The Montrose Democrat. (Montrose, Pa.) 1849-1876, April 03, 1872, Image 1
. . • • : ,- - _ . • .._ - . 0 , 14 , .-- . - , . . . • • . ,• • - . . . . .„ . " .. (1 . , . ...... . . b - • . ... _ ..,. a l N 1 .- --- • -4.i.e. . • . ... • , - . . . , • , - - ' .4,...5.: 1 '1" ~• . . • ... . 'ly ' • " 1 411 . .' . . . ...1111p . .. . . . .. . , . . kiro# - - ..„,_ .. ~ _ , 1 i . ~, , , . . o l i . % ' ' ' • s _ , • • . -. .. . , , . ~.. ;.., • ... * ' - ' 4 . A • _ .. . E. H.' RAW LEY, Proprietors guointoo Card. Hi. D. SMITE kind= located at Jackson Center, Manufacturer of tad Dealer to Light and Heavy Harnett re, Colere, Wtalpt, Trunk, Fladdies,be.bnpinzny strict attention rebind. nese and Oar dealing. to bare a liberal share of YeteL pattOtinge. 6, 1672.-600—m1. 131131 NS a NICIIOLS, DMILaiRS In Drugs, Iletttelncs. Cbentlealm. Dye- Matta, Paints. Otis, Varn l etq Liquors, Spices. Panes art.clas, Patent Medicines errnmeryand Toilet At-. Steles. Tal'Preser:ptlon earcfnlly compounded.— Brink Block, Montrose, Ps, A. 11. Ettrnza, / Fab. 11, 11171 .1 DEL D. A. itATEMIOP. AL,tentaleiera Ether no ?mouth st the chro n ic Chestnut stmt. Call ma consult In all citlseases. mantras% Jan. 77."11,n0i1-11. J. F. SII,OEMAKEIL 2.1102ney at Law. Mon [role. At. (Mee next.daor Wow the "fatten 41onee. Public Avenue. Mtmtroee. Jan. 17, 1871.—nce3-17. 011141)WIIN, . ♦r+oxstr sad Copraztim Jer Liar, Great Bola. t,eiatt B. L. BALDWIN. Arromray AT LAW. Idol:arm, PA. Mee with Juan s. Cumlt. fiat. Alonwww. Augnit 30,1F71. LOOMIS & LASS, Attertorrs'at Isla Office No. 221 Lackawanna Avenue. Sicenron. Pa. .Practtee In the several Courts of Lzt. vane and Susquehanna Counties. Y. E. LOOKIL Sautes, Sept. eh, 1t31.-tt W. caossmoN. *Homey at leer, Mice at the Court How. In the Oataestsilones °Cleo. W. A. Caosaitos. Weratreae, Sept. 6th. ITll.—tL Mcßzwm: - EIeKENZIE, it FAI7IIOT. *slue in liry Goode, Clothing, Ladies and Mines Ono noel. Moo, agents for the grant American Tea and Coffee Company.. [Montrose, Pa,alt.l.ati, DB.. W. W. SMITE', Inarterr. Manes at his dpellind. next door east of the 34mddlessi printing office. Odle° hours from 9n. a. 404.7.31. 'Montrose, May 3,„ 1871—tt • TUE BARBER—HaI Hat Ha!! 'Miley Mortis to the barber. who esn share year face to .order: Cats brown. Wadi and grierier hair. in his ardlee.just up start - Thera yon will dad him, over sacra , * store. belowileßeweirs—past one door. "Montrose, June 7, ISM.—ti C. XOllBl9. 3. B. & A. IL ?IIIeCOLLUM, ATTOSACTS A? L•w 01140 Wet the Birk, MODirCie N. Montrose, May 10, IS'IL tf J. D. VAIL, 121111:111PATIM PSMICIaIi AND StII6ECSir. flu permanently Souted himself in Montrose, Pa., where he w Myren:opt. ty attend to all calla In his post:sedan with which he may be Omura& Whoa and residence west of the Court naulh ow iamb t. Watson's Ate, Montrose. PehroaryB, lECI. LAW OFFICE• FITCD & WATSON. Attoraeya at L. at tha al/laic* a/Motley & Fitch, Montrose, Fa. 1.. F:rrrea. ' Val:Lit. "ti.[ w. w. WATSON. CABLES N. STODDARD, DaaWitt Boots and Shots, Hats and Caps, Leather and Findings, Main *Arne. Ist door below anycvs Store. Work insde to order, and repairing dons curly, Metazoan. Jan.l, IS7O. LEWIS 1K,.% 0 LL, snkviso AND HAIR MESSING. glop in the new Postai:lee tiolldins, where be Irtil Le found ready to attend ail who may want anything Nontrove. Pa- Oct. IA IKM. ji DR. 8. W. DAYTON, manna; 46 SURGEON, tinders tido minims to tee citizen, of Genet Bend and trinity. 'Once et Ids residence. opposite Bari:dim Soon, trt Bend "ethers.. tf ♦. 0. WARREN, •TTOSSZT . . LAW. Bounty, Back Pay. Peurston oat Brom no Olnizos attracted to. Oat. a -*or below Boyd', Eters. 10 ontrose.Pc L/Po. 1;69 IL C. SUTTON, Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent, ant at! , Wilendssine, C. S. GILEMIT, .6tcomoticoaci.e.c.r., Great Bend, Pa IT. Ei. 620 Ott • . ANII ELY, Q. D. attima.crticaza.co o at. , 1. Address, Brooklyn, Pi. JOHN GROVES, rILIMIONABIZ TAI/011, Montrose. Pa. Bop over CYandleo • . Store. IX orders filled to &stow, alto. Snail): done 00 abort notice. &ad warrtutted to St. W. W. SMITH, CABINET 'AND aunt ILairIIPACTURE6II,—Yom of Maim attest, ltsmtrosa. Pa. Una. 1. IBD. ,STBOI;fD & BROWN, vies D LIPS EISJAIA.NCE ACENTS. AI: business extended to promptly, on fair terms. Orrice Sat door earth of • Montrose A.tote.,•• west olds ID , Public Avenue, Montrose, Pa. , [Ang.1,1869. &Luso, nrnorrn. - - Cassese L. Hamra. ABEL TI3B.BELL, DILIG.3B In Drugs. Patent Medicines, Chemicals Upton, Plata. 01.1a,Die ricers, Vandsbes. Win w Glass, Groceries. Glass Ware, Wail and Window Pa. per, Stone ware, Lamps, !lawmen.. Machinery Gila. Trusses, Gans. Amman Dion, Knives. dpeCtarJa• Lashes, Taney Goods, Jewelry. Parte se-- being !one Wile most immerous, extensive, and valuable collections of Goads In Snit:Li:tam:lna Ca.— gstahlinhed In tail. . [Montrose, Pa. D. W. SEARLE, TTOMNIT AT LAW, ornes ore: the Mare of A. Lathrop, a the Brick Mock, Montrose, PA. Duarn DR. W. I. RICIIARDSON, lIIIRCIAN IP BURGEON. tenders tds professions melees to the citizens of Montrose and vicinity.- 0 Cies at hill residence, on the eorneresst of Barre free. Forindry. LAzg , 1, UM DIL. E. L. GAILDNER, PIgYSICIAS sod SURGEON, Montrose, Pa. Gloss especial attention to diseases of the Resat end Lugs and all Surgical diseases. °ee over W. & Demi - Boards et Searle's' Hotel. LAtug. 