Rates of Adv crtising. Onequare (1 ineh,)ono Insertion - t! OneS'iuare " one month - -Six OneS'iuare " three months - (! CO OneNquare " one jcar - - 10 Ob Two Squares, one year ... 1"(q Quarter Col. " - - - - 0 Half " " - 60 (0 Ono " ---- j;)0 00 Legal notices ftt established rates. Marriage and death notices, gratis. All bills for yearly advcrtinemonta col lected quarterly. Temporary advertise monts iniiat ho paid for in ndvfinec. Job work, Cash on Delivery. m I't'BI.IsnED EVERY WEDNESDAY, BI or . n. "vtrxjivris: orriCE in roeiusou & bonner'8 buildik(j ELM STREET, TIONESTA, PA, rl rail u TERMS, tl.60 A TEAR. No RulmcrlptlotiB received for ft shorter iporkxl tlmn three montlm. Oorrpspondcncn solicltpd rrom all parts ( thu country. N, notiro will bo taken of anonymous communications. VOL. XIII. NO. 11. TIONESTA, PA., JUNE 2, 1880. $1.50 Per Annum. uruu Unsound Mine, That I? 1o Ho. Thonph I would not mnko it publio For a pocket Inl of gold, Vet I'd like to know a soeret 'flint has novor yet boon told ; In your ear now lot me whispor Lrst my bliiHhot you might boo Thin: It I atn to huvo a husband, Pray, who in tho m-in lor moT I ba palo or il ha ru 1 ly T It ho woak or Is ho strong T Is ho Alio 1 with prou I am'iitio T Oroontont to plod along ? Will ho m nke mo vory happy ? 'Xis a lottory, you'll a.roo, All abmt fill Hiring o ii ni Husband, niiuo, lb it is t ) b i! It ho sad or U ho morry ? I hn short, or it ha-tall T Eyes ot gr.iy or bl ick or az iro Which will hold my Ijoai-t in thrall T Will ha love ma us no oihor? Anil shall I at cormt.int be, U'md.tring hwnigo to tho hulpmate Sunt by hoavoi to oomlort in9 ? I'niy don't think me bold or forward. For m maiden in the land - Dut would lika to take a sly pop (fust tor fun you understand?) At tho "obj'iot" of tho lu'.ure Thut dulintlul mystery, That so mikos one's poor heart flutter . Husband mine, that is to bo! -.V. A. Killer, ii BMrnih't Myntkly. FIFTEEN, FOURTEEN, THIRTEEN. Tt w&s on a blustering evening in March that Mr. Alexander Ashe, paus ing in his rapid progress through one ol the tree-christened streets which bisi'd the city of Penn took from his pocket a letter, and holding it well up to catch the no me what uncertain light of a lamp, studied the address with a zeal sharp- I l... -- 1 J 1 ! cutu uy suiiuen apprcii"nsion. "Confound Uncle Nat !" he mur mured, " I wish he would learn to put tails to hia 5V 1314, no; 1514, no; that quirl certainly must mean a 3. Well, this is really too bad. It never occurred to me till this moment ttiat there could be a mistake, but certainly it is 3, and not 5. A nice business it would be to make a blunder in heiress bunting Pshaw! But it's to please Uncle Nat. He's been good, to me in his way. the old fellow has, and I can't well refuse so slight a favor as that I should call on these what's their names? Ashursts, even if he docs go on to air what lie calls his."long-rnatured hopes' that the call uy lead to something more interesting. It won't, though. J i ever saw a girlwilh money yet that wasnl altogether detestible. 1514. 1314 which is it P Never mind, this is Thirteenth street; so much is certain Now let's see the house must be on this side. Perhaps the name is on the linn . U ir tnn.l T nAvvst. 1-a, " F UWI, . J y UUTCi X lie V VI bUUUK LI U Ul that. , Sure enough, the name wai on tlie door ' sliurst " revealed plainly enough ly an opportune street lamp directly opposite; and Alex Ashe rang the bell, muttering to himself: "A good hit that It's lucky I didn't go off in search of 1514. Still, I wish Unnle Nat would mend the tails of his5V ... A uarrow entry presented itself to his view when the door opened, lor the house was small, ard the misfortune of a small house is that each new-comor instinctively makes his measurements, and' deduces from what , he sees the probable extent and compass of what hn does not see. " The ladies were at home," and awhile-capped maid took his card into the parlor, and returning presently, ushered him in. " What a pleasant room 1" was his first thought as he entered. Not a "handsome parlor " in the least. He was used to thoso parlors where every mirror, bronze, curtain, and piece of furniture was the exact complement of similar articles on the other side the part y-wall on either hand; where solus and chairs wore line clothes on occasion, and com mon petticoats for common days, and nothing seemed intended for use, com fort, or the indulgence of unauthorized or impromptu pleasures. Thi3 was a room of different type, not handsome at all in the conventional" sense, but full of individuality and charm. Thick rug-like hangings of the cheap Abruzzi tapestry of Italy draped doors and win dows; tho walls, of soft harmonious tint, were hung thickly with pictures and drawings, among which wandered, apparently at will, the shoots of a magnificent ivy. A bright lire of can- huLfifta I nlniun ? .tin 1 . at I n t i . i were books everywhere; the piano stood open, ana strewn with music sheets; a writing-table, heaped with papers, in one corner, and an easel and paints in another, Bhowed that busy ' people used the room, and worked there when so moaned a thing not often permitted in parlors kept for show; and on the chimney-piece stood a bowl of fresh violets, which diffused a spring-like odor about the place. Two young ladies, evidently tisters, rose from seats beside the lire, and came forward to receive the guest. The elder, who held the card between her fingers, had a sweet and senciblo countenance.a remarkably pretty figure, and a manner lull of gracious dignity and composure. She was of that type ol woman whom other women wonder that all men don't full in love with; but they don't. The younger was in a totally different style iair, round, brilliant, smiling, possessed of a thou sand untaught graces, which lent to her manner inexhaustible variety and caarm, but withal with the sunny candor of a child shining in her clear blue eyes. Amy Ashurst was alto gether an enchanting creature, and .vlex Ashe, b truck and dazzled, mut tered to himself, with suddem excite ment: "By Jove! Uncle Nat has hit it for once. Here is a girl .with money who beats hollow all the girls without any that I ever met. I am everlast ingly indebted to him." And while theso thoughts whirled through his mind. Miss Ashurst was enunciating her soft little sentences of welcome. " Wo are glad to see you, Mr. Ashe, and mamma will bo very glad when she comes home. I am only sorry that she should happen to be out this even ing at Mr. Berguin's eercle, but thay al ways break up early. She had a letter from your aunt, I think it was, in the autumn, in which she said that there was talk of your coming here toward spring; but she named no time, and mamma did not know when to look for you." " My uncle, probably. He is not mar ried. I had no idea, however, that he had written to Mrs. Ashurst so long be forehand, though he bade me call upon her without fail." "Your uncle?" repeated Miss As hurst, doubtfully. "I thought I recol lected; but of course I might easily bo mistaken. Pray sit down, Mr. Ashe. Oh, not on that chair; that is only com fortable for ladies. Try that big square one. What a blustering night it is!" "I thought so till I came in, but no one would suspect it from the atmos phere of your room, Miss Ashurst. What a delightful room-it is!" ' I am so glad that you think so,' put in the beautiful Amy, whoso voice was as sweet as her face. "Florence and I are always pleased when any one praises our rooms, because they are mamma's doing, and we think that she has the most perfect taste in the world." " Nothing could be pleasanter, I am sure. It is thoroughly individual, and yet has such a look of home, and that is , not an easy look to produce in a city house, it seems to me." "No, it isn't; but mamma is a real wonder-worker; she always gives that look," cried Amy, eagerly, dimpling and Hushing, and looking twice as hand some for tho pretty glow of pleasure. We hear occasionally of love at first sit: ht, and we smile at the notion as ro mantic; but for all our disbelief and our derision, the thing does sometimes happen even in these matter-of-fact days, aud it happened that evening in the case of Alexander Ashe. His ex cuse must be that nothing in the world was easier than to fall in love at first sight with Amy Ashurst. Apart from her beauty, and her remarkable charm of manner, which in itself would have been irresistible outfit for a far plainer girl, every moment spent in her company made it more and moro apparent that this outward loveliness was but the ex ponent of a nature lovelier still, " pure as her cheek and tender as her eyes." It would have required a tough he irt in deed, or an already occupied one, to have resisted her spell, and Alex Ashe had neither. He had been rather indif ferent to young ladies up to this time, and piqued himselt a little as beauty proof ; but he melted like frost in sun under the influence of Amy's sunny looks, and with a feeling akin to that of the old woman ot the nursery legend, wondered if this were indeed he, as he drifted unresistingly on under the be witchment ot the occasion. Two hours sped like two minutes. It was ten o'clock before Mrs. Ashurst walked in horn her cercle. Her coming was like the breaking of a dream. She greeted him cordially, but there was a little per plexity in her manner as she said: "I am very glad to see you, but somehow you surprise me a good deal. 1 was not prepared for anything so tall or, formed. You know, 1 recollect you as 'little Albert,' and your Aunt Carry never mentioned than you were so astonish ingly grown." "Albert Aunt Carry!" thought the mystified Alex ; snd then, with a sudden sinking of heart, he began to surmise a blunder. "I do not quite understand," he stam