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' HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher.
NIL DESPEItANDTJM.
Two Dollars per. Annum.
U.lT
VOL. V.
EIDGWAY, ELK COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 5, 1875.
NO. 24.
Til . " ' "KX
f 1111 i i Br-t -v & v j ri . n i
I ' ,- V;,
1 "' .'
Ho Giveth Ills Beloved Sleep.
A little child refits cn a bed of pain.
With an aching hind mid a f Ur- b .iiig bram
A feverish flush on tho soft check lies,
And a wistful look in the sweet liluo eyes,
As the sick child moans i " IIow the tlow
hours croop !
Will HQ the Loid sond to His iittlo oue sloop?"
And tho moMior smoothed from tho child's
brow fitir
The clnntoring locks of her golden hair,
Aud murmured : " My darling, we cannot
tell
Cut wo know that tho Father doth all things
well ;
And ws know that never a creature in pain
Addressed a prayer to His mercy in vain.
Time has no line that His hand may not
smooth )
Life has no grief that Ilia love cannot soothe ;
And the fevered brow shall have rest at last,
Iu tho healing shade from the death-cross
cart,
Look up, my precious one why shouldst thou
weop ?
Tho Lord givoth aye to His loved ones sloop."
And tho little one gazed with a glad surprise
Iu tho loving depths of tnoso patiout eyes,
Thou lifted her lips for oue long embrace,
And turned with a smile on her weary face.
Aud the mother smiled as the early mom
Marked tho doop peace on tho childish form,
And criod aloud in her thankfulness deep :
" Tho dear Lord be praisod, who hath given
her sleep !"
Ay, mother she sleeps, is that charmed re
pose That shall waken no more to earth's pains aud
woe,
For tho Savior bath gathorcd His lamb to His
breast,
Whero novcr life's storms shall her peace mo
lest. FH dear love willed not that time should trace
One sorrowful line on that innocent face j
Others, less favored, might suffer their share
Of the midnight toil and the ii'omitide glare i
Others minht, lnbu; othere might weep,
L'ut " the Lnri giveth ayo 16 His loved ones
sleep."
HUTU'S STEPFATHER.
A curious trade to take to, but then it
Las grown to bo profitable. Tilings
were nt a low ebb with me whon I took
it up. I was at my wits' end for some
thing to do, and sat nibbling my nails
one day, and grumbling horribly.
"Don't goon like that, Tom," says
my wife ; ''things might be worse."
"How?" I said.
" Why, wo might have Luke at homo,
aud he is doing well."
Luke's our boy, yon know, and we
hud got him into a merchant's office,
M-lioio lie rieelUOll Illielv to otay.
" Things cau t be worse," I said, an
grily ; when there was a knock at the
door.
" Come in," I said, and a fellow lodger
A I'll
pun in ms ncuu.
"Are yon good at works, Mr. Smith?"
lie Raul.
" Middling," I said, for I was fond of
pulling clocks to pieces, and trying to
invent.
" I wish you'd como and look at this
sewing maehiue of mine, for I can't get
it to go.
I got up to look at it, and after' about
an hour's fiddling about, I began to see
a bit the reason why. I had my bit of
dinner and tea witu those people, and
they forced half a crown upon me as
well, aud I went back feeling liko a now
man, so refreshing had been that bit of
work, iho very nest day tho folks from
the next houso wanted mo to look at
theirs, and then the news spreading, as
news will spread, that there was some
body who could cobble and tinker ma
chinery, without putting people to the
expense that makers would, . the jobs
cmiie in fast, so that I was obliged to get
files and drills and a vice regular set of
tools by degrees ; and at last I was as
busy a a bee from morning to night,
and whttling over my work as happy as
a king.
Next we got to supplying shuttles and
needles and machine cotton. Soon after
I bpught a maehiue of a man who was
tired ot it. JNext week I sold it at a good
profit ; bought another and another, and
' Bold them ; then got to taking them and
'money in exchange for new ones, and
one way an .1 tho other became a regulat
ing dealer, as you see. I've got at lea.it
three hundred on tho premises, whilo if
anybody had told mo fifteen years ago
that I should be doing this, I should
have laughed at him.
That pretty girl showing and explain
ing the machine to a customer ? That's
Ruth, that is. No, not my daughter
yet, but she soon will be. Poor girl, I
always think of her and of bread thrown
upon the waters at the same time.
"Curious idea, that," you will say, but
I'll tell you why. In our trade we have
strange people, to deal with. Most of
cm are pour, and can't buy a machine
right oil", but are ready aud willing to
pay so much a week. That suits them,
ami it suits me, if they'll only keep the
payments up to the end.
