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VOL. XIII. NO. 30.
TIONESTA, PA., OCT. 13, 1880.
$1.50 Per Annum.
I
Automa Tokens.
lly the goldan dreunlul weather
lly tho birds that fly togothnr, -
Dark ngainst the radiant sky,
By the silence growing deeper,
Ity the resting ol tho roapor,
rionsnnt days are drawing nigh.
By tho vagrant wayside brior,
FlingingAir its tanglod fire,
lly the torest's motloy line,
1 loyal onk and maple splendid,
Holding stately court, attended
As lor pageant rich and fl no, -
By the astors, inoense bringing,
By tho morning-glories' swinging,
And the spiny irngr.mco Bhed
From tho grape, whose purple oluster
Captive holds the vivid luster
Ol tho summer soaroely fled.
Pleasant days are coming nearer,
Days whon home will seem the dearer
That iti oirclo, smaller grown,
In its b:fbpy talk and laughter,
Or its sighs, low stoalinij atter,
Narrows to inlold ill owa.
Blithe, lor music, work and study
Then will glow the hoarth-flame ruddy,
What though wild the win.s may blow ;
Always thero is golden weather
Where true hoarts are mot together,
Though without be storm and snow.
Atl 'ho autumn's wondrous shading,
. Hipititcd hues, and gentle fading,
All tho birds that southward fly,
Spoiik to ns wilh sign and token,
Vjrin wofls we hear, unspoken,
Nfteasant days are drawing nigh.
Harper't Bazar.
MERTON'S VENGEANCE.
AN ENGLISH STOKY.
The tkme Margaret Merton. and
wiitow of the late Sir Philip, lived it
stately retirement at Oaklands Park,
and hud livd there a far longer time
- trfln she eared to remember.
' She had been for nineteen years ar
utterly solitary woman, save on Jar
occasions, when she admitted certain
near relatives to the honors of a shor
visit. The only near relations which
.. she had weie a nephew and two nieces
G'orge, Ellen and Margaret.
Lady Morton had a son somewhere
about the wcrld, but she had neitiiei
seen nor heard from him directly foi
nearly twenty long years. Richard"
Merti was," and always had been, an
eccentric young man.
At the distant date of which we speak
he was a very good-looking, hearty,
williul youth of nearly five-and-twenty.
lie had been to college, had traveled,
and sown, his wild onts broadcast. II
then retfrned to Oiklnnds Park and
joined, in 1 y festivities of Christmas, the
dowaaoi li stress of the house gather
Ing round Jer many friends to do honor
to his loaf wish 3d for but unexpected
return.
Sir Ri-shard Merton was very kind
and polite to all collected together. A
very line county collection it was, with
many wise mn ana Deautuui women
Hut soon Sir Kichur t Merton had eyes
for no one save for Edit h Lechmere. tie
dauahti r of a wealthy baronet, who had
only one other ciiild, the son who was
. II' ' 1 . ' 1 1 i . J
to tu ctea mm in ins laiuiiy estate tuiu
honors.
Boih he find hi prrtly wife, a woman
of tender heat t. s i w with complacency
Rich: il Mi rton, tho best ma'ca in the
coumy. looking with admiration on
their beloved riauehter.
Ltdv M -irgaret Merton liked the girl
as a girl, but c rUinly did not approve
of her as the (ut are mistress of O iklands
Park..
The day "afar the festival, Sir Rich
avd, n breakfast, indicated an intention
of calling on tho L;chmere3 to pay his
respects. Ilis mother looked keenly at
him as Lie spoke.
' I Lope you have not been struck by
that Lnchmeie girl, Edith?" she said,
easerlv.
" Why not P'' he asked, rather sharply
' She is, indeed, a most charming crea
ture."
" Because it wouul be a most wiu-
dicious and unf urtunato selection," she
answered.