mered. "1 Can there be I am half afraid I may have made a mis take. I am Alexander Ashe, not Al bert." Mrs. Ashurst looked more puzzled than ever. Florence blushed deeply, una became grave and embarrassed; but Amy's blue eyes met his frankly, with sucn a sparkle of kindly fun in them that Alex took courage to go on. "Prayletme explain," he said. "The mistake, if mistake there be, comes in tliis way. My uncle, Mr. Nathaniel Ashe, of Boston, whom possibly you may know by name, wrote me this note" taking it from his letter-case "in which ho laid upon me his com mands to call on his old friends the Ashursts before I left Philadelphia. He should write in advance, he said, to mention my coming, so they would be prepared to see me. My uncle writes a blind hand, as you may perceive, and I was quite at a loss whether thirteen or fifteen was the number; and while I was casting about I found the name I was in search of upon your doorplate. and made sure that I was right. Miss Ashurst seemed prepared to receive a Mr. Ashe, which continued my impres sion, and so-- In short, you see how it is, 1 trust, and will accept my assurance that the blunder was unintentional, and mads in perfect good laith. "It was a perfectly natural one," said Mrs. Ashurst, pleasantly. " And now pray resume your seat, Mr. Ashe, and let me explain m my turn. I have a dear old fnend, Mrs. Galloway Cum- mings, of Newburyport, whose sister married Mr. Drancis Ashe, of Salem She wrote some months ago to say that her young nephew, Albert Ashe, was coming on to study in the medical school of Philadelphia, and we have been looking for him in a vague way since February; so when my daughters read your card, 'Mr. A. O. Ashe.' they naturally took it for granted that you were he. You see, there was a blunder on both sides, and we have apologies to make as well as you." "I cannot regret my share in the mistake," said Alex, rising to go, "since it has procured me one ol the pleasant est evenings of my life." He glanced at Amy as ho spoke. Was there a little answering gleam in hereyesP He half dired to Lope it. " But about these Salom Ashes," said Mrs. Ashurst, desirous to set him at ease, and end the interview without cmharrassnient, "are they your rela tives in any way?" " I am afraid it is a distant cousin ship, if any. V . uncle, I think, has spoken of Home remote connections at Salem or Marblehead, but I am not sure of the facts. And now I must wish you good-evening, with renewed apologies, and sro in search of these other Ashursts, at 13 no, 1514. That will be two squares farther up in this same street, will it not?" " Yes. and I think 1514 is Mr. Walter Ashurst's number. He is a distant con nection of my husband's, but we have never met them. They are old residents in Philadelphia, and we new-comers,you must know. You see, we have mixed up obscure cousinships as well as names and numbers in this odd double misun derstanding of ours, Mr. Ashe." So, with courteous farewells, Alex took hi3 leave, and finding it too late for further calls, went back to his hotel heavy-hearted, for with all her courtesy and pleasantness, Mrs. Ashurst had not asked him to call again. What could be done? for go he must and would; that he was resolved upon. His spirit rose when, a little later, he missed his letter-case. "I shall have to call to ask for it," he thought; and fortified by this reflection, went to bed and slept soundly. Next morning he devoted himself to the " other Ashursts," who were easily found. No. 1514 proved to be a man sion of pretensions, wide and ample, with bays, balconies, carved stone-work, a stable alongside, and in all respects belonging to tho order of architecture known in newspaper parlance as the "truly palatial." Mr. Ashe was ushered . through a marble-paved hall into two dimly lighted and magnificent drawing-rooms, where rivulets ot satin meandered down either side of lofty, close-blinded windows, and a parterre of huge pale-colored flowers from the looms of Aubusson covered the floor. Each gilded and carved chair and sola wore a jacket of linen for the protection of its silken glories, each table and console boasted its unmeaning strew of costly trifles; chandeliers, pic tures, mirrors, atl were swathed in tar latan as a protection from possible flies ; while the family hearth was represented by a lacquered register which grinned uncheerfully from the midst ot a slab of marble, monumental apparently, which tilled the whole opening of the fireplace. This chill and gorgeous soli tude Alex had to himself for a quarter of ac hour, before a rustling on the stairs announced the approach of the ladies ot the family, and Mrs. Ashurst and her daughters appeared in a re splendence of French dresses. She, a stately dame of the conventional type, welcomed him graciously, and invited turn to dinner on the next day but one. It wa3 but short notice to collect a