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Anonymous communications.
VOL. XII. NO. 14.
TIOKESTA, PA., JUNE 25, 1879.
$1.50 Per Annum.
A .Summer Mood.
ATe said, when wan November days
Had buried all the flowers,
" The world uo longer wears the charm
O! April's sparkling hour;
A subtle change, a nameless spell
Has turned the bloom to mold,
The days are dark, the nights are drear,
And we are growing old !"
But whon the vivid folyige woke
Beneath the solt spring rain,
And from the maple boughs we heard
The robins sing again,
With the first note our hearts grew light,
Our lips no longer cold,
Drew glad with kindred melodies
Can this be growing old T
Rare meanings, radiant prophecies
. Koch day and evening gave,
All fairy land revived again
Iu verdure, sky and wavo.
The violet on the river's brink,
The river as it rolled,
Sparkled in sunbeams at our loet,
And mailed at growing old 1
Then listening to the woods' low stir,
The rapture of the birds,
In the warm light of nature's smile
More eloquent than word,
We cried " He ours the heritage
So joyously loretold
Our youth but slept; our souls are strong,
vThore is no growing old !"
Jli, friend, I uvo cheer ! witbiu the breast
Eternal sumnior lies,
Our childhood's vanUhed roso is wet
With dows ol Paradise.
The rivur of our joy runs doep
And flows o'er sands ol gold,
We drink the wino of youth divine,
We never Bhall be old !
-Fra:tce$ L. Mace, in Portland Tranuript.
THAT UNLUCKY QUOTATION.
A STOUY OK " PINAFOKE.
They would have made a very pretty
picture on a painted tile, as they sat on
the porch in the vivid afternoon light.
The cottage itself whs as trim and com
- plcte as a toy house ; its color was a solt
gray. The late sunshine was goldenly
clear, and all the green world was shin
ing, fresh from a shower. Auntie Trih
was sitting in a bright red rockinjE-chair,
and her pretty old lace was as pink ami
white ns a hunch of roses; and as for
Sallie 'herself well, ask any critic in
Rockdale, from the oldest inhabitant
down to the tiniest toddler, and you will
hear a more enthusiastic comment than
any which I can supply. Rockdale is a
njat little New England village, far
away out of the world, in a rocky, hilly-and-daly
district, where the direct de
scendants of the l'uritans still hold their
sway.
Auntie Trih's son. Tree Grace Hill
called " Free " for short made his name
good at an early age by snatching his
liberty and inarching away " to town"
nevermind what town; wecancallit
L- . lie. verified his mother's title at
the same time, for she became indeed an
embodiment of tribulation; but Free
disappointed her agreeably, for he found
a good situation.) and worked in it faith
fully and steadily. Uo was now a never
failing source of pride and delight when
on his brief visits he dazzled Rockdale
with his " town-made ,v garments, his
dainty mustache and general air of
"sty lie."
His last visit, however, proved an'
epoch in the history of Rockdale, and al
so in the history of his 'air little orphan
cousin Sallic. He brought with him un
older friend, employed in the same house
with himself, but in a more advanced
position. This personage, whom he de
signated as Jack Arnold, immediately
sent poor Free into the shade, and cast
him down from that pinnacle of fame
which ho had mounted at the cost of
many a pair of highly-polished boots
and much studied elegance!
- I will not attempt to describe the effect
which young Arnold produced upon the
" simple village maidens." Every pretty
wile which had formerly been directed
toward the fortunate son of Auntie Trib
was now leveled at his friend, with a
force and energy thatprodueed the effect
of a bombardment. Tire long, howevei,
it was discovered that the new-r-omer
was proof against every vceie of attack.
Not that he was invulnerable far from
it. The truth was that he had fallen
under the very lirst shot. He had not
been beneath Auntie Trib s roof twenty
four hours before he bad succumbed un
conditionally to the force of Sallie's
rlianni Tim lit tin Puritan mn.ir)pn.
with her cameo face and her steadfast
gray eyes, stole at once into his heart
an honest heart, for t here is no yillain in
this unpretending tale and from thence
forth he was her liege knight for life. It
was not by passionate pleading and great
deeds that he undertook to win her for
his own : no, the task was but easy, after
all. He was fair, good-humored, tall
and handsome; Free said he was a capi
tal fellow, and Sallie had great faith in
Free; ho was'devoted and unreserved in
expressing his affection: what more
could maiden ask ? Before his vacation
. was over he had bravely made known his
love, and was shyly but readily accepted ;
and w hen he and Free left Uockdale they
bade a tender farewell to a happy little
damsel wit h a ring udoii her finder.