The way I've been bitten by some
folks has made me that case-hardened
that sometimes I'vo wondered whether
I'd got any heart left, and the wife's
had to interfere, telling mo I've been
ppoiled with prosperity, and grown un
feeling. It was she made me give way
about l!uth, for one day, after having
had my bristles all set up by finding out
that three sound machines, by best
makers, had gone nobody knew where,
who should come into the shop but a
ladylike-looking woman in very shabby
widow's weeds. She wanted a machine
for herself and daughter to learn, and
said she had heard I would take the
money by installments. Now just half
an hour before, by our old shop clock, I
had made a vow that I'd give up all that
iiart of the trade, and I was rough with
ler just as I am wheu I'm cross and
said, "No."
" But you will if the lady gives se
curity," says my wife, hastily.
The poor woman gave such a woe
begone look at us that it made me more
out of temper than ever, for I could feel
that if I stopped I should have o let her
have one at her owu terms. Aud bo it
was ; for I let her have a first-class ma
ehiue, as good as new, she only paying
seven and six down, and undertaking to
pay nalf-a-crown a week, and no more
security than nothing I ,
To make it worse, too, I sent the
thing home without chorge, Luke going
with it, for he was back at homo now
keeping my books, being grown into a
fine young follow of flve-and-twenty, and
I sat down and growled the whole of the
rest of tho day, colling myself all the
weak-minded idiots tinder the sun, and
telling tho wife that business was going
to tho dogs, and I should bo ruined.
" You ought to be ashamed of your
self, Tom," she said.
" So I om," says I. "I didn't think
I could be such a fool."
"Such a fool as' to do a good, kind
action to ono who was evidently a lady
born, and come down in tho world."
"Yes," I says, "to live in Bennett's
place, where I've sunk no less than ton
machines in nvtt years.
"Yes," says the wife, "and cleared
hundreds of pounds. Tom," X'nf ashflincd
of you you a man with twenty workmen
busy up stairs, a couple of thousand
pounds worth of stock, and ' in the
bank a
" Hold your tongue, will you ?" I said.
roughly, and went out into the shop to
try and work it ail oil.
Luke came back soon after, looking
very strange, and 1 went to him directly.
" Where's tho seven an' six?" I says,
angrily.
He didn't answer, but put three half-
crowns down on the desk, took out the
book, made his entries date of delivery.
first payment, when the other's duo, and
all the rest of it and was then going in
to tho house.
" Mind," I says, sharply, " those pay
ments are to be kept up to the day, aud
to-morrow you go to tho Holly's, who
live nearly opposite to em, and tell em
to keep an eye on the widow, or we shall
lose auotlier machine.
" You needn't be afraid, father," he
said, coldly; "they're honest enough,
only poor. j
I was just in that humor that I wanted
to quarrel with somebody, and that did
it.
" When I ask vou for your oninion.
young man, you give it to jne, aud when
1 tell you to do a thing, you. do it,"
says, in as savage a way as ever I spoke
to tho lad. ' ' You go over to-morrow and
tell KoHy s to keep a strict lookout on
those peopfe do you hear?
"Father," he says, looking mo full in
the face, "I couldn't insult them by do
ing such a thing," when, without another
word, he walked quietly out of the shop,
leaving me worse than ever,
It was about eight o'clock that I was
sitting by the parlor fire, with tho wife
working and very quiet, when Luke came
iu from the workshop with a book under
his arm, for ho had been toting up tho
men's piecework, and what was duo to
them, and the sight of him made mo feel
as if 1 must quarrel
He saw it, too, but he said nothing,
only I'm tKo aoooiintn ivway and liognn t.n
read.
The wife saw tho storm brewing, and
sue Knew now put out X was, lor 1 had
not yet lit my pipe, nor yet nad my
evening nap, which I always have after
tea. So she did what she knew so well
how to do filled my pipe, forced it into
my hand, and just as I was going to dash
it to pieces in the ashes, elie gave me one
of her old looks, kissed me on tho fore-
head, as with one hand she pressed me
back into my chair, aud then with the
other she lit a splint and held it to my
tobacco.
I was done. She always gets over me
like that, and after smoking in silence for
half an hour, 1 was lying back, with my
eyes closed, dropping off to sleep, when
the wife said (what had gone boforo I
hadn't heard) :
" Yes, he's asleep now."
That woke me up, of course, and if I
didn't lie there shamming and heard all
they said in a whisper I
" How came you to make him more
vexod than he was, Luke?" says tho
wife, and he told her.
" I couldn't do it, mother," ho said,
excitedly. "It was heart-breakiug.
She's living iu a wretched room there
with hor daughter, and, mother, -when I
saw her I felt as if thero 1 I can't tell
you."
" Go on, Luke," sho said.
" They're half starved," ho said, in a
husky way. " Oh ! mother, it's horri
ble. Such a sweet, beautiful girl, and
the poor woman herself dying almost
with some terriblo disease"
The wife sighed.
" They told me," he went on, " how
hard they had tried to livo by ordinary
needlework, and failed, and that as a last
resource they had tried to get tho
maehiue."