party, she rf marked, but they would do iheir best. The young ladies, three in number, were handsome creatures, very like eacli other, and like half a hundred girls whom Alex had met before. They talked enough for animation, and not too much for good taste ; their attitudes and movements were studiously grace ful: they had shrill, high-pitched voices. and were so perfectly at their ease as to give the impression of having been born equal to every social emergency which could possibly arise in the course of their lives. Alex mentioned his mistake ot the night before, and found the tale received with rather contemptuous amusemeat. There was a family of that name, Mrs. Ashurst believed, but she knew nothing about them. They lived near Thirteenth Btreet. did iheyP Ah! very odd, to be sure. Hadn't she heard somewhere that they taught something or other P appealing to her girls. Miss Ashurst thought that they did, and with a faint very faint degree of interest asked, " Isn't one ot the daughters rather pretty P" after which the subject dropped. Alex Ashe was conscious of a sense of relief when, the call over, he found himself again in the street. "What tiresome women!" he muttered. Yet why were they so tiresome P He had been familiar with just such women all his life, but never before had found them unendurable. "But then I had never seen Amy Ashurst," he medi tated. " Marry one of those girls! Not it they owned the mines of Golconda. and Uncle Nat went down on his knees to me." His call of inquiry after the note-case he timed so as to hit what he suspected to be ttie leisurely hour ot the family, in the later evening, lie was fortunate : the ladies were at home, and evidently expecting him, lor the letter-case lay conspicuous on the table, and Mrs Ashurst began with apology. "1 should have sent it to you had we known your address, but you gave us none, you remember." "I should have been most un-villing to give yon that trouble; and besides" candidly " when I missed it, I was yery glad, lor it gave me a pretext lor seeing you all again." He was so frankly handsome as he spoke, looking straight into Mrs Ashurst s eyes the while, that she was greatly pleased with him. " We are glad to see you, without any pretext," sho said. "And now, Mr. Ashe, sit down and tell us if your q uest of to-day has been successful, if you have found your uncle's Ashursts, the real Simon pures." So began another evening of en chantment. This time when our hero took leave, Mrs. Ashurst cordially in vited him to come again; and whilo he eagerly thanked her, Amy, taking the forgotten letter-case from ihe table. handed it to him, with a wicked little smile, saving. "You mustn t forget this, Mr. Ashe;" and he, quite unable to keep from laughing, replied, io. since Mrs. Ashurst is so kind as to say I may come without an excuse; other wise I should try hard to leave it for the second time.' Other evenings fol lowed, each pleasanter than the last There was the sweetest atmosphere about the mother and daughters, Alex thought; they were so cordial, so intel ligent, so unaffectedly fond of ne an other. Little by little he gathered the facts of their history, net from any for mal revelation, but by chance hints and casual allusions. Mrs. Ashurst, as he conjectured, had been left slen derly provided for on her husband's death, and with far-sighted wisdom had used her little capital in giving her girls a first rate education in Europe, with a view to their becoming teachers. They had but lately returned, and were not yet thoroughly at home in their own country ; but already Miss Ashurst was instructing large classes in French and German, and Amy giving music lessons to a number of pupils. Their evenings they kept free lor the enjoyment of each other and of the little home which they so valued ; and entering into the spirit of this life, so bravely busy, yet so tran quilly content, Alex realized frthe first time what the charm of home may be, where each inmate has independent oc cupation, but where all interests are shared and united as only they can be in those homes where love is lord and king. He dined duly with "the other Ash ursts," and duly paid his "digestion visit," but there the acquaintance rested. The insipidity of mere fash ionable intercourse st uck him so keenly, as contrasted with the domestic life he had iust learned to understand: the elaborate graces taught to worldly schools seemed so poor and shallow compared with " the mind, the music, breathing in the lace" ot Amy. that it struck him as sheer waste of time to devote his hours to them. "Who would care for a doll, though its clothes were ol nice. And its pettiooats trimmed iu the fashion?" he hummed to himself, as he walked home after his second call at 1514 ; and from thenceforward he gave himself up with heart and soul to the cultivation of his "happy accident." Uncle Nat was grievously