Oretoe with
Dr. Coen. Om W. J. h 73.11 klalfortreStore. Pahllekirenge.
dm, irlih Joseph D. Drinker.
...mak not. Vet,. 186 A.
DR E. L BLA.ICESLEF,
PHYSICIAN AND 8178680 N. eKa locatedßrooklm Burhah92:
ma Vekely. WM Atutr.d promptly to all r:.,. y be tamed. Utace al L. X. lialderuic
B =klYu. Jail X. 1565.-71.
Dn. E. L GARDNER,
K I HTBICIZAP SUROZON. Moan., R. O.
Wel:W.Bton.. Board. at Searles Hotel.
, setram,Jrzo• a, 1166.-41
GROVES & REYNOLDS,
LIASHIONARLII TAILORS. Shop over Orand
Store, Pu.lic Avraut.
Iloautue, Ju. lL 1666.
Da. CHARLES DECKER,
14111YRICIAN AvD SURGIVIE, haelua located hlnteelf
Slrchs,defll. Susquehanna County fha, adll attend to al/ the
stile with welch he Mae b• favored with promptnaseand attention.
°MN st ht. reddesee near ltl . chglt 11 MVO s Mal
Buchan:Mlle. Mug. Co.. Pa.. Mae Si 1815.—tr.
JOHN BEAUMONT,
1001, CARTIER, Cloth Draw; and Menem:tom at the old
stand known as Smlth'• Cardin; Machine. Tama made
L.own when the work la
J brogght,
Jesup, Marsh ar - h 88
115.
DR. G. Z. DIMOCK,
pIi , T . KOIAN and 817110EON A __,TROMON SE, Pt Office on
Tz . ceet, oppodte the Office. Board. SS
MM... February Rh. 14£4.-17p
_
C. AL CRANDALL,
ANCTACTITHER of Lluem-wheellt, Wool.vbeabk
WLsef-
LU. beads. Clock-reela, h., kr_ Woodtuenflot dome to order. and
e tlx titan! manna. lvrolug Sbop and Wheel Factoryln Sams'
r ou ,,ar T Bnliduut, up stain.
bi oar., Juluury Lath, I9&0.-1.1
B. S. BENTLEY, JR, NOTARY PUBLIC,
movrnos.m.
mAre3 Acknowedgmest” of Deeds, If °Maces, to-, for any
State le the United States. Peados Vouchers and Pay Cer.
tea , * b e before him do not require the certifkate of the
f:ut of Coon. Montscese. Jan. '; 1863.—tf.
Da. E. L. HA.NDRICE,
thrOUL. sad SURGEON, roopectfhlly tendon his profit
lopooa ervfora to Um cilium of Friendavilleand Of.
the oflce of Dr. Lona. Boar& at J. Bodoni's.
Trim:Kin - 111a. July it 1854.4 f
It W. SMITH,
L TTOII.I4IT a 000 - NAKLLOII AT LAW =1 La mm= knwv
Aseat OLISce oyez Lees Drw, !can.
Saannelowns Jwasukrs ILIL 1864.
H. BURRITT,
ZALZa to St. nzn2 PannY Dry Good& Crockery, HarAwnrt
Db .11aopa n. 81.01,e1
Mao Oda. and Paints. Boots and Shona Eau
run. & ea Previalona. de.
S.. Illifent, Pa.„ Aprli 11.
EL IL SAYRE BROTHERS,'
aIADUFACTUDISELS of MlDCant er %Oefuluirs of en leted
al Mon . , TM and Sheet Iron Ware. Dural leaplemer.o
and Dealers In Dry floods, Grocertea, he.
Montrose. Pa. February 13.1864.
BILLINGS STROUD,
FDIRE AND LUZ INSURANCE AGENT. 01Noe In Lett
rout Yellang, east cod of Brink Block. in Ma atone* Doe
am It we ethyl .111 be tranoeted by 0. L. Brown.
Montrose, February 1, 1811L-1f
J. D. VAIL, M. D.,
lOr OMEOPA.THIC PRTIIIULL.I9, Ear “joirmanently Ida ita
blnoelf In Montrose, Pa., where be will promptly attend t
111 o.la tel Ms profession Intl which be may ire favored. 011er
mt. Redden.. Wed. of the Court House. near Iteatlay A Men's.
Illantmee, Fetmary 1, 1864.-0ct.22,
A. 0. WARREN,
ITORNET LT LAP7_ , BOUNTY. BACH PAT acd PED
MON CLAIM ILOMNT. All Pe:Wm Claim. carefully 'pr.
rto.oeim
o. formerlygf i gled by Di. Vail. t,W. B
antrom Pt.. Feb. I.IBBA-febl7yll2l3.
LEWIS KIRBY Sz K BACON,
a.KIT constantly on hands full supply of every varletY
0 BOOsitaz and OONTECTIONXFUItS. By strict alter-
ot o eneduess and Barnes,ln deal. they bope A RO to i merlt the , thwal
o•uuosße ofthe public . .e OYSTER and E ptarh to the
in style that the sates of the public demand. Reutemberthe place,
itot old Mott Grocery stand, on Math Street, below the Poetteca
Montrose. Nov. 17,1843.—mch17,63.-lf
DR. CALVIN C. HALSEY,
DIITSIOIAN AND RITRGEON, AND EE.LMINING SUR
LEON for PENSIONERS. oMce over the dere of .1.1.40.
k Son. Pateit Amin. Bawds at Mr. Etheridge's.
Montrose, amt. ! , 3851.4/
D. A. BALDWIN,
TTORNIVI AT LAW, and Peradon, Boxmq, Lad Batt F.
11, Agent, Great Bentl,fluquebseas Clacnaty.
amt 3.4, Anima IMPEL-1y
BOYD .t WEBSTER,
UCALERA to Stoves, Stove Plpe, Tin. Copper, and ghee
Iron Wart; also, Window S.A. Panel Doom Wtodos
Elllnds, Lain. Pt. Lumber and all kinds of Building kleterlals
nu Sinn sou th of Searle's Hotel, and Carpenter Shop new the
Nether:llst Church.
aorr... Pa.. 1..37 1, 18841.-tf
Da. WILLIAM W. SMITH,
is • SURGEON DENTIST. Mee over the Banker
°Elm of Cooper 6 Co. All Dement Operation,
will to performed In his rimsi good styli ant`
warrantor.. Remember. Ofte formerly of IL Smith & Ban.
Somme, Isnosryl. 1864.—tf
E. J. ROGERS,
Ur AATTLOTITLLSE of al doecrlpslona of WAG.
:11 ONO, CA.RII.IAGES. ISLSIGHI3., kr— to the
Demtayle of Or - alrownehlp and or the best materials,
et the well known etood FZ
or E. H. USVIII, it feel rods tee!
tf Sevle'e Flotel In Montrose• .been he will be hePPY to ~
of the calls of all who want anyt4torg to hie Iles.
