ELK COUNTY THE REPUBLICAN rARTT.
VOL II.
RIDGWAY, PA,. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1872.
NO. 35.
PO.ET.Rr.
THE ELEVENTH HOUR.
Whist, sir I 'Would ye plate to speak alsy
And sit yo down there by the dure f
She sleeps, sir, so light and so restless, ,
8ho hears evory step on the flure.
What alls hor? Ood knows 1 Suo's been weakly
For months, and tho heat dhrives her wild i
The summer has wasted and worn her
Till she's only the ghost of a child.
All I have f Yos, sho is, and God help me I
I'd three llttlo darlints beside.
As purty as iver ye see, sir.
But wan by wan dbrooped like, and died.
What was it that tuk them, ye're asking?
Why poverty, sure, and no doubt I
They perished for food and fresh air, sir,
Like flowers ahrlod up in a drought.
It was dreadful to lose thorn t Ah, was it I
It seemed like my beait strings would break.
But there's days when wid want and wid sorrow
I'm thankful they'ro gone for their suke 1
Their father? Well, sir, saints forgive me I
It's a foul tongue that lowers its own !
But what wid the sthrikes and the liquor,
I'd betthor be sthrugglin' alone t
Do I want to kape this wan ? The darliut,
Tho laat and dearest of all I
Shure you're nlvor a father yourself, sir,
Or you would'nt be askln' at all I
What is that t Milk and food tor the baby I
A docthor and modicine freo I
. Von're huntin out all the sick children.
An' poor toilin' mothers, lik. me 1
Ood bless you ! an' thlm that hayo sent you I
A new life you've given mo, so. ,
Share, sir, won't yon look in the cradle
At the colleen you've saved, 'fore jougo?
0 mother o' morcles 1 have pity 1
O darlint why couldn't you wait I
Dead ! dead I an' the help In the dureway I
Too late I O my baby t Too lato I
THE STORY-TELLER.
BE AX-PORRIDGE, HOT.
" Zekiel Pritchard, indeed !" exclaim
ed Margaret, drawing herself up to her
full height, and letting a wrinkle of vex
ation form on her pretty forehead. " The
idea of that old widower with grown
children coming after me !"
H You may turn up your nose at him,
now," returned Aunt Sukey, with a de
liberative air of wisdom particularly try
ing to Margaret's rather quick temper,
and at the same time leisurely drawing
a long thread through a triangular hole
in one of her brother Hiram's stockings,
" but when you have passed the first
corner, and got on to the old maids' list,
you may bo mighty glad to marry as
likely a man as Zekil Pritchard. You
are going on twenty-five, Margaret al
ready ; and when I was young, a girl
past that age was considered soedy.
You can't pick and choose much longer ;
and the time may eome when you'll thank
your stars for a husband that stands well
with the community, is a good provider,
pious, and Btiddy."
" I don't want a steady old man," re
torted Margaret, giving an energetic
snar to a table-cloth sho was folding
down.
" Why Margaret '" exclaimed her aunt,
with an accent of mild horror ; " any
body to hear you talk would think jou
preferred an intemperance man or a pro
fane Bwearer."
" Drinking and swearing were not
mentioned," replied Margaret, with a
laugh at her aunt's remarkable agility in
skipping to conclusions. " All I meant
to Bay was that I don't intend to take a
man old enough to be my my father just
because he is steady. There are steady
young men in the world I much prefer.
And then it looks out of place for Zekiel
Pritchard, who was a family man as long
ago as I can remember, to be casting
ahecp's eyes at me. If he had come from
a distance it would seem different ; but
only a year ago, I was watching with his
poor sick wife, and I shall never forget
how ho used to get up and go about in
his stocking feet."
Mrs. Sukey Stepford'g sense of the lu
dicrous was not acute. Her mouth did
not contract evon into an intimation of
a smile. She sat with eyes still bent
upon tho triangular hole in the too of her
brother Hiram's stocking, and said, quite
seriously :
" It don't look well, Margaret, for you
to be making fun of a good man like
Zekiel Pritchard, and one who was so
devoted to his wife in her last sickness.
Of course a man can't mourn forever.
Human nature won't bear no such strain.
It's consistent with reason that he should
get over his grief, and feel lonesome, and
want to take another pardner. I'd hare
him wait the proper time, and not be in
too big a hurry ; for it ain't hardly de
cent to marry agin in three months, as
Jim Bradley did. A man ought to show
respect to the memory of a deceased com
panion ; but I always think the more
of him if he begins to look around pret
ty sharp within a year or two after his
affliction."
I don't," returned Margaret, spirited
ly. " I'm like the girl I read about in
the nowspapor the other day, who said
she didn't want affections wurmed over."