disappointed when his favorite nephew, after a stay in Phila delphia so prolonged as to justify his most sanguine hopes, wrote to announce his engagement to an entirely wrong Miss Ashurst. A girl without a penny. sir, I give you my word," and it was long before the old gentleman could forgive the outrage. He never did for give it, in fact, till Mrs. Alexander Ashe came to Boston in propria persona, and then she made such a conquest ol Uncle IN at as lett him nothing to say in his own .justification or to the reproach of his nephew. He lived to thank heaven for his own bad handwriting. "or," as he would explain, "if the taiisofmy 5's had been one whit less indistinct than they are, you would never have gone astray, in Hemlock street that night, my boy, and we should never have had this little jewel of ours tor our own, and a sad thing that would have been lor us all hey. now, wouldn't it?" To which Alex Ashe replied, with emphasis: "Rather!" Harper's Bazar. A Ceremonious Nabob. I have told you, writes an English traveler, very little about the nabob (of tho Carnatic), although no day passes without mes?engers froin h i ru in the morning to inquire how I slept, and in the middle of the day to present agiftot fruit and flowers. He insists on my seeing these messengers with great silver sticks and returning my salaams by them, which is a great and grievous bore twice a day. After my first visit ho sent me a dinner of at least fifty dishes, each of which was brought on the head of 'a black damsel. This feast was displayed on the floor of the colonnade, and I was brought forth to see the embroidered covers taken off, and to admire the cook-shop. I made my salaam, and the repast was devoured by Lord William's body guard. The present of a dinner is an established custom in the East. The nabob is a very fat, thick-bearded person, about thirty. At my first visit he received me at the door of my coach, having bar gained that I should do the like when he returned my visit. He embraced me as soon as I was out of the coach with most affectionate huss, saying each time: "How d'ye do, governor general?" ihls l thought a very suit able salutation at our meeting, but it seemed less neat and appropriate at my departure, when, at the coach door, he repeated the lour embraces, with " How d'ye do, governor general?" four times again. During the reception he sat on a sofa in a great hall, in which was also the rausnud or throne, I on his right side, Lord William on his left. Then our in terpreter made us mutually happy by assurances of each other s perfect health. and the nabob returned thanks to God for the health of the king, the queen. the Prince of Wales and the princes and princessess, the court of directors. the house of peers, and all the members of tho house of commons, every one . r i t ll.i l -i 1 i . ' it . ui wuuui x assureu uiiu i nau icit in uiu most blooming health. We were then still mor deeply affected by our extreme attachment for each other, and by the singular felicity of beholding each other's faces. Many other similar affairs of state w.re trans acted between us, and when the pain ful moment for parting arrival, his highness dropped a few drops of attar of roses on my handkerchief, then sprinkled me profusely all over my best Vienna embroidered coat with rose- water, saying affectionately that he knew he was spoiling my coat (but what is a coat to tho effusions of friend ship?). Then he put on my neck a gar land of white flowers, gave me two packets of betelnut and then two roses. The first thing a man does when he gets miffed at his local paper, because it failed to notice in pica type that he had whitewashed his hen-house, is to come in and order it stopped, just as though the whole concern would stop because one paper had been discon tinued. Waterloo Observer. Street Lights. In the reign of Louis XIV., one of the most magnificent spectacles was sup posed to be the general lighting of the streets of Paris. The world was invited to witness the novel scene. It was be lieved to be the highest achievement of m,odern civilization neither the Greeks nor the Romans seem to have thought of the wonderful invention. Yet the lights of the great city consisted only of dim lanterns and torches, dispersed at distant intervals, and, compared with the bright glare of modern gas, would have seemed only a dusky gloom. Whether the Greeks and Romans lighted their cities at night is still in doubt. It is probable that Rome, except in rare instances of festive illuminations, was left in darkness. Its people, when they went out at night, carried lanterns or torches, or else wandeied, in moonless nights, exposed to robbers and stum bling over obstacles. Antioch, in the fourth century the splendid capital of the East, seems to have set the example of suspending lamps through its princi pal streets, or around its public build ings. Constantino