1. 18E9. ilCir [TNT BROTHERS, SCRANTON. PA. Wbolanita ARetailPathanta AARDWARE, IRON; STEEL, NAILS, SPIKES, SHOVEL/3, .33l1iD4R'S HARDWARE, 4tllar RAIL, COM TIIRWEK d 7' RAILSIMIA RAILROAD .1 =TWO HUPPLIARB. A'ApLitaL , 13PRZArOA,AILEA. BACRIAIB 4S'l, o.Z.gs, BOLT S, . NUTS and wAsams, • PLATED ANDS. ILALLILABLL" JRO .171.7115.8P05E5. • i5 ..4" 1 . 0 0,. 5, RA 7 SPINDLES. %WES, STOCKS and DIES. BELLOWS HS SLIBOGES. FILES, &e.t.a. CHICIMARAND KILL SAWS, BRNO% PACKLNG TACKLE BLOCEB, PLASTER PARIS =ENT. HAIR B GRINDSTONES. tritPC/I ,INDOW GLASS. LzeplAß & FINDH4GS FAIRBANKS SCALES. nriud : o 4. Huth 24. ISS3. IT IMPROVED HUBBARD ! • • MUM= EMS .1141111TRACTUBEt fIUNGEABLE nosed and Doehle Drive Wheel. It cgs the greu Sew YortStateNational Premium I it dho zirto. theet 013 1 0 National PretSlSteterhela Neese- PremluiAel the Peensylvtels, Maryla;ll zed V l s7tiate ls44B tis ."fte,plb ectsparl. mused entirely from "r_ eels . and enclosed in a neat case. in the and" 0 441de, etrectuarly musing It frost grit usL The operstim tan be changed Instantly from a lash e'Read to one a thied eloper. without stop, that adapt. tat Itself to bad Mance Stst ILfht and hese, gau. One ashler apparatus is perfect. -NohraM and one Meat titrahead; te. Is twarslnd doubt -the eLthe.A°2l aseldes is the world, se4 you alltdePentl tipos lartectly tellable In every tuth:alai'. "Neetheee. - EtWil 4 ,44 l ATIVIR.'*il . eon= win= ci: vrtestien. Annie and Rhoda, sisters twain," 9 Woke In the night to the sound of rain. The rash of wind; the ramp and roar 01 great waves climbing a rocky shore. Annie rose up In her bed gown white, And looked oat into the storm and night. " Hush, and hearken I" she cried in fel% " Hearest thou welling, sister dear 1' • "I hear the sea, and the plash of rain, And roar of the northeast hurricane, "Get thee back to the bed so warm, No good comes of watching a storm, " What is it to thee, I fain would know, That waves are roaring and wild winds blow I " No kiver of thines afloat to miss The harbor lights on a night like Goa" "But I heard a voice moot my name.' Up from the sea on the wind It came I • " Twice and thrice have I heard it call, And the voice is the voice of Estwiek Hall!" On her pillow the sister tossed her head, " Hall of. the Heron is sate," she " In the toughest schooner that ever swam, Ho rides at anchor in Anisquam. Amos Mantua MOM! "And, If In peril from swamping sea Or lee.shore rocks, would he call on thee t" But the girl heard only. the wind and tide, And wringing her small white hands she cried; " 0 sister Rhoda, there's something wrong ; I hear it again, so load and long. "Annie! Annie? I hear it can, And the voice is the voice of Estwick mar C. C. Ficare Up sprang the elder, with eyes aflame, "Thou Hest! He rever would call thy name "If ho did, I would pray the wind and sea To keep him forever from thee and me r Then out of the sea blew a dreadlial blast ; Like the cry of a dying man it passed. The young girl bushed on her lips a groan, But through her tears a strange light shone— The solemn joy of her heart's release To own and cherish its love in pear*. " Dearest r she whispered tinder breath, " Life was a lie, but true is death." " Tbs. love I bid from myself away Shall crown me now in the light of day " My ears shall never to wooer list, Never by lover my lips be kissed. " Sacred to then and I henceforth Thou in Heaven and I on Earth r She came and dmd by her sister's bed: " Hall of the Heron is dead r she said." " The wind and the wave their works have done, We shall eee him no more beneath the sun. " Little will reek that hart of thine, It loved him not with a love like mine. " I, for Ma sake, were he but here, Could bem and braider his bridal gear. Though hands should trembleand eyes be wet, And _stitch for stink in my bean be sm. 4' But ntm my soul with his soul I wltd ; Thinc the living, and mine the dead r .sw AUNT LOTIIE. Dear Aunt Lottiel sweet Aunt Lottle I With the heaven tight in thy Tice, Bleeping now the sleep of wonders, Safe in Jesus' glad embrace. Tell 119 of thy sweet surprises As then nearest the pearly gate ; 01 look back and once more bless us While upon this aide we wait. Tell us of the crown of glory And the robe that is for thee; Search the priceless treasures ore'; Are there any there for me! Dear Aunt Lottie, when, with seraphs, Thou en golden harp dost play, Lean thee over heaven's ramparts, That the strain may Host this way. We would hear thy songs of ransom, Hear thy songs of praise and hie; We would catch the inspir tions That did woo thy soul above. Dear Aunt Lottie I glad the welcome That awaits thee on that shore, For thy smile is sweeter, sweeter Than it ever was before- Gone thine every care and aorroar, Gone thine every fear and pain ; Dear Aunt Lottief tweet Aunt Lottiel Who could wish thee back again! OLD .TIDE AND L Old Time and I the ether night Had a carouse together; The wine was golden, warm and bright,— . Aye just like Summer weather. Quoth I, "Here's Christmas come again, And I no farthing richer:" Time answered, "Alt, the old, old strain ! I prithee pass the pitcher. " Why measure all your good In gold! No rope of sand is weaker ; 'Tis hard to