Marc.rose,7uttel.lo,4.-if
DB. JOHN W. COBB
DRTSICIAN and SITNOZON, mos:Maly tee.ere Ole services
to tte citieene of Stignelasnna County. He .111 gbreetprclal
...tbt to the emleal and medltai treat neat of dbensses of tbe
eve Ltd tar. and ,a• be consa Sod seas e to serrileal operatives
bla ^e them at hl. °Mee over W J. & S. H. nulfurd'sStere.
deem o afable street, ear of J. S. Tubers Hotel.
Ilou;zuse, SUN. County. Ps. June 11.111113.-tf
BA.LDWIN & ALLEN,
tiLERS In PLOLER. Salt. Park, Fla. Lard. Grata. Ford
o.dies, Cam, .4 1.0.h7 Seed. Alpo GROCERIES
Began, ki °lmam Byrom Tea and Coffee. Weet aide o
f`attk A•ennk one door De la* J. Etheridge.
Itentrom January 1. ISSL-1i
DB G. W. BEACH,
pirrtua&N &ND SUBGEON, hawlnt permanently locate.-
honed( at Brooklyn Center. Pa, leaders hie onateestonal wer
run. to me dtitene Banqueßrims. OorontY. en tems tmetmenem.
vs with the times. Cont lee the cam of the late Dr. B. ftlr-Paoll
en, hod hoards et Kn.
Brooklyn CO:IttT, pt. June I. 118e.-17
F. B. WEEKS,
DidOTIOAL 1300 T AND 8110 Z ILAXLII; also Daft." tr.
1 Boma Shoes. Leatbmand Shoe Theban. litepairtus dear
.12 .. .U....A 411.17041 , Tyro doors above Bearlem Hotel.
lloransse, .I.uary 1. 1.1564-1 f
WM. & WM. H. JESSUP,
A ?TUMULI'S AT 'LAW. Wrrzumee, Pa Practice in Smartie
[anal BrlLdlin . d. Wane, Wyo=lTlt 5.15 LSlMerlit COW:4IU
, ecutner„ Pa., Jarmary Id, 1861.
♦gyp:}Ait M*0,01740:40,401
(11STRICE ATTORNiI AND ATTORNEY A.T LAW.
015C0 OM the Store ftma , l7 ocouptrol 1 , 7 FOE Broadax.
Ilaatxne, Pa-January 1, 1340.
J. LYONS & SON,
DcLLICRB IN DRY GOODS. Gronerlea.Croelnewy.FLardwan
Tinware. Books Melodeons. Moo. and all kinds of Moat
Irwiranunda, Sheet Moak, to. Alao carry on the Book Bind
le; oaatner In all Its branebe.
Nonwoore. January 1, Mi. T. A. LIONS
ABEL TERRELL
Draass IN DRUGS. MiDIUINICS. Clit/LICALS,„
Patna, oth . Dmatuffa, Vazolsbes. Window films.
DOaeds. Groceries, Crockery, Glassware Wall-Paper. Jew
• 27, Fancy Good., Perdu:nary, Serrgloal Instruments, Tha
w. Work.. Etrosbes, Agent for all of the meat pupa
s, Nand Modlelnea. Montrose. January 1. UM.
C. 0. FORDHANI,
3itrureerop D i or sm ot s soo nt s gm E A ,, 11. 1 =1
Ifter, topairbox d test* Work dove Irbea prom,
tied. m' itoritroae, April 1861.41
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
DiaLsa in BOOTS d SHOES. Leetber and ?Ind:
n= on Yale a. third door he Searles Hotel. Ire.
N. H. Wort fusee to order. and - repatrieg done neatly.
liontroae, Pa.. December 11.1660.
L IL BURNS,
.. p ,, AMtT e.. Ojlce irlth J
'
21.1E44.- U.
B. B. LYONS & CO..
D[ALCMs InDBY 00 ( IDS,GROCNSIEIL WOOTR, RIOE,
Ladles' Gahm, Carpet., 011 Cloths, Wall and Window Par
r -r. Palny, OIL. 15tore an the cast idde of Mlle Amine.
a. imam - • - • a. m. LTIXTI.
Yontrose. Jiutuary 1, 11364.41
READ, WATROUS it 'POSTER,
nEAZIMS LN EMT nIODB, Drat. IllacUtlnei. Pihtts, Olb
f7:7 21,,.. A Ilud
D0an ."747...' 3 = . : boa. C
Beak ir. W
m alebts. J . .....
a... RV RV s. WATIOLV IL O.IOIITII
itUntrailt. January 1. 11554.
.WILLUM W. SMITH,
CABINET 6141) CELLE ItAHU
facture:. Keeps constanCy on band all
Linda arCaarrorr Isdaarraas„ ar for
naiad at Clod untica. Choy and Wire Boma root of Mara Bt.
llonloae. Pa.. Marta D. leda—t!
PHILANDER LINES,
grattllcoNe.llLL TAILOR. BA* 11 / 9 440 " 1
.4 - "ITICAta PastresSkits. Ig.abse. ..Itaawm. AJaly
. .
" .
• - -
•- • .
. ••••
• 4,4 ,
cob,
•
...
,
• .
•
: , •••!:WW `Aft
•
• ,
BONG OF THE lIEENFILINCHITBED.
rThe following song Is sung in England by sev
eral millions of the nnenfranchLsed working-men,
to the disgust of the snobs and aristocnits
We plow and sow, we're so very, Very low,
That we delve In the dirty clay,
'MI we bless *he plain with golden grain
And the vale with the fragrant hay.
Our place we know, we're so very low,
'Tis down at the landlord's feet I
We're not Leo low,
the grain to grow,
But too low the bread_ to est. •
Down, down, wei go, we're so very, my low,
To the hell of the deep sunk mines,
But we gather the proudest gems that glow
When the crown of a despot shines.
And whene'r he lacks, upon our tacks
Fresh load. he deigns to lay ;
We're far too low to vote the tax
But not too low to pay.
We're low, we're low, mere rabble we know,
But at our plastic power -
The mold at the lording's lest will grow
Into palace, rhumb, and tower,
Theo prostrate fall in the rich man's ball,
And cringe at .the rich man's door;
We're not too low to build the wall
But too low to tread the door.
We're low, we're low, we're very, very low,
Yet from our fingers glide
The silken now, and the robes that glow,
Round the limbs of the ions of pride.
And what we get, and what we {Cite, '
We know, and we know our share ;
We're not too low the cloth to weave,
But too low the cloth to wear.
We're low, we're low, we're very, 'very low,
And yet when the ntmpete
The thrust of a poor man s' arm will go
Thro the heart of the proudest king.
We're low, we're low, our place we know,
We're only the rank and file,
We're not too low to tight the toe,
Eint too low to touch the spoil.
ONE YEAR AGO.