ordered Constanti nople to be illuminated on every Easter eve with lamps and wax candies. All Egypt was lighted up with tapers float ing on vessels of oil at the feast of Isis ; and Rome received Cicero, after the flight of Catiline, with a display of lan terns and torches. Yet the practice of lighting up a whole city at night seems, in fact, a modern invention. Paris and London dispute the priority of the useful custom. At the opening of the sixteenth century, when the streets of Paris were often infested with rob bers and incendiaries, the inhabitants were ordered to keep lights burning, af ter nine in the evening, before the win dows of their houses; in 1558, vases filled with pitch and other combustible matter were kept blazing at distant in tervals through the streets. A short time auerward, lanterns were provided at the public cost. They were at first only employed during the winter months, and "were soon kept constantly burning. Reverberating lamps were next invented, and were usually surrounded by throngs of curi ous Parisians. In 1777, the road between Paris and Versailles, ior nearly nine miles in length, was lighted ; and in the present century, ttye French metropolis has steadily improved its street lamps, until the introduction of gas made the streets of Paris as bril liant by night as by day. its light was never quenched until, in its receut humiliation, its glittering boulevards and sparkling parks were hidden in unwonted gloom. London claims to have lighted it streets with lanterns as early as 1414, but the tradition seems doubtful. About 1008 the citizens were ordered to place lamps in front of their houses every night during the winter; but as late as 1736 the rule was imperfectly obeyed. Robbers filled its narrow streets, and life and property were never secure in the darkness. Gas lamps were next introduced, at the public expense ; the number was rapidly increased, and toward the close of the last century the citizens of London were accustomed to boast of tiieir magnificent system of street-lamps, which lar surpassed that of Paris. The roads running from the city for seven or eight miles were lined with crystal lamps. At the crossing of several of them thee fleet was thought magnificent; and what would now be a dim and dismal array of smoking lights, seemed then one of the wonders ot the time. Novelists and poets celebrated the nightly illumination of the over grown capital. Vienna, Ber'.in, and other European cities followed the ex ample of Paris or liOndon, and New York and Philadelphia early adopted the custom. Rome alone, still clinging to the usages ot the middle ages, re lused to light its streets; the popes steadily opposed the heretical inven tion, and preterred darkness to light. At length came a wonderful advance. For three centuries civilization had prided itself upon its lamps or lanterns ; it was now to shine in novel brilliancy The Chinese, who seem to have orig' nated without perfecting most modern inventions, had long been accustomed to sink tubes into beds of coal, and carry its natural gas into their houses, and even their streets, for the purpose ol illumination. They also used it for manufactures and cooking. But they had never discovered the art of making gas. In 17U2, Mr. William Murdoch first used gas for lighting his offices and house in Redruth, Cornwall. The Birmingham manufacturers at once adopted the invention. The unparal leled splendor of the light at once at traded public attention. The peace of HsOa. transitory as a sudden Hlumin ation, was celebrated by the lighting of the factory of Watts and Boulton, at Bir miiigham. with a flame that seemed to rival tho brightness ot the stars. The invention spread over the world. Lon don, ashamed of its once boasted array of endless lamps, now glittered with hundreds of miles of gaslights. Paris again called the whole world to witness its tastelul illumination. The cities of the new world lighted up every corner of their busy streets. Even Rome yielded to the useful invention. Doctor Lauder Lindsay in his new book. "Mind in the Lower Animals in Health and Disease," observes that " even as regards man himself it must be borne in mind that there are count less thousands many whole races that are intellectually and morally the inferiors of many well-trained mam mals. such as the chimpanzee, orang dog, elephant or horse; or birds, such as the parrot, starling, magpie, jack daw and various crows." Mamma seeks to console her crving child. " Why do you cry, John? What has hurt youP" "Mamma (and lie bawls more lustily than ever), yester day 1 full down and hurt mysell." Yesterday ! Then why do you cry to day?" "Oh, because you were not at home yesterday." Sometime. Sometime! Somotirno! Luring cry! Chiming, rhyming, over and over, Out from tho heart-tree branches hib, Where birds of promise flutter and fly, Now neati'ig low in the