" Poor things I" said tho wife ; " but
ore you sure tho mother was a lady ?"
A clergyman s widow, said Lmke,
hastily ; " There isn't a doubt about it.
Poor girl 1 and they've got to learu to
use it before it will be of any use."
Joor girl, linker says the wife.
softly; and I saw through my eyelashes
that she laid a hand upon his arm, aud
was looking curiously at hnn, when if he
;lnln t cover his lace witli his hands, rest
his elbows on the table, and give a low
groan I Then the old woman got up,
stood behind his chair like the foolish old
mother would.
" Mother," he says, suddenly, " will
you go and see them?" , yi
She didn't answer for a minute? orily
stood looking down at him, and, 'then
said, softly:
" They paid you the first money ?"
"No," he says, hotly. "I hadn't the
heart to take it." .
"Then that
yours, Luke?"
money you paid was
" Yes, mother," he says, simply; and
those two stopped looking one at the
other, till the wife bent down and kissed
him, holding his head afterward, for a
few moments, between her hands; for
she always did worship that chap, our
only one ; and then I closed my eyes
tight, and went on breatliing heavy and
thinking.
For something like a now revelation
had come upon me. I knew Luke was
five-and-twenty, and that I was fifty-four,
but he always seemed liko a boy to me,
and here was I waking up to the fact that
he was a grown man, and that he was
thinking aud feeling as I first thought
and felt when I saw his mother, uigh
upon eight-aud-twenty years ago.
I lay back, thinking and telling myself
I was very savage with him for deceiving
me, aud that I wouldn't have him aud
his mother laying plots together again t
me, aud that I wouldn't stand by and
see him make a fool of himself with the
first protty girl he set eyes on, when
he might marry Maria Turner, the engi
neer's daughter, aud have a nice bit of
money with her, to put into tho business,
and then be my partner.
"No," I says ; " if you plot together,
I'll plot all alone," and then I pretended
to wake up, took no notice, and had my
supper.
I kept rather gruff the next morning,
and made myself very busy about the
place, and I dare say I spoke more
sharply than usual, but the wife and
Luke wero as quiet as could be ; and
about twelve I went out, with a little
oil-eau and two or three tools in my
pocket.
It was not far to Bennett's place, and
on getting to the right house I asked for
Mrs. Murray, and was directed to tho
second floor, where, as I reoched the
iloo, if-'could Tiear the clicking of my
sewing machine, and whoever wai there
was so busy over it that she did not hear
me knock ; so I opened the door softly,
and looked in upon as sad a scone as I
shall ever, I dare say, see.
There in the bare room sat, asleep iu
her chair, tho widow lady who came
about tho machine, and I could Bee that
iu her face which told plainly enough
that the pain and suffering she must
have beeu going through for years would
soon be over ; and, situated as she was,
it give me a kind of turn.
" It's no business of yours," I said to
myself, roughly ; and I turned then to
look at who it was bending over my ma
chine. I could see no face, only a slight
figure in rusty black ; and a pair of busy
white hands were trying very hard to
govern the thing, aud to learn how to
use it well.
"So that's the gal, is it?" I said to
myself. " Ah ! Luke, my boy, you've
got to tho silly calf age, and I dare
say"
I :got no further, for at that moment
the girl started, turned round, aud turn
ed upon me a timid, woudermg face,
that made my heart give a queer throb,
nnd I couldn t take my eyes otl her.
' ;" Hush !" sho said softly, holding up
her hand ; and I saw it was as thin and
transparent as if she had been ill.
"My name's Smith," I said, taking
out a screwdriver. " My machine ; how
does it go ? Thought 1 d come and see,
Her face lit up a moment, and she
came forward eogerly.
" I'm so glad you ve come, ".she said,
" I can t quite manage this.
She pointed to the tliread regulator.
and the next minute I was showing her
that it was too tight, and somehow, in
gentle, timid way, tho little witch quite
got over mo, aud I stopped there two
hours helping her, till her eyes sparkled
with delight, as sho found out how easily
sho could now make tuo needle dart m
and out of hard material.
. "Do you think you m do it now?"
I said.
" Oh, yes, I think so; I am so glad
you camo.
" So am I," says I, gruffly; " it will
make it all tho easier for you to earn tho
money, and pay for it.
"And I will work so hard," she said,
earnestly.
"That vou will, my dear." I snvs. in
spite of myself, for I felt sure it wasn't
mo speaking, but something in me.
" Sue been ill long?" I said, nodding to
ward her mother.
"Months," sho said, with the tears
starting iu her pretty eyes; "but," sho
added, brightly, " I shall have enough
with this to get her good medicines and
things she can fancy;" and as I looked
at her, something in me said :
" God bless you, my dear I I hope
you will;" and the next minute! was
going down stairs, calling myself a
fool.