What stars have faded from our sky :
What hopes unfolded hnt to die
What dreams so fondly pondered o'er
Forever lost the hues they worn?
ftowlike a death-knell, sad and 'Slow,
Tolls throvaigk
Where Is the face we loved to greet,
The form that graced the fireside seat,
The gentle smile, the winning way,
That blessed our life-path day hi day
Where fled those aneenta soft and low
That thrilled our hearts "one year ago!"
Ah ! vacant Is the fireside chair,
The smile that won, no longer there ;
From door and hall, from porch mod lawn,
The echo of the voice is gone,
And we who linger only know
How much wu Met "one year ago!"
Beside bee grave the marble white
Beeps silent guard by day and night ;
Serene she sleeps, nor heed• the tread
Of footsteps o'er her lowly bed ; .
Her pulseless breast no more may know
The pangs of life " one year ago r
But why repine! A few more years,
A tew more broken sighs and tears,
And we, colleted with the dead,
Shall follow where her steps have fled
To that far world rejoicing go
To which she passed ono year ago !'
- TEE CRACK IN THE WALL.
A handsome house in an eligible street in Par
is with plenty of showy furniture Ib the draw
ing-rooms, and plenty of fine dreitses in the
wardrobe, but no love, no magnanimity, except
in a little back attic, where a char Ming young
girl tenderly ministered to a feeble mother.—
This house belonged to Monsieur and Madame
Chatelle; the attic was occupied bY the widow
and daughter of Monsieur's deceatted brother,
3L Broussaics Chatelle. 'The window Chatelle
was, at her best, a weak-minded Woman, and
when suddenly reduced from apparebt prosperi
ty to absolute dependence by the death of her
husband, she gave way at trice, and became
morbid, fretful, and exacting. .11et ill-temper
injured nobody but herself and her daughter,
Rosine; for her hostess,: having ptir . mined her
to furnish the back attic with such articles as
she had saved from the wreck of her fortune,
would not be troubled farther, and contented
herself with sending up three scatty meals a
day, while she worked Rosine nearly to death
in the various departments of governess, laun
dress, and lady's waiting-maid. Finitlly, discov
ering that mother and daughter must soon be
supplied with new garments, 3fonseitir took the
matter in hand, and plainly told his unwelcome
guests that he could no longer support them,
and that they must henceforth loOk to them
selves alone for food and Shelter.
Poor Mdme. (Marone woo oyerrrbelmed by
this blow, but it gave Rosins courage. Prom a
dependent child, she became a self-relying wo
man, and when she crossed her uncle a thres
hold for the last time it was with a resolute step
and a cheerful countenance. It is true that she
did not even suspect the wasting anxiety, the
haunting fears and the many disappointments
which lay before her; but even if she had done
so she would have smiled at them for the mo
ment.
Her first search was for lodgings, of the price
of which she knew nothing, and, With an ach
ing heart, she descended lower and lower in the
social scale until she came upon a vast
six or seven stories high,lhrongral to the eaves
with a motley and 111-assorted community. It
was called "The Folly," because hisses begun
on a grand scale for a private dwelling, and was
stopped when half-finished. 111-arranged for
any purpose, it remained long unsold, and was
finally made into a lodging house, its thin par
titions and mean stairways contrasting s:rongly
with its stone walls and handsome casements.
A front room on the second tlobtr had just
been vacated, and Rosin; with many misgiv
inga, resolved to take it. A thorough cleaning.
with three or four coats of whitewash to the
ceiling and walls, which she effected with her
own hands, greatly improved its condition; and
although she had been obliged to sell a part of
her furniture to supply more needed articles,
there was still enough to make it contrast plena
antiv with most of the apartments of the "Folly."
A bright-colored carpet covered the centre of
the rootn,and around it stood three dr tour rose
wood chairs, a deep soft lounge, and a small ta
ble. One of the recesses upon the back side
held the bed, screened by long curtains of glaz
ed cambric,and the other held the little cooking
stove, with a few little culinary utensils which
bung around it. The table furniture was stow
ed away in a corner cupboard, prettily-covered
boxes held the fuel and provisionit, and upon
the wall were five or six offlosine's'pretty wat
er-colored drawings, and a small case of choice
but well-worn books. .
Hogue bad kept up her spirits 'wonderfully
until these preparations were completed, for she
had no time to think; but now mem the bard
task of procuring work: She could draw and
color with taste and skill; she played the piano
gracefully and sang charmingly; and she em
broidered neatly and rapidly. Her personal ap
pearance was also in her favor. Her figure was
elegant, and her face possessed sweetness and
purity; DM these - points, wtactrtrocreeird for
the moment those to whom she applied, weigh
ed but little against the filets that she had no ref
erence and that she lived In a doubtful If not posi
tively disreputable quarter. The 'utmost that
she could accomplish was to secure ime pupil in
each of the branches which she desired to teach,
at a rate of compensation far below ''that which
she ought in justice to have received; and ells
conraged by her ill success she tried to obtain
other employment, however Warne and unre
munerative. This search was rendered nearly
unavailing by Mdtne. Chatelle, who exacted
from her daughter as much attention as if they
were independent in fortune, and who was In a
chronic state of llihumor over hOr privations
and suffering.s. Rosins never lost her patience.
She sileit.her own griefs to quietthose of her
mother, soothed her with a thousand devices,
and at night sang; her.. to sleep as she would
have done a fretful leant.
•
Resin's great beta; berzefined'inanner,and
her loving treirtefefristrpoillltb lite'Loollgert
" Freedom and Right a:_lainat 13bavery and Wrong."
MONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1865.
In the crazy old building. To some she render
ed services so cordially and quietly that the feel
ing of obligation was sweet rather than painful ;
and for all she had the right word, the pleasant
smile or the deferential how, as she divined the
peculiarities of each with the tine tact of a gen
tlewoman. There was but one inmate whom
she could not tame—a certain M. Britian, who,
whatever he might have been, was a decided
bear. Ills long, gray hair was always in a tum
ble, forming a rough frame for the small portion
of face visible within It. 01 this nothing could
be seen 'but a lone, sharp nose, a pair of deep,
dark,mellow eyes, whlchwere irresistibly attrac
tive when brightened by a kindly emotion,hut
which habitually shot forth scornful and ill-na
tured glances to accompany the sarcastic words
which followed the slightest notice of him.
His dress was scrupulously neat, but thread
bare -and ill-fitting, and his figure, so far as
could be seen, was badly shaped and as uncouth
as his manners. He had a room on each door,
and passed with stippered feet from one to the
other at all moans-r of seasons. Rosin° often
meet him, upon which c.casinns he seldom fail
ed to accost her with a sarcasm bitter in propor
tion to the number of listeners; by which means
he effectually blinded the most inquisitive to his
real feelings and saved both the young lady and
himself from an irksome surveillance. But
either his lustrous eyes neutralized the effect of
his lance-like wit, or his voice, which could
yield the most winning heart tones, must have
given the lie to his sparkling shafts, for Rosine
never suffered from them. Site even felt drawn
toward this powerful, cross-grained man, as if
she were safer and stronger fur his presence in
the dreary building.