Margaret had finished folding down
the clothes, and had packed them tight
ly in a big willow basket. Bhe stood
leaning against the table, with a rich
damask-rose bloom on her cheek. A pair
of dark eyes shone out under curling
lashes, and a delicious little pout around
tho corners of her mouth made her face
altogether bewitching.
" Well, y vu're bo mighty pertickerlcr,"
responded her aunt, with a sigh, " I
shouldn't a bit wonder if you lived sin
gle yet. A settled-down man like Zekiel
Pritchard is worth a dozen of your skit
tish young fellers. He's been through
the mill, and knsws how to treat a wo
man. He'd considerate and thoughtful
. about making work, and handy in case
of sickness. Then Mrs. Pritchard left
such a sight of nice things crockery and
bedding and silverware. I dou't believe
bhe ever used them much, for she wasn't
no gre't hand for company, and her
things were always kep' as choice as gold.
I guess anybody that steps in there will
find every thing to her hand."
" I don't want to marry Mrs. Pritch
ard' things," broke out Margaret, impa
tiently. " If ever I do marry, I shall
look eut for a man, and not for old spoons
and feather-beds. Zekiel Pritchard would
look better to come courting in his every
day clothes, ag I have Been him a hun
dred times on top of a load of hay, or
behind tho plow, dressed in a tow frock
and trowserg, and a palm-leaf-hat. But
this summer he has rented his farm to
make a business of getting a wife, and
must go and dye his hair and whiskers,
and dress himself up in a new tuit of
broadcloth, with a tall hat, and a gold
watch-chain. To my eyes he looks as
much out of character as a crow would
in the feathers of a yellow-bird."
" It's the nature of a widowerto spruce
up," gaid Mrs. Stepford, speaking from
the depths of profound knowledge. " Ho
puts the best foot forward, and makes as
good an impression as he can, just as
naturally as a rooster crows ; and for ray
part I don't Bee a mite of harm in it."
" You seem so much in favor of Mr.
Pritchard," returned Margaret, rather
saucily, " I think you had bettor take
him yourself. Who knows, after all,
Aunt Sukey, but ho comes shining round
you r
" Margaret, you ought to be ashamed
of yourself;" and Mrs. Stepford put on
her dignity, with an angry flush suffu
sing her nallow cheek. " You have no
right to ridicule a person of my age, and
your own father's sister ; aud you know
well that when I laid Chester away in
tho burying-ground I made up my mind
to remain a rcliek tho rest of my life. I
haven't ever thought of taking another
pardner."
"But why shouldn't you'f" persisted
Margaret. " If it's such a propel thing
for a widower to marry again, why
shouldn't it be the same for a widow '(
It's a poor rule thaf won't work both
ways, auntie. And now I think of it,
you would be just the wife for Mr.
Pritchard suitable in age, and with a
pretty penny of your own, and then you
are a careful housekeeper. I do believe
he's been after you all along. The next
lime he calls I shall act as it he was your
visitor, and keep out of the way. Uo
and put on your dress-cap, Aunt Sukey,
with the purple bows. If I were you I
wouldn't wear that daguerrotype pin
with Uncle Chester's likeness, but a pink
neck-ribbon, which is becoming to your
complexion. You are a real good-looking
woman when you are dressed up, and
I don't wonder Zekiel Pritchard has ta
ken a fancy."
" Margaret, you can be the provoking
est creature I ever saw ; and if you
chooso to insult me, it doi't signify. I'm
nothing and nobody ; but it is a shame
for you to make light of serious things."
" Oh, I won't," responded Margaret,
with an exasperating air of penitence.
" I didn't know it was serious. I wasn't
aware things had gone bo far. If ho
should call this afternoon, auntie, I shan't
stand in your light. I am going to stay
here in the kitchen until nearly dark to
cook bean-porridge for the men's supper.
Then there is a b utch of bread to bake,
and I may stir up a cake between whiles.
I don't even ' intend to take time to
change my dress. This old calico is
pretty well soiled," and she d'ew it
around her and looked at the back
breadths, " and my hair is tousled ; but
never mind I don't expect to see any
body. You, auntie, can go and fix your
self up nice. Courting seems to have a
deal to do with dry-goods ; but for my
part, if I found a man to my liking, I
shouldn't care what kind of a coat cov
ered his back, or whether he was rich or
poor."
Margaret's lost speech cut Mrs. Step
ford's sensibilities to the quick. She
rose in high dudgeon, and, gathering her
mending into her apron, went loftily into
her own bedroom and shut the door.
But tha words had fallen on other ears
besides those they were intended to
reach; and just as Margaret was swing
ing the crane around from the black
throat of tho chimney, preparatory to
hanging the porridge-pot over tho fire,
sho caught sight of a young man fuce
framed by a careless wreath of hop-vine
which embowered the window whero he
stood.