get 'cis hard to hold— Come, lad, 511 up your breaker. Hest than not found true friend more tree, And laving ones more loving!" I could but say, "A. few, a few I Sot." keep the liquor moving." • " Hest thou not seen the prosp•ronit knave Corns down a precious thumper? His chests disclose ?" " I have, I haver " Well, surely, flint's a bumper!" " Nay, hold a while, Fve seen the just Find all their hopes grow dimmer:" "They will hope on. and strive, and trust, And conquer r "That's a brinamer." "'Tis not because today is dark; No brighter days before 'em ; There's rest for every storm-tossed barque;' " So be it ! Pass thajorum !" "Yet I must own I should Itcd mind To be a little richer." " Labor and want; and you may. find—" "Liallowl an etapty Pitcher r gitvities and atlititiono. —Of all passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest service and pays the bitterest wages. Its service is—to watch the success of our enemy; its wages—to be sure of it. —lt is in vain to hope to plum all alike. Leta cum stand with his face in wbat direction be will, be toast necessari ly turn his back on one•balf of the world, —A losing wife, on the decease, of her , husband, sent the following telegram to MC distant friend: “ Dear John fa dust Loss fully covered by insurance." THE SISTERS. E=3 IMOPt'I'RASE, PA., WEDNESDAY,,,ARRIL 3, 1872. =d; rotellantoup. NIAIIEtiOSELLE SYLVIE. A PARISIAN IDYL. I was theik residing in Paris, and'my concierge, in showing me a set of rooms more convenient than those I bad occu pied before, said t "Mensieur will not have much of a view,bnt ho will enjoy the bene fit of Mademoselle Sylvie's flowers and her two canaties;" and pointing across the courtyard, he glanced up at a small window very high on the sixth floor, ant= bowered in a thick trelliswork of sweet peas, scarlet 'mimeos, and mignonette boxes, amid all of which huge a brave little cage, smart with green and white paint and gilding. It was a costly looking trifle, this cage, and-one was rather sur prised to see it so ingh up salt sixth floor; but the two birds inside hopped from perch to perch; and piped their trilling notes, and shook the trim yellow wings they had just dipped in water with as chirping an air as if the whole world was theirs, and there was nothibg en earth too good for them. "She is a stay-maker " continued the conclergei "and the ne xt window to here is that of M. Polydore, a railway clerk." Ido not know why the concierge should have thought it necessary to thus intrude M. Pelydore upon the scene. I was rather disappointed that he had done so. I could have wished he,dad kept this gentleman in the background, or brought him in some other day incidentally to something else. But it is a way with Frenchmen quietly to root up certain il lusions, and th do it quickly. I took that rooms, and during several weeks was enlivened by the sight of the flowers and by the chirruping of the two canaries. Of an afternoon, when alehouse was in the shade, and the bustle which at tends the arranging of rooms, the opening of windows, and the shaking of carpets in the morning was over; when the yard was silent and cool, the warbling so clear and melodious, so 'gay and unrestrained, that I sometimes laid down my pen merely to listen to it. But I never saw Mlle Sylvie, and I was beginning to regard her as a sort of myth to be perpetually associated with songs of birds and impenetrable groves of creepers. One morning,however, having chanced to rise earlier than usual, and being seated writing at my desk, I raised my eyes toward the familiar win dow and observed a young and bright, but rather pale fice protrude through the foil age, and a pair of small hands suspend the smart cage on its accustomed hook.— The birds bad been under corer for the night, and oti being pat into the air in stantly saluted the rising suit with their music. Then the small hands disappear ed and came back again, the nimble fing ers, armed with scissors, set to work trim ming the plants, here lopping off one ten dril, there tying up another, after which a new eclipse, and then :the small hands brought the tiniest of water-pots and gravely watered their ten thousandth part of an acre of garden land. At this mo ment, while I was studiously surveying the scene, the adjoining casement was opened, 'and , a second head, much less bright and interesting than the other, and ornamented by a shaggy crop of uncomb ed hair and 'a black moustache, became visible, and there commenced an inter change of greetings between the windows. The water-pot paused on the edge of the mignenette box, the face smiled amiably, and the shaggy head, putting out a large band with a pair of tongs in it, anita basket fastened to the end of the pair of tongs, leaned forward and passed the bas ket until it dangled right among the flowers, Then the nimble hands lifted something oat, fumbled half a moment:in a pocket and dropped something in,.and the basket traveled back followed by an other amicable smile and a nod. "Yea, it's like that every morning," ex claimed the !concierge, who had come up with my letters, and was standing by me, holding a shieaf of other lodgers' boots, letters and hot-water cans between his hands. That is M. Polydore, the railway clerk, passing