One of M. Britian's apartments loaned that
of Mdme. Chatelle, and not only was the parti
tion thin, but there was a crack in it which
helped him to a knowledge of much that was
going on upon the other side. Mdme. Chatelle
constantly complained of ennui. "It was so
dull when Rosine was away ! Not anew novel,
not a canary bird, not a cat to purr on her knee.
not even a mignonette on the balcony! What
was the use of front windows when there were
no handsome dresses or flue carriages to be
seen? She was starving, too, literally starving.
How could Rosine expect her to live on dry
bread and onion soup !" Then the sweet voice
uAlld bo hoord, emmaollnaua xvir ploin i nft
and coaxing, but more frequently detailing n lit
tle street incident, relating a pretty antidote or
recalling a pleasant reminisence.
Upon such oceasions,M. Brdlan often happen.
ed to sit near the wall, and even to lean his
head against it in close proximity to the conven
ient crack. To do him justice, it must be said
that such accidents had never occurred in him
before. He was not naturally curious, nor did
his time hang so heavily on his hands as to drive
hint to ungenerous modes of disposing of it ; hot
he had never until now come into real ctmpan•
lonship with a true woman. His mother was
handsome and gay—the veriest trifle that ever
was tossed on the surface of French society.—
Her husband was gay, also; but where she limit
ed like thistle-down he plunged deeply in. Vi
cious himself, and acquainted with vice, he was
jealous of her every glance. Hot words, tierce
contentions; angry recriminations rollowed, and
the little Brillan formed hard, contemptuous
views of his race, which had thus far robbed
his life of sweetness and beauty. He had seen.
indeed, shining examples of every virtue, both
separate and in combination , but he hod
grown up in such isolation and misanthropy
that none of them had come directly home to
him; and, besides, the effect had been lessened,
if not destroyed, b' a lurking doubt of the purity
of the motives which had dictated acts sn utter
ly at variance with his preconceived opinion of
possibilities. But here was n genuine revelation.
There was no chance for mistake or misconcep
tion, for he could himself read all its marvellous
pages. Here was strength with gentleness.
youth with patience,- beauty with purity, and
courage with tenderness. The lovely picture
stole into the heart of the gray haired cynic and
haunted his memory. nt first, he imagined
that ho felt merely the surprise and delight
which would have been occasioned by a discov
cry in science or art; but when he found that
Rosine illuminated the whole building with her
presence—when the touch of her garment as she
passed him on the landing thrilled him with in.
tense pleasure—he could not but acknowledge
to himself that Iris intellect had very little to do
with the joy he experienced.
One twilight there was a knock at Ifdme.
Chatelte's door, and for the first time M. Britian
appeared on the threshold. "Had Pompine
strayed into Madame's roma ? Pompine some
times wandered, but still she had her gnod
points. She was handsome—that nobody could
dispute—lt Madame had ever observed her, she
must base perceived that the gray of her coat
was of a perfect shade." Madame had never
seen the animal, which was not to he wondered
at, as she had been smudled into the house
twenty-four hours before, anti was at that mo
ment securely fastened in the next apnrtment
but Monsieur's object was accomplished. He
had, in a legitimate manner, caught sight of
snow-white dinner cloth, and ignoring the pres
ence of Boehm, who stood respectfully awaiting
ills departure, lie addressed himself to Madame.
"How cozy the table looked ! He was tired
of his rambled meals, and he had forgotten to
buy some bread. Might he—just for once—
bring in his own dinner, and so picnic with
them r
AB be had foreseen, while she was endeavor
ing to frame a courteous refusal, Madame—alive
only to the passibility of a comfortable meal—
gave a glad assent ; and before the young lady
had recovered from her surprise and vexation,
he appeared with a superb cat under one arm,
and bearing a tray with a little silver box of the
richest coffee, a cream pitcher minus a nose,
but filled with excellent cream, a sugar dish
without a handle, a cracked howl with a batter
ed spoon, a steel knife and fork, an old chicken
on half a platter, a pat of delicious butter on a
dish notched at the edge, some delicate tarts and
a bottle of choice wine. As there was no help
for it, Rcsine made the coffee and cut the bread,
her own little share of the repast; while Mon
sieur sat down by Madame and gave her a pa
thetic account of his housekeeping trials. Wrth
perfect gravity, he asserted that a lady friend
had, in spite of his protestations, given him not
only the cat, but a canary bird, a mocking bird,
and a parcel of plants in pots, which were real
ly the torment of his life. He couldn't, under
the circumstances, give away these articles, yet
the birds were often hungry and dry, and the
plants were dying for want of care. Madame,
who didn't once suspect that this was a pleasant
fiction devised for the occasion by her guest,
sympathized with him so heartily that a new
idea then and there appeared to occur to him.
"Might he venture to ask—could she take the
trouble Of looking after this inconvenient house
hold? He had no claim, but the temptation
was great. He had seeds in abundance for the
birds, and the milkman and butcher had orders
to leave milk and meat daily for Pompine."
Rcsine looked warningly at her mother,. but
Monsieur did not appear to perceive it. It was
Madame whom he relied on, and she did not
fail him. " fine should be delighted. It would
give her something to think of when Roaine was
from home. Rodin was a good girl, hut, really,
she was out more than appeared necessary or
oaa proper to her. Oh, yes ; she should be not
only willing, but happy to oblige him In this
way."
The call to dinner interrupted the flow of
Madame's eloquence. The meal passed pleas
' antly. Monsieur was playfully protective tow
ard the young lady, but profoundly deferential
I to the elder one, and his wit was so light, his
humor was so genial and his anecdotes were so
lull of fun, that Rosine even forgot her cares and
felt something of her old time gaiety. As the
evening drew to a close, M. Brillion hung the
bird cages and arranged the flower pots on the
balcony. This done, he remembered but one
other trouble tharhe need confide to Madame.
"He wished to use the adjoining room for a li
brary, but the char-woman arranged it vilely.—
it Madame would condescend sometimes to give
it a finishing touch, so that he could feel a little
at Louie, she should be welcome to the use of
•itny and' all the books which she might find
there.','
ATlontAiricatabliAfriftirkrcirctifitddlin
face, but Moasniur, fearful of effects, lifted the
hand of his hostess to his lips, tad took his de
parture with a shower of bon-mta which pre
vented all discussion of the topic.
Rosine's dissuasives had no effect upon Mad
ame, who arranged the apartment which M.
Brillan had spoken of, and which she found full
of books, pictures, and statuettes in the utmost
disorder. There were excellent novels, works
of travels and biography, volumes of exquisite
engravings, and all the best French periodicals.
These were treasures, indeed, and Madame
smiled again. What was still better, Rosines
time was fully occupied by pupils who paid lib.
erally and id advance. She suspected M. Bril
lan's influence in this, but she could not decline
to benefit by it, for without it she must starve.
