Rates of Advertising.
Oi)f Square (1 inch,) out Insertion - ?!
One. Square" " one month - - III1"
Om- Sniiare " thrcn inorittiM ? W'
iH PUBLISHED KVERY WltWKMMY
fiprrrip ti r ...
X. ri
K)0
(1 O
i'ri
mtniwiumt
reit'B HUIIXlVt
"T. ?A,
j i
One Square " ono your - -'J
) Square, on yem -iii:;r.frCl.
" - t . -. . "
10 -
'It:
1
15 '0
r.e c
r po
II mi l " "
fMe " "
T .gal notices at established rate.
Ttinrriaco and dentil notice, jrratis.
All bills ir yearly advprtiHcmeotM f!
looted quarterly. Temporary advrli
V'-k.-I Hkh. (I,,-,.,,
on;::;,':::v:1''nr-'!iu1ci,r.,,rl all
VOL. XIII. NO. 48.
TIONESTA. PA., FEB. 23, 1881.
$1,50 Per Annum,
menta tmi'- Im jianl J-r is, nnvincn.
. ft.,. , t W.l 'v.!-'
l ' : ,
'. , ,7 l
I Mi -'IU'mijjo, 7
f .. . ''tllM, ;r
I
r .1
SE03JREWARD
Over a Million
ProtGuiteette's
I r iwi.iMe.n
KidBBy Pafls
Have already
b-nn gold in this
countiy and in
K'riiom; ' Tdry
Oi i of which hat
(tlven perfect
Mtislacfion and
has perlormed
euro every time
whwi use ac
cording todiroo
tlna. ,
? fo t aflllrtd and diRibting ohm
" will pny l ho ahoVe reward
lor a Hinlo cane oi
at tliB Pud nilg to euro.
Thi'i Grout Iiein.
will lf ivclv And
pni'manntit.ly enro
e Ilii'-V. Sciiitioi. Gthvi'I. Din
15 :iim' DinnitMo ol lbs Kid
uiu.ios and Retention of the
imiHtiot of the K dneya, Catarrh
.Mr, II kI) Colored . Urine, I'ain In
ii ! or LoiiH, Norvon Woaknesx,
feU liiminlni i, ! I "B ninrlrinr .nil
, if :i j7
! l C I ll'inn
(i )!( tllB If
VI "dirj
, I - j f
f wL",1,It,:-s- U Jon are uEToring from Female
U V(iciiej. LeuonrrhoH, or any dineauAOt the
ti Ivi.lnnya, Bladder or Urinary Organs,
YOU CAN BE CURED I
I wuiont wallowing nanioaae meiliolnee, by
I i . . simply wearing
. PKOJ. GUII.SETTE'S
FRl-riCH KIDNEY PAD.
! WHICH UCK-aa BY AIISOIUTIOX.
' .Aslc your K'st for Viot. Gi.ilmette'e
French Kidney Pud, and lake 1,0 other. II
J he haa not to ft, mtnd ?2 and yoa will reeeire
iue i nn oy mam mail.
TKsnnoriAUi ruou tbm pboflb.
Judge Buohnan, Lawyer, Toledo, O.. aaya:
One ol l'rol. Unilmotte's Pronoh Kidney
Pada eared iae ol Lumlsao In three weuk'
i 7 ' J wvwi KUDU ii y u y uuo iitii
. uuiHun aa ino:irai)i. jjunnit all till time I
i J tuftVied untold attcy mtd pai l out Urge tuina
t f of money.
F -orK Veltr, J. P., Toledo, O , iayet " I
i .''u""r tor Uuee yeare with Boiatica and KiH.
Jiey Diseaee, an4 b'tea had to go about on
1 rutohoa. I ml cntlrly and permanently
f iredaitwajrtii!itProt. Ouihnette'a French
(,;iiiilney fad lour weeka."
) -. Squire N. O. Boott, Sylvwiia, O., write :
yi have been a great eufferer (or 15 years
. ,with I'.rir.ht'B Diseaw of the Kidneyi. For
( y -i el; s r i!m waa nnable to get out ot ld ;
to mjyiir.aoui tnoy gave ne
y ui.., 'V. r,TtCiul. I wvtftwo of Proi.