her breakfast to Mlle Sylvie. M. Polydore rung down at seven every morning for his own provisions,and brings up his neighbor's at the same time—two sons' worth of milk, two rolls at one son, and a son's worth of chick-weed for the birds, and that's all. It's never more than five eons she" has to drop into the basket, and I'll be bound M. Polydore would pay it all for her himself, ay, and double that if she would:only let him." But here the concierge interrupted him self, for a second and a more novel scene was being enacted. The shaggy head,after vanishing for a moment with the tongs, had reissued in their comany,,and was sew passing a new basket, the conical shape of which revealed its contents; it was presumably fall of strawberries: 7 ,- 31'11e Sylvie: lifted up her bands as uthei iog an amtised exclamation took Out- a strawberry, which she thrust through the the bare of her cage, then nibbled one herself, making a little sign to say that it was good; but, having done this, shook her bead and was apparently for sending the rest back. Whereupon a discussion arose, which; of course, we could not hear, but the pantomimic eloquence of which, especially in so far as AL Polydore's ges tures went, was easy to comprehend. It lasted two good minutes, and then the matter was Settled by 3l'lle Sylvie shaking one or two more strawberries into her left hand, and waving her right laughingly be fore her face, as though to convey: "This is positively all I shall take, 3i Polydore, so you needn't tempt me." M. Polydore protested, but finding it was of no use, gave a shrug,and the pottle moved slowly back on it way with the tongs. Mlle Sylvie then: took up her tiny water-pot anew,•and finished her watering. - "Yes," said the converge; .approvingly, "that's just it. M. Polydore la a good heated young man, of the free and easy sort; and he and Di7le Sylvia get en very well together. He goes on errands for ber ; she mends his things for him; butexcept they meet on the staircase, all their talk ing is done through the window. H. Poly dore, I suspect, would like affairs to take another turn ; but Mlle Sylvia knows how to put - young gentlemen back to their places. 'nu understand, she is , engaged to a isergeant who will .marry her when he has finished' his seven years, that is year after next, I believe; 'slid ha being an honest man, the match would be broken snap off if anything went wrong. So she bides as still as a mouse and stores by every centime she Can, andi seems to live ; on air, and she stitches and stiches enough to wear htr fingcrs away, for she's a deft needle woman, as Monsieur will find if he ever wants anything sewn for him and doesn't mind giving her the fob." The concierge tetired—worthy chatter box, whose chief delight was to communi cate to one lodger the adventures or mis adventures of the other—but I suppose 613illti of-'hie words lingered after him, for that dity, buil* out, .I bought a dozen pocket handkerchiefs, and sent them with my compliments to Mlle Sylvie,requesting that she would kindly hem and mark them. She was less than a week about the work, and brought in one afternoon whbn'the sun had been so lustrous and her canaries in such spirits that the very sparrows of Paris, who are the most unconcerned birds in existence, must have wondered at and envied them. A slight knock, and she entered, reserved in manner, bat un embarrassed, and with that perfect grace of demeanor which seems to be the appan age of Frenchwomen. She had not much of what artists call beauty, but her teeth and hair were admirable and her eyes shone with an expression of innocent vi vacityt very confident, true, and captiva ting. On the other hand, she was evident ly overworked. Iler figure was slight and thin, and'her face much paler than I had been able to judge, seeing her from a dis tance of four stories. °These are Monsieur's handkerchiefs ?" she asked, and saying this handed me the little card-board box in which the order had been sent her. I mechanically exam ined the work, and was struck with its conscientious character—every stitch so honest and straight, and the design of the cvphet she had wrought in fancy letters so delicate, painstaking, and able. Then, having admired, I inquired - how much I was indebted to her, and she named a vim so modest that, reflecting on the/ prices charged for these things by people who are called fashionable hosiers, I wondered with some indignation bow anybody could have the courage to grind unfortunate needle-girls down in this way. "But you must find it very hard," I ob served, "to live on such small gains as this, M'lle Sylvie ?" "Oh, monsieur," she an swered, with a little shrug and a smile, "it's woman's work, and that's never much paid." She said this so quietly that I wll'asin able to divine whether there was any irony in the remark or whether she really thought that her sex earned as much as could be expected; so [ repeated: "I consider it very little." • "Yet there are women who would sew for less," was her tranquil answer, as she smoothed a crease out of the neat white apron that covered her neat merino gown. "We are so many women,and so few trades open to us I Monsieur has never been in proper quarters ? There are women to he sego there who make workmen's blouses at three 801:19 th? blouse; they stitch fifteen hours a day And earn thirty souse. No body can have an idea of what wretched ness is unti t tha has seen these women.