Its acceptance, too, was entirely unlike that of
the flowers and birds, which she telt persuaded
were intended from the first as gifts, and in
which she could thnrefore take no pleasure.
For two months M. Britian was seen but little
about the house, and yet great baskets of fruits
and lovely boquets were continually finding
their way into the apartment of the Chutelles,
and Madame's pocket was sever without a sup
ply of bon-bons, of which ski was immoderately
fond. She pleaded ignoranc, , of the giver ; and
Rosine, finding remonstrance unavailing, endur
ed in silence.
The cold weather had set Rome to thinking
how she could supply winter clothing and fuel
when M. Brillan again beimed permission to
dine with Madame, pic-nic fashion. "It was his
fete doy," he said, "always a melancholy occas
ion, and he really dreaded to spend the evening
alone." Madame was as gracious as before.—
"Monsieur would be most welcome," and Bosine
could only make the coffee and lay the table in
silence. But this time Monsieur asaisted her.
Be brought a table for the dessert, and unpacked
an enormous hamper, containing sithstantials
and delicacies for a week's feasting. For a man
with a sorrow, he W certainly very merry,
laughing over the want of dishes, making pun.,
dashing off rhymes, and telling stories all in a
breath.
The room was warm, and M. Brinell, when
Rosine's back was turned, slily filled Madame's
glass more than once, spa that good lady by and
by fell asleep. Rusine blushed and grew unea
sy; but her guest, without noticing her agita
tion, drew his chair a little nesrer hert, and
told her how his nunhood had been paaNed,
how its bitter memories bad made him a misan
thrope, and bow her gentle virtues had won him
a love and reverence which he had not be( , re
deemed possible. Then, with a hurried eager
ness most unlike his usual manner, he besought
her to become his vlife.
Rosin° listened in silence. Ever since she
had known M. Brillan, life had been easier and
brighter to her. Unconsciously she had leaned
upon him, even when she was blaming herself
for accepting favors so quietly conferred that
she did not know how to decline or prevent
them. Looking back upon his conduct toward
her, and seeing it in the new light shed upon it
by this avowal, she felt its delicacy and genera+
ity, its winning thongh:fuiness and grateful
trust. The love which had lain latent in her
heart, waiting only for an enkindling spark,
hurst into conscious existence. M. Brillan knew
it, and, stooping, received his acceptance in a
timid, trembling kiss.
"You must remove front this old shell tomor
row, my darling," said M Brillan ; -we cannot
be married from the 'Folly ;' that, indeed, will
never do,"
"And why not ?" asked Rosine, in astonish
ment. "Shall we not continue to live here, and
&ball I not give lessons as now 1."
'Probably not; but whom do you think you
have promised to marry r
"An elderly man of small means and no no
parent business, living in the 'Folly,' a dreary
and not very respectable lodging-house in a dir
ty street in Paris."
"We shall see," said Britian, and after a
few rapid movements be stood before his be
trothed a handsome man of thirty five, with
short, thick chestnut hair, curling closely on his
temples, a delicate moustache curling (Jeer !he
clear brown of his cheeks, and a fine figure
tast._fully imbued in the most elegant of the pre
vatting styles. Then lie sat down and whisper
ed in her ear the name of one of the most distin
guished lawyers in the capital.
Roeine's blue eyes opened to their utmost ra
pacity, and her lover looked fondly into them as
he continued: "There was a great lawsuit pend
ing which Involved an immense estate, and I
was certain that 1 could secure it for my client
if I could obtain some important evidence which
had been dexterously concealed. Ipm myself
into the hands of one of those artists whose bus
iness .it is to perfect disguiies, and commenced
my search, which finally brought me here. To
day I have gained my cause, but my succ'•ss in
court was nothing to that which I have just
achieved. Oh, Rosine, you have given me love,
and faith, and glad,. beautiful hopes, that reu,h
even unto Heaven."
Upon the followl4 New-Year's eve, a pleas
ant wedding was crlehrmed in a pleasant street,
and then la. and Mdme. de Courtney and Mdme_
Chatelle drove to a splendid mansion all aglow
with lights and scented flowers. There they
received their frtenoand relatives, or at least a
portion of them, for although M. and Mdme.
Antoine Chatelle made the humblest apologies
as soon as they learned that their niece was to
be restored to society, they did not receive
wedding carder
When the guests dispersed, the happy hus
band offered his wife his own especial gift. It
was a picture in a frame of gold set with pearls,
and represented his library at the "Folly," with
a light shining through a crack in the wall.
THE OLD STORY OF THE FIVE PEACHES.
A countryman brought home five peaches
from the city, the most beautiful that could be
Been. His children saw the fruit for the first
time. On this account they wondered, and were
very much pleased over the beautiful peaches,
with the rosy cheeks and soft down.
The father divided them among his four
children, and one was received by the mother.
In the evening, as the children were going to
their bedchambers, they were asked by their
father :
" Well, how did those tine peaches taste to
yon r
" Excellent, dear father," said the eldest. "It
is a beautiful fruit, somewhat acid, and yet Of
SO mild a flavor. I have saved the stone, and
intend to rear a tree out of it."
"Well done," said the father, "that I mil
prudently providing for the future, as it becomes
a husbandman."
"1 have also eaten mine ap," said the young
est, "and thrown away the stone, and mother
gave me half of hers. Oh, it tasted so sweet,
and melted in one's month!"
"Well," said the father, "to be sure you have
not acted prudently, but very naturally, as
chiblren are wont to do. For prudence, there
Is still room enough in your life'
Then began the second son:
"I picked up thestone which my little brother
threw away, and cracknd it. There was a ker
nel therein that tasted as sweet as a nut. But
m y p eac h I mid, and have rceetved so much
money for it, that I can when I go to the city,
probably buy twelve."
The father shook his head, and said:
'Wise It was, but not in the least childish or
naturaL May heaven preserve you from be
coming a merchant r
' And thou, Edmund?' said the father.
Candidly and openly answered Edmund:
took my peach to our neighlxies son, the
sick George, who has a fever. He was not
willing to take it, but I laid it on the bed and
came away.'
"Well," said the father, who has, then, made
the beet use of his peach I"
"Then cried they all three:
"Brother Edmund has."
ButEdmind remained aiient, and the mother
kissed him with tears in her eypa,
t- Ladies don't often go hurt with fowl•
ing-pleces, and when they do, they .:an't gener•
ally find anything to set their cans et.
.me istle, lir os the dogs, but patri, e Aw
; Wagl m o! lits•
A ROMAN HERO
In the war between Rome and Cartilage the
consul Regales was taken captive. He was
kept a close prisoner for two years, pining and
sickening lb his loneliness, while in the mean
time the war continued, and at last a victory so
decisive was gained by the Romans., that the
people of Carthage were discouraged, and re
solved to ask terms of peace. They thought
that no one would be so readily listened to at
Rome as Regulus, and they therefore sent him
there with their envoys, having first made him
swear that he would come back to his prison if
there should neither he peace nor an exchange
of prisoners. They little knew how much more
a true•hearted Roman cared for his city than
for himself—for his word than for his life.