There really seemed no reason why
Margaret should blush vividly becauso
Mark Thorpo had overheard her foolish
words. Mark was only a poor student,
working his way through college and
the medical schools, who had hired out
to her father for the summer months, in
order to harden his muscles with farm
labor and put a few much-needed dollars
into his pocket, Margaret knew"he was
up by four every morning to study and
writo before the day's work began. He
had tho manners of a ti ue-hearted gen
tleman, always easy and pleasant, ready
to pitch quoits with the men, or whittle
out wonderful boats for the boys, or walk
after a hard day's work to prescribe for
an old womau'g " rhuinatics." He was
so strong and healthy, every thing he
did seemed a pastiuio. If Margaret re
membered that Mark Thorpe was only
hor father's hired hand, she did not forget
that ho was as much at home in a lady's
Earlor as he was in the hay field. He
ad a rich tenor voice, well-trained, and
a temper like sunshine and bird music
mixed in equal parts,
The pail of drinking-water stood on a
shelf near the windew, and Mark was
reaching through the open casement to
secure along-handled dipper which hung
just above it. He had taken off his straw
hat, and his hair lay scattered abut a
broad forehead, un tanned and white, al
though the rest of his face showed a man
ly brown. His mouth, under its fringe
of golden mustache, and his eyes, large
and blue, kept mischievously smiling at
Margaret, while the blush deepened on
her cheek.
"So you wouldn't mind, Miss Marga
ret, whether tho man was rich or poor,
if you conld find one to your liking.
All I can say is that I wish ho was about
my size."
Thero was a little mockery in the tone
to cover the serious moaning of the
words ; and then, after a long draught,
while his eyes still did good servica
watching Margaret's becoming confu
sion of face, Mark let the dipper plash
into the water-pail, and weut with his
strong stride along down the meadow
path, singing a snatch of ' Kathleen Ma
vournoen." Margaret was vexed, bocause her ready
tongue and quick wit had once failed
her ; but a new feeling, vague and sweet,
arose and overpowered till others. She
stood leaning: en the mantel-jam, with
sparks from the fire snapping dangerous
ly near the skirt of her dross, and was
in this posture when Mrs. Stepford re
turned, with the daguerreotype bosora-
fin conspicuously displayed on a nice
ace collar. She sailed through into the
gitting-room witliput deigning to give
her niece a word. Margaret gat down
in a great split-bottomed rocking-chair,
and with her head resting against the
faded patchwork cushion, fell into a
reverie, which was braided with tho
robin's gong outside in the cherry-tree
ond the lingering cadence of Mark
Thorpe'g voice as he marched away down
the meadow-path. She was awakened
by a hisg from the bubbling porridge
over the side of the pot into the hot em
bers, and at the same' moment came a
sharp rap upon the knocker of tho front
door. By this latter sign Margaret knew
that Zekiel Pritchard'g roan horso was
hitched to the front-yard fence.
Mrs. Stepford, slowly putting down
her work, went and admitted tho widow
er. He was a lean, wiry man, well sea
soned by hard work anil exposure to tho
weather. There was a cast to his small
gray eyei and he had the habit of raking
his jaw with his brown hand and cough
ing in a dry and husky fashion before
getting ready to speak. Now ho drop
ped his buff silk handkerchief into his
hat, and deposited it under the chair
whero he was sitting, and allowed his
eyes to wander rather eagerly about the
room. There was a little desultory talk
between him and the widow ubout the
fine hay weather and last Sunday's ser
mon, and then Zekiel cautiously inquired
after tho folks. Mrs. Stepford knew well
enough that.Wfa meant Margaret, but
sho answered heartlessly, quite awny
from the subject.
" Oh," gaid Bhe, "nirain is driving at
the hay to beat all. There's a sight of
grass down, and every nerve must be
stretched to got it into the barn before
another rain-storm."
The widower could not muster courage
to inquire directly after the lady of his
love. He was ill at ease ; his eyes roved
from place to place ; he crossod and un
crossed his legs, and fiddled nervously
with his watch-chain ; "but his senses
were on tho alert to detect Bomo trace of
tho person ho was seeking. Presently
there came through the window, mixed
with the scent of Prince Albert roses,
the wholesome, old-fashioned smell of
bean-porridge, and Mr. Pritchard, sharp
ening his ears, thought he detected Mar
garet's light tread upon the kitchen floor.
It was Zckicl's habit to disguise his
courting errand under somo thin pre
tense of business with the men-folks, so
ho now said, rather hastily :
" I called to-day, Mrs. Stepford, to
take a peep at your brother Hiram's new
mowing-machine. I am thinking about
buying one for my own place, and would
like to see how it operates."
Whereupon he arose, quite forgetful of
his hat, which rested peacefully under
neath his chair, and started for the
kitchen, although tho front-door afforded
more convenient means of egress.