— Imagine sue b - of them as have children and sometimes a drunken husband, and nothing but this money? There are some who say that all this is the fault of the employers; but ther(the employers) pre tend that they can't pay us any more and women have not the power to raise wages by striking work as the men can. No body ever heard of a women's strike. To begin with, women are not free, and so couldn't strike if they would, for their husbands and fathers wouldn't always let them. But even if they were free,,l do not believe any number of us women - could agree together for long. We are so fond of Inarrelling with one another!" Here she smiled again, and seeing me listening with silent interest to her speech, said quietly : "As for me, monsieur, I have no right to complain; lam one of the lucky ones." "Lucky, Mlle Sylvia ?" "Yes," she replied, "I earn my three fiances a day. It's not mtch, but it's enough, and Pmanage to put by a little for rainy weather. Sometimes I wish it were spring all the year around, because of the cold in winter, which numbs one's fingers and makes it difficult to sew,but when the winter's,pver and the sky gets blue and warm again in April, then I feel glad for what we have gone through, for it makes the spring seem better. But evtn in the winter there are amusement, and I used to go to the theatre occasionally; but not now, because my lover doesn't like it." And here she drew the faintest of a sigh. "Yon see, it was 31. Polydore. M. Poly dore is my neighbor, - "she explained simply, who knew some actors of the Ambign and Gaite; they gave him tickets, and be gave them to me, and I used to go with one of my girl friends, and we used sometimes to cry all the eyening. Ab !it does one good, those pieces that snake you cry ! But my lover is jealous, and woh't let me accept presents from anybody, and I know if I were to. take anything again from 31. Polydore he'd beat me—Oh, monsieur, ne craignez rine, dest le meillettr garcon do monde"—she exclaimed, naively, as she perceived that this glimpse of her lover's disposition bad not impl'essed me very fa vorably. "I do with him what I please ; but then he's a sergeant who has always been well noted in his,regiment, and lie says: 'l'm not going to, marry a girl against whom people have got anything to say, Sylvie'—and he's quite - right. If I were a man I know I should be' like that." • "Then you work and wait, Mlle Syl vie ?" "I work and wait, monsieur," she an swered. "My lover lays by : what he can, and when his term of service is overlie will marry me, and we shall try and keep a shop. That will ho in two yearii' time— yes, in two years all but .a mouth," and hero again came a abort sigh, aethorigh to say: "It's a little' too long„.but one must be patient"( She glanced at 'the clock, andk t t ook this as a hint to pay her, and otbilnlc her, endeavoring to than the as Tdi&so, to accept more than then:let:4cent sum she had meptiondd.' -But' this Was all in vain. 13ki counted me my chmte -with painful exactness, dropping a modest, un; affected little courtesy and Withdrew. It was several years afterthat,that Pan' ing through one of the, gabled towns, of Picardy,l was sittracteit by the fresh, jaunt look of a tobacconists shop, standing at the corner of main street, and stepped in to buy a cigar. A iterate, laughing man, in shirt sleeves, was seated near the door giving a chubby urchin of four a ride on his knee, while another, with the zonnd clipped head of French youngsters, was sprawling on the floor crowing. Behind a young woman, dressed with the wonted spruceness and dignity of French burallB - was manipulating screws of caporal, and looking on complacently, at the scene. She recognized me at once, and I recoiz ed her. It was the former Wile Sylvie.— Of course we fell to talking of old times, when we were so happy—as Sophie Arnold used to any—and I reminded DPIIe Sylvie of her birds, her flowers, and her garret room on the sixth floor. "Ah, but she never told you all, sir!" said her husband, raising and laying a hand upon her shoulder. "She need to put by half her small gains every day so as to have a dower to give me when I marri ed her. On the day when .I got my dis charge I came to her suddenly and found her stitching in her little room without a fire, It was January and the snow was falling outside, so that my uniform was quits covered with it! Can you imagine that, monsieur? no fire in January!" and he began to chafe her filigree between his as if they must still be cold after such an infliction. As for her she colored, and tried to atop him. But he would not be stopped, and talked of her industry and her privations with feelings of pain' and pride that were obvious enough. "Well, monsieur," she said of last, with perhaps just the faintest quiver in her voice, "it was a little WO at times, I know—mais ii vaut mien payer le bonheur avant qu'apres ;" and she glaneed fondly and happily at the little family of winch she was the queen. I thought the sergeant a lucky fellow. The Ardennes Dog. The dog of the Ardennes accompanies the