Worn and dejected, the captive warrior came
to the outside of the gates of his own city, and
there paused, refusing to enter. "I am no long
er a Roman citizen," he said ; " I am but the
barbarian's slave, and the senate may not give
auatenee u) strangers within tile wank -
His wife Marcia ran out to greet him, with his
two sans, but be did not look up, and received
their caresses as one beneath their notice, as a
mere slave, and be continued, in spite of all en
treaty, to remain outside the city, and would not
even go to the little farm he had loved so well.
The Roman senate, as he would not come in
to them, came out to hold their meeting in the
CamPlifims-
The ambassadors spoke first, then Regulus,
standing up, said, as one repeating a task, ' Con•
script fathers, being a slave to the Carthaginians,
I come on the part of my masters to treat with
you concerning peace, end au exchange of pris
oners." He then turned to go away wi h the
ambassadors, as a stranger might not be present
at the deliberations of the senate. Hisold friends
pressed him to stay and give his opinion as a
senator who had twice been consul ; but he re
fused to degrade that dignity by claiming it,
slave as be was But, at the command at his
Carthaginian masters, he remained, though not
taking his seat.
Then he spoke. lie told the senators to per
severe in the war. He said that he had seen
the distress of Carthage, and that n peace would
be only to her advantage, not to that of Rome,
and, therefore, he strongly advised that the war
should continue. Then, as to the exchange 1 ,
irocrur.l tne uariiingintan cenvialv, nuo I , IC,
in the hands of the Romans, were in full health
and strength, whilst lie himself was too much
broken down to be tit for service again, and in.
deed he believed that his enemy had given hint
a slow poison, and that he could not live long.
Thus he insisted that no exchange of prisoners
should be made.
. .
It Was wonderful even to Romans, to hear a
man thus pleading against himself, and their
chief priests came forward and declared that, as
his oath had been wrested from him by force. he
was not bound by it to return to his captivity.
But Regulus was too noble to listen to this for a
moment. " Rave you resolved to dishonor me ?"
he said. "I am not ignorant that death and
the extremest tortures are preparing for me;
but what are these to the name of an infamous
action, or the wounds of a guilty mind? Slave
as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a
Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty
to go; let the gusts take care of the rest."
The senate decided to follow the advice of
Regulus, , ttuutrb they bitterly regretted his sac
rifice- His wife wept and entreated in vain that
they would detain him; they could merely re
peat their permission to him to remain; but
nothing could prevail with him to break his
word, and he turned hack to the chains and
death be expected, as calmly as it he bad been
returning to his home.— That of Golden Deeds.
INDIAN FUN
One of the earliest settlers of the country
round Lake Champlain was Colonel Raymondl.
He understood the character and disposition of
the redskin natives of the Forest, and lived with
them in much harmony, frequently employing
them to row him up and down the lake, as he
bad occasion. One stout fellow, by the name
of Biabear, had his wigwam at no greart dis
tance from the colonel's dwelling, and was often
there. The Colonel having occasion to visit
some distant shore of the lake, employed Big
bear to row him in his csnoe On their return
they passed near a high yet sloping ledge of
rock, on which lay an immense number of rat.
tlesnakes asleep and haskirig in the sun. The
Indian gave a penetrating look at the Colonel
and thus inquired :
"Raymun love fun ?"
"Yea," was the reply.
" Well, then Raymun have fun; mind Indian,
and hold your tongue."
So he rowed along silent and slow, and cut a
crotched stick from a bunch of hazles upon the
bank.
-Steady, now, Raymnm," said he, as he clap
ped the crotched stick astride the neck of a ser
pent that was asleep close to the edge of the
water. "Take urn now,
Raytnun; hole lass."
The colonel then took hold of the stick, keep
ing the serpent down, while Bigbear tied up a
little sack of powder, putting one end of a slow
match therein. He then made it fast to the
snake's tail. And setting fire to the match, gave
orders to "let urn go," at the same time pushing'
the canoe off from the shore. The snake, being
liberated, crewed away to his den. The Indian
immediately then stood up and clapped his
hands, making as hied a noise as possible, and
thus roused the other serpents, who in a moment
disappeared.
"Now look, Raymun, look—see fun," said he,
and in about a minute the powder exploded,
when there was, to be sure, fun alive. The
snakes in thousands covered the rock, all his
sing, rattling, twining, twirling end jumping in
every way imaginable. Colonel Raymond burst
into a loud laugh that echoed across the lake,
pleased alike with the success of the trick and
the ingenuity of the savage's invention. But
Bigbear, from the beginning to the end, was as
grave as a Judge, not moving a muscle, and not
having the least show of risibility in his counte
nance. This is truly characteristic of the Ameri
can aborigines; what causes the greatest ex
citability of laughter in others has no effect upon
them; they remain miter, sedate and fixed as a
bronze statue. They may !eve fun, bnt never
in the smallest degree exhibit that character in
their looks.
A MAGNANIMOUS DANP--Daring the wars
that raged from 1622 to 1660, between Frederick
111 of Denmark and Charles (Instants of Swe
den, after a battle, in which the victory had re
mained with the Danes, a stout hurgher of Plena
borg was about to refresh himself, ere retiring to
have his wounds dressed, with a draught of
beer from a wooden bottle, when an imploring
cry from a wounded Swede, lying on the field,
made him torn, with the very words of Sidney—
" Thy need is greater than mine." Ho knelt
down by the fallen enemy, to pour the liquor in
his mouth. His requital was a pistol-shot In
the shoulder from the treacherous Swede.
"Rascal!" he cried, "I Would have befriended
and you would murder me In return. Now
I II punish you. I would have given you the
whole bottle, but now you shall have only half"
And drinking off half himself, be gave the rest
to the Swede.
- The king, hearing the story, sent for the burgh
er, and asked him how he came to spare the
life of such a rascal.
"Bire," Bald the honest burgher,
could kill a wounded enemy."
" Thou meritest to be a noble,"She king said,
and created him one immediately, giving him as
armorial bearings a wooden bottle pierced with
an arrow 1 The family only lately became ex
tinct in the person of an old maiden lady.
£ Sir Isaac Newton's nephew was a clergy.
man. When he had performed the marriage
ceremony for a couple. he always refused the
feKtsying,—" Go your ways, poor wretches, I
have Alone you mischief enough already." Was
he oT was he not a subject fot a lunatic asylum
ff" Anna (totgA her beau)—Frederiek feVl?, what city
hrt,Wyoterg to visit this Fred.--11
yairlarArn ui b
'OM*, p9floBYo
LET THE ANGELS IN.
Open wide the door, mother,
And let the engele la ;
They are BO bright and fair, mother,
8o pare and free from AW-
I hear them speak my name, mother,
They softly whisper, " Come !"