"May I ask why?" was the rather
quick rejoinder; "the reason why
mother miner
" Because, though unliable, she is ex
ceeuina Iv delicate, iter neaitli is any
. thing but satisfactory. Walking is
a great exertion to her, while horse ex
crcise is out ct the question." she went
on. " Sucii a girl is not a tit person to
be the motheV of the Mertons. We have
" always been a stalwart and comely race
No puny children ever endangered our
direct succession "
And vet 1 believe," said Richard
ralht r hardly, " that I lost two brothers
and a si ter my only one because of
their delicacy."
1uly Merton turned very pale. This
- was a severe . subject with her, and one
that pained her even now to think of,
"Those d eat lis were accidents," she
said, in a huii mournful, half angry
tone. " it is because I would guard
against nny more such contingencies
that 1 would have you guided by reason
in your choice."
"I shall be guided solely by love and
aflec'ion in my choice of a wife," was
his calm and liaughty reply, and then
dropped the subject.
Alter breakfast the b-ironet dressed
suitably to the season, and then started
for Lechmere Hail on horseback. Ho
w:s most cheerfully and hospitably
welcomed by the baronet and his wife,
while hhtu received him with shy
satisfaction.'
. Richard Mert. n was not a young man
for any young Juely to treat with any
thinji else but attention. Handsome,
hmhly accomplished, brilliant in t;on
versation, a great traveler, he was also
nn admirable talker. i
EJilh Uiijihcd at his sallies iR her
quiet way, smiled at his quaint way of
telling adventures, and was highly in
terested in his description of foreign
courts.
She thought hira certainly a verv ac
complished, tine young English gentle
man, but whether she would view him
in tho light her parents wished her to
regard him was wholly another .thing.
ut Sir Richard was not a hasty or
ardent lover. He wished to do things
as they should be done, according to
rule and order, and was quite prepared
to go through the ordinary process of
courtship, the pleasant nower-clad lane
winch leads to matrimony
Edith met his attentions with gentle
indifference, though she appeared al
ways glad to see him, and apparently
preferred him to all other open and
more obvious suitors
The baronet and his wife looked on
with smiling satisfaction, and already
in their mind's eye saw their daughter
bidy Merton, in ono ot the hnest posi
tions in the county.
Ilia time wore on, and tuo period
came tor the tiDncon season. bir
Richard had a town house, which was
kent ud in tho old stvlc.
The young baronet was nothing ilnot
hospitable and Jikea to see h;s table
groaning under what he called good old
kickshaws" and nonsense.
Thou eh he had traveled he was purely
and simply English in his tastes. His
mother prided herseii on this, and con
tinually drew his attention to how little
Edith sympathized witu nis leenngs.
She was a dainty little bird, ana loved
the tempting delicacies which are offered
by the learned cuisines ot foreign parts
She was not nartial to Enarlish customs.
and cared not lor any of the hjliday
frolics and dances.
Now it happened that, apart from the
physical objection, grounded on tne fu
ture health ol her grandchildren, Lrwty
Merton was. very fond ol l!jdith; she
was therefore a good deal with her, and
they had many long interviews. Sir
Richard looked upon these confidential
meet in ss with some iealousv.
Was his mother setting tbi3 bcautilul
girl against him? Well, the young man
was too Droud and too haughty to in
quire into details of these meetings, but
tie Koon determined to bring matters to
a climax. Matter-of-fact, rather stolid
n his nature. Sir Richard was propor-
tii nately doirged and obstinate in his
ikiufs and dislikmzs. llo loved ivJitb
with a devotion which was made up of
the ardent lover and the paternal pro-
eolor. He looked upon Judith as a
orettv child who required to be petted.
humored. . and taken care of, to be
treated tenderly, nurtured with care.
At last, however, he came to the con
clusion that he had hesitated long
enough. lie would propose, and have
the matter settled.
It was after a dance. Edith had baen
the belle of the evening, and, like many
other delicate girls, was not going to be
beaten in dancing. e have known
vounn ladies to whom a mue wais was
particularly oonoxious, aance eigtii or
ten hours without complaining.