All this did not happen long ago, but
in this very year of 1879. Rockdale was
nestled away far and deep among the
hills; it was not very near the town of
1) ; and L itself was not a great
city. How slipuld Rockdale know what
was agitating the world beyond? By
" newspapers, of course; but women do
not often read the newspapers carefully,
and the two women of this narrative
seldom looked into them. Especially
did they, in their Puritanic rigor, neglect
the amusement columns. After all, why
read of operas, plays and concerts that
one cannot see or hear? When anything
was " going on " in Rockdale itself, ail
the village was on the alert: hut no one
cared what the fashionable folk stared at
through tlieir opera-glasses in the great
cities. So this year, when "II. M.S.
Pinafore" sailed jauntily, with colors
flying, into American waters, many of
the inhabitants of Rockdale recked not
of it, and this simple fact brought con
sternation to the house of Hill. The
" saucy ship " found its way to L ,
anchored there long enough to set a few
enthusiasts to singing " Little Butter
cup" and "The Merry Maiden and the
Tar" (iaeorrectly, of course), and not
finding quite so warm a welcome as in
some of the larger cities, soon set sail,
again for a more congenial haven. But
the mania for quoting the libretto
especially the " hardly ever " epidemic
spread in that region, as it did every
where. Our friend Jack Arnold went to see
the performance, and of course he
thought of Sallio all the evening, and
envied young Hill, whose lady-love was
in the party. The two young men were
meditating a brief visit to Rockdale, and
hence it was, perhaps, that Jack's
thoughts were too far away to allow of
his giving full appreciation to the incom
parable little opera. . All the tender
music filled him with thoughts of love,
from which the irresistible jingle of the
merry choruses beguiled him only for
the moment. Therefore, when the day
oame for the journey to Rockdale, and
he found himself at last in the presence
of his beloved, his mind was quite ab
sorbed by the ioy of it, and he had no
leisure for such trifling matters as the
discussion of a pretty new opera. So
Sallie was left still in her benighted ig
norance; she knew nothing of "Tina
fore." They began to talk of mundane mat
ters, however, on the second evening,
when they were all seated together.
"That poor Laura Beam is!" said
Auntie Trib, compassionately. "Hid
you know she'd got back, Free?"
" Laura Beamis!" uttered Free, with a
laugji, and glancing at Jack, who looked
a trifle conscious. "You had a flirt "
" Yes," interrupted his mother; "and
they do say shes been jilted by some
town young man to a degree that's
made her a poor, broken-hearted con
sumptive." " Dear me !" exclaimed Free. " Heart
and lungs gone at one fell swoop! That
is going into the dying business whole
sale." This irreverent comment was received
by Auntie Trib with much reproachful
indignation ; but Sallic sat mute, with a
wildly-beating heart. Gossip had car
ried to her ears the tale that Laura
Hcnmis had claimed a former acquaint
anceship with Jack Arnold. The un
fortunate girl had gone to live with her
aunt in L , and had returned in
serious ill-health, the result, it was said,
of a disappointment in love. Free's look
was peculiar. Could it be
"Mv grief ! it's an awful thing," con
tinued Auntie Trib. " She was engaged
to him, I think, and he went off some
where and came back engaged to some
other girl. My! the poor tiling looks as
if she had one foot in the grave a'ready.
It's leally drctful, ain't it, John?" with
a sudden appeal to the silent listener.
"Very very, indeed," said Arnold.
" I T knew her."
"You did? Well, I want to know!"
said Auntie Trib. "Why didn't you
say so before? Wasn't she pretty, poor
thing, before site got so low-spirited?"
"Who was the man?" asked Sallie,
suddenly.
" Very pretty, I think," said Jack,
answering Mrs. Hill's question. He
did not mean to ignore Sallie's, but Free
broke in with a torrent of lively non
sense, and the conversation drifted away
from Iiura Beamis and her troubles.
Swllie wiis slightly uncomfortable, but
6he had confidence in her lover, and did
not allow herself to indulge, as yet, in
causeless suspicion. Auntie Trib, how
ever, recurred to the former subject,
which iad distressed her simple, senti
mental old heart. She exclaimed, medi
tatively: w
" My ! ain't It dishonorable for a man
to behave so!"