They thought I didn't know at home.
but I did; there was tho wifo going over
aud over again to lieunett s place; and
all sorts of nice things wero mado and
taken there. 1 often used to soo them
talkiug about it, but I took no notico;
and that artful scoundrel, my boy Luke,
used to pay the half-crown every week
out of his owu pocket, aftor going to
fetch it from the widow e.
And all tho time I told myself I didn't
like it, for 1 could see that Luko was
changed, and always thinking of that
girl a girl not half good enough for
him. I remembered beinsr poor mvself.
aud I hated poverty, and I used to speak
harshly to Luko and tho wifo, and feel
very bitter.
At lost came an afternoon when I
knew there was sometliiug wrong. The
wife" had gone out directly after dinner.
saying sho was going to see a sick woman
I knew who it was, bless you ! and
Luke was fidgeting about, not himself ;
aud at last he took his hat and went
out.
" They might have confided in me."
I said, bitterly; but all tho time I knew
that I wouldn't let them. " Thev'll be
spending money throwing it away. I
know they've spent pounds on them al
ready." At last I got in such a way that I call
ed down our foreman, left him in charge,
and took my hat and went after them.
Everything was very quiet in Ben
nett's place, for a couplo of dirty, dejected-looking
women, one of whom was
in arrears to me, had sent tho children
that played iu the court right away be
cause of the noise, and were keeping
guard so that they- should not come
back.
I went up the stairs softly, and all was
very still, only as I got nearer to the
room I could hear a bitter, wailing cry,
and then I opened the door gently and
went in.
Luke was there, standing with his
head bent by tho sewing machine : the
wife sat in a chair, aud on her knees,
with her faco buried in the wife's lap,
was the poor girl, crying as if her little
heart would break ; while ou the bed,
with all tho look of paiu gone out of her
face, lay the widow gone to meet her
husband, where paiu and sorrow are no
more.
I couldn't see very plainly, for there
was a mist like before my eyes ; but I
know Luke flushed up as ho took a step
forward, as if to protect the girl, and the
wifo looked at mo in a frightened way.
But thero was no need, for something
that wasn't me spoke, and that iu a very
gentle way, as I stepped forward, raised
the girl up, and kissed her pretty face
before laying her little helpless head
upon my shoulder, and smoothing her
soft brown hair.
" Mother," saya that something from
within me, " I think there's room in the
nest at home for this poor, forsaken little
bird. Luke, my boy, will you go and
fetch a cab ? Mother will see to what
wants doing here."
My bny gave a sob as ho caught my
hand in his, and the next moment he did
what ha had not done for years kissed
me on the cheek before running ont of
tho room, leaving me .with my darling
nestling in my breast.
I said "my darling," for she has been
the sunshine of our homo ever since a
pale, wintry sunshine whil the sorrow
was fresh, but spring and summer now.
Why, bless her t look at her. I've felt
ashamed sometimes to think that sho, ft
lady by birth, should corrre down to such
a life, making me well, no, it's us now,
for Luke's partner no end of money by
her clever ways. But agio's happy, think
ing her husband that is to be the finest
follow under the sun ; and let mo tell
you there is n any a gentleman not so
well off as my boy will be, even if the
money has all come out of a queer trade.
A Story for the Girls.
Sit down on the porch, children, and
lot me tell you about Aunt Bachel, and
tho story she onx told me. One day,
when I was about twelve years old, I had
planned to go after strawberries, but
Aunt Bachel said to me : "A girl of
your age should begiu to learn how to
do housework. Take off your hat, roll
up your sleeves, and help me do the
baking."
I pouted and sighed and shed tears,
but was encouraged by the promise that
I might go after the baking. Under
good Aunt Rachel's direction I mixed a
big loaf of bread, placed it on a tin as
bright as a new dollar, and was rubbing
tho flour off my hands when sho called
out : "This will never, never do, child
you haven't scraped your bread-bowl
clean."
I shall never forget the picture she
made standing there, her eyes regarding
me sternly, one hand resting on her hip,
while in the other she held the untidy
bowl.
" It will never do, child," she went
on ; " it is not only untidy, but it makes
too much waste ; to be a good house
keeper you must learn to be economical.
You have heard the story of the 'young
man who wanted an economical wife ?"
" No," I answered, and I might have
added that I didn't wish to hear it
either.
"Well," she continued, "he was a
very likely young man, and he wanted a
careful wife, so ho thought of a way he
could find out. One morning he went
to call upon tho different girls of his ac
quaintance, aud asked them each for the
scrapings of their bread-bowls to feed
his horses. You see they all wanted
him, so they got all they could fr him.
Finally he found a girl who hadii't any,
so he askod her to be his wife, because
he thought she must bo economical.
Now," said Aunt Bachel, triumphantly,
" suppose a young man should ask you
for tho scrapings of your bread-bowl,
what could you say?"