Edith had been dancing w:th a certam
young naval omcer, a new engioie, a
Uoutenant Spencer mker, ot excellent
family and likely prospects, but still a
totally unrit person to set himself up as
tha suitor for a rich barjnet s daughter
and Heiress.
But both her father and mother were
Dlavine cards, and she ventured to risk
one danee. But when she concluded she
happened to see that her mother was
discneaeel. and jrave the lieutenant a
hint to that effect. He at once walked
away, and Edith strolled slowly to the
conservatory, hoping tnat he might b3
able to follow her to tins somewuat
secluded retreat.
She seated herself underneath an um
brageous palm tree. Her thoughts were
far away. At this moment a hrm, com
manding step wr s heard, and she looked
up anxiously. A faint flush covered her
lace. It was Sir Richard Merton ad
vancing with considerable alacrity to
the BDOt where she had seated herself
with other hopes and wisties. Jaitn got
ud a pleasant smile for her rather grave
admirer, and he seated himsell by her
side with a very serious air.
'Why have you deserted the ball
roomr- ' tie asuea, in an earnest lone oi
voice. "Everybody is lost m sur
prise."
"I was a little fatieued," she re
marked. "I have danced"agood deal
this evening."
So I have observed," he went on.
quietly; "perhaps more than is good for
you."
"I think not," sue answered, in a
lauzhing tone. " I am very fond of
dancinz: it docs mo good."-
"Iam glad to hear it," he smilingly
responded, "it shows tuat L.ondon dissi'
Dation does not affect your health."
" Not more than most people," she
said, thinking the remark rather an odd
one for a laver to make.
He said nothing in answer for ono mo
ment, reflecting deeply the while. At
last he spoke out.
"My dear Miss Lechmere," he said,
kindlv. 1 have a very important com
munieation to make to you. I had in
tended deferring it until tho end of the
season, bnt 1 sea 30 many moths flutter
ing round the seductive light that I can
defer my words no longer."
l'arapn me," sue exclaimed, in a
frightened way, "but I do not under
stand." My dear Miss Lechmere," he went
on, Kindiy, yt louny, -1 naa iiopeu
you would. 1 rom ttie evening when
first 1 saw you my attentions Have been
marked enough. My love has grown
with my growth, and strengthened with
my strength, until 1 can no longer keep
my sentiments coneeatea. iaiiu ivjcu
inere, will you be my beloved, my hon
ored wife?"
Edith looked at htm m both surprise
and alarm.
"Really, Sir Richard," she said, in a
tone, hesitating and doubting, " tins is
so very sudden."
"Sudden?" exclaimed Sir Richard.
" I had hoped not. My attentions were
suflieiently obvious, 1 th jught."
"Not to me," she continued, in i
falterinir voiej. " I knew you liked ji
society, but but you know that Lady
Merton has other other views lor you.
What mv mothers matrimonial
notions with regard to myself may be,"
he coldly replied, " I neither know nor
care. - 1 am a grown man ; my cnoico is
made without regard to the opinions of
others. Your parents, I believe, highly
approve ruy wishes I only demand
your sanction to speak to them at once."
" Oh, Sir Richard," she cried, " this
is indeed so very sudden. I am so youngi
Give me one whole day for reflection."
" (Jcrtainly, Miss Lechmere," with a
kindly smile. This is Monday I shall
make a morning call upon Wednesday.
I presume I shall have the felicity ot
seeing you?''
" I see no reason to doubt it," re
sponded the young lady, who then al
lowed herself to be conducted back to
the ballroom, when Sir Richard claimed
a promised dance.
Because it was conventional and the
custom.Sir Richard danced; not that he
liked the practice or approved of it.
But in modern society such a formula
would hive raised. too great a storm
upon his devoted head, and he never
ventured to expound it. lie danced,
therefore, under protest, and only when
it appeared impossible to avoid it.
Conversation was his taste ana
his lorte, but in the case ol
Edith Lechmere he utterly broke
through his rule, and danced as often
as tho elasticity of her programme
would allow him so to do. On the
present occasion he was unusually ten
der, condescending, and attentive.