V fiiiiuieUe Sidney Tada aix weeks, and I
V ('iow know I am entirely otired."
I Mrs HSiin Jerome, Toledo, O., sysj "For
years I have been eonflnod, a frreat part oi the
, f ime, to my bed with Lenoorrhea and Female
r vVoakneM. I wore one ot Uuilmette's Kidney
' Vads ao-J was eured in one month. '
U. I, Ureen, Wholesale- Grocer, Findlay,.
,., wrfuss " I suf!ure120 years with lame
t rk and In three weeks was permanently
hv WAiii'ina An. of IVrif GnilinottA .
yijonllng, M. D , Druggist, Lojns.
rl., when sonding in an ordei tor Kid-
T mi, wruea: i wore one oi tne nrst
tl'y M W0 Bni' reocived more benefit from
' 'I, than anything I ever used; in faot the Pads
'lit'' k've better general satistaolion than any Kid-
i i ' I ; y remedy we ever solil. '
t , llay A 'Shoemaker, Druggrtfits, Hannibal,
J Mo. t " We are working up a lively trade iu
v s T "J yourl'ads, and are hcanng of good results
V . i j Iroin them every day."
i A J , ; For Bale by Q W BOVARD. Tioneeta, Pa,
CEWTS,
POS
TREATISE
HIS DISEA3ES.
Containing an Indeac of Tilm
eaes,wlileh url v the Bymp.
tonii, Cauie, uhd the' Jieat
Treatment of eaob, A Table
B.I vliitf all the prlnolpal drugs
uvecl fr tlio Jlonse, wltU the
nonary doe, . efreote, and
untldote trneii a polo, A
Tuule with an Jnycravlngt of
the Home's Teeth at tXltTtp-
ent ages with Itulos for telL-1
inu the age. A. valuable oolJ
leotlon of Heoelpta ana
much other valuable lnfok.
matlon,
10Q-PA&E EQO
ent if out-
V a 1 rl to
.an: v atl-
dreMS it the Unltol iaten or
Canaaa for g Q Q J .
1
CLUB RATiSS:
Five Copies -Ton
Copies -
SI.OO
1.70
3.00
IO.OO
I -
Twenty copies . .
One Hundred Copla
V
Poa.Re 8 m in pa rt ceyfad.
II. T. SETSPAPI3 CSI03,
140 & I GO Worti, St.. II. Y
rfT OH THE KOHS1I
Lore in All.
Name the leaves on all the trees j
'Name the waves on all the seas,
All the flowers by rill that blow,
All the myriad tints that glow,
Winds that wander through the grov
And you name the name of lovo;
Love there is in mimoicr sky,
As in li'it of muiden's eye.
Listen to the count lew sounds
In the wind that gaily bounds
O'er the meads where, on the wind,
Bright bees hum and linnets sing;
Pat ol raindrop , chat of stream,
Ol their song sweet love's the theme;
I-iOve there is where zephyr skips,
As in breath ot maiden's lips.
In the went mild evening glows;
Angel fingers lold the rose;
Silvery dews begin to fall;
Crimson shades to shadow all;
Holy nature veils her face;
Karth is lost in heaven's embrace
Ixve is in an hour like this,
As in guiltless maiden's kiss.
o where, through the voioeless night,
Trips fair Luna's silver light;
Ile-ar ol nature's pulse that beat,
Like the thread ot unseen foot; -
See from out the lambent north
8himmering arrows shooting lorth;
Ixive is in a meteor's start,
As in throb ot maiden's heart.
Love's the essence ol all things;
Tie lrom love that beauty springs ;
'Twas by love, creation first
Into glorious being burst;
Veiled in maiden's form so lair,
I do worship thee in her.
Spirit sweet all else above
Love is God, since God is love.
Chamber' Journal.
MY VALENTINE.
Valentine's d ay, and I am silting In the
bay-window -of my front room in the
little semi-detached house which is now
my home. The little maid has laid the
breakfast thing3, hut it is early, and I
sit on the horsehair sofa in the window,
looking out for the postman.
Not that his coming this morning has
aqy romantic interest for me. Those
diys of romance are past and gone.
I am now arrived at the sober age of
thirty-five, and it is time to have done
with such folly. And yet, as I sit here,
and the postman delays his cominpr, my
mind wanders back to other Valentine's
days long ago, when it was a matter of
such deep interest to me.
One fourteenth of February in particu
lar I remember, ten let me see, sixteen
years ago it was. How theyeaisfly!
and how short a time it seems! Those
few bright years of a woman's life seem
to goby magic, and when they are gone
what remainsP Always atone time or
other an aching sense that they are
gone, and sometimes, alas! the knowl
edge that she is doomed to loneliness
for the years to come. I felt that at
one time myself, but I am used to it
now.
At thirty-five these romantio regrets
should be done with. And especially
when one lives the life of a daily cover
ness (as I have dona for some year
past), the realties of life press too con
stantly and too unpltsentiy on one's
mind to leave room for day-dreams.
But on the fourteenth of February
just referred to my governess life had
hot yet begun. 1 had then as fair a
future before me as most young girls oi
my acquaintance, with equal chances of
an advantageous and happy marriage,
and a life of independence. At that
time I was on a visit to some old
friends, the Coventrys. .
The family consisted of father, moth
er and two daughters nne, hearty,
good-lookine girls, tall, strong and high
spirited. In that respect rather a con
trast to myself, for I was small, euiet
mannere d, and (as I was painfully con
scious) rather plain in aDDeurance. Thev
saw plenty of company, for their father.
'Squire Coventry as he was called, kept
a most hospitable house; and, especially
curing t ue vviiiter, the Louse was con
tinually filled with ; young people and
amuseme nt of all kinds was the order nf
the day. ,
in most of these amusements I took a
part, and thoueh I had neither health
nor animal spirits eaual to mv vniinir
friends, their kindness and heartiness
made everything pleasant. They had a
most especial fondness for practical
joking (I mean a harmless kind), par- !
ticularly the younger onb. Kate, who
was ably assisted in this line by her
cousin, Uliarles oramtree, who con
stantly formed one of the party.
Kate and Charley were in every kind
oi escapade companions in mirth, and
frequently companions in misfortune,
'vhen the evil effects of their iokinir
fame home to their own door.
WMle I was at the Coventrvs wa at
tended a village church close by, where,
uie rector oemg ansem, mere omciatea
at the time a curate who had lately
como to the place. He wasa tall, slight
man, rather (rood-looking ; but he had a
painfully-stilted, sell -conscious manner,
which quite did away with the prepes
sessing effect of Lis appenratce. I at
first attributed it to conceit, afterward,
when I knew him better, to shyness.
He seldom came to the house, although
the Coventrvs quickly nn.de hia ac
quaintance, JtVid vr(8 d him to co so,
but invitations of all kinds lie refused.
During my stay, however, he gradual
ly acquired the habit ot walking home
with us from church, our road lying
psitl? ill the same direction: h' r.'ould
part with ua at the pai k-gatts. with the
stitk-stof bows, lei'usii! uH er treaties
to eater, ard proceed to his hidings
in the village.
By degrees his visits to the houae be
came more frequent, and of course the
change was attributed to me. I could
not help be coming conscious that during
these Sunday walks hi place was gen
erally at my si e; and I bufforeid much
from the sly look, and mil' tered remarks
of which I was the subject. Our con
versatton on these occasions was of the
primmest and mot demure. Sometimes,
after a silent walk ol two or three min
utes, a feeble request to carry my prayer
book, and that yielded to, a few remarks
on the weat her, and so on, and we were
already at our lournevsend: noverthe
less this was sufficient food for mischief-
loving friends to found a1 joke upon
as to ivir. isargiu t imsuii, lie was
'f:iir game." His conscious, conceited,
and yet awkward and bashful manner.
made him, I must eon fess, amost tempt
ing subject ; pnd while he had quickness
enourh to nee that in some way -or
other ho was ridiculed, his rensc of
humor was so dull that he could never
comprehend the joke. All this com
bined to make him undergo torture
when in my friends' society, and I verily
believe he fld to me (quite, sedate and
hnrmless as I was) as a refuge from
their pallies. Whether that were so or
no 1 know rot. but bv desrrees I became
quite used to his society, and from tol-
ratlng J pot to like it and to miss him
when he did not come; and when the
j kes raged, I invariably took his part.
Valentine's day drew near, and o
course Kate Coventry was full of
business. There were valentines of all
kinds to be dispatched and expected
in return. Numerous "hoaxes" de
signed for particular friends, and the
plots and schemes ns to places of port-
ago &ud disguise of handwriting, were
truty wondertui.
" What fun it would be to send a val
entine to Mr. Bargilll" exclaimed
Charley. "What would he do with itf
Put it into the fire, I expect, and never
let any one hear of it. He would feel it
an insult."
"Mr. Bargill!" exclaimed Kate, sud
denly looking up from her work of di
reefngand Btamping envelopes. "Why,
of course, he shall have one. flow
stupid of me to forget! It's important,
though. I must take time to think of
it. Of course we know who the sender
w 11 be!"
She glanced at me as she said this.
"Kate, please? do not," I said, im
ploringly, blushing up to the roots of
my nair, lor l tnew mat 1 was doomed
" Do not what P" replied Kate. "Oh!
by-the-bye, Ethel, you're sure to receive
some this year one at least."
" Yes," broke in Charley. "Directed
in a very stiff", upright hand. Now, who
would think that such a very modest,
retiring person would write such a very
decided hand P You know who I mean,
Miss Vane P '
So the remarks flew round, and I
knew that remonstrance was vain, and
they intended send, ng either a valen
tine to me in his name, or, far worse,
one from me to him.
For some reason this latter idea was
torture to me. Ol course what I re
ceived myself was a matter of little
consequence. I should know wtom to
thank for it; but if I only could know
how they meant to make use of my un-
lortu.ate name in playing their jokes
upon him.
So time wore on, and I comforted
myjejf by thinking that Mr. Barsill.
come what miht, would believe that 1
had sent mm a valentine, more espe-
cially such a one as I feared they would
send him.
It will be as Charlev said." I
thought. " He will most likely put it
in the tire, and r,o one will be a whit the
wiser."
And then I caught myself wondering
whether it would make him shy of our
company, and whether he would cease
the walks from church, etc. And I
must allow that the idea vexed me.
"How very tiresome they are!" I said
to myself. " And what bad taste it is
to play these jokes on people," forgetting
for the moment how often I had my
self been a party to jokes of the kind.
At last Valentine's morning came.
There was much excitement round the
breakfast table when the post-bag, lull
to bursting, was banded in.
I waited patiently for my share of its
contents. They wero three. First, a
letter from home in ray mother's writ
ing; secondly, a large document, di
rected in the stiff, upright hand I had
been led to expect; thirdly, a letter di
rected in a handwriting perfectly un
known to me. I opened the second
mentioned first.
"Now, Ethel, let us hear!" assailed
me on every side.
"That's the writing! I knew it would
come!" shouted Charley.
"Thank you, I am much obliged to
you all!" I replied. "It is admirably
written; but this one is much better
done" as I spoke I held up the third -mentioned,
written in the unknown
hand. " That large one is too elaborate.
Mr. Burgill, 1 am sure, would never
6end such a flowery composition as
that. Now, this is sober, and to the
point."
I had just read it, tnd wa surprised
to hud only u short, simple, earnest
offer ot marriage not much like a
valentine, except that the writer slight
ly referred to the character of the day
as a kind of apology for ai' J-esiug me.
It was signed only "J.li
"I see." I said. "Y thought by
sending me two that I should certainly
becaufcht by one of them. TLis last
one i certainly the best. Some of your
worx, I suspect, CoLme. It is not in
Kntiu's style."
Constance protested her innocence;
but in vain. luuced, a fctueral chorus
disclaimer waa luised round the table;
but, I limply ignored it, put the two
vt, lex-lines in my pocket, and began to
rend wy mother's letter. This waa of
anutht r kin i. My father was seriously
iil. My mother wanted me home
dhectly ; and the next day found me oa
my homeward journey, pressed attlie
thought .f my fuiher'a illness, ad full
ol reii ts ai 1 aving my friends.
Then began a heiwou of calamity and
triaL Mj; fV-h'.-r died, after a fortnight's
illness, leaving myself, a brother and
bitter almost unprtvided lor.
The following year mil sister, wio
bi'dhetn erg.'.ged forsoiue t:me, was
murried. My mother died soon ater
ward, and I was lett alone almost al-
that Mr. iiargill and myself were to be
Llwo of the victims on Valentine's day.
INot only that, but 1 greatly feared that
solutely alone, my brother having gon
abroad to seek his fortune, and I chose
rather to set k an independence for my
self than to accept kindness from sister,
who wm not in affluent circumstances.
Thus began my governess life, which
I am thankful to say, has been such a
succ s that I am r ow able to live in
etimfort an-i to put by a mite for a rainy
day. I have not scent much in travel
ing, though aiy kind friends, the Cov
entry's, sent me many invitations. Per
haps I am a little proud, for I think I
could not mix in their society with just
the same pleasure as in former days.
However, they are unchanged to me.and
always will be, I feel sure.
The clock had just struck nin. What
a time I have sat here ruminating on
past time ! and the postman is not come
yet. Valentine's day that is the reason
of the delay, no douot.
Here he comes around the corner, but
what a time he stops at each door! The
five little dwellings to he visited before
he gets here will take, I should think,
another quarter of an hour, at this rate
oi going. Weill you will not be detained
long here, my man. Sarah shall bring
the breakfast
Another ten minutes; he is here!
Sarah puts two letters into my hand,
and strange coincidence 1 one of them
is in the handwriting of my old friend,
Constahce Coventry.
C t;3tance Bain tree she is now; she
married Charley two yc.ir after my last
visit. And bright, merry Kate is dead!
My second letter, being evidently a
business one, claims my first attention.
It is from the mother of my eldest pupil.
She is going abroad, and wishes my
charge to accompany her. My three
other pupils are at present in scarlet
fever My handc will be empty! What
shall I doP Look for temporary em
ployment P I should like to take a holi
day, but know of nowhere to go just
now.
Now for Constance :
"We have just come home from
abroad," she writes, " and are settling
in our new home, though it is a
wretched time of year. I do want you
so much to come and see me. Perhaps
my reasons are partly selfish, for he
will not see company yet, and I am
dreadfully dull and lonely, but I know
that will be no rrawback to you."
She then goes on to say a good deal
that is kind, and adds in a postscript:
" I said we were alone, but I forgot tc
mention that an old friend, or rather ac
quaintance, is with us whom I dare say
you will remember in by-gone days
Mr. Bargill! We came upon him at
Basle, when Charley was dangerously
ill, and his kindness I shall never tor
get, I am so sorry that I ever laughed
at or teased him, dear Ethel ; he saved
my husband's life ! Do come."
That is all. And what a strange sup
plement to my meditations of the past
hour. How the old familiar names re
call the old days. I am at Barfield
again, young and happy as of old! Con
stance's invitation is a tempting one. I
should like to see her again in her new
home: and Mr. Ban?ill ? I smile as I
remember the valentines, and I think
on the whole I should like to see him
again, too! It is decided. I will go
and sit down and write to that effect.
Three days later, at five o'clock on a
cold winter's evening, I am driven up
the avenue at Braintree, trying hard,
through the duak aad the drifting sleet,
to catch a glimpse of my friend's new
home. A double row of stately lime
trees on each side of the drive is all that
I ;an see, and as wo. draw nearer Irer
ceiveafineold Elizabethan house nearly
covered with ivy and creepers. It has
been tlie home ot me Braintrees tor
many generations, and has just descended
to Charley from an uncle.
A bright light streamed forth when
the door was opened, and Constance
stood in the nail ready to receive me
with open arms, in a second 1 was in
a cozy little room with a bright fire,
where lay her husband, looking not
much older, but pale and delicate from
his recent illness.
Constance led me to my room, and on
leaving me, said
" We have just a few friends coming
to-night, dear; you won't mindP 111
send you my maid," and without wait
ing for an answer, she was gone.
I did " mind," but there was no help
for it. Constance wa3 always fond of
Bociety. I dressed mysel' as well as my
limited wardrobe would allow, and she
presently returned and escorted me to
the drawing-room, where about fourteen
persons were assembled; but among
them all n -t one lace was familiar to me
save that of my host .
I quietly e nsconced myself in a win
dow recess, where 1 was partly hidden
by a curtain. My eyes wandered for a
moment rather anxiously over the group
in a vain hope thnt I might discover
Mr. Bargill, but in vain. No one whs
known to me there.
Dinner was announced. The partv
paired off-. As I sat wondering who my
partrer was to be, Constance touched
the arm of a portiv-iooking man who sat
with his hack- to me, engaged in earnest
conv rs.ntion. Ho rose at once, and she
lod him up to mo-
"An old inen.i, Ethel. Mr. Bargill.
you remember Miss VaneP"
Was it possible P Was the fine-look
ing man before me the "shy curate" of
former duysP No need to abk if he
remembered me. He gave a start, and
colored visibly, whin shj uttered my
mtiiie, and then I saw plainly the resem
blance which I had failed to detect at
first. Hi recognized ma at once, loo.
1 saw that, and it was no Email pleasure
to think that time's ravuge had not
altered me iu his eyes, .it loNt beyond
recognition.
I went into ti e dining-room on his
arm, and after the first lew tenienced
our conversation never flagged. I then
discoveied how in mmei as well as in
joeij Le had developed tui.l improved;
orrfiher, having gained m iMauruuie
titirtl jianiiness, thote qualities wlih-h I
imagined he always had possessed :u
suffered to come to the surface, while
that Htiflness of manner which we had
called conceit, and which I now felt sure
had proceeded from suyniss, had van
ished altogether.
When I returned to the drawing-
room, I no longer felt myself alone in
the company. I talked indifferently to
my next neighbor, hardly conscious
who or what she might be, mv eye
meanwhile watching the door with
anxiety, until at last the hum of voices
outside told that the gentlemen were
coming.
There was a vacant seat beside mo.
Wonld he take itP Yes, he wan evi
dently coming toward me. My heart
throbbed loudly when down upon the
chair I bad guarded sat a fat old coun
try 'squire who began to make himself
agreeable to my next neighbor. I felt
mortified and disappointud, and soon
afterward took'an opportunity of retir
ing to my old seat in the window.
I had not sat there many minutes
when the curtain was drawn aside, and
Mr. Bargill placing a chair for himseli
in my recess, sat down beside me.
" Mr. Bargill," cried out Constance's
little girl, running up to us, "just look
at my valentine! Isn't it a beautyP I
have had such a lot, but this is the pret
tiest of them all, and I cannot find out
who sent it. DoyouknowP I believe
it was you. Now, wasn't itP Tell the
truth."
No, Ca rrie it was not I ."
i believe it was, tnougn," sue per
sisted. " I'm sure it wan ! "
"No, Carrie, indeed," he answered,
while a grave smil'3 hovered round his
mouth, " I never sent but one valentine
in all my life, and that"
" Well, and thatP"
" That one was never answered."
tie iookei at me, tnougn ne was
speaking to her, and instantly I remem
bered mv two valentines ot long ago.
that one in particular which was Lever
accounted for, and which I had troubled
myself so little about. In my own
mind I had never doubted that It had
been sent me by mischievous young
mends. ,
I remembered now how strongly they
had denied it; and, as I tin ugh t of its
contents. I reflected, what If it reallv
had come from him P had lain all these
years unheeded and unnoticed P and
now!
My cheeks burnt crimson as I turned
my head away, and my contusion must
have been evident to mm.
Katie had Gown away to exhibit her
tre asures in another part of the room.
1 teard a low voie beside me:
" Miss Vane Ethel, will vou answer
it now!"'
I did answer it. and in a wav that I
nave never since regretted.
vv nen my mend Constance oame to
visit me in my bedroom tnat night.
had a secret to confide to ? r, and was
kissed and congratulated U, my heart's
content.
"But oh! Constance," I exclaimed,
when she allowed me a pause. " how
could you not tell me that that second
valentine came from him, or that it did
not come irom your now could you
let me Deneve otnerwi3ei"
" My precious child, did I not tell
you." she answered, laughing. " a hun
dred times overP and why were you so
ohstmately peisuaeled to the contrary P
Why, the signature should have been
enough! But never mind, aH'B well
that ends well,' and this is just the very
tumg i snouid nave wisned."
"Yes," I said, soft'y. "I believe it is
well; a-d though I shall only be a poor
curate's wife, I shall be the happiest
"A poor curate's wife." broke in Con
stance. "Why. don't you know that
Charley has given Mr. Bargill the rich
living of Braintree, two miles from
tiere, and l suali Have you near me
aiways P Oh! it is delightful. So you
thought you were marrying a 'poor
curate,' aid you f "
The lovely rectory of Braintree has
long been my home, and the "shy
curate" the best and most devoted ot
husbands. Little does the title apply
to mm n"wi Beloved and respected bv
his parishioners, and known far beyond
i. is own little circle for conspicuous
talents, my home is all and more than 1
could wish; and as the fourteenth of
February again approaches, recalling
ti e happiest event of my life, with whut
different feelings do 1 greet it from
when, ten years ago, I sat in my lonely
lodgings, thinking sadly of " my Valen
tine a days oi tuu past.
The Bamboo Tree.
Although no production of China i3 of
so much importance to us as tea, the
bamboo treo is. perhaps, to the Chinese
themselves, the most valuab.e article
their land produces. It is used tor every
ceiticeivabie purpose, unit has been called
' a universal material." It grows to
the height of about eighty feet, bears
neither blossom nor fruit, and the leaves
are narrow and small; many of the:
canes are much thicker than a man's
arm. For building purposes its largest
sterns serve for pilinrs, rafters and
plank's; its leaves are thutchiug for the
root and the small ii hers are matting for
the floor. For household use it is made
into bed.-iletida, moles, chairs and other
articles of lurniture; also into um
brellas, hats musical instruments, bas
kets, cups, brooms, soles of shoes, pipes,
bows and arrows, sedan-chairs and
wicks ot candles. Its tine fiber is made
into twine ; its leaves as a kind of cloak
for wet weather, called "a garment A
leaves." Small shoots form the cele
brated chopsticks; other tender shoots
are boiled and eaten; th. pulp is formed
into paper; the pith into good pickles
and sweetmeats; and a thick juice,
whioh is pressed from it, is said to be
an excellent medicine. For maritime
purposes it ii transformed into boati,
floats, sails, cables, rigging, fishing rods
and tiahing baskets. By simply tying
together a tw oaoiboo reed a a swim
ming jacket is constructed capable of
coaiai.-iing one o more persons. In
ai-'i icu ;ture, carts, wheelbarrows, water
pipe and win -eii, fences and many other
ttiii.gs are made lrom it. In the manu
faciuie ef tea it helpito form the rolling
tab es, drying biskcta and sieves. It is
the univeinai demand in the houses, in
the fields, ou water andon land, in peace
and in war. Through life the China
iijan ii dependent upon it, nor does it
kave him until it tarries him to his
lat 1 eating-place.
Before the Day-Break.
Before the day-break shines a txt
That in the day's great glory fades ;
Too fiercely bright U the lnll light
That her palo-gleaming la np upbraids.
Belore the day-break sings a bird
That stills her i!ong ere morning light)
Too loud lor her is the day's stir,
The woodland's thonsand-tongued delight.
Ah! great the honor is to shine
A light wherein no traveler errs;
And rich the prize to rank divine
Among the world's loud choriuters.
But I would be that paler star,
And I would be that lonelier bird ;
To shine with hope, while hope's afar,
And sing ol love, when love's unheard.
Thi Spectator.
H ICHOROUS.
The feelings of a pig are always pent
up.
Firemen, as well as other people, like
to talk of their old flames.
One who knows 6ays that a soft corn
is the hardest kind of a csrn.
A man who is as tiue as steel, pos
sessing an iro n will, some gold and a
fair proportion of brass, should be able
to endure the hardware of this world.
The weight of the circulating blood
in a man is about twenty pounds. But
one pound will often cause it to circu
late if the pound is given on the nose.
" I know bow manr days there are in
a year three hundred and sixty-five
and a fourth." Parent "Is that bo P
Where does the fourth ccme inP"
Pupil "Fourth of July." .
A prudent man had his. portrait
painted recently. His friends complained
to htm that it was much too old. "That's
what I ordered," said he. "It will save
the expen.'.e ot another one ten years
from now."
roKT-nun.
Oak, Caroline ! fit yew I pine;
Oh, willow, will you not be mine T
Thy haael eyes; thy tulips red, -
Thy ways, all larch, have turned my head;
All linden shadows by thy gate,
I cypress on my heart and wait;
Then gum ! beech cherished, Carolino;
We'll fly lor elms of bliss divine.
True-Manhood.
A true man is an earnest man, an in
dustrious man, a sincere man, and above
all a man who never stoops to perform
a mean or vulgar action. His soul,
his mind and his body grow in strength
and beauty year by year. His true
worth and greatness are to be justly
estimated by taking into consideration
his usefulness to the world and the hap
piness he conveys upon others. .
Only a true man can become a great
reformer or successful moral physician.
A man must practice what ho preaches
in order to carry conviction with his
tneoriesof theology or philosophy; he
must live up to his creed by acts as well
as by words eloquently uttered. A man
should never put himself forward for
a pilot and live the life ot a castaway.
Earnestness and honesty are great helps
in the highway to success. A man may
have the genius of a Gray, the brilliancy
of a Byron, the eloquence of an
Everett, and the power of a Pitt, and if
he not carry into the hearts of his read
ers or hearers that he is truthful he
might as well talk to bare walls.
The soul of a true man is without de
formity. No soul that is misshapen can
long remain concealed from a Knowl
edg of the world. It cannot be hid
den by a sanctimonious face, plausible
words, ostentatious benevolence, and
pretentious piety. A bad character is
as hard to conceal as the limp of a
lame soldier. A man without gen
uine goodness is soon consigned to
his proper level in society. He may
hold bis head high for a consid
erable space of time, but he ii seldom
ultimately successful in imposition.
There are little loopholes in his mean
nature through which keen and observ
ing individuals may regard his imper
fections. A man may outlive a bad
reputation, but he cannot permanently
sustain a good one by continuous fraud,
dissimulation and hypocrisy. Nobody
can commit fraud and many misdeeds
without discovery. The ftJl of many '
individuals h as been rendered hopeless
by reason ot their having attributed to
themselves rare virtues and qualitiesof
ueart they never really possessed.
Another quality of true manhood is
faith in and love for humanity. To be
human is to be fallible. There is no
sunny spot on this green earth where
perfect beings dwell, lhe hestand truest
livftig men and women have their weak
nesses and imperfect iers. Thus all
should learn to look ch:ixitably upon the
errors of others who are conscious of
ttiMirown leelings.
.there is much that is good and pure
in humani'y, as well as manv thinsa
that are evil and odiou3. It i3 unreason
able to believe that all are treacherous
and lalse because one person has been
untrue. It is unjust to atiirm that one
who has committed a single error has no
remaining grains of good in him.
Mr. Topnoody was Jn good humor
this morning, und coming into the
kitchen, where Mrs.T. was at work, he
threw a barrel hoop over her that he
found in the bacg yard and said : " Ha!
ha! Mrs. Topnoody, why are you like
thewifuof a circus clnwn f "I don't
know," snapped Mrs. T.. jerking awav
the hoop, unless I'm married to a
fo)l." Poor Topnoody collapsed and
forgot the answer to his conundrum, all
except something about being iu a ring,
and even nis friends dowu to-.i
ixulrin't recall to his mind what it v-z-j.
Ueubencille Herald.
Greedy grocer (to immer'i wile who
is supplying him with butter) " This
pun' o' butter is OAer iioht, gudewitc."
Gudewifti "'Blame ycrsol', then; I
weighed it wi' the pun' o' sugar 1 gat
irae ye y. itreen.
The motion of a woman's jaws in
chewing four caramels at once gives a
very poor idea eif. the poetry or ruction.
1
I
t.