"What could I say?" I repeated,
scornfully, ' ' why, I'd tell him if ho
couldn't afford to buy oats for his horses
they might starve. I wouldn't rob the
pig to feed them."
I suppose Aunt Bachel thought that
lesson was all lost on me : but as true as
you livo, I never knead the bread to this
day without thinking of her lesson in
economy. Detroit Free Press.
A Balloon Reeoimoissniicp.
Tho Count de Paris gives, in his
"History of the Civil War in America, "
mo luuuHuig viviu iieociiptiou oi a Dai-
loon reconuoissauco:
Wliilo the two hostile nvmi'ea nlianrra1
each other between Arlington and Fair-
lax uoiin iiouso, a oauoou was sent up
every evening to reconnoitre the sur
rounding country. It was the only
means oi getting signt ot the enemy. As
soon as we rose above tho primeval trees
which surrounded tho former rrHi,ln.n
of Gen. Leo, tho view extended over an
1 . i ....
uuuuianng country, covered with trees,
dotted here and there by little clearings,
and bordered on tho west, lw H Inner
range of the Bluo Ridge, which recalls
i.l. 11 J. 1? H It . T
iu ursi nnes oi wie d lira.
lhauks to tho bricht MoUk wlnVli il
lumines the last hours of an autumn day
in America, tne observer could distin
cruish the sliflifest, details nf tha
try. which annenred below ns like n man
iu relief. But in vain does the eve seek
tne apparent signs of war.
Peace and tranauilitv seem to reiVn
everywhere. The greatest attention is
necessary to discover the recent clear
ings, at the edge of which a lino of red
dish earth mnrkn the new tnrt.
However, as the day declines, we see to
tne soutu little bluish lines of smoke
rising gently above the trees. They mul
tiply by groups, and form a vast semi
circle. It is the Confederates eonkino-
their supper. You may almost count
the roll of their nrmv. for fww emla
betrays the kettle of a half-section.
r unner on, tne steam oi a locomotive
flying towards the mountain, traces by a
line drawn thronch tha forest tlia mil.
road which brings the enemy their pro-
. iniuiio. All til 13 DiUUU IJlUUlDUb 11 OLIillU
of military musio is heard below the 1ml.
loon. All the clearings, where we sought
in vain to discover the Federal camp,
are filled by a throng coming out of the
woods that surrounds them. This throng
arranges itself, aud forms in battalions.
The musio passes in front of the ranks
with that necnlinr march which tliflP.no.
lish call the " poose-step. "
Each battalion has two flnn-s. ono with
the national colors, and the otl HV with
its number and the nvms of ita Ktntr
Theso Hags aro dipped, tho oflicers sa-
lute, tun coionei mites command, and a
moment after ull the soldiers disperse;
for it is not ail alarm nor a prelude to
march forward which has brought them
thus together, but tho regular evening
parade.
Very Dirty.
The English colliers must be a nice
set of men. At a recent meeting of a
local board the question of providing
publio baths was raised, when one of tho
mombers said he had heard of a collier
who boa-sted that ho had not been
washed all over for thirty yearn. An
other gentleman said tho colliers avoided
washiug, as they thought it weakened
them ; while still another said tho men
would rather pay five dollars on a dog
fight than twelve cent for a bath. i
Tho Harvest nnd the Prospect.
For the first forty dajs of summer it
was constantly dry, and the grain and
hay wero starved down to . half, or, at
most, three-quarters of a crop ; aud then
came the rain, too late to help tho crop,
but just in time to provent tho possi
bility of harvesting in good condition
even what there was of it. From the
consequences of this departure from the
happy order of nature half Europo sees
before it in the near future tho calamity
of dear bread ; and we ourselves have
had such an experience of ' this perver
sity of the elements as will impress the
lesson deeply in the economical tables,
though, fortunately, our experience is
not that of Europe Our hay crop lias,
perhaps, suffered most ; for, though
thftro is a good crop on all the low
meadows, the loss by thinness and poor
quality at all points where rains in May
and early Jane are necessary to give a
good result, will reduce the yield to a
fifth or sixth less than is obtained in a
good year. Our farmers aro, therefore,
poorer by at least one hundred million
dollars, or, may be, one hundred aud
fifty million dollars, on this one count.
Perhaps tho first estimate is more near
ly accurate, for the higher price that is
of course tho immediate consequence of
the short , crop will establish the equi
librium against whatever is lost in excess
of that sum. All the loss by grasshop
pers and potato bugs will not equal the
loss of hay ; but with theso losses added
to that the sum represents an enormous
addition to theTegular burdens of tho ag
ricultural interest, though, by tho same
machinery of the adaptation of prices,
the burden will bo distributed more or
less evenly over all classes.
But though we have not altogether
escaped the evil consequences of the
disastrously exceptional weather of the
year, we have reason to congratulate
ourselves on a happy escape by compari
son with what has happened in the East
ern hemisphere, and on tho advantageous
position hi which we stand with regard
to tho markets with our grain crops. All
over Europe the weather has been bad,
but worst in France. There is little
precise knowledge of what has happened
in the great grain districts of the Black
sea countiy, but the general reports in
dicate that the yield will bo less than
usual and the quality poor. All the
valley of the Danube has suffered by tho
weather. In France more is duo to the
general bad weather than to the destruc
tive inundations, but the inundations
themselves seriously disturb tho balance
of supplies iu that country.
The fact that always produced famine
and pestilence in the valley of the Ga
ronne down to the fifteenth century now
moves the current of supplies toward
that district from other parts of France.
But what is the condition of tho crops in
the places upon which that current must
draw I in the center of France, in the
southeast, in the west and the north, tho
cereals are in a bad state. Though these
countries are not inundated they had
continued dry weather through April
and May, and then for the few weeks be
fore harvest heavy continuous rains, so
that the crop is small through the
drought and poor iu quality from the
bad condition in which it was harvested.
Outsido of France the first draught is
upon Algeria, and there also tho crop
has been exposed to tho same conditions
and is iu the same state. France, there
fore, must buy largely. England, as is
already known, must also buy largely,
and Germany and tho eastern districts
will, porhaps, estcom themselves fortu
nate if able to supply fully their own
wants. Thus we shall be without com
petitors for whatever we have to spare
out of our great grain crops. Undoubt
edly, tho prices to which grain will bo
carried by this movement will fall some
what heavily upon poor people here,
whoso loaves will be the dearer for the
competition of European hunger; but
this small addition to tho people's ex
penditure will be more than compensated
by tho impulse that will be given to
every branch of industry as a conse
quence of the general activity that this
current of supplies toward Europe will
set in motion. If people get employ
ment at fair wages out of an event that
at tho same time adds a cent to tho prioo
of every loaf they will scarcely grumble
about that cent.
Dumas aud his Picture.
The following characteristic story is
told of Alexander Dumas, the author :
An artist brought him a picture and
said :
"I do not ask you to buy this canvas,
only put it into a.lottery ; your connec
tions are extensive, and you can easily
dispose of the tickets."
Dumas consents, and advanoes the
required sum to the needy artist. Then
he cuts out fifty squares of paper,
adorns them with pretty numbers, take
half himself and offers tho rest to his
acquaintances. But that which succeeds
a hundreds times fails tho hundred-and-first
time. Dumas offers them in vain ;
he sighs, and takes teu more numbers.
" I can certainly dispose of fifteen," he
says to himself. At last a visitor comes
who lets himself be tempted. But six
months pass without another person be
ing taken in.
In the mean time tho gentleman who
took the single number besieges Dumas
with letters, and asks him, in pressing
terms :
" Wheu ore you going to draw the
lottery?"
If ho meets him on tho street, ho calls
to him from afar :
" Will the lottery be drawn soon?"
Tired of waitiiiR, and iu order to get
rid of the .troublesome man, Dumas
takes tho .other fourteen tickets.
which gives him forty-nine out of the
fifty. He then proceeds to draw the
lottery, and, to cap tho climax, it is the
gentleman with the one ticket who draws
tho picture.
Profiling by Grasshoppers.
Minnesota citizens
out of their adversity. In one of the
counties of that State, where tho authori
ties offered a generous prize per bushel
for crrafishormers. thninlinliitnnta waatal
tho insects, thereby doubling their sizo
and tho reward. They also went into
the neii;hboi'iiifr eonntin u-L n. m.
ward was paid and imported an immense
oujcb, ior wnicn, wnen duly increased
by roasting, they were piuj fyoiu the
funds of their own county.
' And That's the Way He Felt.
The Vicksburg (Miss.) Herald tells
tho following story: He had a wooden
leg, three fingers were gone from the
left hond,: and he had to use a crutch.
In tho dusk of the evening he Bat down
on a dry goods box on tho street corner,
and striking tho ground with his crutch,
he exclaimed :
. "Woll, old pord, the war's over!
Gimme your hand shake hard I"
He shook the crutch with hearty good
will, and coutiuued:
"Thore's no more Rob no more
Yank 1 We're all Americans, and stand
ing shoulder to shoulder South Caro
lina alongside Massachusetts wo can
lick tire boots off n any nation under the
sun 1"
He waited awhile and then went on:
" No more skirmishes no more fonts.
Uncle Robert is dead, Gen. Grant wants
peace, and they're melting up swords
and bayonets to make cotton mill ma
chinery I We're about through camping
out, old pard, and wo hain't sorry not
a bit!"
He leaned the crutch against tho box,
lifted his wooden leg, and said :
"Lost a good leg up at Fredericks
burg wheu I was under Barksdale, and
Buruside. thought he could whip old
Uncle Robert and Stonewall Jackson
together I Good Lord I but wasn't it
hot that day, when the Yanks laid their
pontoons and got up and got for us ! And
when we got up nnd got for ' them,
wasn't it red hot I"
He stopped to ponder for a while, and
his voice was softer as he said:
"But I forgive 'em I I took tho
chances and lost. I'm reaching out
now to shake hands with tho Yank who
shot me, and I'll divido my tobacco half
and half with him. It was a big war.
Yank and Reb stood right up aud show
ed pluck, but it's timo to forgive and
forget."
He cut a chew off his plug, took off
his battered hat and looked at it, and
continued:
"Didu't we all como of one blood?
Hain't- we tho big American nation ?
Isn't this here United States tho biggest
plantation on the river, and is there a
nation in the world that dares knock tho
chip off our shoulder ?
" Maryland, my Maryland,
Michigan, my Michigan,"
He put down his leg, . looked at his
crippled baud, aud soliloquized : . "r
" Three fingers gone hand used up,
but I'm satisfied. Folks who go to war
expect to feel bullets. We stood up to
the Yanks they stood up to us it "was
a fair fight, and we got licked. Two
fingers hain't as good as five, but they
are good enough to shake hands with I
Come up here, you Yanks, and grip mo !
We raise cotton down here you raise
corn up there less trade 1"
Ho lifted his crutch, struck it down
hard, and went on:
"Durn a family who'll fight each
other I Wo've got the biggest and best
country that ever laid out doors, and if
any foreign despot throws a club at the
American eaglo, we'll shoulder arms
and shoot him into the middle of next
week I"
Ho sat and pondered while tho shad
ows grew deeper, and by-aud-byo he
said:
" There's lots of graves down here
there's heaps o' war orphans up North;
I'm crippled up and half sick, but I'm
going to get up and hit tho onery cuss
who dares say a word ag'in either.
Wo've got through fighting we're shak
ing hands now, and durn the mau who
says a word to interrupt the harmony 1
It's one family ole Undo Sam's boys
and gals and babies, and we're going to
livo in tho same house, eat at tho same
table, and turn out bigger crops than
any other ranch on the globe."
lie rose up to go, rapped on the box
with his crutch, and continued:
"Resolved, That this glorious old
family stick right together in tho old
homestead for the next million years to
como !"
Oranges and Lemons.
Orange and lemon plantations, iu the
Mediterranean countries, are called gar
dens, and vary in size, tho smallest con
taining only a small number of trees,
aud the largest many thousands. The
fruit is gathered iu baskets similar to
peach baskets, lined with canvas, the
basket being held by a strap attached
and passed around the neck or shoul
ders. From the garden the fruit goes
to tho repacking magazine, whero it is
removed from the boxes, in which it was
packed in the gardens, and repacked for
shipment by experienced female pack
ers, after having been carefully assorted
by women, and wrapped in separate pa
pers by young girls. As many as 500
persons, mostly women and children,
are employed by some of tho fruit
growers in their gardens and magazines,
for gathering, sorting, and repacking
for shipment, tho wages paid them vary
ing from nine to sixteen cents a day. A
full grown orange tree yields from five
hundred to two thousand fruit annually,
and arrives at the bearing state in three
or live years, as does tho lemon tree.
In sorting, every fruit that wants a stem
is rejected. The boxes aro then securo
ly covered, strapped, and marked with
tho brand of the grower, when they are
ready for shipment. Twenty years ago
this trade was nothing in its commercial
characteristics, or the inducements it
offered to capitalists. Now it is progress
ing with giant strides into prominence,
and is a considerable sourco of revenue
to tho government.
Why 'Twasn't a lom Likeness.
A certain lawyer had his portrait
taken in his favorite attitude, standing
with one hand iu his pocket. His friends
and some of his clients went to seo it.
Every bady said:
" Oh, how much it is liko him ! It is
tho very picture of him!"
One farmer, who happened to be pres
ent, thought differently:
"'Taiu'tabit like him!"
"'Tisn't, eh?" said half a dozen at
once; " just show us wherein it is not a
capital likeness."
" Wa'al, 'tain't; no uso talkin', I tell
you 'tain't !"
"Well, why? Can't you tell us why
it ain't a good likeness ';"
"Yes, easy enough. Don't you see
lie has got his hand in his own pocket ?
'Twould be as good ag'in if he had it iu
somebody elso'sl"
A Lie.
A lie which is a part of a truth,
Is ever the blackest of lies.
For a lie which is all a lie,
May bo met and fought with outright,
But a lie which 1b part of a truth,
Is a harder matter to fight.
Tennyson.
Items of Interest.
A national ode The public debt.
Being threadbaro is a terrible bear , to
a proud mau.
The groat feature'.at seaside resorts
The big bill-owes.
Carlylo's recommendation was : "Mako
yourself an honest mau, and then you
may bo sure that there is one rascal loss
in the world."
A flock of hens in Fairhaven, Vt.,
have been fed so much on raw meat that
they kill and eat all the young chickens
that come among them.
A woman named Adolaido Robin,
fifty years of age, threw herself from an
attic window in Paris not long ago, being
a victim of unrequited love.
William Sangborn, of Medwny, Me.,
is under arrest for having killed his
wifo, aged sixty-one. He sets up that
ho " dreamt he was fighting a bear."
It is proposed to have a Stato law in
New Jersey prohibiting any ono from
selling a can of fruit which isn't full
weight. That's tho right weigh to cure
the wrong weigh.
The oldest journalist on the staff of
tho Cleveland Plaindcaler sums up his
experience as follows: "No man can
keep habitual company with a cockroach
and bo cheerful."
Who cau sound tho depths of a
woman's love ? A " Smoky City" po
liceman shot a drunken husband whilo
boating his wifo, and now she is prose
cuting him who perhaps saved her life.
A Frenchman has discovered a method
of making paper incombustible, and it
will doubtless prove of great value to a
nation that has her public records burn
ed so often as tho ono in which he bo
longs. Burglars are common in Atlanta too
common. When a family man goes
home at night he has to hide behind tho
gate post and bawl out, "It's me, my dear
est," at tho top of his voice, in order to
keep from being shot.
Tho superintendent of a Sunday
school in Washington is an undertaker,
and there is some talk of asking him to
resign because he makes tho children
sing " I would not livo always " re
gularly every Sunday.
Sixty miles north of Dnluth, Minn.,
an iron mountain has been discovered
which rivals its namesake in Missouri.
It is eight miles long, one and a half
miles wide, and 1,200 feet abovo tho
level of Lake Superior.
A recent number of the Chicago Tri
bune serves up the murder nnd robbery
of one day in several columns of elabo
rately headed matter, ono of the lines
reading : " Several plain, unassuming
murders committed out West."
A certain young gentleman of Evans
ton, Iud., recently accompanied a lady to
a train to seo her safely started on her
journey. He carried her railroad ticket
in his pocket for safety, and found it
there, when he reached homo, some
hours after tho train loft.
Scientists have at last found out what
tobacco smoke is a mixture of cyanhy
drio, siuphureted hydrogen, formic, ace
tic, propionic, butyric, valerianic and
carbolic acids, half adozen kinds of alko
loids and creosote. We don't wonder tho
humanitarians declare that it is killing
people.
A catanuoycdLouis Tollman of Mount
Airy, Ohio, and ho loaded heavily a double-barreled
gun, intending to shoot tho
pest. He fired once, wounding the cat,
and then chased it, striking with tho
stock of the gun. A blow hit the floor
hard enough to explode the other charge,
and Yollman was lulled.
In the case of King vs Fenton, whero
the prisoner was tried in 1812 for tho
murder of Major Hillas in a duel, old
Yudge Keller thus capped his summing
up to the jury : Gentleman, it is my
business to lay down the law to you, and
I will. The law says the killing of a
man in a duel is murder ; therefore, in
the discharge of my duty I tell you so ;
but I tell you at the same time a fairer
duel than this I never heard of in tho
whole " coorso" of my life.
Distance of the Sun.
Prof. Daniel Kirkwood, professor of
mathematics in an Indiana university,
contributes the following to the Indi
anapolis Journal : The earth's mean dis
tance from the sun, as deduced from
Eucko's discussion of the observations
mado on the transits of "Venus in 17(51
and l7G9, was 95,280,000 miles. Till
within a few years past the accuracy of
this determination was not called in
question. So lately as 1851, Dr. Lard
ner, in his " Hand-book of Astronomy,"
affirmed that Encke's value of the dis
tauco could not vary from the truth moro
than its threo-hundredth part. Quito
roceutly, however, astronomers have
been led, by various considerations, to
regard tho distance as somewhat too
great, and hence the results of the ob
servations in December, 1871, with fho
improved instruments of modern con
struction, have been looked for with a
lively interest. Tho discussion of thoso
observations has not yet been completed.
It is known, however, that the result
ing value of the sun's horizontal parallax
cannot differ materially from eight sec
onds and eighty-seven hundredths
of a second. This corresponds to a mean
distance of 91,875,000 miles. We aro,
therefore, nearer to the sun by 3,423,000
miles than was believed but a few years
since. Tho distances of the other
planets are to be diminished iu a corre
sponding ratio the reduction in tho
case of Neptune, the most remote,
amounting to no loss than 100,000,000
miles.
Stolen Letters. A Marblehead
(Mass.) correspondent of the Boston
Neii'8 charges that fifteen hundred and
ninety-eight letters sent to his address
have been . stolen by some one iu the
Boston post-office during tho past live
months, and estimates his los thereby
at over $2,000 a year.