Edith remarked his manner, and was
very silent and thoughtful. She could
not but admire his intellect, and his
magnificent physical beauty. Still, he
seemed almost too much of a god for
her. He was a man to be more wor
shiped than loved at all events, such
was her gtrlisn opinion. ttui, n was tue
wish ol her parents, she knew, and
what was poor she to do.
With a deep sieh she abandoned her
self to the stream of fate, determined to
be guided by the force of events, what
ever they might be.
Next day Sir Richard Merton maae
many calls, and returned only to a 'tiv
o'clock tea. He was due to a dinner
party, and required time to dress before
going out. As he went up to the door,
M iss Lechmere came out, looking very
serious ana thoughtful, oir menara
shook hands, and handed her to her car
nage with great politeness and tender
ness. That she should have called upon
his mother was by no means singular,
but ho neither liked her looks, nor the
fact occurring on the eve of his intended
proposal.
It was. of course, a natural event, but
itill it preyed upon his mind, and by the
light or subsequent events, appeared
very strange and significant. Going up
stairs Sir Richard found his mother
alone, and in a very serious mood.
'Good-afternoon. he quietly ob
served. "Miss Lechmore has just left
vou P"
"les. was tne coia reioinaer: - sue
came to spend an hour and have a chat
with me."
' Indeed! Did the young lady inti
mate anything of my intention to visit
her in a formal wavr" he asked.
" She alluded to the matter," was tun
old and erave answer, " but 1 am
not here to divulge young ladies' s
crets."
And she handed him a fresh cup of tea,
which he drank almost in silence, then
went slowly upstairs, and dressed for
dinner. He saw no more of his mother
that dav. nor did he the next morning,
is. in consequence ot a iieadactie, said
her maid, she did not come down to
hreakfast.
About twelve. Sir Richard Merton,
who was in too great a hurry to be
bound by exact conventional rule3,
called on Sir Arthur and Lady Lech
mere, who exchanged satisfied glances.
and eagerly welcomed him to their
house. After a few words tue young
baronet sooke.
1 suppose," ne said, wiui someiuing
of hesitation in his manner, 'you wu
not be very much surprised to hear that
I have come to demand an interview
with vour daughter in fact, to ofler her
my hand and fortune, as i uave already
given her all my lover
" Proud, indeed." said Sir Arthur
clasDinir the hand of the other. " Have
vou mentioned anytmng as yet to iaitn
miss jjecumerer
"I said a little the other evening,
franklv responded the baronet, " but
Miss Lechmere seemed agitated, and
asked for time, until to-day."
" Oh!" said the elder baronet, " I did
notice a little change in her manner at
breakfast. She appeared somewhat
flurried and agitated. Dear girl! I will
rimr for her."
A maid came and at once hurried off
to summon Miss Lechmere to her
father's presence. She returned after
some minutes in a very agitated stato,
and declared that Miss Lechmere was
nowhere to be found.
The father turned crimson, tho mother
was pale and agitated, the young baro
net cold, stiff and haughty.
" Did any one see her go outP" asked
the elder gentleman, in a tone of sup
pressed passion.
At this moment Edith's own maid,
her personal attendant, appeared on tho
scene. She held a dainty little note in
her hand, which she handed to Sir
Arthur. Tho baronet opened the letter
furiously, and read it, waving tho ser
vants to leave the room. He glanced at
the beginning, and then read aloud :
"Deak Pxi'A and Mamma: Sir
Richard Merton is coming this morning
to ask for my heart and hand. I do ad
mire him very much, like him almost uj
much as any man I know, except one,
but I cannot be his wife. I am sure I
am not suited to him. Lady Merton
knows it wen. as l am airaid you
would wish me to accept vour good
friend and neighbor, I have thought it
better to render tne union impossible
Before you receive this I shall be mar
ried by special license to Mr. Spencer
Bitker, whom I love very much, and who
will make me very happy, .torsive your
loving daughter, Edith."
pencer Uaker, the audacious for
tune-hunter," cried the exasperated br
onet. "Curses light on him and her.
Ungrateful wretch no money of mine
does she ever have. Then she will see
what it is to marry a beggar ."
I will retire," said Sir Richard, in a
tone of deep disappointment, not unac
companied by anger. "I think Mhs
Lechmere might have been more frank
with me."
tinuod her father, purple with passion.
I hope she may live to repent. But
she is no child of mine. May the male
diction of"
"Hush," said the mother, in an
agonized voice; "curse not your only
daughter! Poor child! She will be the
most deeply punished. She has chosen
novertv and exile, for Lieutenant Spen
cer Baker has, I know, been ordered to
Canada."
' Ah!" cried the elder baronet.
But what further he intended to say
wa3 cut short by the leave-taking of his
young friend.
Sir Ktchard Merton went out in a
towering passion. He had one idea.
Thi3 great disappointment in his life
wa3 due to his mother. It was to her
absurd prejudice against the delicate
young girl that had induced her refusal;
of this he had not the shadow of a
doubt. -
His mind was made up. He went to
his club, and sent tor his man, to whom
he gave rapid orders. -
rick up everything," ne said, in a
cold, iron tone, "and bring them to
Wright's hotel. I am oil to tne uonti-
nent for some time. Give this letter to
my mother."
That letter L.aay Morton reaa witu
pallid cheeks and tearful eyes :
"Mother: You have caused me to be
rejected by the girl I love, on the absurd
principle tuat sue was m ueucaws ueaiwi.
Actuated1y fear of your judgment, she
has eloped and made a silly marriage.
You can forgive yourself I never can.
leave England. It is impossioie to say
whether I shall ever return or not.
Oaklands is yours as long as you live.
ftiy interest in it uas uoaseu iuiv-
more. uichard aiekton.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That evening the young baronet left
London, and to the time when wo refer
to Lady Merton was alone at Oaklands
Park. Twenty years had elapsed, and
she has neither seen nor heard from her
son. . .
It wants now a week to Christmas.
From habit and custom Lady Merton
will have Christmas festivities as In the
olden time. Georire Merton is there, the
heir apparent, while Ellen and Margaret
Ucnham, ner sister s orpuan cuiiaren
are also present for a visit.
It 1s morning, and breakfast is just
over, wheu a railway fly rattles up the
avenue, and a loud knock is heard at the
door. The mistress ot tne bouse can see
wit hout rnovinsr from her seat. A young
adv. fashionably attired, aliguts witu a
maid and ascends the steps.
" Who can it beP" asks Lady Merton.
rising from tne taoie, in a suguuy gi
tated way. I cannot recollect any
other guest who was invited."
"Some selt-eiectea visitor," says
Georee. with a frown. .
He is verv jealous of any one getting
into his aunt's good graces.
The butler enters with a letter, lie
look verv scared and puzzled.
Miss Merton to see uer grand
mother." he says, in a rather alarmed
tone.
Georee Merton grew ghastly pale.
There is, then, a direct heir?
" Show her in,"gaspea tue may, sintc
ine into a chair, around which the three
stvnd, her nephew and two nieces.
There enters a tall, siigr.t gin, wno
advances with somewhat of shyness to
where the dowager is seated.
" Mv erandmother. I presume P" she
said, in the sweetest of sweet voices.
" Yes, my dear," is tne answer, " tor
I can see at once vou area Merton."
" Will you read this letter?" she con
tinued, taking it. from the hand of the
butler.
Lady Merton adjusts her spectacles,
and reads, while the other takes a
"Ladv Mekton: My husband, your
son, has gone on an expedition to Africa.
I have reason to believe he has either
been killed or wounded. I am about to
start in search of him. My son Richard
is at school. I think it only right to
send my daughter and namesake to your
care until my return.
" Yours, Lucy Mehton."
" I am very glad you have came,"
said the old lady, tearfully and kindly.
" These are your cousins. I will order
your room. Be seated by the tire while
1 do so."
The introductions were made, the seat
nectDted. and the order given at once
Imagine the amazement of all when
they knew that the young mistress of
Odk!and3 Park had come Home, wiaie
there was also a son in existence. Then
the old line was not to die out,, but
live.
Iadv Merton herself attended the
girl to her room, and was delighted wilh
her.
She asked about her lather. She
knew but little of him. havin been at
school, while her parent went round
and about tho world bent on perilous
adventures.
She had seen him occasionally, how
ever, ana knew no was tan, uanusome
and bearded also very kind.
Her mother she had seen much of lor
the last year. She wa the kindest of
parents a nemle, handsome woman.
Two days later came a startling tele
gram. " Sir Richard has reached home He
is very ill. Doctor has advised his re
moval to his native air. I shall bat
Oailands Park with him on Christmas
eve. Luct."
How the mother's heart bounded
within her at this announcement.
At last she would again behold her
son, and surely he would forgive her
after all these long years of absence!
True, Edith L;chmere, now Lady
Spencer Biker, was a portly damu of
forty, with a tine, healthy jrame and
plenty of children, but then as Sir Rich
ard wis happy, suivly he would forget
ail the unfortunute phsI?
He came, and the forgiveness was ac
ceded.
He had recently met Sir Spencer
Baker, snd his wife, long since recon
ciled to the family, and found that his
mother had not influenced the girl in the
least, but that she had acted on the im
pulse of the moment, and under the
guidance of her simple and devoted
affections.
She had come to call on Lady Merton
tearfully to rescind her determination,
after exacting a promise of secrecy, and
then she left to meet her lover. Sir
Richard, we have said, came home on
Chii3tmaseve, and all was happy.
lie was sufficiently well to dine with
the family on New Year's day. At the
dinner were present Sir Arthur ixjch-
mere, his lady, Sir Spencer and L,ady
Baker.
They were the best of friends, and be
fore many months the eldest son of the
runaway lovers was affianced to Lucy.
And so ended Richard Merton's very
foolish revenge.
Cow Nature.
That cows acknowledge individuality
among themselves is evident lrom the
fact that in every herd there is sure to be
one master cow who domineers over all
the rest. Watch the thirsty herd going
to drink at a pool on a sultry summer
day, and you will see the master cow
enter first, unopposed by the otners,
who, should the pool be a small one,
will not presume to join her in it, but
will wait patiently on the bank till she
leaves the water, even though she" may
choose to remain there, swishing her
tail at the flies and enjoying the cool
bath for her legs, for some time after she
has finished quenching her thirst. To
the human spectator it would seem that
she is selfishly and needlessly prolong
ing the thirst ot ner mends; Dut tney
do not resent her self-indulgence, nor
attempt to hurry her, but only humbly
wait till it shall be her pleasure to make
room for them to go and drink. For is
not she their undisputed chief, and shall
not a chief have privileges?
A contributor to an English journal
tells the following story of the "top
boss" in his herd, named Dulas : She is
neither the biggest, nor the strongest,
nor the longest horned of the party, and
how she has acquired her supremacy we
know not, but we imagine that it must
be through sheer force of character and
wid. We one day had an opportunity
of watching her lead her companions to
a place of mischief, which they all quite
evidently knew to be against the laws
of their human superior, and therefore
to be done on the sly, if possible, ihe
cows were in a field adjoining a risk-
yard, and in the rickyard was an out
house, wherein some mangels were
stored. The field was separated from
the rickyard by a hedge, in which was a
hurdle; and twice in one day had the
cows broken through the gap, got at
their beloved mangels, and been driven
out again ignominiously. undauntea
by this, they made a third attack, and
we happened to arrive just in time to see
it done. While the men who hid
driven them back to the field were still
near, the cows all pretended to be graz
ing in tranquility as though no higher
ambition than grass had ever entered
their innocent minds. But nj sooner
did the coast appear to be clear, than
off set Dulas toward the hurdle, with a
auick and resolute step, shaking her
t head with a most defiant and jaunty air
Ma aha wrnllrOt Tnnf -wflw 07010 ntlini
due nifti.u i"i:u Jim, ii-'j w , . .