0I let the angel* la, mother,
They wait to take me hom..
I know that death has come, mother
llla band la on my brow ;
You cannot keep me here, mother—
Yes, I must leave you now.
The room is gtowlog dark, mother—
I thought I heard you weep;
'Tie very sweet to die, mother,
Like sinking into sleep !
I now must say farewell ! mother,
For I nm going borne
Now open wide the dnor, mother,
And let the moguls come !
aorita TO SLEEP.
The light la lading down the sky,
The shadows grow and multiply,
I hear the thrashes' evenine song:
But I have borne wish toll and wrong
So long, so long
Dim dreams my drowsy eens.•s drown—
So, darling, kiss my eyelids down !
My Ilfe's brief spring went wasted by,—
My bummer ended frattlesaly ;
I le trned to hunger, attire, and wait,-
1 found yon, love—oh, bunny fate !
So lute, au late I
Now all my arc turning leo WU,
do, darling, kiaa my eyellda down !
Oh, blessed eleop ! oh, perfect real.!
Thus plllnwed on your fultlnul broost,
Nor !Ito nor d =this wholly drear,
0 Lender heart, since you are here,
MMMMII
Sweet love, my soul's Pl2ifivient crown !
Now, darling, kiss my eyelids down!
Front " Our Young Folks."
A FEW PLAIN WORD 3 TO LITTLE PALE
FACED FRIENDS.
1=333
Three years ago I visited my dear youn
friend Susie. Althougti she lives in the country
in the midst of splendid grounds, 1 found her
with a very pale face, and blue Beznicircl, s
under her eyes. Her lip 3 were as white as it
she had Just risen from a sickbed; and vet her
mother told me she was as well as usual. Saf , i,
wail seven years old, and a most wonderful
child.
I said to her, " Well, my little child, wha
makes you so pale?"
She replied, "0, I was always pale.
says it is pretty."
When we were all sitting around the dinner to
ble, I introduced the subject again, for it was vet y
gad to find this beautiful and promising child h.l
fragile. Before 1 lett, I took little Susie's hand
and walked into the garden. "And now," said
I, "my little one, show me your favorite
flower."
She took me to a beautiful moss-rose, and c•,•
claimed, "0, that is the most beatiful dower la
the world; don't you think it lovely, lr?"
I said "Now. Susie, I shall come here again
in two weeks. I wish you would dress op tha .
rose bush to a suit of your own clothes, and al
low the dress to remain till I return."
She laughed, and said. "Why, how queer'
why do you want me to do that?"
I replied "Never mind, but run and get the
clothes, and I will bid p you to dress it up, sod
see If iL looks like yon."
She ran off with loud shouts to ask mamnii
for a suit of her clothes. Of enure mamma had
to come and ask it I were serious, and what
were my reasons. I saii, "I cannot give you
my reasons to-day. but I assure you they a.7:-
good ones, and when I come again I will e•.
plain it all to you."
So a specimen of each and every kind of gar
ment that Susie was in the habit of wearing a is
brought forward, and Suate and I spent some
time in rigging out the rose hush. First came
the little shirt, which made it look very funny;
and then came the little waist and skirt, then t i t•
frock, then the apron, and finally, over all, a It.-
tle Shaker sun bonnet. When we had reached
this point, Susie cried out, " Now, how can you
put on the stockings and shoes?" I said, "we
will cut open the stocking and tie them around
the shoes we cannot use." Of course we all
laughed, and Susie thought I was the funnieat
man in the world. She could hardly wait f
me to come again rind tell her why I had dont
such a funny thing,.
In two weeks, according t° promise, I was a
my friend's house again. Susie had watched
her little rose-bush, , r rather the clothes winch
covered it, and longed for my coming.. Bit ,
when we took the bonnet, gown, skirt and stock
ings away, to and behold, the beautiful ros,
bush had lost its rich green color—had hecom
like Its mistress, pale and sickly.
"Oh!" she cried, "what made you do so
why, you have spoiled my beautiful rose-bush."
I said, "Now, my dear little one, you LIIII-1
not blame me, for I did this that you might re
member something of importance to you: Yo.,
and this rose-bush live out in the broad, genial
sunshine together. You are pale and sickly
the rose-bush has been li , althy and beautiful.
I put these dollies on the rose bush to show you
why you are so weak and while. If we had
kept these clothes upon the hush fur a month or
two, it would have entirely lost its color and
health."
"But you would not have me gu naked, sir.'
"No, not altogether, but I would have you
healthy and happy. And now I am going to
ask your father to build out here in the garden
a little yard, with a close fence, and when tir
shims you must come out into the pare
with your nurse, and take off your clothes and
play in the sunshine for half and hour, or until
your skin looks pretty red."
After a hearty laugh the good papa asked if
I was serious about it. I told him, never more
so, and that when I should come to them again.
a month hence, If Susie bad such a baptism in
the sunshine four or five times a week, I could
promise that the headache and sleeplessness from
which she had suffered so much 'would b..
lessened, and perhaps retnoved.
The carpenter was set to work, and in two
days the enclosure surrounding a bed of flower,
was completed. ..At eleven o'clock the next
morning, a naked little girl, with very white
skin, might have been seen running about with.
in the pen; papa, mamma and the nurse clapping
their handa and shouting. I had been careful
to say that her head should be protected for
the first few days with a large damp towel, then
with a little flat bat, and finally the head mos ,
be exposed like the body.
I looked forward with a great deal of interest
to my next visit. Susie met me with. "0, lam
as black as an Indian."
Well, but how is your health ?" 6.
The good mother said, "She certainly has
greatly improved; her appetite is better and I
never knew her In sleep so well before."
There were four Children in the family, and
all of them greatly needed sunbathe. As there
were two boys and two girls, it-came to paso
that another pen was built, and four naked
children received a daily baptism in the blessed
sunshine. And these children all improved in
health, as mucu as the rose-bush did after we
removed its funny dress. The good Lord t has
so made children that they are as dependen on
the sun for their We and health as plants are.
When you try to make a house plant grow far
removed from the window, where the direct
rays of the sun cannot fall upon it, yen know it
is small, pale and sickly; it will not long sur
vive. If ln addition to keeping it from the win
dow, you dress it with the cothes which a child
wears, it will'very soon sicken and die. If you
skeep within doors, and do not go out Into the
unshine, or if, when you go out, you wear' a
Shaker bonnet and gloves, _Pm must, Ileethe
house plant, become pakand sickly.
Our young folks will ask me, 4, Whet te t o t o
&GO Are We to go naked t"
'o,`oo;not.naked,W it Word 4 addgreatlyto`
ettfttbila vitt: ability to
" I never
$2.00 per annum, in advance.
Fi: ifi
work both mind and body, If every part of your
body could be exposed to the sunshine a little
time every day. If you are pale and feeble,
the victim of throat, lung, nerve or other affec
tion, you must seek a new life in the exposure
of your whole body to the sunbath. Bat if you
go a great deal in the open air, and expose your
face and bands to the direct rays of the sun, you
will probably do very well.