flock when it leaves the penfield in spring, only to return when the winter's snows drives the sheep home again to shel ter. Each shepard possesses one or two of these dogs,according to the size of his flock, to act as sentinels, 1 heir office is not to run about and bark, and keep the sheaf in or der, but to protect them from outside foes. When the herdsman has gatfiered his flock in some rich valley,these white; shag gy monsters much upon the ground, ap parently half asleep; but now and then the great, sagacious eyes will open, aud, passing over the whole of their charge re main for a while fixed on the distant hori zon, as though they followed a train of thoughts which led them away from earth —so sadly do thet gaze into the infinite. Hut let the mountain breeze hear to his ever-moving nostril the scent of the hated wolf, or his quick ear detect an unknown noise ; then is the time to see one of the dogs in his glory. His eyes become Week with fierceness; his hair stands erred; his npper lip becomes wrinkled, showing a range of white, formidable teeth; while a low growl alone escapes from his throat. When his keen faculties have detected the wheareabout of his foe, he rushes forward with a bound that overleaps all obstacles, a bark that echoes from all the surround ing hills. Every dog of the like breed that may be near takes up the.note,and rushes gleaming through the brushwood to join. in the attack. lender as the childhood he protects, woe to him who dare lift a hand on one of the little ones with whom he has been brought up. It is not he who buys him who is his master: it is he who fed him when a pup, who petted and shared his pitiance with him—he it is who has his love, and who recipmeates ei fection.—Overland Monthly. Take Care of Yourself. How often, passing through the streets do we hear the words at the heads of this article. They are generally spoken at th‘ close of a conversation, when the time comes for parting. Yesterday we saw a man slightly under the influence of liq uor, who, after a conversation with a friend, was bidden" take care of yourself." Rather unsteady in his manner, he " Pll do it my boy," and went away down the street. They are about the last words of a mother when a boy makes up his mind to see the world, and is leaving the parental roof. "Now, take care of yourself," says the mother. " I will," is the response ; and away, in many instances goes- the youth, too often to tight the tiger, and to learn that the tiger has. claws, which leave their marks until the day of death. "Take care of yourself," says parents when the young and innocent maiden goes forth inta the battle of life, and she replies, equally confident, that there is no danger. One of the Greeks, said, "Know thy self,"*Fand the Great Teacher said, "Deny thyself ;" while in this 19th century we bare shaped the philosophy into "take care of yourself." How many can do so effectually2—The pleasures of the world allure youth to danger. They think they are strong and will dare. They wake up to find that for bidden pleasures are stronger in their ef fects than they bad calculated, and learn, too late, the value of that advice given to them by their parents. Ithi too often the case that young peo ple despise the counsel and warnings of their elders; and hence has arisen the rough saying, that young people think old people fools, while , old people know young people to be so. "Take mire of yourself," though oftenspoken, his come to have little meaning , '. It is often used in mirth, without any, serious intentions to convey counsels, and 'yet, 'bow much we all stand in peed of the caution. We cannot do hitter, in closing the short es says to which the scene narrated gave thought, than by the common parlance of the street " .Good bye ' take care of yourself." sap he has observell that, the intirteeite lean'efriefige twleim*e3i eft . ' " litlßhaiU yenW il lat; . tilvesimid 114 A iterreapon eta of the Cincinnati C'om menial writes from /jolt Lake ,City„ as follows: 8131411A1e8 - Valr';& I asked the Elder' how Macy 'wives Brigham bad, so art° pt some authority upon _that dialmted point. , " Living•vvith him here in the •lionse," replied the Elder, "le . has only sixteen, but then there an a number of others, I really don't knaw how many, married to him allover the Territory, many of whom he bas not even-seen since the hour they were married." "What's the use of that sort of a mirr riage r I asked, with an eye to the pm tical as well as the spiritual "These marriages are for the next world; they are spiritual marriages. We believe that marriages are for time end eternity. Bectsuiel marry a woman it is ne'sign that I am going to live with her. She is sealed to me for eternity. For in stance a lady whom, perhaps, I have never seen before, comes to me with a letter of introduction from sonic of our Church officers, saying that she is a • good, deserv ing lady, and desires to be united to a man for eternity, why, I should consider it my duty to marry that lady, although I might never see her again in this world." "But suppose the lady already has a husband r I added. "That don't make any difference, she can be sealed, to me just the same; per haps her husband is worthless fellow, and in every way unworthy of her." , Wouldn't your wives object ?" "Oh, no, we understand all that; there isn't so much objecting going on as you think, whether we marry to cohabit or simply for the next world. I didn't mar ry my second wife until my first had con sented. I said - I -wanted some more chil dren, some sons to bear my name. It was the Lord's will that I should have them. My first wife consented, and told me to do the 'Lord's will, and I married again, se lecting a much younger woman than my first wife, and she bore me some fine boys." I give this as a specimen of the sort of talk one will hear among the elders and those high in authority in the Mormon Church. They talk as freely about their families as they would about their oxen. And all this wickedness, these brutal practices, this degradation of woman, has nothing for its foundation but a pretend ed revelation to Joseph Smith from heav en. Of ail the humbug and bosh, super stition and clerical quackery that was ever pumped into any creed or sect, the Mormons have it. Yet 'their diaboli cal creed is no more marvelous than their perfect sincerity. All of Brigham's sixteen wives with whom he lives have born him children ex cept one, called Amelia, Amelia•. is his most noted wife, spirited, pleasant, and of American birth. She is only thirty-two, lacking some years of being half as old as her husband. :His wives are of all ages, his last two being - quite „young, mere girls in fact, when they married him. I asked a Gentile gentleman of their acquaintance why they should be such fools as to want to marry an old man with over a dozen wives already. Was it for love ? "No, indeed," said he, "for I know they did not love him." "Were they compelled to marry him !' "Oh, no, they did it of their own free will, as they thought it a certain way to get to heaven." muoxi,m'a CHILDUEIT. Brigham has sixty-eight children, about forty of whom are female. They are of all ages from three years to thirty. Sev; eral of "his older sons are young men of promise and position. He is the father of a good deal of talent, and some of his children will be heard of In the world hereafter. Last night, at thetheatre, I was particularly struck with the good, I might say superb, acting of a younglook ing lady, and quite handsome withal. I made inquiry, and learned that she was a daughter of Brigham, and one of the five wives of H. B. Clawson. Clawson being a man of wealth and standing, and a devout Mormon, has married two of Brigham's daughters , in addition to his other three wives. Isn't that a curious way to do? It certainly is tons Gentiles; but to the Mormons it is all perfectly cor rect and proper. In several of the States a man is prohibited from marrying his dead wife's sister, but here in Utah it is Much the style to marry two sisters at once, beside having several other wives. But as long as it is necessary to have two or more wives, I tbinkthe is a wise man who marry sisters, if Necessary. Many of Brigham's child= giro hand some and lovable. Those by one of his wives, Mrs. Decker, are particularly so. He provides well for his numerous sons in-law, and takes great pleasure in seeing hie children, well married off and happy,, if there can be any happiness in the Mor mon married - state, which I doubt. A marriage takes place in his family now very often, as his numerous , flock are rapidly maturing. One of his daughters married last'Sunday. I hear of one who had to run away tamarry. Brigham be, ing opposed ,to the match because the young maw who loved his daughter also loved lager beer. Brigham-tried to break of the match'ilind keep his daughter at home, but his borne has so many doors to it that he cohld not watch them all at once, and she got away. If this, teaches any moral at all, it is either to have fewer daughters.or fewer doors. —They tried to lay down some concrete pavements in Providence, R 1., the other dav, but from the ingenious way in which the thing was dene,the citizens carried of most of the stuff on their boots, to tho manifest injury of carpets, eacl the ee. couragment of numerous prospeptive law suits. —This is the way, according to the Faribault'Leaffer, they do the handsomest thing in the way of maniaga presents' in Minnesota. The sheet describes' -a fash ionable wading- and. says: , "After tho ceremony, the friends presented the bride with one dozen beautiful oranges, one dozen, flue lemons, dye Pounds of now figs, five pounds uploaded assorted =dies awl six cans of. fresh oyaters."-. VOLVME xxix, NUM E ER 14", Household Purnitore. The Evening.Pasi tnalFs some Peltil. vent remarks - on taste in furnishing a house. It -soya: "A - table 'need net .ba merelya board to hold a hobk. Nor need a chair be only a thing to sit upon. Every object of household use may be a work of, art, , combining beauty:of form with use, fulness.ln f e n d llitind . " honsehold 'art la largely Cultiva , but not so in this conn, ty. 'What fools r sayi the practical Ameri can 'business man,' who is willing enough to spend his money, but demands quid pip quo in genninebran new' furniWre or carpets or china, in - which he can'see cash value, independept of asscciatiou or artiste effect., The same !practical' man. will pay ten dollars for a bottle of WI/MOP perhaps ten tbonsand dollars for a horse, Had ha not better cease boasting - of "his 'common sense; and seriously compare hi& taste and culture with -that of the who pay huge prices for Sevres china-and , - old_ furniture? , Mr. Gladstone, Prinso. Minister of En . gland, has lectured upon . 'Ceramics; ' he is an ardent lover of p4l3` and jugs,and has a-room filled pith choice' Wcdgewood ware. Ho is only one among thousands of superiormen who find ttixf from work in these tastes," - The beauty of Sidney Smith's sitylngi is. in their constant freshness._ For instance what he says of wit is as new and - true to- . day as ever "When wit is combined with the sense and information, when it is soft. ened by benevolenca and restrained by principle; when it , is in the hands of A man.who can nse it and disguise it; who can be witty, and something much better, than witty ; who loves honor, justice, de cency, good.natnre, morality and religion.' ten thousand times better than wit,—wit , is then a beautiful and delightful part of, our nature, There is no More Infuriating spectacle than to see the effects of wit tip: on the different characters of men; than' to observe it expanding caution, relaxing dignity, teaching ago and care and .pain to smile, extorting reluctant gleams of pleasure from melancholy, and charming even the pabgs of grief. It is pleasant to observe ho w it penetrates through the cold ness and awkwardness of society, gradual ly bringing men nearer together, mi t like the computed force of wine and oil, giving every Man a glad heart and a shining countenance. Genuine arid innocent wit like this is surely the flavor of the Wed. If art means anything, if it is worth sop thing, its mission is to refine. The paint. er tele a story with his brush, and. the sculptor with his chisel,just as the novel. ist does with his pen. They are all artists, and the pnrpose - of their art is the same. If they are worthy, they tell us of some, thing that refines the:feelings, cultivates thi taste, points a- moral, or in some way uplifts the man. When art is aught else than this it is utterly bad, however ad: mimbly it maybe wrought. The painter's art is wronged when it is used only to ex hibit skill, and doubly outraged when it shocks the esthetic feeling it should eul. tivate.—Heerth and Home. —Hrs. Grant used to be very sociable, easy in her manners,, with plenty of con versation and a pleasant, unaffected wayof speaking that was very winning. „Her perfect simplicity and freedem'of aint's was very striking and always impressed' those who,conversed with - her. favorably; Now, on the contrary , elm is stiff auk re ticent,and wears an expression of haughti ness which is as unbecoming as it is out of piece. She was a great favorite with all who - knew-her -two years ago ; now-tho change in her man ner very generaltylet marked and is commented upon unpleas, antly. Mks Nellie, the only daughter, p o a sweet-looking modest young girl of 111 V: teen, who ip verylniet_and retiring.' She is always present at her mother's - recep tion, but takes a place io the backgronnu. She rarely' gO4B to any entertainments outside the White House, es she is still under the care of a governess rind is too. young to enter general society.—Boston. Post. . - —A Frenchman writing to the Ginlois, gives an account of his sensations while hanging himself, which-may be of benefit to persona of a suicidal (urn of mind, and who would like to know "what the s thing is like." As if preparing to hang up his coat. he drove a nail into the wall, and therefrom suspended him Self by a looped ' cord, which he fastened - around his, neck, • and, then slowly kicked away his chair.— from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet a "general mixing up of the fluids of - the body." This was succeeded by a flashing, dancing light before his eyes,and then concentrated at a single focus, and thence rippled into space in eoncentrio circles. His head seemed compressed in an iron ring; needles without numtier seemed la dart from the ends of his fin: grey and toes; then there-was a terrible snapping at the nape of his neck; and a serpent seemed. to wrig,gle down his spine His last sensation was one of pain at his throat and shoulder blades. Ho' bat ex. posted to wake up and find himself dead, but kind—or unkind-4riends ant him down. vt —Some "new beginners" are_practising on such specimens as these "Idow much does a fool weigh generally t A 'imp!" ton. In 'what cola;• should a secret be kept ? In violet." • , —An ill-matured contemporary says that Penns.ylranin should shake in her Shoes, at the news of the'iscovery of cos) in-Rhede Island; for,- should the same p,pxe middling thicl4 entl nnderlie the. wholaatate,the produce wed), bo its much as seven bushels. - A New Ilenipshire Itishmeribeeamek frightened while being lowered into a deep, well the other day, and cried out to, ea men ahove that if they did not hut- bhn up he'd cut the rope. „save[ the {off tivy hauled him. up, ; , • —oan3ptoni /14-captured a bear re, cently weighing BZ6 yonds, li:o"e:tract, ed six. gallons of -hatroik fro:whine. _The. papers In that vicinity speak, of do, "ex-, traction" as it tbeyinal only ter tap: the, animal to get at the hair Kef!ne4;, scented and bottledt, True en.