" If I knew him," said Sallie, looking
like a youthful prophetess, in her sweet
austerity, "I would never touch his
hand again no, not if he had been my
best friend." .
"What! so severe?" asked Jack, with
half-amused remonstrance.
"AVhew! Look out, Jack," cried
Free. "You never did anything dis
honorable, did you?"
" Never," answered Jack, readily and
quietly enough.
This was irresistible.
."What! never?"' asked Free, with
intense significance.
" Well, ' hardly ever,' " returned Jack,
nervously rubbing his chin, apparently
the ery embodiment of guilty con
fusion. Then they both uttered cold
little evasive laughs, and Free changed
the subject.
The truth was, they had both heard
the joke so often that it could no longer
raise a hearty laughr and they did not
reuect tnat the quotation was entirely
new to their hearers. They talked on,
ignorant of the overwhelming effect
which their words had produced. For
Auntie Trib was seriously alarmed, and
began to think that she ought to have
inquired more closely, into the young
man's antecedents. She resolved to
question Free at the earliest opportunity ;
but how could this be accomplished,
since the two friends intended to leave
Rockville at an early hour on the follow
ing morning? She decided to write a
most urgent letter, and sift the matter to
the bottom. But how was it witli
Sallie? The little incident was, to her
narrow and innocent mini, a "con
firmation strong as proofs of holy writ."
Jack was evidently ashamed of some
thing in the past; lie had been confused
and silent when Kaura lioamis was dis
cussed ; the events tallied ; yes. the cir
cumstantial evidence was strong. Free
had said. "You had a flirt " " a
flirtation with her," he had intended to
continue, when his mother interrupted
him. But what if Jack were innocent
in the case of Laura and her broken
heart? At least he had openly con
tradicted his first denial of having com
mitted a dishonorable action. " Hardly
ever," indeed 1 Did he think she she
would marry a man who had ever com
mitted the faintest shadow of a dis
honorable action? Never! not though
her own heart broke, like Laura's.
All night long poor Sallie lay tossing
on her bed, working her foolish little
brain into a state bordering upon frenzy.
She revolved the matter' in her mind
until she lost all power of correct and
tranquil judgment. The more violently
she excited herself, the more conclusive,
to her thinking, became the proofs of
poor Jack's biiseness. At length she
could lie there no longer; she rose, and
by the faint light of the winter dawn she
wrote a brief but decisive letter to Jack,
slipped her engagement ring into the
same inclosure, sealed the envelope, and
wroto his name upon it. Jtaint and
weary witli her long conflict, she was
about to lie down again, when she re
membered that it was near the early
breakfast hour appointed for the two
young men. and that she had promised
to assist Jerusha in her preparations ; so
she dressed hastily, with trembling
fingers, and crept down to the kitchen.
Had she obtained an hour's sleep she
would have awakened with a clearer
sense of things, and the unfortunate note
would probably have been destroyed.
But now her wearied and overstimulated
brain continued to ponder upon the
cause of her distress, and magnify it to
gigantic proportions.
"For the land's sake, child." ex
claimed Jerusha, " you do look power-
lul bad"
" I couldn't sleep." said Sallie. shortly.
"There. Jerusha, the table's set. and
there's plenty of time for me to go and
rest a while now." And quietly laying
the note beside Jack's plate, she hurried
back to her room.
Her lover glanced around with rest
less eyes when he met Free and AiiDtie
Trib at the breakfast table. He had not
believed that Sallie would elude him
this morning. He seated himself, with
anxiously drawn brows.
"What? why. here s a letter!" he ex
claimed. Then, examining it, he read the
word " Private" beneath his own name,
and flushing hotly, he slipped it into
his breast pocket. from bailie, he
said, quietly.
"hat ever does the child mean?"
cried Auntie Trib. " Ain't she upP Je
rushy, go right up and get her."
"hue said as how shea ben lavin7
awake," said Jerusha, " and she went to
rest a spell."
"Well, you go along and tell her to
come," said Mrs. Hill.
But Jack called out: Don t disturb
her if she's asleep."
J erusha went up, and presently came
clattering down again. "She's asleep,"
she said as she entered.
Poor Sallie had indeed dropped into a
troubled slumber, and IJack would not
admit for an instant the idea of rousing
her.
"It would be cruel," said the soft
hearted fellow, " Free and I will run
down here very soon again."
He was disappointed and doleful, but
he hoped the letter would explain mat
ters. "The ring had been dropped into
the fold of the paper, and its shape
could not be distinguished through the
thick envelope. Poor Jack wondered
vaguely what the hard substance within
could be, but the real state of the case
never dawned upon him.
As he and young Hill were walking
together to the railway station he took
the note from his pocket and tore it open.
It was brief, mysterious, decisive.
" Queer enough," said Free, " for Sal
lie to give us the slip in this way. Just
like you not to wake her. She'll be
mad enough to Bless me, Jack,
what's the matter?"
For Jack had stopped short, with a
violent exclamation. His face was pur
ple, his eyes blazing with wrath and
pain. He held up the ring before Free's
astonished gaze.
" What in the name of" began Free.
But he was unheard; Jack turned
swiftly, anil ran like a madman back
to the Hill cottage.
Sallie was walking the porch in an
agony of doubt and trouble. Her brief
rest had cleared her perceptions, hut it
had not yet freed her from the state of
mingled perplexity and stubborn de
cision into which she had worked her
self. She was not yielding, but she was
wretched and regretful.
Suddenly Jack appeared before her,
flushed and glaring, his excitable tem
perament roused to its highest pitch.
"Are you insaneP" lie cried, seizing
her roughly by the arm. " Do you want
to drive me to pedition with your wicked
cruelty? In Heavens name, explain
yourself." And he fairly panted for
breath.
" Let me go!" sho uttered, sternly; " I
will not have you to touch me. Ad
dress me as if you were at least a gen
tleman." Jack was goaded to frenzy, and an
swered lintemperately ; so the miser
able quarrel raged high. Noexplanation
was given; mutual recriminations passed
back and forth. At last Sallie taunted
him with an allusion to his flirtation
with Laura Beamis.
"So it is for petty jealousy that you
treat me so?" he cried.
" No," she answered. " It is because
I know you to be dishonorable."
At the word Jack's heated face turned
pale as death. The two foolish people
were now at white neat.
"It is a lie," said he, in a voice of
ominous calm. And she, as sternly and
quietly, sent him from her, with orders
never to return. So he turned upon his
heel and lett her there, and their bond
was broken.
After this the days went on quietly
enough. Night succeeded day with re
morseless regularity. No one knew what
Sallie Hill suffered; no one knew what
she would have given to recall her bitter
words. She had cast Jack away without
counting the cost; she had learned at
last that she could not afford it ; she was
a bankrupt in happiness. Gradually Jie
slim, haughty figure grew slighter and
less erect; the proud little mouth soft
ened, and let fall words of piety with
greater readiness than of old. She was
growing meek through pain. One
month changed her as a year might have
done.
Talking one dav with Laura Beamis.
who was growing stronger and more
cheerful, she looned down at her ring-
less linger with deep dejection, and
Laura, following her eves. said, sud
denly :
"Sallie, I hoped you would have mar
ried Jack Arnold. I knew him in L ;
he is such a good fellow! He and I
once had a little innocent flirtation, be
fore before well, when I first left
Rockdale, and I have always since
thought of him as a friend. You're not
engaged to him?"
"No," replied Sallie, in a tone which
forbade inquiry.
"So that was all!" she thought. "I
believe I have lost all for nothing for
nothing! But it is too late." Still her
pride nevertlrearaed of bending.
But further revelations were to come.
At last a "Pinafore" company visited
Rockdale, and Sallie, seated by a rustic
swain, who basked in the cold light of
her rare smiles, heard with languid
pleasure the inimitable opera. Sudden
ly, like the jest of a mocking fiend, there
broke upon her ears the fatal words
which had helped to destroy her peace,
the familiar "What! never Pr' " Uardly
ever." Strange words to be associated
with heartache and misery! Yet, ab
surd as it may seem, they were, to
Sallie's ears, freighted with a drearier
spell than the ancient cabalistic mut
terings of witch or wizard, or the fate
ful utterances of the oracles. For this,
this mere quotation, this idle joke, she
had wrought herself into a state of virtu
ous indignation and angry suspicion of
the man she loved. And she lost him.
This was the bitterest touch ; yet more
was to come.
When she reached home, Auntie Trib
met her with a rueful countenance.
" My grief! Sallie," she exclaimed ; " I
don't b'lieve you treated Jack Arnold
right. Here's a letter from Free sayin'
Jack's down with typhus fever, or some
thin' like it, and he says you've killed
him, and that we must come down to
L- right off. But, lawme! what's he
thinkin' of, wantin' you to run your head
into a contiguous disease!" (Auntie
Trib's words wereoften changed at birth,
like the captain and Ralph, when she
spoke in haste.) " Why, you might as
well face small-pox as typhus not but
what I'm sorry for Jack; but of course
we can't go."
"Go!" cried Sallie, whohad snatched
the letter. "Try to keep me, that's all!
I must go to-night to-night! It's ty
phoid, not typhus, auntie. Oh, if I could
take it and die! Oh, Jack! Jack!" and
quiet, dignified Sallie broke down, and
wailed like a child.
They could not go that night; there
was no train till daybreak; but Sallie
made ready for their journey witlrfever
ish energy. Her poor bewildered aunt
remonstrated feebly, but in vain; she
was whirled off in the early morning
light, and sat in a dazed condition on
the train, with her best bonnet all awry,
and with Sallie's white inflexible face
beside her, gazing straight forward, like
a mournful Fate. How the young proud
heart had been humbled that night in
prayer and tears! Would the journey
ever end?
It ended at last; and Jack, who was,
I am bound to say, not quite so ill a
Free had represented, awoke from sleep
to find bending over him not the fair
avenging goddess of his late troubled
dreams, but the sweet woman whom he
loved. Of course he forgave her; of
course he recovered. What would you
expect? He was tender and vehement,
and grief and perplexity and remorse
had broken him down; but he was vig
orous, and joy and confession and for
giveness restored him. Of course you
knew from the first how the story would
end ; it is but a trifling tale of a tempest
in a teacup. But Sallie had learned a
lesson which she never forgot.
How Jack laughed when he heard her
explanation! "As 'Pinafore' was the
cause of our despair," he said, "let
' Pinafore' express our newly-recovered
happiness."
And lie began to sins, feebly and in
correctly, but still heartily,
" ' Oh, joy ! Oh, rapture unforeseen !' "
Free and Auntie Trib stood by like a
"kindly chorus," smiling benevolently.
"I'll never be so foolish again," said
poor Sallie, meekly.
"What! never P" hissed Free, in a
stage whisper.
" No, of course she never will," cried
Auntie Trib, failing to recognize the
joke, although it had been explained to
her a great many times. With which
exhibition of innocence the old lady
" brought down the house" as Captain
Corcoran himself could never do. But
you see her audience was so very happy.
Harper's Bazar.
Words of Wisdom.
. A hopeless person is one who deserts
himself.
Ignorance has no light ; error follows
a false one.
A fine coat may cover a fool, but never
conceals one.
There is no grief like the grief which
does not speak.
He who blackens others does not
whiten himself.
Genius is sometimes arrogant; knowl
edge is always diffident.
We are never so proud and so humble
as when we are praised.
What is styled timidity is probably
nothing but the fear of showing too little
merit.
A good constitution is like a money
box its full value is nover known till it
is broken.
Good taste is the modesty of the mind ;
that is why it cannot be either imitated
or acquired.
In general, there is no one with whom
life drags so disagreeably as with him
who tries to make it shorter.
It the shoe of a monarch could do as
much as the monarch himself, the court
would be divided between his majesty
and his shoe.
The dearer and more gaudy the silk
handkerchief the further it is allowed to
I stick ou of the coat pocket.
TIMELY TOPIC'S.
A Vienna journal says that when start
ing for Livadia, the Russian Czar went to
the station in an ironclad carriage, escort
ed by about 400 mounted guards. The
station was surrounded by military and
police, and entrance was strictly pro
hibited. Similar precaution? retaken
at all stations along the li .v train
full of police and guards p.:eded the
emperor's, and no one for twenty-four
hours was permitted even to approach
the rails.
There are certain comparisons between
the vital statistics of France and Prussia,
in a recent report to the Academy of
Sciences of Paris. Thus, it appears that
in France 100 marriages give about 300
children: in Prussia, 400. It is also
shown that in France the annual in
crease in population ("births over deaths)
is 2.400 for each million of inhabitants,
while in Prussia it is 13,000. At this
rate the population of France should
double in 170 years ; that of Prussia in
forty-two.
Dr. Keith, of Illinois, asserts that diph
theria comes from potato eating. Dr.
Keith claims this notion to be the result
of his own experience as well as that of
his father, extending over twenty-nine
years, and embracing eleven hundred
cases of diphtheria. In all of these cases
the patients were potato eaters. Persons
who eschewed the potato escaped the
diphtheria, though residing in the midst
of an infected district. It may be pre
sumed that this sweeping charge does
not apply to healthy tubers, but only to
those affected by the potato rot.
When the Duke of Argyll, father of
the MarqU'S of Loi'ne, Canada's Governor-General,
nrrived in New York, on
a Cunard steamship, he was interviewed
before he could land by the ubiquitous
reporters, one of whom described the
Scotch nobleman and his family as fol
lows : " Then came a pleasant, somewhat
stout gentleman, with red hair, gray
whiskers and slightly freckled face, who,
it was whispered, was the Duke of
Argyll. He wore a dark, mixed summer
overcoat, standing collar and black
cravat; and although he had three or
four servants in attendance, was littered
up with the small traps of a traveler.
On the Duke's arm was his eldest daugh
ter, Lady Elizabeth Campbell, a tall,
delicate-complexioncd blonde, with light
auburn hair and pale face. She wore a
black cloak of some plain stuff', with a
black fur collar, over an ordinary traveling-dress.
Behind this couple came Lord
alter Campell, a younger son of the
duke, and almost an exact picture,, sav
ing that he looks younger, and that his
hair is redder, of his brother, the Mar
quis of Lome. Lord Walter wore a
blue, flannel yachtman's suit, a blue
checked shirt and black tie. He escorted
his younger sister. Lady Mary Camp
bell, a pretty young woman of eighteen
or twenty, with wavy auburn hair, who
was dressed like her sister in traveling
dress and plain black cloak."
A Rich Widow and Her Adopted Son.
It is better to be born lucky than rich,
the proverb says, and 1 believe it. You
may be born rich and die poor, but if
you are lucky you will never want. A
case in point is that of Mrs. Mark Hop
kins, the widow of the California mil
lionaire. She was a school teacher in
this city, and no longer a young girl
when Mark Hopkins happened at the
same boarding-house, wooed and won
her. They had no children, so she
adopted a boy of seven years of age by
the name of Tim. He is nineteen now,
and a very amiable unspoiled fellow, not
particularly bright, and not at all dull,
His adopted mother is perfectly devotee
to him, and indulges him in all his de
sires, hhc is anxious to have mm love
literature, and is building a magnificent
library for him. During her last visit
to New York she bought $7,000 worth
of rare books from one importer. She
buys knowingly, too. The house she
hiis just completed in San Francisco cost
$2,000,000, and llerter fitted up two
floors at a cost of $ sJOO.OOO. " My room
is magnificent," said Tim. " I just gave
Herter unlimited authority, and suits of
armor re hung on the walls, and he has
made it look like a castle." Mrs. Hop
kins travels in her own drawing-room
car like a princess, with French cook
and silver table service. Her bedroom
has a large double bed in it. and there
is a handsomely furnished parlor and
kitchen besides-. When she stops any
where, the car is switched off", and waits
her pleasure on a side track. The last
time she was in New York it was
brought up to within a block of the
Windsor Hotel. I would not pretend to
say how many millions that the Widow
Hopkins is worth, but you may imagine
from her manner of living that it is a
goodly sum. And Tim, has he not been
fortunate? A poor boy, picked up to bo
the heir to such a fortune. So I say
again that it is better to bo born lucky
than rich, lor neither Mrs. Hopkins nor
Tim were born rich, but see what luck
has done for them ! New York Letter.
A Sheep Bults a Mirror.
Quite a commotion occurred in a far
mer's house a short distance out of
Rome, N. Y. They were cleaning house,
ami left open doors leading to all parts
of the house. In one of the rooms was a
large mirror, reaching to the floor. On
the premises is a sheep whose head is
graced with horns, and which is very
tame, entering the house whenever an
opportunity is presented. This wooly
animal got into the house unnoticed.
When first discovered it was standing
face to face with the mirror, shaking its
head fiercely. Before it could be reach
ed it jumped back for a good start, end
then plunged its head into the mirror.
Instead of coming in contact with some
other animal, as it expected, it demol
ished a fifty-dollar mirror. The crash
so frightened the animal that in its
endeavors to escape from the screams
and attacks of the women of the house
it found a place of exit through a French
window.
Beware !
i.
Keep wnkctul eye and ear, my triend,
For nil mankind;
Thou canst not know nor toll, my friend,
What lurks behind
The flattering speech, the gracious smile
How little truth, how much of gaile,
Is hid within the heart the while.
Beware !
II.
Remember, e'en thysell, my friend,
Host cratty grown ;
Consider how deceit, my iriend,
Erst deeply sown
Within thy breast, slow fed upon
Its kindlier nature, until won
The victory o'er thy peace undone.
Beware !
III.
Ah, life's a losing game, my friend,
A taunting blank
When love itself is tricked, rny friend,
By wealth nnd rank;
Take council of thy wit, and seek
No lavors that thy feelings pique
Of both the fawning and the meek
Beware !
iv.
Trust him who makes thee pay, my friend,
And squarely, too,
For all he grants; 'tis he, my Iriend,
Alone that's truo.
He hath no subterfuge, no plan
To cheat or cozen ; such a man
Thou canst respect, and waive this ban
Beware !
Erratic Enrique, in Puck.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
The hair crop is very short this sea
son. Oil-wells vary in depth from 100 to
1,100 feet.
Walking skirts The garden's mar
ginal path.
Sticking to the bitter end- Chewing
rhubarb root.
London has 220 dry days i the year,
and Dublin but 150.
The Japanese government has ;' ist
purchased in New York State 200 Me
rino and Cotswold sheep.
It is very dangerous to make up your
judgment concerning a young lady's
weight by measuring her sighs.
A small boy in New York was brought
to life after having been at the bottom
of the Iludson for eight minutes.
Gen. Henry Lee was the author of the
phrase, " First in war, lirst in peace, first
in the hearts of his fellow-citizens." It
was used in a series of resolutions pre
sented to the National House of Repre
sentatives, December, 1700.
Reuben R. Springer authorizes a posi
tive contradict ion ol the stories circulated
throughout the country that there is
trouble between Theodore Thomas and
George Ward Nichols in the manage
ment of the Cincinnati College.
The Erie railway pays Jewett, its
president, a salary of "40,000 ; Tom
Scott, of the Pennsylvania Central, gets
$100,000 for the same service. The
president of the Baltimore and Ohio
railway, one of the wealthiest corpora
tions m the United States, refuses to
iccept over $4,000. Chicago Commer
cial Advertiser.
Her liege lord had a bad cold, and she,
though she is perpetually nagging him
and even wishing him dead, goes in
tears to confide to a friend the gloomy
apprehensions inspired by her poor dear
husband's hacking cough. "Ah, my
dear," she concludes, "1 shall immedi
alely call on the best medical talent the
directory affords, for if I Mere to lose
my husband I know I shouleVco wild."
" After whom?" says her friend.
The great elephant fair of India is an
nually lield at Sonepoor, on the Ganges.
Thousands of horses and hundreds ol
elephants may then be seen, and the bar-gam-driving
and deceit ol elephant-sellers
seem to be fully as great as the tricks
of horse-dealers at home. The price of
elephants has risen enormously of late
years. In 1633 the price of elephants
was $225 per head ; on the Bengal gov
ernment requiring seventy of these ani
mals in 1875, the sum of $700 each was
sanctioned, hut not an elephant could be
procured at that price. Seven hundred
and fifty dollars is now the lowest rate
at which young animals, and then chiefly
females, can be bought. Tuskers of any
pretensions command from $1,000 to
$7,500, but the Koomeriah, or best strain
of elephant, will fetch almost any price;
$10,000 is not an unknown figure.
A Blind Artist.
One of the most remarkable disciples
of art in the world is M. Louis Vidal.of
Paris, who is totally blind, yet models
as exactly and carves as truly as many
another who is blessed with the sense of
sight, lie began the study of art when
a very young man, and lost his sight by
paralysis of the" eyes when twenty-one
years old. Having received good in
struction and being wholly in love with
his art, he would not allow his misfor
tune to check his career, but continued
his studies until by degrees he found his
sense of feeling grow so acute as almost
to compensate him for the loss of vision.
Unlike many of his predecessors, Vidal
has executed many original works, and
lias exhibited for more than twenty
years in succession and received a medal
in 1HC.1. Many of his works, though pro
duced slowly, have been purchased by
the State on account of their real merit,
and the Empress Eugenie made the ac
quisition of one of his productions dur
ing the reign of the late Emperor Na
poleon III. He prefers to work at night,
when all isquiet, and when friends come
to see him at his labors he often forgets
that they cannot see in the dark ami
lets them sit without a light and unable
to tell what he is about.
k