Zekiel's enterprise was rewarded by
the sight of Margaret, who, even in her
messed calico, was tho pleasantest object
his eyes could rest on. Ho stopped just
beyond the threshold, prepared to break
the ice with care. Margaret's back was
still toward him, but hearing Brother
Pritchard's dry, chirruping cough, she
faced about and said, " How do you do'f"
rather languidly, holdincr out at the
CJ . ij
same time the long iron spoon iu her
hand, as if sho expected him to givo it a
snake.
" What a pleasant place this is !'.' ob
served Mr. Pritchard, lifting the tails of
his obnoxious broadcloth, and sitting
down unasked. Although the enamored
widower showed flurries of embarrass
ment on tho surface, he was of a slow,
obstinate type. " I always feel more to
home in the.kitchen, he added, compla
cently, " than in any other part of the
house."
" When I am busy, and have a good
many irons in the tire, retorted Margar
et, " I am not anxious to have the men
folks around."
Zekiel laughed us if he considered this
tart little speech a delicious joke. ,
" xu)u neeau l teei utraid to nave your
kitchen seen any time ot day, Miss Mar
garet," said he, giving his chair an ularin-
ing hitch toward the young lady s vicm-
ity. " It's as neat as a posy, and every
body knows how you've got your name
up tor housekeeping.
" I don't care for tho opinions of peo
ple who think women were made for
nothing but to scrub and scour."
"I'm not one of that kind," Zekiel
struck in, eagerly. " Tain t my wish,
Margaret, that a wouian should overdo
and go beyond her strength. My idea
of you is that you've got good judgment
and hrst-rate common-sense.
" I am too obstinate and independent
to ever try to come up to any body's idea
of me," retorted Margaret, courageously,
although, in truth, she was suffering
from a panic of apprehension.
" You are not obstinate, Margaret,
Zekiel's dry tones had acquired a ludi
crously sentimental twang.
" Oh yes, I am," cried Margaret, feel
ing that something must be doue to avert
the crisis. ' 1 am dreadfully self-willed,
Father says I take after grandmother
Baker ; and from all accounts, sho made
people stand round.
" I'll run the risk, Margaret, and take
all the chances, if I can take you." And
with that Zekiel made such a bold and
startling inantcuvre iu tho navigation of
his rocking-chair that Margaret, to avoid
closer proximity, sprang a little to one
tide, and the ladle slipping from her
grasp, Bent a wave of the boiling por
ridge over her right hand, at the same
time liberally besprinkling the person of
the widower. Margaret .moaned with
pain, ami went stooping about the room
half crazed by the terrible smart. Mrs
Stepford found Zekiel standing; in the
middle of the floor, the very picture of
despair, and conscious, as it would seem,
that the spilling of the bean-porridge
had irrevocably upset his own dish. He
had sustained no bodily injury, but the
courting clothes were hopelessly spotted.
Aunt Sukey gave him a task which
brought him to his senses.
" Run out inta the hay field and call
, mark Thorpe, lie is more than half t
doctor already, and dretful handy dress-
ing cuts and burns. This is ft bad scald,
and I don't feel like undertaking it my
self, but I'll have all tho things ready
against he getg here."
Zekiel started oft witnoHT. nis nat, i-r-
getting entirely where he had left it,
until the hot duly sun tailing straight
on his bald crown brought a painful re
minder.' Mark, who wag at work alone
at the shady end of tho field, judged
from Mr. Pritchard's plight the accident
was worse than it was, ond dropping his
rake set off toward the house on the
keen run. His long legs soon out-dij-tancod
Zekiel's short ones, and when,
some minutes later, the widower stealth
ily entered the kitchen, he wag startled
by a suggestive tableau. Mrs. Stepford
had eone up euamber to nunt ior oia
linen, and there sat Margaret leaning
back in a large chair, with signs of suf
fering still visible upon her lace. Mark
knelt before her in his coarse working
clothes, his shirt sleoves of gray flannel
showing, and with a cotton handkerchief
knotted about his neck. Beads of per
gpiration stood on his forehead, and
there was a curious sort of trouble on
his comely face. He had wrapped the
scalded hand in cotton, and was adjust
i"g bandages with the skill of an artist.
In his heart ho wished the operation
might last forever, but it did come to an
end ; and still, with Margaret smiling
faintly, he held the hurt hand in his,
and almost unconsciously, his other
hand, largo and brown, closed over Mar
garet s well one a dimpled, warm, cozy
little thing, that fluttered in his own
like a scarol bird. It was an ecstatic
moment, when all heaven seemed dis
tilled into a drop of ineffable sweetness ;
and silently, by that strange magnetism
which draws two hearts together, Mark
bent forward and pressed his lips to
Margaret's. Zekiel saw it, and he saw
that Margaret blushed and trembled,
but did not draw away her hand. Be
wildered, he slipped out, ana stole around
to tho front entrance by moans of which
he regained his hat, and teok himself
away, a wiser and a sadder man.
A fortnight nearly had passed, and
Margaret's hand was almost well. One
warm uttcrnoon, when doors and win
dows were all open to catch a wander-
g breeze, Mrs. Hukey bteptord came
into tho house with her things on, and
as sho sat dow in tho rocking chair she
heaved a sigh profound, but not utterly
heart-broken.
" What is the matter, auntie '(" in
quired Margaret. "Have you got one
of your hot flashes f
" o, returned Mrs. Stepford, untying
her bonnet strings and fanning herself
with her pocket-handkerchief, " but 1
am quite overcomo. AVhat wonderful,
unlooked-for things are all the time hap
pening, and what a strange world this
is, to oe sure.
" Perhaps it is," said Margaret ; " but
it s a dear, lovely world, and the best we
know anything about."
" hen 1 went out of this house, put
in the widow, scarcely heeding her niece's
words, " 1 had no more thought f
changing my condition in life than I had
of going to France. I had laid out to
visit Chester s grave, tor 1 was afraid the
long spell ot dry weather had killed the
white rose bush 1 planted by the tomb
stone last summer. There I sot medita
ting and renecting tor nothing ever
passed between Chester and me but
what it's pleasant to think over and
when I rose up to come home, who should
I see in tho path before me but Zekiel
Pritchard ! After we had passed the
time of day, I thought of course ho
would turn down toward his own house,
but insteid of that he asked mo to take
his arm, and as it was a warm afternoon
I made no objection."
Hero Mrs. Stepford paused a little and
began fingering the fringes of her Can
ton crape shawl.
" I supposed his attentions was out of
sympathy, she resume" ; ' bocause we
had both been to visit tn-3 grave of our
deceased pardnerg ; and pretty soon the
conversation turned on the lonesomeness
of a single lot. Well, Zekiel grew kind
of cosy and confidential, and told me
about his Irish help. It's dreudful to
think how good victuals is mussed up
and wasted in that house ; and there she
is using tho bt st crockery every day, and
the Lord only knows how much she
steals. All of sudden Zekiel said he
thought we was fitted to make each other
happy, and go down this vale ot tears
arm in arm, or something to that effect.
I was bo struck I don't know what I said,
but I s'pose r gave the impression I
meant yes."
Here Mrs. Stepford was quite over
come, and Margaret embraced her de
lightfully.
" Didn't I say he was after you, auntie '("
she cried. "I shall like him ever to
much as my uncle.
Margaret was in the milk-room when
she heard her aunt go about singing, in
a cracked soprano,
" This is the way I long have sought,
Aud mourned bocause I found it sot."
A roguish smile still dimpled her face
when she looked up and saw Mark's tall,
broad-shouldered person tilling the door
way. ' Oh, Mark," she exclaimed, " I have
wonderful news for you. Aunt Sukey is
engaged to Mr. Pritchard. Just think
from what a fate that bean-porridge
saved mo !
Mark, with his eyes smiling, went for
ward and took Margaret's hand the
hart one, which was strong enough now
to wield the skimmer.
" Margaret," said he, " would you think
it worth while to take such a poor fellow
ag I am if he kept you waiting three
years, and could give you nothing better
even at the end of thut time than bean-
porridge f"
Margaret's answer made her lips and
eyes eloquent, but was not translatable
iu words. If it failed to satisfy Mark
Thorpe, he deserved his happiness much
loss than 1 think be did.
Apple Cobbler. Pare, core, an
Hiiro tnrnlva lars-a tart armies t
them the juice of two lemons and the
p-rahed nni'1 of one: aweefon fn facto
stew very slowly for two hours; turn
into a mould. When cold, serve with
cream.
An Old Story Retold.
If any one believes that all the stories
of the glorious old times of Jackson and
Clay campaigns have been used up, he
will hnd how easy it is to ba mistaken.
Witness the following, which comes to
us from Old Kentucky, by the way of
Louisiana. Our entertaining friend be
gins: " You must know (but we did not
know) " that around and about the beau
tiful city of Lexington, in the State of
Kentucky, for a distance of twelve or fif
teen miles, there lives or did live, twen
ty years ago a great number of small
farmers, who find in that city a ready
market for tho surplus produces of their
tarmn, and there tbey carry it to sell, and
buy finery and nick-nacks for their fami
lies. One of these fanners, a poor but
industrious and fearless man, had a pork
er, a few bushels of meal, potatoes,
beans, etc., which ho wished to dispose
of; and, borrowing a horse and wagon
ho packed up his things, and, just at
dusk, get off for town. Arrived at one
or two o'clock in the morning, he enter
ed the market-house, and selecting a stall,
he split the dressed pig into halves, and
hung them on the stout hooks, and with
a big of meal for a pillow lay down to
sleep till morning. Ho slept soundly
and late, and when ho awoke the market
people were crowding m ; and, lo l one
half of his pig had been unhooked, and
hooked. It was clean gone 1 He made
known his loss, and, raving and swear
ing, ho drew the whole crowd about
him. Ag he grew warm with his wrath,
he said :
" ' I know the sort of man that stole
that pork I do I'
1 Well, why not let it out, it you
know, and we will help hnd turn tor you I
they cried out, in reply.
" ' Yes, 1 know what sort ot a man no
was ; he was a Ulay man r
"As old Harry Clay lived within a
mile of tho market, and every man here
was ready to go to tho death for him,
this was a bold speech, to accuse a Clay
man of stealing half a pig in Lexington
and they closed on him to give him a
sound thrashing; when one demanded of
him what made him think so.
1 Why, nobody but a Clay man would
have done it ; ef he had been a Jackson
man he would have gone the whole hog I
" This turned the tables. The humor
of the robbed farmer was irresistible.
The Liexingtomans carried mm on to a
coffee-house to a hot breakfast and a
morning spree ; and after drinking to
the health of Henry Clay, thoy mado up
his loss, and sent him home rejoicing.
How he Proposed.
A story is told of a preacher who lived
about torty years ago. lie was a bach
elor, and wo could write his real name,
but prefer to call him Smith. He resist
ed many persuasions to marry, which his
friends were constantly making, until ho
had reached a tolerably advanced age,
and hehimself began to feel the need of,
or, at least, to have new ideas of the
comfort of being nursed with woman's
gentle care. Shortly after entering one
of his circuits, a maiden lady, also of ripe
vear3, was strongly recommended to him,
and liis mends again urged that ne bad
better get married, representing that the
lady named would probably not refuse
to accept him, notwithstanding his re
puted eccentricities.
"Do you think thor responded tho
dominie, for he very perceptibly lisped
" then I'll go and thee her.
He was a man of his word. His ring
at tha door-bell was answered by the
servingr-maid.
t Ith Mith P within '(" briskly but
calmly asked the lover.
" i es, Sir. V ill you walk in f
" No, I thank you. Be kind enough to
thay to Mith P- that I with to thpeak
to her a moment.
Miss P appeared, and repeated the
invitation to walk in.
" No, thank you ; I'll thoon explain
my buthiness. xm tne new preacuer,
I'm unmarried. My friendth think I'd
bettor marry. They recommend you for
my wife. Have you any objection
" Why. really, Mr. Sm
" There don't authwer now. Will call
thith day week for your reply. Good-
day."
On that day week he reappeared at tho
door f Miss P 's residence. It was
promptly op jued by the lady herself.
" Walk m, Mr. Buutu."
" Can not, ma'am. Have not time,
Start on my circuit round m halt an
hour. 1th your anthwer ready, ma'am Y
" Oh, do walk in, Mr. Smith.
"Can't indeod.'ina'aui. Pleath authwer
e Yeth or No."
" Well, Mr. Smith, it is a very serious
matter. I ihould not like to get out oj the
eau of rrotulcnee
" 1 perfectly vmlerawul you, Mith
P . We will be married thith day
week. I will call at thith hour. Pleath
be ready, ma'am."
He called on that day week, at that
hour. Sho was ready j they were mar
ried, and lived happily several years.
Jewels.
Waste of wealth is sometimes re
trieved ; waste of health, seldom ; but
the waste of time, never.
True courage is cool aud calm. The
bravest of men have the least of brutal,
bullying insolence, and in the very time
of danger are found the most serene and
free.
Let us take care how we speak of those
who have fallen on life's field. Help
them up not heap scorn upon them. We
did not see the conflict. We do not know
the scars.
He who betrays another's secret be
cause he hag quarreled with him wag
never worthy of the sacred name of
friond ; a breach of kindness on one side
will not justify a breach of trust on the
other.
To understand the wor,ld is wiser than
to condemn it , to study the world is bet
ter than to shun it ; to use the world is
nobler than to abuse it; to make tho
world better, lovelier and happier is the
highest work of man.
Systematize your business, and keep
an eye on little expenses. Small leaks
gink great ships.
Died Yesterday.
1 Died yesterday." Who died V Per
haps it was a gentle babe one whose
laugh wag as the gush of summer rills
loitering in tho bower of roses whose
littlo life was a perpetual litany, a May
time crowned with the passion of flowers
that never fade. Or mayhap it wag a
youth, hopeful and generous, whose path
wag hemmed by flowers, with not a ser
pent lurking underneath ; one whose
soul panted for communion with the
great and good, and reached forth with
earnest struggle for the guerdon in the
distance. But that heart is still now ; he
died yesterday."
" Died yesterday." A young girl, pure
as the orange-flowers that clasped her
forehead, wag stricken down as she stood
at the altar; and from the dim aislo of
the temple she wos borne to the " garden
of the sfumberers." A tall, crowned
man, girt with the halo of victory, and
at tho day's close, under his oiii vine
and fig treo, fell to dust even ag tho an
them trembled upon his lips ; and ho,
too, was laid " where the rude forefath
ers of tho hamlet sleep." An ancient
patriarch, bowed with age and cares,
even as ha looked out upon the distant
hills lor the coming ot the angel host,
sank into a dreamless slumber, and on
his door-post is written, "Died yester
day."
"Died yesterday. Daily men, women,
and children are passing away, and
hourly, in some grave-yard, the soil is
flung upon the dead. As often in the
morn we find some flower that blushed
gweetly in tho sunset has withered up
forever ; so daily, when we rise from the
bivouac to stand against our posts, we
miss gome brether soldier, whoso cheery
cry iu the sieges and struggles ot the
past has been as lire irom Heaven upon
our hearts.
Each day gome pearl drops from tho
iewel thread of friendship some lyre to
which we have been wont to listen hag
been hushed forever. But wise is ho
who mourns not the pearl and music
lost ; for life with him Bhall pass away
gently, as an eastern shadow from tho
hills, and death be a triumph and gain.
Fruits Preserved by Drying.
At Vineland, whero over a tract of
fifty square miles, with nearly ton thou
sand inhabitants, there is not a single
groggery or other place where intoxicat
ing liquors are sold, and where people
go to bed without locking their doors,
they have put in practice a method of
preserving a considerable part of the
abundant iruits, and even some part ot
tho roots, which their soil produces, in
such a manner that they may be sent to
distant climates. The larger iruits are
sliced and dried by rapid evaporation,
with artificial heat, and the smaller fruits
are dried whole. The egg-plant, the
apple, the peach, the pear, the tomato,
and the sweet potato are sliced in this
manner, while the raspberry, the straw
berry, tho crape, and even tho cranberry
are dried entire. The advantage of such
a process in a region whero Buch vast
quantities of fruit are produced as In
Vineland, is manifest. Most fruits are
rapidly perishable in their natural state,
and this method, when tho market is
over-supplied, projects them into the
fallowing soason. At Vineland they are
conveyed in loaded wagons, over the
smoothest roads that can be imagined, to
the drying, or, as it is there called, the
dehydrating establishment, and there is
no longer any danger of their spoiling
on the owner's hands. The vineyards of
Vineland at present cover large tracts,
and the cultivation extends from year to
year. The peach orchards are extensive
and produce tho finest of fruit, and the
pjar-tree nowhere flourishes better, and
nowhere produces fruit of better quality.
None of the trees, however, of any gort
are older than tho date of this remarka
blo colony, the history of which begins
in 1801. It is now full of neat houses
and productive gardons, bordering broad
avenues and streets, planted with shade
trees which grow rapidly in the loose
soil, and every year it Bends its grapes by
tons to the markets of Philadelphia and
New York. New Yorl Paper
A Novel Duel.
Amongst the reminiscences told of the
Franco-Prussian war is the account ot a
curious duel between two subordinate
officers of -the French army.
" You intend to fight a duel, eh r" asked
the commandant.
"Yes, Colonel. Words have passed
which can only bo wiped out with blood.
We don't want to pass for cowards."
" Very well, you shall fight, but it
must be in this way : Take your car
bines, place yourselves on a line facing
tho mansion where the enemy is. You
will march upon their garrison with
equal step. When sufficiently near their
post you will hre upon them. the
Prussians will reply. You continue to
advance and firo. Wheu one falls the
other may turn upon his heels, and his
retreat shall bo covered by one' of my
companies. In this way," concluded the
commandant, " the blood you both de
mand will be spilled with profit and
glory, aud he who comes back will do so
without regret, without the remorse of
having killed or wounded, with his own
hands, a Frenchman, at a time when
France needs all her defenders and all
her children. If you both full, who shall
say that you are cowards '( 1 may also
add that I thug give you an excellent
opportunity for putting a couple of tier
uiang out of the way a service that will
procure for you a good recommendation
tor reward and promotion.
The matter wag arranged as tho com
mandant had dictated. At twenty paces
from the walls of Malraaison, one ot the
adversaries was wounded, staggered and
fell. The other ran to him, raised him
up, and carried him away on his shoul
ders amid a regular hailstorm of balls
both were thenceforth entitled to the
greatest honor and respect from the
wholo regiment.
From the proceedings in the Bolfabt
roace Court, it appears tkat about 1,01)0
occupants of Louaes were compelled to
change their residences during the late
riots.
The Superstitions of Sailors.
On that eventful night when the five
hundred men composing the ship's com
pany of the ill-fated steamer Central
America were struggling for life with
darkness and the billows, an old-time
superstition of the sea turned toward
them the prow ot the .Norwegian oarit
Allen, whose brave crew succeeded m res
cuing the survivors of those despairing
swimmers. The circumstanceg of the
rescue are too fresh in the public mind
to need recital at our hands. We will
simply quote the wordg of the Norwegian
Uaptain, ag to the cause ot his so fortun
ate presence upon the scene of disaster
and death :
" Some time before I saw or hoard you
(so he spoke to one of the rescued), the
wind hauled and I altered my course a
little--thug standing away from the then
unknown scene of wreck. Immediately
after altering my courgo, a gmall bird
flew across the ship twice, and then dart
ed at my faco. I took little notice of the
circumstance. Again the bird flew
around the ship, and again it darted in
my face. Thig time I began to regard it
as something extraordinary, and while
pondering upon the matter, and hesita
ting whether to pay attention to the
feathered monitor, it appeared for the
third time and repeated its extraordinary
actions. I immediately put the ship 8
head back to the course we had been or
iginally steering, and shortly after we
heard noises in the water about us;"
which proved to be the shouts of the
shipwrecked.
The vessel was in their midst. Had she
been continued upon her altered course,
it is certain that the cries of tho swim
meg would have failed to reach the berk,
and they would have been in all proba
bility lost.
Chinese Arithmetic.
The
Chinese have a most ingenious
mode of reckoning by the aid of the fing
ers, performing all the operations of ad
dition, subtraction, multiplication, and
division, with numbers from one up to a
hundred thousand. Every finger of tho
left hand represents nine figures, as fol
lows : The little finger represents units,
the ring finger tons, tho middle finger
hundreds, tho forefinger thousands, the
thumb, tens of thousands. When tho
three joints of each finger are touched
from tho palm toward the hip.they count
one, two, and three of each of the denom
inations as above named. Four, five, and
six are counted on the back of the finger
joints in the same way; seven, eight, and
nine are counted on the right side of tho
joints, from the palm to the tip. The
forefinger of the right hand is used as a
pointer. Thus, one thousand two hun
dred and thirty-four would be indicated
by first touching the joint ot the toro-
nnger ; next the hand on the inside ;
next the middle joint of the middle fing
er on the inside ; next the end joint of
tbe rinsr finger on the inside, and finally,
the joint of the little finger next the hand
on th outside. The reader will be oblo
to make further examples for himself.
The Liok's Voice. One of tho most
triking things connected with the lion
is his voice, which is extremely grand
and peculiarly striking. It consists at
times of a low, deep moaning, repeated
hve or six times, ending in taintly aud
ible sighs ; at other times he startles tho
forest with loud, deep-toned, solemn
roars, repeated five or six times in quick
succession, each increasing in loudness to
the third or fourth, when his voice dies
away in five or six low, muffled sounds,
very much resembling distant thunder.
At times, and not untrequently, a troop
may be heard roaring in concert, one
assuming the lead, and two, three, or four
more regularly taking up their parts,
like persons singing a catch. Like our
Scottish stags at the rutting season, tuey
roar loudest in cold, frosty nights ; but
on no occasions are their voices to be
heard in Buch perfection, or so intensely
powerful, as when two or three Btrango
troops of lions approach a fountain to
drink at the same time. When this oc
curs, every member of each troop sounds
a bold roar ot denance at tne opposite
parties; and when one roars, all roar
together, and each seems to vie with his
comrades in the inteusity and power of
his voice.
DEATH BY Fiue. One. of the most
dreadful and appalling deaths is by fire;
ond hence the autos da fe of the Inquisi
tion still shine with baleful glare amid
the numberless atrocities of tho middla
es. Still the destruction ot human
life by burning is far less terrible in fact
than it is to the fancy, ai.d condemna
tion to the stake is a rhetorical horror
not answered by careful examination.
Excruciating and lingering as such a
death Beems, it is really brief, aud com
paratively exempt from bodily anguish.
He who is exposed to fire necessarily in
hales the flame, putting an end to sensi
bility and the principle ot vitality at
once. Persons rescued from burning
buildings have been found lifeless,
though their bodies had barely been
singed ; proving that the slow consuming
of flesh, which appears to us so awful
and bo agonizing, takes place too late to
produce pain. The victim we imagine
to be writhing in untold torture, is at
that moment beyond tho reach of physi
cal harm, beyond the capacity to suffer
further.
What he Wanted. An exchange
tells a very interesting story of a little
boy. He wag climbing au apple tree,
and when upon the topmost limb he
slipped and fell to the ground. He wag
picked up aud carried to the house in an
insensible condition. After watching by
his bedside through many weary hours,
big mother perceived signs of returning
consciousness. Leaning over him she
asked if there wag anything Bhe could do
for him, now that he began to feel bet
ter 'i Should Bhe bathe liig forehead, or
change his pillow, or fan him 'i Was
there anything he wanted ? Opening his
eyes languidly, and looking at her, the
little sufferer gaid : " Yes ; I want a pair
of pants with a pocket behind." He got
them.