Itatos of Advertising. One .-?Uiiro ( 1 incli,) one Insertion - ? One Square " ni nmntli - -Oho H'liiaie " three mouth - ' tVEKY WKDNKKOAY, BY 11. DtJNX. ';:;0N it BONNER'S building ; ui:et, tionesta, pa. :i no 0 10 One f-c uaro " ono year Two N'limrc", ono year -iirirter('ol. ' - Half Ono " - - . !o cn 15 Cn KHI CO I ; MS, $2.00 A YKAK. . 'l pilous received for a shorter i tlu-i'c months, !i I. -nee solicited from all purl try. Xonoticn will I in taken o 1 communications. T.cjjal not ices at established rates. Muriairo and death notices, gratis. All )ilislir yearly advertisements col lect e.1 quarterly. Temporary advertise, mfiits must. be j:iid for in advance. Jok w -.r., t'a'-h on Delivery. VOL. XT. NO. 45. TIONESTA, PA., JANUAKY 29, 1879. $2 PER ANNUM. f'omohoTT er Other, ' union for every man's shouldor; . wcape from its troubles and care ronth and 'twill come when we're r is so clone dm garments we wear. into our lives nnluvited, h"rt of thoir treasures of song j M and friendships are Blighted, 'V other we worry along. u everyday blessing,. ,v '9 cottage and ornst we may . cU on which burden are pressing is the heart that in strengthened ycr. f other the pathway grows brighter we mourn there ia none to be- ' ."ml 5 , ia the heart makes the burdon soem lighter, And tomehow or other wo got to the end. THE VALLEY OF DEA1H. A Tale of the I.nnt Afahnn War. CHAPTER I. AN ASIATIC BEAUTY. Evening ia Afghanistan, on a fine ,ber day in 1811 : the city of Cibul g outspread in all the beauty of its ;utless gardens and many colored vera btueath the sunset glory, the .stive tomb of Baber, the Mogul, aiding ont like a giant sentinel against ,o crimson flky ; the red light fading i lowly over the wide greou pluin around, ! tted with white villages, aud . framed 1 a ring of purple hills ; the little river moing and sparkling amid its cluster- -ar trees, and here and there along the - ndless ranks of wooden houses a fews i ifbaned figures gliding forth to enjoy - refreshing ooolneBS of the coming liut the peaceful scene harmonizes ill with the stalwart figures in white frocks that come tramping along the riain street showing the light hair and 'ir blue eyes of the Englishman be i e the lank, wiry frame and dark, lean . sage of the Sepoy heeding as little !:ift fierce looks darted at thorn from cither side as the gleam cast cn their bayonets by the setting sun. Afghanistan has been invaded and i rrun; The great Ameer, Dost Mo med himself, is on his way to Pesh u ns prisoner, and sixteen thousand ts hold Cabul in the name of Shah j ill, the new king, whom British juneta have force! upon the "men ol . .o mountain." But the invader, flushed with their i nay victory, and ill restrained by their cjmtaander, are already beginning to lone their discipline. An experienced leader wculd augur mischief from the sounds of boisterous merriment eohoing on every side, and to and fro, as unlike os possible to wary soldiers in the heart of an enemy's coun try. , At the oorner of the principal streets three or four of the loudest brawlers had Waited and spread themselves out as if atop some one who wished to pass. "Holloa, Bill 1" cried a rongh voioe; ' ' "ere's a prize. Who'll bid for a share ?" "Share and share alike, as good com rades ought 1" shouted a second, with a coarse laugh. " Let's have a look at the little baggage." . - And, so speaking, he tore away the vail of tha slight figure which his com rade had seized, revealing the f ace of a young native girl of sixteen. ' " The next moment the aggressor started back with a howl of pain, as the small knife, which is every Afghan woman's inseparable companion, gashed his ex tended hand from side to side. But the frail weapon was instantly wrested from her, while half a dozen strong hands seized the struggling form in their brutal grasp. Just at that critical moment a blow, which the late Senator MorrUsey him self might have applauded, sent the foremost assailant sprawling on his Lack, while the others recoiled right . nd left before the shock of a tall figure Lliat came bursting in among them, scat i jring them in all directions. , " Now, then f-who the deuce are yon, F-hovin' in where you ain't .' wanted ?" rowled one of the soldier's,, pugna- iouslv. .'. ' The new-comer deigned ao reply, but iontly threw back his cloaki display 7 to the startled group the uniform of . line oGSosr, &ad tho' badge of; their vn regiment. ... " By Jingo 1" muttered the challenger, 7 itha look of dfsuhiy,. ".here's a pretty i,b." V .. ' "You call yourfceljes Englishmen? cried the officer, in a voice almost inar, ( oulate with passion. " Is this how you " ep up the honor of the old. flag? ;ou shall hear of.tuia to-morrow morn- 1, be assured of that I Bo- pff'with - - -... - i he crestfallen brawlers slunk iwoy iiout a word. ' ' I'hen the resoued girl took her pra ter's haud in both her own",'- and Hed it lightly to her forehead, with . &lmost royal digiity, whiuh, in one rcely beyond the years of childhood, . t miuhed even the unimaginative Eng ltbhman. v Though voted a model officer by his superiors, and an insensible brute by the ladies of the Peshawur garrison, Captain St. Clair was not yet so thor oughly "pipe-clay" as to have lost his appreciation of feminine charms; anJ ho could not but own that thii yonng beauty of the wilderness, with the fire of her Afghan blood in her deep, lus trous eyes, aud the supple grace of the Oriental in every line of her perfect figure, made such a picture as he had sekiom teta. In spite of himself, his voioe softened as he asked, in her own language: "Unve they hurt yon, my poor child?' "I would have hurt them, had they not snatched away my knife," answered the Afgbanne, proudly, as she pointed to the blood drops that had fallen from her apsnilant's wound. . "The daughter of Akbar Khatj knows how to defend herself!" "Akbar Khan 1" echoed St. Clair, recalling with a sense of vague un easi ness for which he could not liimself ac oonrit, the name of the terrible chief wIiobo influence among the hill tribes was only second to that of the Ameer himself. "Bat how came yon here, then, when your father is far away in the south ? " . "I came to visit a friend of my father's," said the girl with a momentary hesitation which did not escape her questioner. "She's lying, the little tox I " thought he ; " bat it's no business of mine." "I was going back," she continued, "to the friends who are waiting forme in yonder village, but I found the city gates shut." ' . " If that is your only difficulty," said the captain, " it is soon mended. Come with me." A few minutes brought them to the eastern gate, and two words to the sen try sufficed to open it. As the girl passed through the deep, shadowy archway, she looked wistfully back to her preserver, and paused for a moment as if abont to speak. Bnt the words, whatever they were, died on her lips, and St. Clair strolled baok to his quarters, with a half-smile upon his faoe at the thoughts of a ro mance which the sentimental subalterns would have rejoiced in falling to the lot of an " old stager " like himself. Little did he dream that upon this seeming trivial occurrence hung not merely his own life, bnt that of every man in the English army. CHAP. II. OATH ERIN O OF THE VULTURES. Sixteen days had passed since Captain St . Clair's adventure, and J Jhe night of the 5th of November found him slowlv pacing the street whore it had occurred. As he stood musing, hidden by I he nbadow of a projecting corner, two Af ghans came slowly up the deserted street. Just as they passed him, he heard one My to the other : "All is well, then: for the hill tribes are with ns to a man if Akbar Khan but lift his finger." " It is said that the khan would have held back," rejoined the othnr, " for he tnewthat the Feringhees (Europeans) are strong; but when he heard that 'hese dogs (may Allah consume them I) had intuited his own daughter.Guleyaz, when she came hither in the last moon with his message to the chiefs of the city, he swore that not a man of the un believers should escapeV and he will keep his onth 1" And the speaker's voice was lost in the distance. St. Clair's heart grew chill within him as he listened. His worst sus picions were now fully confirmed, and the benumbing sense of secret treacheiy (of all things the most abhorrent to a brave man) oppressed him like a nightmare. Scaroely knowing what he did, lie stepped forth as if to follow the two conspirators, and found himself face to face with Qnleysz herself t There she Btood, in the ghostly twi light calm and beautiful as ever, but with a sombre light in her large dark eyes, such as one pees in those of the hungry tiger, when, after a long and weary circuit through the jungle, he sees the deer which he has been track ing fairly within reaoli at last. "Feringhee," 6he said, taking his hand, " you showed me kindness once, and an Afghan never forgets either good or evil. Death is waiting for the Eng lish host, and I have come to save you ere it be too late." " It is you, then, who have betrayed us ?" said Ilerbert, with an intensity of Boorn which no words can convey. The taunt struck home. In an in stant the tender, clinging woman sprang up into an offended queen. Betrayed 1" echoed she fiercely. "Is it treachery to aid my own race against its enemies? Why did the Feringhees come hither to waste our valleys and burn our homes? Why have they taken our own king from us, aud set up in his stead a dog unworthy to tie un Afghan's sandals ? But woe to them! Before the full moon shall have spent her light, the dogs shall lick the blood of every Feringhee in Cabul I" Ilerbert shrank back appalled, so hideously changed was that beautiful faoe by the sudden tempest of passion. But this movement of aversion checked her rage in mid-current, and the warm, womanly heart beneath asserted itself once more. ' "Do not be angry with me," she whispered, pleadingly; "no one shall harm you while I live. Ilear me the English are many and mighty, but what avails the tiger's strength when he is once in the toils! Every leaf on yon der hills is an Afghan warrior, every twig a loaded rifle. Esoape if you can ; I will guide you out of the eity, and bid my menas Keep you safe till all is over, Why should you perish in vain ?" As she spoke, there came over her hearer's noble face a smile of grand and commanding scorn. lie drew up his towering figure to its full height, and met her beseeching eyes nnflirohingly as ne repneu : " Do you ask me to desert mv com rades in their sorest need, jnst that I may save my own life ? Thank you sucu meanness noes not run in our blood. If we are to die, we will die like brothers, shoulder to shoulder, striking hard and deep to the last, with the old English flag flying overhead !" The girl looked at him a look which, through all the horrors that wtre to come, he never forgot. Grief, anger, tenderness, wondering admiration, were all mingled in the momentary flash of those marvelous eyes. Then she pressed his hand passionately to her lips and was gone. Ila ! What wbh that sudden glare that broke ont over the whole eastern side of the town ? And what could be the meaning or that dull, distant roar, like a far-olf sea, swelling ever louder and louder, till the ear oonld distinguish the sharp crackle of musketry, the crush of falling buildings, the clamor of countless voices, and high over all the terrible war-shout, "Allah Akbar !" God is victorious. Jnst at that moment four soldiers, torn and blood-stained, came marching past, carrying a helpless, ghastly, dust-begrimed figure, in which even St. Clair himself conld scarcely recognize his once gay and dandified junior lientenant. " It's all up, old boy," said the lad, faintly. They have fired our quarters and murdered poor Barnes and ever so many more ; and the whole town's up to help them. Nothing for it but to die game." " Nothing, indeed," muttered Her bert. God have mercy on us all !" The next moment he was hastening at full speed toward the scene of action. CHAPTER III. THE vitliEy. OF DEATH. All great historical Catastrophes Ar mada wrecks, London pestilences, Sara gossa sieges, Moscow retreats are wont to prolong the agony which they inflict, and to let fall their vengeance drop by drop, instead of mercifully endiDg all with one crushing blow. So it fared with the ill-fated invaders of Cabul. The murder of Sir Alexander Barnes, the noblest of the countless martyrs in that disastrous year, was oLly the first drop of the coming storm. Then followed blow upon blow, the rising of the whole surrounding country, the destruction of the reconnoitering parties sent out too late by the com m inder-in-chiof ; the capture of the British stores, which left the troops nlmost without food, and at length, on the fatal 1st of January, 1842, the crowning madneES of the "convention of retreat," by which the whole army gave itseii up to its destroyers, accept ing the assurance of a safe passage homeward from the very men who had sworn the death of every British soldier n uabui. Foremost in every combat was Her bert St. Clair, recklessly exposing him--lf to all dangers; for', soldier as he was to his very fincer-tips. the sight of u English flag dishonored end an Eng lish army in retreat, bowed him down with a sense of personal disgrace, and made him careless of life after ueh a humiliation. But, to the amazement of all who wit nessed his recklef a daring, he came out of every fight as scatheless as he had gone into it; and the conviction grad ually forced itself upon him, with a thrill of mingled bitterness and delight, that the Afghans had purposely spared his life, aud that they had done so be-cdi-se he was the man whom their great prince's daughter secretly loved. Meanwhile the course of events went inexorably on. On the fifth of January, iu the depth of the terrible Afghan win ter, the lorlorn army two-thirds of which were men reared' amid the burn ing heat of India tiled throueh the cate of Cabul, wearied, dejected.half-starved, in-supplied witn ammunition, to com mence its long march of death. For a time, however, it seemed as if the assurance of safety were really to be kept. They passed the great plain without firing a shot or seeing the face of an enemy, ar.d even the most expe rienced officers began to hope that, after an, tneir worst apprehensions might prove unfounded. But they little ;knew the man with whom they had to deal. Akbar Khan was not one to let slip the prey which he had once ensnared, and the jaws of death were already gaping for every man or tne ill-fated army. In the grav of a gloomy winter morn ing, they came in sight of the pass of jvoora-Uabul, through, which lay their shortest route to India. At the first glimpse of the black, tomb-like gorge, shut iu by frowning precipices, over which brooded a weird, unearthly si lence, the boldest felt their hearts sink, but it was too late now to draw back. Bank on rank, with the ghostly mist closing around them like a shroud, the doomet Host went down into the valley of death. An! then, in one moment, the tragedy bigan. Far and wide the air was rent with the Afghan war-chout, and each rock, each thicket, each hollow, was one blaze and crackle of musketry, every bullet telling fatally upon the helpless mass below. Surprised and outnumbered, the English still stood their gtonnd man fully, and attempted to return the fire, but against ambushed marksmen hun dreds of feet overhead, what oould they do ? In a moment all was one whirl of fire and smoke and hideous uproar; yells of rage, shrieks of agony, savage curses, the shouts of oflioers, the neighing of frightened horses, the crash of falling rocks, the groans of the woanded and dying, all mingling in dismal chorus with the thunder of the battle blood flowing like water, and death coming blindly, no man knew wheace or how. What need to dwell ou the multiplied horrors of that fatal day? how the en trapped men, famished, wouuded. hope less of escape, fought stubbornly to the last; now the worn-out officers, with their swords dropping from their frost bitten bands, still cheered on their fainting men as gallantly as ever; how one handful of heroes fought their way out of the deadly valley, only to be slanghiered to a man by fresh enemies beyond. Of sixteen thousand who left the capital, only a single man reached Jellalal.ad alive; and one day avenged alike Rohilcnnd and Cabul. Through the whole of the dreadful struggle. Herbert St. Clair had fought among the foremost, reckless of life, and caring only to have his fill of Afghan blood before he died. Man on man, the white frocked mur derers fell before his deadly aim; and the rooks above began to echo with the cry of " Kill the Ingleez-Bashi 1" (Eng lish captain) while bullets fell around him thick and fast. But although his uniform was torn to rags and his cap struck from his head, the death hail still failed to reach his life; and the superstitions mountaineers looked with secret awe upon this man whom no weapon could harm and no peril dis may. But the end came at last. A sharp, sudden pang shot through his left side a sick dizziness overpowered him the bjaok rocks and the rolling smoke, and the eddy of struggling figures, swam before him in a mist there was a rushing, roaring sound in his ears and he fell heavily to the earth. CHAPTER IV TRUE TO THE LAST. When St. Clair regained conscious ness, he was too weak and weary to take much note of his surroundings. His chief feeling was one of overpower ing exhaustion, mixed with a vague sense of having lain insensible for weeks or even months since the fatal day of Koora-uabui. Liittle by little be began to notice that he was lying upon a cushioned-couch in a large, high-roofed chamber, the walls of which were hung witn tue SKins oi wolves and tigers, mingled with pointed helmet?, silver- hilted yataghans and long mountain rifles. Through a narrow loop-hole in the wall, which revealed its immense thick ness, he caught a glimpse of a smooth green valley far below, dappled with clustering trees, among which a tiny stream sparkled in the sunlight a suffi cient proof how long a time must have elapsed since the gloomy winter morn ing of the great battle. . At that moment a light step caught his ear, and, looking round, he beheld ouce more the long dark hair and lus trous eyes of Guleyaz. He was about to speak, hut she sign ed to him to be silent, " The angel of death still hovers over you, and you must beware. I will tell yoix all yon wish to know. The Ferin ghees are slain, every man; and the Ciiward whom they set up as our king has fled for his life. They who struck you down were men of another tribe, who knew nothing of my father's pledge; but our people recognized you among the fallen, and brought you away and here, iu the halls of Kara Dagh, you ere safe as beneath the shadow of the prophet's tomb !" The word "Kara-Dagh" (Black mountain) was a revelation to 8t. Clair. There was no further room for doubt. He was a prisoner in the mountain stronghold of Akbar Khan himself ! Day succeeded day, and the wouuded officer, thanks to his own native vigor as well as the untiring care of his charming nurse, began to shake off the fatal tor por which had held him down so long. After a while he was able to leave his couch, and, supported by the arm of Guleyaz, who seldom left him, to ven ture forth upon the bat.tlemrmts, where he sat for hours drinking in the life giving mountain breeze, and feasting his eyes upon the glorious panorama be low. From Guleyaz herself he had learned that her father was himself in the strong hold; and the reluctance with which she gave the information recurred to his memory more than once. The reason of these precautious was at length explained by a piece of news which made his heart loan, when the careless talk of two sentinels brought it to his ears, viz., that a second English army was advancing into Afghanistan to avenge the destruction of its predeces sors. But these disturbing ideas were speed ily banished by thoughts of a softer kind. No living creature is more thoroughly accessible to female influence than a strong man suddenly made helpless; and Herbert, with the princess1 arm supporting his weary head , and her musical voice repeating some stirring native war-song or romantic Eastern legend, was happier than he had ever been amid the rush and carnage of the battle-field. But this pleasing dream was destined to a sudden and awful awakening. One morning when St. Clair's strength was bo completely restored that thoughts of escape had already began to haunt him, Guleyaz rcse to leave him much before her usual time, with a long, lin gering, beseeching look, which her last words terribly explained: " The Feringhee warriors are on their march hither, aud my father is angry. This day ha will send for you, and, oh, beware of offending him, for your own sake and mine I" An hour later, the curtain that hid his door was lifted, and a deep voioe said: " Follow us, Ingleuz. The khan calls for you." Led by his guards, St. Clair traversed a seemingly endless passage, and enter ed a wide hall, around which stood a line of armed Afghans, motionless as statues. In the center sat the principal chiefs of the tribe, and midmost of all the stately figure of Akbar himself, in all the Bplendor of barbario adornment, with the folds of his jeweled turban overshadowing tie fierce black eyes that had never known fear or mercy. As the prisoner entered Galeyaz (who was seated beside her father) shot one rapid glance at him, as if to bid him remember her warning, and then cast her eyes down as before. There was a momentary pause, and then Akbar spoke: "Feringhee, you are a brave warrior; and ai chief speaks with chief, so will I sneak with you. We have slain many of the Ingleez, and their brethren are angry. War is at our gates, and we need every good sword that will fight for us: Hear me; we have fought with you as an enemy we now embrace you as a friend. You have been valiant and we respect your valor; you have been kind, and we are grateful for your kind n(88. Dwell among us, fight iu our ranks, call yourself an Afghan instead of a Feringhee and my wealth shall be your wealth, and I will be your father, and my daughter shall bo your bride." For one moment the brave man's pulse throbbed wildly, as the large deep, eyes that had so often looked love into his own rested on him imploringly. Few men could have met that glance unmoved; while, on the other hand, he knew that to refuse such an offer from such a man would be rushing upon cer tain death, in the cruekst form that Afghan vengeance could devise. Bnt in the face of the terrible temptation, the English heart within him beat true as ever. He looked fearlessly into the merciless eyes that watched him, and his voice never wavered as he replied: " Prince, you have spoken plainly, and I thank you. Your offers are great; but were yon to offer me the Afghan crown itself, y u could never tempt an English soldier to break his faith and take the hand of a traitor and a mur derer. Do your worst I defy you t" Even the iron men aronnd him shud dered to hear such words addressed to their terrible leader, and the daring sp( ech was followed by a dead and awful silence. A momentary spasm of rage shook the prince's granite-hewn face, succeeded by a look of stern and reluctant admiration the Bavage's instinctive admiration of courage, even in a mortal enemy. He spoke at length, wi-.h a calmness more deadly than the loudest anger : "It is enough take him away I" The guards led forth the captive ; aud mingling with their heavy tramp came the doomed man's last words : " God save old England I" The silence of midnight brooded over the ancient palace, wheu the gloom of the dungeon into which St. Clair had been cast was broken by a sudden light. Before him, white and rigid as a corpse in the spectral glare of her lamp, Ktood Galeyaz, with her finger pressed warningly to her lips. In silence she held out to him the tnnio and gaudy turban of an Afghan warrior, signifying to him to put them on. He obeyed mechanically, like cue iu a dream, and the moment the disgniso was complete she led him hastily to the door. Outstretched ou the floor outside lay the sentinel, evidently stupefied by some powerful narcotic, by whom administer ed Herbert conld easily guess. Pausing a moment to assure herself fiat all was still in the castle, Guleyaz went straight to the end of the passage and opened a small iron door, locking it behind her as soon as they had entered. What followed Herbert could never clearly recall. He had only a vague re collection of tracking the gloomy wind ings of a dismal cavern, from whose damp, cozy sides the water fell drop by drop, with a snlleu plash, which was the enly sound that broke the eternal silence. One of these drops extinguished the lamp, but Gnleyaz's bnrning hand seized his own in the darkness, and led him onward he knew not whither. At length, after a seemingly endless interval, another door flew open before them, and St. Clair, with a delight which no words can convey, felt the cool night air on his cheek, and saw the stars shining overhead. " There lies your road," said his guide, pointing down the valley. "The armies of your people cannot be far off now. May Allah keep you safe till yon reach them." "And you?" asked Herbert, with a sudden impulse of tenderness, us the tremor of her voioe told him she was weeping. " They will know that it is you who have saved me, and then " "Who cares what liappeun tome?" answered the girl, passionately. "When the dew that refreshed it is gone, what matter how soon the flower withers ? I have saved your life I care not how soon I lose my own. " " Never, by heaven I" cried St. Clair, throwing his strong arm around her, as if his whole soul were poured into the caress. " I am not such a oar as to sneak off ia safety, and leave my little ewe-lamb to these mountain-wolves. Come with me, darling; ard may I be called coward before the whole repi ment, if anything bat death ever parts us two again !" Years later, the story of that flight sorely tried the faith of the guests at Clairmount park; but still harder did they find it to recognize the savage ama zou of Cabul in the beautiful and high bred lady to whom Sir Herbert St. Clair was wont to say playfully : My dear, I've been telling these gentlemen aliout our Afghan adven tures in 1842.' Vui id K r. Sight on the Farm. 'TLa dowfall on the lonely farm, The flocks are gathered in the fold, The dutiky air is soft as balm, The daisies hide their hearts of gold- S:ow, drowar, RwinRviij bells re hesrd In pturea de y, drk and dim, And in the door-yard trees a bird Thrills sleepily his evening hymn. The dark, blue deeps are full of stars ; One lone lamp in the hillside glooms, A mile away, is red as Mars ; The night is eweet with faint perfumes. At bee time In the quiet honne, Up through the wide, old rooms I go, Without a Hop ; and not a nwate Is stirring. Loudly, to and fro, Tuo old clock ticks, and easterly The ancient windows open high ; Here the nun's kiss will waken me, With bird songs welling up the aky. Anna JJoynlon AcerilL Items of Interest. Eighteen seventy ? Nein ! The prodigal's return Gold come to par. Bayard's Taylor's life was insured for $10,000. Sleigh-riding affords k. k. cold comfort. Baking powder is used for blowing up bread. A man takos no interest in a bad in vestment. Fun for the week .V. farce in an in sane asylum. Nothing was mada ia vein, Jexcept human blood. The inebriate's song This is the way I long have sot. It is said that the Bpeed of a comet is eight times greater than a telegraphic message. The Chinese new year begins on the 5th of February, and they csaebrate ac cordingly. A New York shopkeeper has written on his door: "Every oue shnts this door but you." " S8t Bolid," as the printer said when the chair he sat down wasn't there, and he landed on the floor. The tuberose grows wild in Venezuela, ' a ad also in great abundance, being the principal flower there. A man and a lion met one bight, l;ut they'll never meet again, For tfA mau ran away with all his might, And the lion with all his mano. Mr. Biker, of Oshkosh, has a son of neven years who reads in three lan guages. He is the flower of the family. Merid n Recorder. And is un doubtedly well-bred. Home Sentinel, A young lady said to her lover : "Charley, how far is it around the world? "About twenty-four inches, my darling," replied he, as his arm en circled her waist. She was all the world to him. The first weeping willow in England is said to have beon planted by Alex auder Pope. He received a present of fig;s from Turkey, and observing a twig iu the basket ready to bud, planted it. From his stock all the millions iu Eng land and America are believed to have sprung. The school is till ; a hand is raised " May I go out, please, eirV" And 'tweea his handkerchief and DObe Dj ruddy stains appear. " Why, certainly," the master says ; The urchin fctraightway goes ; He takes his cap from off its pe;, The cranberry from his nose. How to Cook a Husband. The first thing to be done is to catch him. Having done so, the mode of cooking him so as to make a good dish is as follows : Many good husbands are spoiled in cooking. Some women keep them constantly in hot water, while others freeze them with conjugal coldness; some smother them with hatred aud contention, and still others keep them iu pickla nil their lives. Those women always serve them up with tongue sauce. Now it is not sup posed that husbands will be tender aud good if treated in this way; but they are, on the contrary, very delicious when managed as follows : Get a large jar, called the jar of carefulness (which all good housewives have on hand), place your husband in it, aud set him near the fire of conjugal love; let the fire be pretty hot, especially let it be clear; abovo all, lot the heat be con stant, cover him over with affection and subjection; garnish him with spices of pleasantry, and if you add kisses aud other confections, let them bo accom panied with a sufficient portion of Be crocy, mixed with prudence and modera tion. Toledo Jitdrfr. Bayard Taylor's Lines iu an Albuui. Long ago, when Biyurd Taylor was a young man, he wrote in the album of a young friend the following lines, which reveal the character of his aspirations at that early age : " Tpou the world's great battle-nsld the brave fc'.rugyle and win and fall. Tuny proudly go, Home to unnoticed graves, aud some to ataud With earth's bright catalogue of great and good. Who, urged by oontioloiniueus of nolle aims, Rtauda breast to breaet with every evil thought, Subduing until stricken doun, ahall pats In warrior glory to hi long repose. And his good dow's neut like a bauuer-pall Telling tie faith he fonyht for to the woilil Upon his memory, fur all coming tim ! " Hayhd Tayuh." New Yoik, Octobrr 3, JS1M.
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