Just think of it, your whole body under the
clothes always in the dark, like a potato vine
trying to grow in a dark cellar. When you take
oft' your clothes and look at your akin, you are
sometimes almost frightened to see how white
and ghastly It seems. flow elastic, tough and
cheerful our young folks would become, could
this white, sickly skin be exposed every day to
the sunshine! In no other way could they spend
an hour which would contribute so much to
their welfare. Carry that white, sickly potato
vine from the cellar out into the blessed sunshine,
and Immediately it begins to get color health
and strength. Carry that pale little girl from
u , adnrlcssaewhere_ahals_e....-mos, - lwrttetao _
ar—
and unbent", Into the sunshine, and immediate.
lv the blond starts anew; soon the akin takes a
beautiful tinge, the little one digests better, her
tongue wears a hotter color, she sleeps better,
hex nerves arc quiet, and many happy changes
come.
Twenty year; ago I saw a dear, sweet child,
of two years, die of croup. More than thirty
hours we stood around its bed, working, weep
ing, praying, boning, despairing; but about one
o'clock in the morning the last painibl struggle
for breath gave way to the peaceful sleep of
death.
• .
On the fOowing Sunday we gathered at the
gad home to attend the funeraL The little coffin
was brought out under a shade tree, and placed
upon a chair. Just under the window of the bed
room where the little one had always slept, and
there the broken-hearted mother and father,
with many neig,hhnrs, and the kind-hearted
minister rill wept together. And then we all
walked to the graveyard, and buried the little
one in the cold ground.
On the very evening of that day, the brother
of Charlie, who was but two years older, was
taken with the same disease. 1. was called in
to see him. 0, how pitiful, how very touching
were the moanings and groaninga of that moth-
Fjler l t‘g: h iPas th SetUP;
much worse again, but on the following day
wag able to ride out.
Within a few days I sought au opportunity
to speak with the parents about the manage
ment of their little son. It was painful to tell
them that I thought they might have prevented
the death of Charlie. But I said what I thought
7019 true, and then advised a new policy in the
cage of the remaining child I said to them,
" Your son who has been taken from you Was
carefully screened from the sunshine. When he
rode oat in the baby-wagon, it was alwaysunder
the cover. And he slept always in that bed
room, into which the direct rays of the sun nev
er come; that great tree makes it impossible.
A child cannot live where a plant will not grow;
and If von doubt what I am telling you, try a
pot of flowers in Charlie's bedroom. You will
find that in a single month the leaves will fall,
and the plant will die. Charlie spent three
quarters of hill life in that bedroom."
The mother, at length, when convinced, cried
out in very anguish of soul, " What shall we do?
What shall we do?"
Anna
" Well," said I, "my dear friend, if you would
save this child, and this is the only available
sleeping room for it, I advise you to have the
trees that shade that part of the house cat down.
Trees should never be allowed to shade human
dwellings. They are very beautiful and noble
objects, to my own fancy more beautiful 'sad no.
ble than any other products of our planet,
and I would have them multip lied, but would
not have them near our houses."
The trees were cut down, the blessed sun
shine came In to dry, sweeten and purify the
bedroom. Its atmosphere was so changed that
no one could fail to observe it. The child was
kept much In the open air, and when taking his
midday nap ho was occasionally laid upon a
matress, near a window, in the direct rays of
the sun, his head protected, but the rest of hie
body exposed to the sunshine. The little fel
low4s health greatly Improved. I believe he
never bad another attack of the croup, -
Our Young folks should never sleep in bed
rooms that have not the direct sunshine. They
should never sleep in bed-rooms the windows
of which are shaded by piazza or tree; and if
they would have the very best health, they
must live as constantly as possible in the sun
shine. All who have delicate health must, with
their clothes removed, take daily sun-baths du
ring the slimmer season. Such a bath will
eve them very little trouble, and they have no
idea how much it will add to their health said
happiness One good bath in the sunshine le
wor h many baths in the water, valuable as these
are. Some people admire pale girls. They
make very good ghosts, but are not worth much
as girls. God hong up that great sun in the
heavens as n fountain of health, light, beau
ty and glory for our earth. Oar young folks,
by living in houses with piazzas, shade-trees,
close-blinds, and curtains, and by using in their
walks broad-brimmed bats, gloves, parasols,
and veils, deprive themselves in a great part of
the many blessings which our Heavenly Father
would confer on them through the great MIL
A Cturrous Sronr.—The rollifwing curious
story appears in the New Frankfort Gazette:
A few days before the Grand Bake Constan
tine's last vast to Berlin, a commissioner of the
Polish National Government arrived there with
a Swedish passport from Stockholm. On pre
sensing himself to his fellow-commissioner itt
the capital of Prussia the latter informed him
that two Russian officers who had formerly serv
ed in the insurrection bed determined to asses
ainate the Grand Duke on his arrival, wishing
to revenge themselves upon him' for having or
dered three of their comrades to be shot. The two
commissioners, feeling that such an act would
only bring disgrace on the Polish cause, deter
mined to prevent it, and at the same time not
to betray the officers in question. They then
bean to search all over the town for the °Rl
cei,, and at last, after wandering about for
four days, they met one of them in a cab. They
followed him to the Russian embassy, where he
stopped, and asked the porter when the Grand
Duke was to arrive. The porter told him, "To
morrow evening at 10."
The officer turned away and was about to go
Into his cab, when he was stopped by one of
the Poles, who thus addressed him: "Wl', you
are a Russian officer; you have served in the
Polish army, and you intend to murder the
Grand Duke Constantine. Cnmo with me at
once to the Polish Commissioner. I will have
you arrested by the Prussian police." The officer,
a young man of 27, then allowed himself to be
taken to a hotel, and to he shut up in a room,
where the two Poles moulted Guard upon him
In turn. 'Pito other officer was captured by nine
or ten Poles resident In Berlin, who had pro
ceeded to the railway station for that purpose,
and a six-shooter was found on him. A quarter
of an hour afterwards the Grand Duke arrived
at the station, with the brother of the Kin g _ of
Prussia, and the Prussian Ambassador ,, little
thinking that he owed his life to his moat de
termined of enemies, the Poles.
Or The newest thing out is "plumpare" for
hollow-cheeked damsels. The plumper is made
of porcelain, pear-shaped in form, flat on one
Bide and bulging on the other. They fit on the
inside of the cheeks, giving a round, plump ap
pearance; hence the name.
rEr If a lady in a red cloak was to cross a
field in which was a goat, what wonderful trans
formation would take place? The goat would
turn to butter, and the lady into a scarlet runniz
tarA French photographer has made ar.
rangemetiis for desceadh* to the bed of the
ocean in a submarine vessel, provlded. with
the electric light, and middog enbmfrin. photo.
hit
tits that the
idlee wan,' leawg 1115, soars itay
cost q.