cow left off eating, and followed her, all
evidently perfectly aware of what she
meant to do. Sticking her liorns skin
fullv under a bar of the hurdle, and
heaving up her head to extract the hur
die from the tr round, she very soon man
aged to remove tne obstacle, ana men
proceeded triumphantly to the man
eels, with all her companions at her
heels. Now, in this case, Dulas seems
to have used some reasoning power; tor
there was no attempt made to batter
down the gate bv brute force, and she
had disccovered the necessity ot lining
it unward. She has a talent lor open
ing gates with easy lastenings wnicii is
rather troublesome, putting ner norns
in and woikins head about until she
gets the fastenings undone. And in this
also, she seems to show reason or ob
servation. for else how would she know
which part of the gate to strike P
Points on Pins.
A lover of statistics has lust made an
interesting calculation of the number of
pins made daily. Birmingham holds the
first rank, turning out 37,000,000 every
dav: London and Dublin, 17,000,000
or for Great Britain and Ireland, 50,
ooo.ooo. France produces 20,000,000
Holland and Germany about 10.000,000
each. For all Europe, bo.ooo.ttoo daily
must be about the number manutac
tured. ' This would make 29,200,000,000
yearly, a product representing in value
S2.300.000. In tho United States we
make over 51.000.000 of pins daily, or
over 18.000.000.000 a year, wltich makes
408 lor every inhabitant. Fifty year
ao a man ixmld make f mrteen pins
minute, to-dav he e'an maki 14,000
minute, thanks to improved machinery
But desDlte this ent)rmous production
and though pius never break and rarely
wear out, we are constantly Hearing tne
question. "Can vou lend mo a pin?" an
how very often it happens that not a pin
can be found in a party of a halt dozen
or more. Pins disappear, then, almost
wholly by being lost lost at the rate of
131,000,000 dully ! Estimating the entire
population ot the globe at 2,000,000 000,
each person, man, woman and child,
loses less than ono pin a day in tho
United States somewhat more than one
pin a day for eacli inhabitant. But as
more than one-hall the population con
tdsts of children or savages who use very
few or no pins, we muy set down the
loss for each adult at about two and a
half a day. On the whole, then, we are
rather economical in the matter ol pins,
and where the pins go to is not so great
a mystery as many suppose.
How time changes, exclaims an ex
change. In the good Did Testament
davs it was considered a miracle for an
ass to speak, and now nothing bhort of
a miracle will keep one quiet.
A Chinese Joss Ilonse.
The following is from a lady's account
of a visit made to the Chinese quirters
in San Francisco : We next turned into
one of thcir many Joss houses, where
the worship of thcir hideous idols was in
full swing. We ascended a dingy, dirty
staircase and entered a large room on
the first floor, which was furnished wifi
trods and altars of all descriptions.
Crowds of worshipers were passing to
and fro, now in single file, now in bat
talions; some were smoking, some were
conversing in their low, liquid language
one with another. One jerked his head
with a kind of familiar nod, which was
meant for a reverential obeisance to one
specially ugly deity. Another threw a
stick Into the air in lront ot tne altar,
and according to the way it pointed as
it fell his prayer would be granted or
not. I do not know whether Joss was
propitious, but his worshiper picked
up the stick and retreated down-stairs.
There was certainly no established' set
form in this religious business; but
suppose there must on occasions
be some special ceremonials when
priests are needed, for two or three
of them, dressed in the fashion of stage
heralds, came out from a little back
room, stared at us and retreated, closing
the door behind them. The worshipers
passed in and out and to nnd fro among
their gods with perfri i noncnatance.
There was neither reverence, nor super
stitious awe, nor fanatical devotion
visible among them. Wnat seemed to
be their favorite, j udging from the num
ber of his worshipers, was a huge
monster like an immense painted wooden
doll, with flaming vermilion cheeks,
and round, black eyes starting from his
head. He is dressed in wooden robe3
of gaudiest, strongly-contrasted colors.
ana surrounaea Dy an Kinas oi unseicii
magnificence, in the way of gilt paper,
artificial wreaths and fly-blown roses a3
large as cabbages, whne standing betoro
him on the altar is a bowl of ashes stuck
full of Joss sticks, some burned out.
some still smoldering, tue ouering oi
later worshipers. The altar is of ivory,
and is exquisitely carved and gilt. It
illustrates the history ot some great
battle which was fought 2,000 years ago.
It Is protected, and so partly hidden, by
wire network, xnere are sundry
other smaller altars and idols in
the same room. Some are dis
torted libels on the human form
divine; some are grotesque representa
tions of birds, beasts or reptiles held
sacred by the Chinese; some are of
bronze some of brass, some of painted
wood. There are no seats, and the floor
is th ickly sprinkled with sawdust. The
wails are hung w ltn scarlet ana piue
paper prayers and gilt tuanksgivings.
Among these was an advertisement,
which our guide translated to us. it
was the offer of a reward, not lor tho
discovery of a murderer, but a reward
for the committal of a murder. Ah Fooh
and Wong Ah had roused the anger of
the great Joss, who promises to grant
the prayers and take into special favor
him who will put tne obnoxious An
Fooh and Wong Ah out of the way,
viz., the gods will favor him who com
mits the crimes, which are no crimes
when the gods command their commit
tal. Our guide informed us that the ob
jectional parties would assuredly " dis
appear," no one would know how, or
when, or where.
We passed from this large and mast
important chamber through a nest of
"ingy, dirty rooms, each presided over
oy a goa or goddess more or less mae-
ously grotesque, and lighted only by a
tiny glass lamp, wnicu nangs Deiore
every shrine, and is kept miming nigtit
and day. In one room was a curious
idobo oven. We wondered whether it
was used to bake Christians or purify
the heathen, but we learned that it was
used at certain seasons of the year, when
Satan i3 symbolically burned, he being
represented on the occasion by torn
strips of red paper, which have been
appropriately cursed and sentenced by
the priesthood. The smaller gods uaa
fewer worshipers, and it was strange to
ob fVe that there was not a single
woman among them. Perhaps, having
no souls to save in the next world, they
have grown weary of praying for the
good things of this. In every room,
great and small, there is a rough wooden
structure like a very tall stool. Within
it hangs a bell and above it either a
gong or a big drum. These are used to
rouse the drowsy gods from thcir slum
bers, or to attract their attention when
they have been too long forgetful of tho
desires of their devotees.
Texas Sugar Lands.
Within a zone or belt of eighty miles
in width, skirting the gulf of Mexico,
from Oyster creek, near Galveston, to
the Rio Grande, there is, it is calculated,
at least 6,000,000 acres of suirar lands
that will mature five feet of cane sugar
each year, yielding in many instances
an average of two and a halt hogsUeads
of sugar and four barrels ol molasses to
the acre. It one-half this acreage were
cultivated, and should yield only ono
hogshead of su:ar and two barrels of
molasses to the acre, it would amount to
the enormous sum of 3,000,000 hogsheads,
of sugar and 189 000,000 gallons of mo
lasses, or two and one-half times the
amount of suirar and three and seven-
eighths times the quantity of molasses
consumed in tne united htatcs during
the year of 1876. Ihese lands he in
beautiful plateaus from ten to forty feet
above the ordinary staga of water in th i
streams that pass through them, and
are not, as reported by some, low and
marshy. The malarial diseases in ti . is
district, according to tho statistical atlas
of the consul of 170, averages only four
per cent, of tfie deaths from a:l causes,
while in Washington and vicinity the
average of malarial diseases is seven and
one-hall per ceut. There is no satisfac
tory reason wliy the united states buouhi
have a balance of trade against them on
sugar and molastes alone of $03,000,000
annually, when the whole supply can
be produced from these lauds. '1 ho
Houthwest.
Calvin Phipps. of Bedford, Ind.,
drank a gallon of whiskey every day foi
a month", and then died.
KZ2