honeyed clover, Now soaring up to the voioetul cky ; Sweetest prophecies soltly Binding, Soltly sweet, like the voice ot a lover; Rythmio measures roundly ringing Rmging singing over and over. Tenderly, gladly, floats the cry Sometime, dear heart! by-and-bye! Sometime! Sometime! Birds in my breast. Chanting lays of a glad to-marrow. Out lrom a broken, desulate nest, Bravely rearing each golden orest, Flaunting your wings in the face of sorrow, Singing the while of coming rest, Further than mine your gazo is reaching! Let me your prescient cunning borrow ! Answer make to my sad beseeching; Comes there indeed a glad to-morrow T Is it lor me ye softly cry Sometime, dear heart! by-and-bye T Lucy Marian Minn. ITEMS OF INTEREST. Two persons die every second. Slow rivers flow four miles per hour. The average human life is thirty-one years. During the past thirty years 2,500 000 people have emigrated from Ger many. The young man of the period wears a queer-looking high hat, but then, you know, that's his tile. New York Mail. Boston has seven colored lawyers, six of whom are in active practice, one ot them being a graduate of ihe Harvard law school. The lower jawbone of a mastodon has been found in a sand bar in the Loup river, aoout twenty-nve miies irom Kearney, Neb. When a deep sleep falls on a man h does tot mind it so much as when a lew square yards of plastering come down or a chimney tumbles over on him. Keokuk dale Guy. When vou see a man take off his hat to vou it is a sign that he respects you. But when he i3 seen divesting himself of his coat you can make up your mind that ho intends you shall respect him. Slatesman. A mining company at St. Clair, 111., dispensed with the services of a hun dred men at $1 a day by the use of labor-savine machinery ; but they em ployed fifty men at $i a day to guard the apparatus. Remains of lake dwellings have been discovered in a seat bog near Milan, and in a street in Milan excavations for house have brought to light what are believed to bo vestiges of the old Roman theater. This vear's Russian famine, says a Berlin dispatch to the London Standard, mainly nilects the Caucasus, in nun dreds of Armenian and Mohammedan villages the whole of tho inhabitants are dead. The Russian press dare not allude to the subject. A drunkard fled into the woods near Nashville, Tenn., while wild with de lirium tremens, dug a grave and was found lying in it dead. His "wife was made frantic bv the sight and sho loudly called upon heave i to let her die. too. It happened that on ner way noma lightning struck and killed her. Onlv a woman's hair, Binding the now to the past, Only a single thread Too trail to last. Only a woman's hair Threading a tear and a sigh, Only a woman's huir Fouud to-day in the pie. Steubenville Herald. " Stron? Jauile." Tho Berwickshire journals in 184-1, gave much information concerning this remarkable man. Though short of stature.he possessed prodigious strength, which earned tor hnu the lamniar cog nomen ot " Jamie Strang," or " Strong Jamie." A writer in the Berwick Ad vertiser said: "We have heard him state that the greatest weight he ever lifted from the ground was ii.'o stone.ano that he had lifted eighty-five stone with one hand. When the Forfarshire mili tia were encamped at Eyemouth, he went to see an acquaintance among them. While there, a dancing-master was boasting much of his strergth, whereupon one of the soldiers, knowing Stuart, engaged to piovide a drummer who would lift more than the boaster cmld. Stuait, dressed as a drummer, was brought in. A piece ol ordnance w;s lying before them which the dancing-master raised to tho perpendicular, and then allowed to fall. He asked the drummer whether he could do that. Stuart pretended that he was not very sure that he could ; but placing his arms round the cannon, he raised it entirely from the ground, and carried it to some distance. At another time, when at Velvet Hall, near Berwick, some countrymen were laboring to get a cart laden with hay out of a miry hole into which by some accident it had stuck fast. Stuart was appealed to for assist ance. He desired them all to stand aside, and, going underneath the cart, removed it with its load to the opposite side of the road." This extraordinary man (it is averred in many quarters) actually went fiddling about the country till nearly 1 11 years old. A .small sum was then collected for him, toward which the queen and the late Sir Robert Peel contributed. Stuart declared that he " hadna been sae weel off this hunder year." At length his career closed. He died at Tweedmouth on the eleventh of April, 18 14, aud was buried on the four teenth in the presence of a vast con course of spectators. The Berwick Ad vertiser.H few days afterward, contained an advertisement relating to statuettes, of the veteran .Chambers' Journal,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers