RATES OF AUVIjUTTGIXrO. crest UcpMta 19 ITPUSIIKD IVrPT WKHNSKDAT, BY J. K. WENK. Offioo In Smnnrbangh ft Ca.'n Building, ELM STREET,' - TI0NE3TA, PA. '.ricitisiH, 91.no ricn "Vejati. No wliw rijitlotis received for a shorter period thtrn tlnre immtlii. ' (!ori'CKiiii(!(n('n folicitod from 11 parts of the oounliy. .'o notlro wi 1 betaktu of anonymous Communications. On fiq'jsrs, one inch, one iiiRert'oo,.,, 1 CI One fUre, one inch, one mjiiti 8 09 , I hie Square, ono inch, three months.. 00 One .S'jiiFir, one inch, on year......... 10 00 Cwi Kijunrw, one year. ...... ...... .... IB 00 Q'mrtr Column, one year-. ........... 80 00 rinlf Column, one year.... .. SO CO Due Column, one year , . 100 01 Jgal notice at established rates, Msrriages and death notions gratis. All bills for yearly advertiwraents collected quarterly. Temporary advertisements must b .-ill for in advance. Job work, cash ou delivery . Vol. XV. No. 2. TIONESTA,PA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 5, 1882, $1.50 Per Annum. f1 rl O The Shadowed Cross. la we lded lovo our lives had twined One year ono carolcus, goldmi year And then bo died, my darling died; And, for.tlie joy that harbored there, My heart was filled with dark despair. I traced the haunts ho lored the best In dear, lost days alas, so brief I And tiit'iu'ry's breathings, onoe so sweet, But fanned the furnace of my grief: They brought no team to my roliof. At early dawn I sought his grave, 'Mid quaint-carved stonoa, o'ergrown with lllOrW, And lo I upon the hallowed mound In seeming emblem of my loss There full the shadow of ft Cross. And, kneeling there in tearloss woe, Tthniight I beard my darliDg say: " Oli, lovo I thy grief ft shadow is, Which, as ft dream, shall pass away, Where shadow melt in cloudless day I" , Then found my anguish rent in tears, Strange toara of hoav'n-boru Jpeaoe, tha shed t Around my soul ft holy calm: And when I rose, thus comforted, Tho shadow from the grave hftd f 1 a Oovd Wordi. An Unceremonious Wedding. "One thing I am determined npon," remarked Mrs. Sue Hathaway, deci sively. " Yon, Fan, shall have a de cently ceremonious wedding. When I think of the harum-scarum way in which Chtrley and I were thrown at one an other, the wonder 1b not that we haven't quarreled since, but that we were ever really married at all." " Tell me all about it, Bue dear," coaxed Mrs. Hathaway's youngest and ' pet sister, as she folded and replaced in their boxes the dainty articles which she was preparing for her own trou stau. "Yen have alwavB spoken of your wedding day as the most un happy day of yonr life; but I cannot conceive how that can be, when yon and Charlie love one another so dearly." And if we bad not yvtd each other beyond all possibility of quarreling, we would certainly have broken oar en gagement an hour before the ceremony was really performed. I sincerely trust, dear Fan, that your married life may bt as happy as mine has proved, and thai heaven may defend yon from a wedding day a chaotio as mine." ' My remembrance of the affair Ik that it was a perfect success. You are snch a manager, Sue, you are always in request for tableaux and private theat ricals. I never knew an occasion which you were not equal to, from a charity bazaar to the state dinner the ladies gave the foreign deputation. I was only eight years old when you were married; but I remember that I was your bride maid, and that I wore a puffed mull, with pink kid gloves. They were the first kid gloves I ever had, and I was as proud as a peacock of them. I wouldn't carry a bouquet for fear of soiling and hiding them, but marched in, arm in arm with Isabel's oldest boy, with my hands displayed as conspicuously as possible." And do you happen to remember what a scamp that boy was? He was the cause of mora than half my tribu lation, lie was a regular little Ishmael 'his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him.' And when I think what a Bohemian Isabel has been all her life, and of the wildly prepoRterons way in which she was mar ried, I don't wonder. She was study ing abroad when she met her hus band. They had both gone to Europe for a number of years, and they con cluded to be married at the' Ameri can consul's, and continue their foreign residence, instead of coming home for the ceremony. They were married in the evening and took a steamer imme diately after for some Mediterranean port. Isabel's trunks had been sent on board during the afternoon, but when they drove down to the wharf at nig Ut they found that the snip had moved from its anchorage, and they were obliged to hire a waterman to row them out. The water was very rough, ' and in a sudden lurch of the little boat Isabel was thrown overboard. She was promptly rescued by her husband an I got safely on board, but in a com pletely drenched condition. Now comes the ridioulous part. It was a oargo steamer which only carried a limited number of passengers, and it so hap pened that there were no other ladies on board. Isabel's trunks were buried in the hold where it was impossible to get at them, and the valise which had fallen into the water with her, had gone to the bottom, and Isabel retired to her stateroom to improvise a toilet out of some flannel underclothing of the captain's and two Marseilles bed spreads." IIow very dreadfull" exclaimed Fan, choking with laughter. " She succeeded, too ; she basted up a wrapper of the bedspreads with a Watteuu plait in the back, trimming the front with a Turkish towel torn in strips, and breakfasted next mor. ing in that costume. Her husband told me he never saw her dressed so becom ingly." I always thought Isabel was a ge- nius," Fan remarked, admiringly. 'Yes, but what a very singular pro ceeding ! Isabel is tivo years older than I am, and I look up to her for cer tain qualities. But she has no idea of ceremony or etiquette, and the utterly 1 '. h convention. Now I pay that ' t!'(irri?d at all is a cenvi.--tioa to conventionality, und if you are going to acknowledge the claims of society so far as that, you might as well do tho thing respectably and in good form. I am a manager, as you Bay, and it was for that very reason that the ertire arrangement of my wedding was left to me. We were living in the old family mansion in the country, two miles from the church, and of course the wedding had to be at the house. This troubled me from the first, for the ceremony is always so muoh more solemn and im pressive before the altar, and I wanted to think of it as a sacrament, to really feel the sacredness of the vows I was taking upon myself. Instead of this, I knew perfectly well that I should be distracted by people whispering and giggling dur ing the minister's very prayer. What restraint can there be in parlors where one has danced the German a score of times, and whero one expects to dance again in a few moments ? Besides, the house was to be crammed with com pany, and I was morally certain that evorything would be in confusion. Charlie's family were ooming; they are very aristocratic; and I was more afraid of them then than I am now, especially of his sister Adelaide. She is the most envious and spiteful creature in the world, did all she could to spoil the matoh, wanted Charlie to marry some particular friend of hers. Then there was Aunt Sue Stockstill, for whom I was named. We were all very fond of her, and our love was tempered with a respectful admiration which amounted almost to fear. " The entire second floor was given up to guests, and we were huddled iu the little bedrooms under the mansard roof. You and I had Bridget's room, and she slept on a pallet in the kitchen. Charlie had a cot bed in the hall. All of our boys slept in the stable loft. Father swung himself up in the ham mock on the back veranda; it was July, but he took a horrid cold all the same Mother had the trunk room until Isabel arrived with her two boys, when it was given up to her, and mother camped on the lounge in the back parlor. Now that is only the background to the pio ture. We had no city caterers to pro vide the banquet Mother made every cake, and had her hands quite full enough to provide a handsome table daily for her guests. I had loads of beautiful flowers sent me, and Isabel took the decorating of tho parlors off my hands. That was really a great help, for she has exquisite taste and rare inventivegenias. She rigged a su perb wedding bell out of an old hoop skirt, and turned the old rooms into bowers of beauty. But I had all of the reoeiving and entertaining of the guests upon ray hands, and all the little ar rangements to make which are al ways left to the last moment. Your dress came, and had t.ibe altered; I sat up late into the night to do it. Then you and your tiny groomsman had to rehearse your entree, and your young nephew did behave abominably. He caught your drees out of my hands and raced with it downstairg into the par lors. He got himself up at the last moment like a wild Indian, instead of dressing as ho should hae done. He left the water running until it soaked through the ceiling below; he hung the cat over the balustrade, and made a bonfire in tho wood-house; he sifted a quart of salt into the ioe cream as it was being frozen in the cellar. There was no end to tho pranks that fellow per petrated. The wedding presents were displayed in the library. They were superb. I had not expected anything bo beautiful. But Adelaide whispered about that with the exception of one dozen spoons it was all plated ware, and that half of the porcelain and brio-a-brac was hired for the occasion. " Isabel repeated her remarks to me just in time to raise my angry passions to a white heat, and to send me down stairs inwardly raging on my wedding morn. We were to be married at noon precisely, in order to take the 3 o'clock iraia for the city. I had a very elabor ate and becoming traveling costume. which I had decided to wear, with the addition of a real white Spanish lace mantilla arranged as a veil. Aunt Sae met me at breakfast. 1 My dear child,' she said, ' I can't bear to think of your not being married in white. Nothing else is suitable for a bride. Wear the India muslin in which you looked so lovely at your graduation. " 1 did not dare displease Aunt Sue; but the muslin was crumpled and yel low; it would iook are-vdlully by day light. There was still time, and I de termined to have shutters closed, cur tains drawn, and the rooms lighted as for evening. Brother Ned helped me arrange four dozen wax candles on brackets among the flowers. When they were lighted, the rooms mode me think of Victor Hugo's description of the mar riage of Oorinne. It was as brilliant and sparkling as fairyland, and the tumbled muslin would look very well, I ran upstairs to dress. But first I had your hair to curl and gloves to fit, and then I must need wash the vermilion from the face of that boy. Then Charlie, who was vainly trying to tie his cravat without a glass (he had dressed in the bath-room), came to me for assist anoe, and I saw the minister drive up to the door before I had begun my toilet. I was half dressed when Char lie tapped at the door. 'Sue Sue, dear I they are having a council of war downstairs, and they don't like the idea of our being married by artificial light in the daytime. The majority think it an affectation, and it rather strikes me so, too. Isabel abked me to ask you to let her take down the candies. She diJu't ct ra to e'.'euk to you about it herself; she said yon had so much to fret yon,' " Tell her to take them down,' I re plied, in a choked voice, and then I burst into tears. It was the lost straw, and Charlie and I came nearer to quar reling then and there than we ever did in our lives. I hadn't the heart to go on with my dressing, but sat and boo hooed until Charlie came to the door again to say that the company was wait ing. Then I dashed into my clothes. I had no time to comb my hair, but Charlie pinned the lace veil over it rather awkwardly, so that we deluded ourselves into the idea that it did not show, and I stood up in my creased and second-hand gown, with unkempt hair, and face and eyes swollen with weeping, and was married, with the glare of noon day displaying all defects. They say thtt the consciousness of being well dressed gives a "peace of mind which even religion cannot impart. Imagine, then, my torture to be a gazing-stock at such a time before all those people I I had it in my heart to murder them all and then kill myself. Then afterward. We had thought, of course, that the com pany would remain and dine with our family, and then take the evening train for the city. But no. Adelaide thought it would be so jolly for all to go down en masse. Ned had to drive like mad to the livery- stable to get conveyances for them all, and Charlie and I got to the station in separate carriages. The engine was decorated with evergreen and flags in my honor, but the conductor thought Adelaide warf the bride, and gave her my seat, and 1 was very nearly left, for Ned came driving me up with our slow old Pilgrim just as the conductor had given the signal for starting. Charlie was on the rear platform waiting for me. He pulled the cord violently, and jerked me on, while Ned gave me a parting push. My elegant traveling costume was torn half off me. How every one laughed ! and Aunt Sue made a spec tacle of me by producing her housewife 'and sewing me up before the assembled multitude. Then half of the party went to the Bame hotel that we did, and it leaked out that we were a newly mar ried couple, and altogether it was the most completely mortifying and dis heartening day of my life." "You poor thing! laughed Fan. " If you had only had a nice competent sister, as I have, to take all the worry off your mind, then you could have resigned everything to her good provi dence, as I do, and have calmly awaited your fate with folded hands." "Yes; if I had had some one to rely upon I might have given my thoughts to more serious matters. Or if Charlie had been more conservative in his ideas, more punctilious in matters o etiquette, he might have helped me out but he did just as every one else does, left everything to me, and I had the sat isfaction of making a grand fiasco of it all. But I will do better by you, Fan. You are not to be married until June; that will give us plenty of time to com plete the arrangements. The ceremony shall be at St. Andrew's, and I will give you the most recherche of receptions, lam very glad the professor has decided to spend his vacation abroad; it is just the thing for a bridal tour. You can have your selection of the young men from the graduating class, with whom you flirted so unconscionably, for your ushers. To think of your receiv ing all that attention from the under graduates, and then marrying a grave professor 1 It does seem so funny." "But he is not grave at all, Sue; and he is very young for his honors. Only thirty, and I am twenty-three, a real old girl. You don't realize how time flies." " Well, if he is not old, he is at least dignified and formal good material to work with at the start. He would give a certain prestige to . any occasion. I shall have the satisfaction of seeing you married in good style. You will re deem the family." ' Mrs. Hathaway left the room with a flutter of drapery, and Fan fell into a muse. Her father and mother lived alone now in the old family mansion, Isabel was in Europe again, Ned and the other boys were but West, whilst she was whiling away the winter at Sue's beautiful home in the city. She was weary of society, and she wished that summer was nearer, when Alston could leave his college duties and claim her. She cared as little for ceremony as her Bohemian sister Isabel ; she wished it all over, and herself settled in a home of her own. Home 1 What a delightful sound ! Should she ever realize the word ? There was a ring at the door. The Eostman had brought her letters from er professor and from her m.ther. "Dak lino Faxnt" (wrote the first), "I can't wait. June is a long, long way off, for the winter is only just begun. Moreover, there is no need of waiting. We were idiots to think of it. Mrs. Delanoy has gone South for the winter and has advertised her lovely home to let, furnished. You remember it, do you not? It was at a sooiable there, behind the garnet plush curtains in the bow-window, that you told me The house has had its associations for me ever since. I never go by it in the evening and see the light streaming through the stained glass over the hall door without fancying that it says to me : 'I know your secret; I've a weak ness for lovers.' That house is to let, or, rather, it was ; it is so no longer, for I have rented it. Don't start and drop this paper. The house awaits its mistress. I've told the kitchen girl that you will appear Monday morn iug. Now don't say you can't, for I Lhvq juat rocdved a later from your mother, and the thing is to be. She thinks it deoidedly the most sensible plan she has heard of lately. Why should I spend my evenings in a boarding-house for six months longer, when I might toast my toes instead at my ain fireside? The thing is preposterous. I inclose your mother's letter to me, in which you will see that she proposes that I bring you to her next Saturday evening. We can then be quietly mar ried at church after the regular Sunday service, and can start for our own home by the early train Monday morning, which will land me at the college in time to attend to my regular classes. I know that your Bister very kindly in tended to make a social event of our marriage; but I have a horror of 'events,' and, besides, I can't waifr. She must come with yon and see the knot properly tied. I will meet you both at the depot at half past four Saturday p. m." The letter from Fan's mother re enforoed the professor's plea, and gave a maternal sanction to the hasty mar riage. Fan ran to her sister's room, only to ascertain that Bhe had gone out in the carriage, the maid did not know whither. It was Saturday, and half past 3 in the afternoon ; and scribbling a hasty note of explanation, which she left upon her sister's dressing-table, Fan packed a hand-bag und departed. She reached the station a little too early, and sat in a corner of the waiting-room, enjoying watching the peo ple come and go, trying to imagine their histories, and wondering whether they were going on errands like her own. At last the train trundled in. There was the usual hubbub of em bracing friends, importunate cab drivers, and hurrying travelers. She ea gerly scanned each passenger who emerged from the cars. Her professor had not come. Inexperienced in the ways of travel, she began to be nervous. She still sat in the corner of the big room, outwardly calm, but inwardly quaking. A i old gentleman by het side, who, like her, had watched the crowd with meditative interest, his stubby chin resting pensively on the horn handle of his umbrella, turned to her and remarked, "Such a power of people 1 such a power of people I Nary two on 'em alike ; nary one on 'em you ever see afore 1" At last she stepped to the ticket-office and inquired the last train from the college station. Yes, one would be in at 8 o clock, but no train went out after that to Edgeoliff, her mother's home. Could she not go out at 9 o'clock to Junction and catch the night express at that point? "Yes, that was pos sible;" and Fan sat down again and waited. The 8 o'clock train brought the professor, weary and anxious. He hod lost the earlier train, and feared all would go wrong in consequence. The idea of the express at Junction raised his spirits at once. They set out in high glee, only to be dejayed by the heavy drifting storm Bufliciently for their train to reach the junction five minutes after the express had left. Here was a predicament 1 They stood to gether upon the platform, stranded, upon a stormy Saturday night, in a strange town, the last train left for everywhere, and the station-master locking his door for over Sunday. There were no carriages in waiting; and inquiring the way for the nearest par sonage they set out for a tramp to gether through the storm. " Courage, Fan," said the professor; "there is no way out of the mess but to get married as quickly as we can." A meek-eyed minister's wife an swered their summons. Her husband was at home and sick in bed ; not so ill, however, but Bhe thought he might marry them, though he hod been some what delirious during the day. They might follow her into the bedroom; she was sure no license was required. And so the professor in his snow flecked ulster (Fan thought hysterically of her sisterB words, ' His presence would give prestige to any occasion") and Fan in her damp rubber water proof stood together hand in hand by the good man's bedside. Fever had left him a little incoherent. He made the professor promise to obey Fan, and Fan to support the professor, but otherwise they were soundly and sacredly mar ried, and the minister's wife was made to smile by a crumpled bill of large amount pressed into her thin hand. A telegram announcing the event winged its way to Fan's mother, and a long sleighride of twenty-seven miles across the country carried Fan the next day to her new home. But Mrs. Sue Hatha way never, never forgave them their unceremonious wedding. JIarper't Bazar. Kedwood. A California writer says that the red wood which is in demand there for un derground use is what is known by the lumbermen as black-heart redwood. It shows a dark color when cut with a knife, the outer poition only being sea soned. This species of redwood is ex ceedingly heavy too heavy to float. One who has observed schooners load ing along the coast assures the writer that a post of this wood which plunges overboard never rises, and a board lingers on the surface a moment and then slowly slides down into its depths. This is the sort which is sought for in the foundation of buildings, and under brick walls is believed to be imperish able. In this connection it is interest ing to mention a fact concerning the second growth of redwood, bhoots from eld stumps have grown to three and four feet iu diameter in forty years. This would indicate restorative powers in redwood forests which would in sure a future supply of tha timber. FOR THE LADIES. Ijore and Light Heart. I once inquired of a maiden of thirty who was large, healthy and fair to look upon, what kept her bo young-looking, for she seemed scarce twenty. She re plied: "Love. I have, besides my mother, brother and sisters, and their families, to love a host of friends and admirers, so that I have no time to mope and regret I'm not beautiful." And I've often wished married women loved more, for I verily believe if they did they would keep healthy, young and hand some longer than they now do. But the cares and trials of life aie deep and wearing, and we women are bo crowded with them that few of us have time for ennobling our lives in any direction. In fact, we are too tired to even love, un less it is our babies, whose little lives clung so close to our own that they are a part of it; and the songs and kisses they call out of us tend to lighten the daily task, so that the back bends under its burden, instead of breaking. The loving and happy wife and mother is the handsome and healthy one, usu ally. As old age overtakes her ehe still keeps the lovelight in her eye, for it has become habitual to her, and the world is her family. The husband would find his daily cares lightened if he kept the thrill of affection as of old, and if husband did not forget to be the lover still it would be a better and a happier world. Just imagine the charmed life of the new-married couple, and the effect of such love and life upon the home and children perpetu ally. . Smiles bring dimples and roses to the face. Laughter makes work easy, and puts flesh on the bones, and unselfish ness adds a charm to the owner that gold cannot buy or thieves rob you of. Our bodies are the houses our souls live in, and whether it be a palace or a hovel, depends on ourselves as build ers and occupants. Shall we not teach our little ones, then, to build wisely and well to cultivate purity, cheerful ness, generosity, charity and love ? How can we better teach these things than by first setting the glorious example ? Jtwell, in California Agricu turist. Fashion Notes. Buff tints are revived. New beiges are striped. Ombre fabrics are out of style. Chene silks are coming into favor. Scarf rings are now worn by ladies. Velvet ribbon is seen on new bonets. Silk-muslin bows are worn at the throat. Very little jewelry is worn in the street. Half-mantles of velvet or moire are worn. Dark-green bonnets have pale-blue plumes, and garnet bonnets have pink plumes. White chudda dresses for the house are made in tailor fashions simple and severe Dark straw hats, with gloves and hosiory to matoh, are announced for next summer. Sulphur yellow, with Jjrown, is a stylish combination for' dresses and bonnets. Dolly Varden lives again in a new polonaise, a novel neckerchief, and a daintily shaped danoing shoe. In spring costumes there is a tenden cy to use lengthwise tucks in clusters in the place of kilt plaitings and shirrings Watered silks are combined with cashmere, surah and plush in the French costumes imported for misses and little girls. . Open work, wheel, and Kensington embroidery, in Hamburg edgings and ineer lions, form the bosom trimmings of domestic chemises. Tale rose and pure white dresses, with silver and pearl accessories, form the favorite evening toilet for young la dies of high fashion. Jerseys are brought out with a lace lullle at the bottom, and lace bretelles on each sido of the front, which is now cut open and buttoned up. Embroidered India muslin ball dresses are worn over bright satin skirts with the Camargo waist of ti.e same material as the skirt. Mousquetaire gloves are the most popular, but ladies of good - taste wear buttoned or laced gloves, if more be coming to their Hands and arms. Black, blue and lemon-oolored pocket handkerchiefs of sheer linen, embroi dered with contrasting colors, are among the eccentric novelties lately imported. Laco is the most fashionable, as well as the most elegant and most econom ical trimming for all costumes, wraps and toilets light enough to admit of its use. Pettiooata are profusely trimmed with needlework flowers, resembling the needle-wrought bands that border the new nun's veilings, ginghams and ba tistes. For second cloaks, are inexpensive wraps of the English homespun cloths, in dark brown colors, with red threads at intervals, or else of green cloth with mustard yellow threads. In many ' garments the style is en hanced by having all the trimming Elaoed lengthwise, both in front and ack, rather than to shorten the ap pearance of the wearer by a crosswise border of great breadth. Many satin grounds with colored stripes are prepared for trimming, but their novelty is the boldness of their coloring. Imagine grenat with olive , ttripea, sea preen with bronze, Tilleul 1 and rose porcelain blue with rosa and reseda. Soon! Let it be soon I Lifo was Dot mado to long For distant hours of dim futurity. Thy presonce soothes me like some far-off song. Oh, where my heart has rented let it lie; Hope is the morning; love the afternoon. Let it be soortf Let it ba soon I The treasured daylight dies And changes nadly to the chill of night. But summer reigns forever in thine eyes, And at thy touch grief stealeth out of sight, After sad years of longing love must swoon. Let it be soon 1 ' ClemerM Scotl. HUM Oli OF THE DAY. What pain is most agreeable to a burglar? Window-pane. " The sassyeet man I ever met," e ays Josh Billings, " is a henpecked hus band when he is away from home." It is pleasant to remember that no an hour passes iu the increasing march of time that there is not a half dressed man somewhere on the face of the earth calling for a shirt. Bame Sentinel, A dollar-store pin young man, A heart full or sin young man, A atand-on-the-corner-y Looking-forlorn-ery, Tobacco-stained-chin young man. Wilde Otcar, in Norrisixnon Herald. "Does our talk disturb you," said one of a company of talkative ladies to an old gentlemen sitting in a railroad station the other afternoon. " No, ma'am," was the naive reply, "I've been married nigh on to forty years." Hartford Times. "Why did you send me that almanai Augustus?" asked Angelina. "Eocauno, darling," answered Augustus, as he vainly strove to twist the few downy sprouts upon his upper lip into a curi, " because, darling, I wished yon to se lect a date for our the, aw cere mony. " Oh, I seel" she said; then, smiling a bewitching smile, she mur mured: " Call it the first of April." Augustus will some day succeed in rais ing a mustache, but he goes to see An gelina no more.-rSymerville Journal. The Steubenville Herald explains how the young man was a little loo previous in the following fashion: He sat at her feet in quiet peaoe. He looked into her face and said softly: "Ah, dear, I could sit here forever." "Could you, love?" answered she. "Yesf sweet." "You art quite sure you could, dar ling?'' " I know it, my own." "Very well, then, you sit there, for I have an engagement to go out with young Mr. Fitzspooner and I won't be back this evening. Turn down the gas and fasten the night-latch when you go away. Ta, ta, dear." And she went out. Tho Use of Wealth. There are thousands of rich men who are not skinflints who have the repu tation of beiDg bo because they have never been known to have done any special good with their money. A man who is worth $50,000 can do more to make himself loved and respected by all with whom be comes in contact, by the judicious expenditure of a thou sand dollars iu charity than by giving the whole fifty thousand dollars after he is dead. - It' seems as though it would be mighty small consolation to a millionaire to leave money to some charitable purpose, after death, and be so dead that he couldn't see the smiles of happiness that his generosity had created. Suppose a millionaire who has never had a kind word said of him except by fawning hypocrites who. hope to get some of his money, should lay out a beautiful park worth a million dollars, and throw it open free to all, with walks, driveslakes, shade., and every thing. Don't you suppose if he tock a drive through it himself and saw thou sands of people having a good timo and all looking their lovo and respect for him, that his heart would be warmed n p and that his day would be lengthened. Wouldn't every look of thanks be worth a thousand dollars to the man who had so much money that it mado him round Bhouldered? Wouldn't he have more pleasure than be would in cutting off coupons with a lawn mower ? Feck's Sun. Ileu Vorllch's Echo. An Austin man, of a literary turn of mind, is very fond of his dog, that barks day and night. A neighbor asked what the dog's name was. " Echo," was the reply. " What kind of a name is that ?" " It was the name of Ben Vorlich's dog." "Who the mischief is Ben Vorlich?" The owner of the dog smiled in de rision, and replied: " You never could have read Walter Scott's "Lady of the Lake." In the chase Ben Vorlich was one of the principal hunters. Echo is the nam of his dog. Don't you remember where it says: No rct Ben Vorlich's Echo knew V "This dog never takes a rest either, bo I call him Echo." The neighbor did not Bay anything, but that night he softly called Echo to the fence, gave him a piece of sau sage, and now Echo is as silent as Ben Vorlich, and even more bo. 1'ctas Stftings. General C. A. Whittier's new resi dence, Beacon street, Boston, will cott $2,1)00,000. It will havo walls ninety live feet high and twenty inches thk k, and from fifty to fifty-five rooms ; also the "largest, wine cellar in the eouutry." On the fourth floor is a great tuun ? rwm, ceiled and pantlod in Lard vt-.- '
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers