a tot
4
1ICI1.
B. F. SCHWEIER, THE C0STITCTI05 THB TJ5ION AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietors
VOL. XXVIII. MIFFLIKTOWN. JUNIATA COUNTY, PENIVA., MARCH 25, 1S74. NO. 12.
Poetry.
Bear I us the Cross.
TSAL4TCB Fioa Til HIIU.
fhe bMTlar era, th. hiw kum,
o erae wltboet, m Ooe with la ;
Death, jadf meet, from th kail are erWea.
Amlaet the werla'a falea flare ul 41m,
O I happy he. wlik aU hia wee.
Whom Gga hats Mt beaeeth the ctm
The heavier eroee. tk better ChrUtlaa :
TkU to the toachetoae Oat appllee;
Bjw maay a tardea womle Ua waauar ,
Pawet by eeewere from weepta eyee 1
Th. (ola by Ira im poriaea
Tka Cari.Ua. to by troabl. trie.
The heavier croM, tha atroaf er faith :
Tkt loaded palm atrikaa deeper root ;
Tba viae J ale. .weetly Uua.th.
l mi have preeeea tka e'esterlaf frmit ;
Aad coaraf a f row. where daagera eume,
Lika paarU baaeatk tha aalt aea foam.
Tka heavier creae, tha heartier prayer:
Tka bralaed berba moat fragrant ara ;
If wind aad ky wara alwaya fair,
Tba amilor woald aot vatck tba atar;
Aad David'a pw'mt bad ae'er beea aaag
If grief bia haart bad aayer wrnac.
Tha heavier croaa. tba Bora aspiring :
From valea w. climb to moaataia craat ;
Tba pilgrim of tba dMTt rJrtaf ,
Loaf for tha Caaaaa of bia root
Tba deve baa bar aa raat la algal,
Aad to ark aba wiaga ker light.
Tba heavier nw, the easier dylaf :
Death to a frttadller fee. to ae ;
To Ufe'a decay oae bide derylog
From life'a diitreee oae tbea to free.
The era, eubllmely 11 fu oar faith
To Hum who trlampba over death.
Christ eradfled 1 tke croaa I carry
Tke looger may It dearer be;
Aad leu I filnt wallet here I tarry,
lapiaot tboa .aeb a heart la ma.
That faith, hope, lore may aoarlth there.
Till for my croe the crowa I wear.
ZXiscellany.
Disraeli's Trials and Triumphs.
It was not until 1S52 that he was first
called to office as Chancellor of the
Exchequer. Twice afterwards he was
compelled to take the same post, with
a minority at his back. At length still
greater responsibilities were pressed
upon him. In the early part of 18GS
Lord Derby, under whom Mr. Disraeli
had so often served, found his health
rapidly declining. He retired from
office, and Mr. Disraeli received the
commands rf the Queen to form a
Cabinet. When he went down to the
House of Commons, on the night of
March 5, lUtiS, everybody expected a
memorable speech. The House was I
crowded, and the new Premier was vehe-1
mently cheered as he passed through
Westminster HalL In the House itself
he was received with equal warmth.
The galleries were filled with people !
eager to hear the great speech. Bat I
Air. .Disraeli does not care to surprise
people at least not in the way they
expect. He delivered a short and
modest address, and instantly applied
himself to the practical work of the
House work which few Prime Minis
ters have ever managed so welL The
interest felt by the public in his acces
sion to power was not unnatural. Since
Mr. Disraeli had entered Parliament,
mnrft than thirty tmk hefnri nnlv fi vi
men had succeeded in climbing before j
him to the chief place in the country,
. . J '
Peel, Aberdeen. KusselL Palmerston. '
and Derby. He had beaten his rival.
Gladstone, in the race. Many great
men had come and gone during those
thirty years, and had missed the chief
mark. Sir George Cornewall Lewis,
Sir James Graham, Arthur Buller, the
Duke of Newcastle, were men of great
influence and abilities ; bnt the un
known member, whose faith was that
all things in this life will fall to those
who wait and persevere, achieved the
distinction which they failed to reach.
He had fought out his struggle with a
grand courage which would alone render
him a man memorable in history. He
set himself to accomplish his purpose.
not in a feverish or impulsive spirit, bnt
with an heroic patience, an indomitable
endurance, and a splendid self-reliance
which enabled him to face all anta
gonists, to rise again and again from
repeated reverses and blows, to mock
at all difficulties, and finally to vanquish
every obstacle which was thrust in his
path. He had always led a solitary life.
He had no intimate friends, outside a
very small circle of men with whom he
has been acting for years. He began
as a solitary man in the wastes of Lon
don, with the chances of success incal
culably against him. He sought no
help from outside. He paid court to
no man, and, what must be the strangest
thing of all to aspiring politicians, to
no newspaper. Social prejudices stood
in front of him like a wall of iron. Not
the least of these prejudices was that
which related to the race from which
he sprung. His family traced its des
ign t from the pure Sephardim stock;
they were Hebrews of the Hebrews.
For two generations at least they had
been Christians, but still the favorite
taunt levelled at Mr. Disraeli was
founded on his Jewish origin. These
reproaches, as usual, he met with defi
ance. So far from repudiating his race,
he has always gloried in it. He fought
its battles in the Honse of Commons,
and to him fell the honor of completing
the removal of Jewish disabilities. He
succeeded in gaining for Jews the right
to sit in the House of Commons, and he
has done more to break down the un
just prejudice against them than any
man of his generation. He has made
people at last understand that they do
not insult him by calling him a Jew,
they only pay him a compliment.
A tlantic 'Mon th ly.
IX-ad Talemt.
As by constant friction steel is kept
bighlv'polished, so by constant exer
cite is talent at its brightest. All our
powers grow by use. If we neglect to
cultivate the habit of observation, we
might as well walk through the world
blindfold. We lose our faculty what
artists call our "touch" by neglect of
practice on other things besides the
piano. The man who seldom reads,
reads 6lowly; the woman whose writing
is confined to an infrequent letter to
some absent child, spends more time
over that than does a practiced writer
over a dozen pages of manuscript. Ex
ercise of possessed talent is absolutely
necessarv, then, if we would retain our
gifts. For example: if our occupation
is 8edentarj't w ueed to plan for walks,
rides and active games to keep our
muscles lithe and serviceable, but if
our employment gives us enough mus
cular action, it is not one whit less im
portant to our health of body that we
should plan tor mental exercise for
employment enough of our memory and
our reasoning powers to keep theuifrom
rusting. Aud, in either case, that life
must be a dwarfed and unhealthy one
that does not provide exercise for our
spiritual faculties for worship, aud
charity, and patience, and magnanim
ity. Exercise of soul, mind and body,
can alone bring us to the stature of tie
perfect man.
DREAMS AXU UltEAnl.XG.
Early in the present century a Wilt
shire farmer hud a dream sonn after
midnight, thrice repeated, to the effect
that there was something wrong going
on in a certain field of his ; and after
dreaming this the third time, so strong
was his impression of its being a reality
that he arose, and taking his gun set
out for the spot. It was Summer time,
and an hour or two before dawn. On
reaching the field, he saw, in a remote
part of it, a faint glimmering light,
toward which he directed his steps. On
approaching he found a man in the act
of digging what appeared to be intended
for a grave, the light being at the bot
tom. "What are you doing here?"
demanded the farmer. But without
replying the fellow bounded off at the
top of his speed, leaving behind him
his jacket, in a pocket of which was
found a murderous weapon in the shape
of a knife. The farmer did not pursue,
but retraced his steps ; and on ap
proaching his house met one of his
servant girls carrying a bundle. He
inquired whither she was going at that
unseasonable hour. But having formed
her plan she seemed beut on carrying it
out, and showed a disposition to avoid
him. This, however, he would not per
mit, and insisted npon an explanation.
It appeared that the wretched man who
had just been surprised in the act of
preparing for his wicked design had
promised to marry the girl ; and the ar
rangement was that Bhe should clandes
tinely leave her place and meet him at a
specified hour aud spot in the field in
question, bringing with her the money
she had saved while in service. It need
hardly be said that, after being apprised
by her master of what he had just wit
nessed, the poor girl was only too glad
and thankful to return with him, thus
doubtless escaping, through the inter
position of a meiciful 1'rovideuce, an
untimely and violent death.
In June, 1732, Mr. Robert Aikenhead,
farmer in Denstrath of Archall, in the
Mearns, about live miles norta of
Brechin and seven from Montrose, went
to a market called Tarrenty Fair, where
he had a large sum of money to receive.
His eldest son, Robert, a boy between
7 and 8 ypars old, was sent to take care
of the cattle, and happened to lie down
I npon B grassy bank, and before sunset
was fast asleep.
Although the boy had never been far
from home, he was immediately cirried
in his imagination to Tarreuty market,
where be dreamed that his father, after
receiving the niouf-y, t ont on his re
turn home, and was followed all the
way by two ill-lookiug fellows, who,
when he had got to the western dykes
of Inglismnnlily (the peat of the then
lj0r,t r HaUertuu, now i.arl of Kin-
tore), and a lithe more tuau a mile from
home, attacked aud attempted to rob
him ; whereupon the boy thongbt he
ran to his assistance, aud when lie cime
"hin a gunshot of the pi ice called out
10 somo people who were jut going to
bed. who put therobber to flicriit He
immediately awoke in a fright, atd I
without waiting to consider whether it i
was a vision or a reality, ran as fast as
he conld to the place he had dreamed
of, and no socavr reached it than he
saw his father in the very spot and situ
ation he had seen in his dream, defend
ing himself with a stick against the
assassins. He therefore immediately
realized his own part of the visionary
scene, by roaring out "Mnrder !" at the
P of his voice, which soon brought
a it i t. . a r
uul lue l-"!'1 uu, rumnug up io -ur.
Aikenhead a assistance, found him vic
tor over one of the villains whom he
had previously knocked down with a
stone after they had pulled him off his
horse, but almost overpowered by the
other, who repeatedly attempted to
stab him with a sword, against which
he had no other defense than Lis stick
and his hands, which were considerably
mangled by grasping the blade. Upon
sight of the country people, the villain
who had the sword ran off, but the
other, not being able, was apprehended
and lodged in jail. Meantime there
was a hue and cry after yonna Kobert,
whose mother missing him, and finding
the cattle among the corn, was in the
utmost anxiety.cotic'udiijg he had fallen
into some water or peat moss. But her
joy and surprise were equally great
when her husband returned with the
boy and told her how wonderfully both
his money and his life had been saved
by his sou's dream.
In the 'Lif-j and Letters of the Rev.
B. H. Barham," author of the "In
goldsby Legends," the following narra
tive occurs, as related to Mr. Barham
by a friend who was told it by the
dreamer himself : A Mr. Phillips, sec
retary to Mr. Abbot, Speaker of the
House of Commons, stated to my friend
Mr. Wood, that about the year 1S03, he
woke one night in some perturbation,
having dreamed that he had been sen
tenced to be hanged, when the agony of
his situation roused him at the very
moment they were in the act of pinion
ing his arms in the press yard.
Heartily pleased at finding it but a
dream, he turned and fell asleep again,
when precisely the same scene was re
peated, with the addition that he now
reached the foot of the gallows, and was
preparing to mount before he awoke.
The crowd, the fatal tree, the hangman,
the cord, all were represented to him
with a frightful distinctness, and the
impression was so vivid that he got out
of bed and walked about the room for
some minutes before he conld re;oncde
himself to the idea of seeking rest on
his pillow again, ne was a long while
before he could close his eyes, bnt to
ward morning he fell into a perturbed
slumber . in which precisely the same
tragedy was acted over again ; he was
led up to the scaffold, placed upon the
top, the rope was fitted to his neck by
the executioner, whose features he dis
tinctly recognized as those of the man
he had seen in Lis former vision ; the
cap was drawn over his face, and he
felt the trap giving way ueneain ms
feet, when he once more awoke with a
loud scream that was heard by a person
sleeping in the next room
Going to rest again was now out of
the question, and Mr. Phillips describes
himself as rising aud drest-ing, though
it was then hardly daybreak, in a state
of the greatest possible excitement.
Indeed, so strong a hold had this dream
so singularly repeated, taken npon his
imagination, that he found it almost
impossible to shake off tae unpleasant
feeling to which it gave rise, and had
nearly resolved to seud an excuse to a
gentleman with whom he had engaged
to breakfast, when the reflection that he
must bv so doing defer the settlement
of important business, and all on ac
nf a dream, struck him as so very
pusillanimous a transaction that be de-1
termined to Keep ins appoiuimcuw
might, however, as well have stayed
away, for bis tuougnia wer o in
structed from the matter they met to
discuss, and his manner was altogether
Mdtitrait, that his friend conld not
fail to remark it, and speedily closed
the business by an abiupt inquiry if he
was not unwell.
The hesitation and confusion exhib
ited in his answer drew forth other
questions, and the matter terminated in
Mr. Phillips fairly confessing to his old
acquaintance the unpleasant impression
made npon his mind, and its origin.
The latter, who possessed good na
ture as well as good sense, did not
attempt to use any unwarrantable rail
lery, but endeavored to divert his atten
tion to other subjects, and, their meal
being ended, proposed a walk. To this
Mr. Phillips willingly acceded, and
having strolled through the park they
at length reached the house of the lat
ter, where they went in. Several letters
had arrived by that morning's post, and
were lying on the table, which were
soon opened and read. The last which
Mr. Phillips took np was addressed to
him by an old friend. It commenced :
"Dear Phillips Ton will laugh at me
for my pains, but I cannot help feeling , oil cloths, an accurate colored sketch
uneasy about you ; do pray let me write : of the design is first made on stout pa
and know how you are going on. It is ! per. A blank sheet of paper is then
exceedingly absurd, but I really cannot
shake off the recollection of an unpleas
ant dream I had last night, in which I
thought I saw you hanged."
The letter fell from the reader's hand:
all his scarcely-recovered equanimity
vanished ; nor was it till some weeks
had elapsed that he had quite recovered
his former serenity of mind.
It is unfortunate for the lovers of the
marvelous that five-and-twenty years
have now elapsed, and Mr. Phillips has
not yet come under the hands of "Jack
Ketch." I suppose we must take it
'exceptio probat regulam."
A physician writing in All the Year
Round for 1859, relates a curious story,
and suggests as curious a theory to ac
count for it : One night, be says, I had
a vivid impression in a dream that a
man-servaut who has lived with me
many years was presenting me with
some strange object that looked like a
screen, over the whole of which was a
scalloped pattern. In my dream I was
immensely puzzled to make out what it
was that produced the pattern ; whether
shells or marbles or any other variegated
thing that would effect a tesselated
appearance. The next morning I said,
laughing, to my man ; "John, what
could it be that I dreamed last night
you were making me a present of ? It
was a sort of screen, with a pattern on
like this," and I rapidly sketched with
a pencil on the back of a card, which I
still preserve, the pattern I had seen in
my dream.
"Why," said John, looking blank,
"then yon know all about it. Sir? My
wife, I suppose, has been showing you
the screen we are making for yon."
"No, indeed, I assure you she has
not, and I have never seen nor had any
hint of such a thing."
John's answer was to dart from the
room and to bring back with him a
curious piece of unfinished work. It
was a canvas in the form of a square
screen into which John's wife had sewed
feathers of water-fowl which John had
shot by a large mere near which we
were living. 1 he screen.
I he screen, which bad
made considerable progress, was the
Joint effort of the ingenious pair, and
the feathers being assoited with many
various colors and shades of colors,
sewed into the canvas by the quills,
with their tops overlapping each other,
produced a fantastic and agreeable
mosaic, which at least had the merit of
complete originality. As I had never
seen anything even remotely like it the
inference was strong that John s brain
was deeply preoccupied by his screen
and its approaching presentation (he
was actually cutting a feather at the
time I rang my bell), and had impressed
on my brain the dominant idea. Noth
ing conld more exactly resemble the
pattern I had drawn to show John what
my dream had been than the real pat
tern. The screen has since been
mounted under glass on a fine gilded
frame, and is at this time an ornament
to my drawing-room. It is singular to
observe how it puzzles everybody who
sees it for the first time, just as it did
me in my dream, as to what the mate
rial is that produces its curious mosaic.
Oil Cloth.
The custom of covering floors, halls,
and passages is very generaL Where
warmth and comfort are desired, car
pets are used. Where something more
durable and less cost! is demanded, a
covering of oil or floor cloth has been
invented. This cloth or canvas is a
very strong fabric, made of flax or hemp,
painted on both sides, the under side
being plain, the upper side ornamented
with patterns or designs of two or more
colors. The cloth used for this purpose
should be without seam. So that when
pieces of great width are required, two
men am employed at the loom, one on
each side, for throwing the shuttle back
aud .forth. This kind of cloth being
woven for this purpose alone, its manu
facture forms a distinct branch of busi
ness. Pieces are made from eighteen
to twenty-four feet wide, and the length
often exceeds one hundred yards.
When the canvas is received at the
manufactory, the bales containing one
hundred or more yards, and weighing
nearly six hundred pounds, are opened
and cut in pieces of sixty or one hun
dred feet, as may be required. These
pieces are then taken to the "frame
room," which consists of a number of
strong wooden frames, standing upright,
a few feet from each other. The space
between the frames is occupied by a
scaffold of four tiers, which may be
reached by means of a ladder at one
end of each frame. The edges and ends
of the canvas are fastened to the frame,
and by-means of screws the beams of
the frame are moved so as to tighten
and stretch it to its utmost tension. In
this position every part of the cloth can
be reached from several platforms.
The first operation, preparatory to pain
ting, is covering the back of the canvas
with a weak solution of size, applied
with a brush ; and while yet damp, the
canvas is thoroughly rubbed with pumice-stone.
By this means the irregu
larities of the surface are removed, and
the size penetrates the interstices of
the cloth, so preventing the paint, which
is afterwards applied, from penetrating
too far. which would render me on cioiu
hard and brittle. This priming and
m I
scouring are carried on lorm uie top
downward.
When the surface is dry, a coat of
paint, made of linseed oil and some
cheap coloring matter is applied. This
paint is very thick, and is thrown on to
the canvas in dabs with a short brush ;
it is then spread with a long and very
elastic steel trowel. The paint is thns
thoroughly worked into the web of cloth,
filling up all inequalities, and render
ing the surface smooth and leveL This
Knmljmlnr " aa it ia nailed, is allowed
to dry ten davs or longer, according to ,
the weather, after which a second coat j
is smoothly laid on which the trowel, :
completes the work for under side of
the canvas. After the first coat of paint
is applied to the under side, the same
process is commenced on the face side
of the cloth ; the size is applied, then
rubbed in with a pumice stone; the
first trowel-color ia then put on, which,
when dry, is also rubbed down with a
pumice-stone : two more coats are ap
plied with the trowel, with a pumice
stone robbing after each. Finally, a
fourth coating of paint is applied with
a brush, which is the ground color for
the designs which are to be painted on
it. A lie floor cloth is thus completed,
the various operations occupying from
two or three months, when it is ready
to be removed from the frames and
transferred to the printing rooms.
The printing of the cloth is done on
a flat table, over which it is drawn as
fast as the designs are impressed. This
is done with wooden blocks, not unlike
those used in the old method of calico
printing. As the patterns generally con
sist of several colors there are as many
blocks and as many separate printings
as there are colors in the designs. "In
preparing a set of blocks for printing
placed nnder the pattern, and all the
figures of another 'color are pricked ont
in a similar manner. Thus the pattern
is dissected on as many sheets of paper
as there are colors to be printed. One
of the pricked sheets is then fixed on
the surface of a block, aod a little pow
dered charcoal is dusted over it from a
muslin bag, so as to penetrate the hole.
The dotted line thus made on the block
serves to guide the pencil of the en
graver when the paper is removed, and
enables him to draw the portion of the
pattern required for that block. The
same plan is pursued with other blocks,
which are then ready for the engraver,
who cuts away the wood, and leaves the
pattern in relief."
The blocks used for printing are gen
erally abont eighteen inches square, the
engraved portion being made of some
close-grained wood, such as the pear
tree, and fastened to blocks of pine.
These engraved blocks, in large estab
lishments, constitute a very valuable
portion of the stock. Before the de
signs are impressed on the cloth, it is
made slightly rough by means of a steel
scraper aud a scrubbing brush, which
prepare it to receive the colors more
readily. Near the printing-table is
placed a number of flat cushions, on
which the coloring matler is first placed
with a brush. The printer presses the
block on the cushion, which is charged
with the color, and then applies it to
the cloth, holding it firmly, at the same
time striking it several blows with the
handle of a heavy hammer. A second
painter charges his block with a differ
ent color, and applies it in the same
manner. He is followed by a third, and
as many others as may be required to
form the most varionly colored pattern.
As fast as the cloth is printed it passes
through an opening in the floor to the
drying room, where it becomes hard
and ready for use.
An Original Bible-Lesson.
The teacher called np the Bible-class,
and Malcolm sat beside and listened.
That morning they had to read one of
the chapters in the history of Jacob.
"Was Jacob a good man ?" he asked,
at soon as the reading, each of the
scholars in turn taking a verse, was
over.
An apparently universal expression of
assent followed ; halting id its wake.
however, came the voice of a boy near
the bottom of toe class :
"Wasna he some dooble. sir'"
"Yon are right, Sbeltie," said the
master ; "he wan double. I must, I
find, pnt the question in another shape :
Was Jacob a bad man ?"
Again came such a burst of yesses
that it might have been taken for a
general hiss. But limping in the rear
came again the half-dissentient voice
of Jamie Joss, whom the master had
just addressed as Sheltie :
"Pairtly. sir."
"Yon think, then, Sheltie, that a man
may be both bad and good?"
"I dinna ken, sir. I think he may be
whiles ane an' while the itber, an'
whiles maybe it wad be ill to say whilk.
Oor collie's whiles in twa min's whether
he'll dn what he's tolled or no."
''That's the battle of Armageddon,
Sheltie, my man. It's aye ragin', ohn
gun roared or bagonet clashed. Ye
maun up an' do yer best in't, my man.
Gien ye dee fechtin' like a man, ye'll
flee up wi' a quaiet face an' wi' wide
open een ; an' there's a great Ane 'at '11
say to ye, 'Weel dune, laddie 1 But
giec ye gie in to tha enemy, he'll turn
ye intill a creepin' thing 'at eats dirt ;
an there '11 no be a hole in a' the crys
tal wa' o' the New Jerusalem near
eneuch to the gran' to lat ye creep
throu'."
As soon as ever Alexander Graham,
the polished thinker and sweet-mannered
gentleman, opened his mouth
concerning the things he loved best,
that moment the most poetio forms
came pouring out in the most rugged
speech.
"I reckon, sir," said Sheltie, "Jacob
hadna fonchten oot his battle,"
"That's jist it, my hoy. And because
he wouldna get up and fecht manfully,
God had to tak him in ban'. Ye've
heard tell o' generals, whan their troops
war nnnin awa , haen to cut this man
doon, shute that ane, and lick anither,
till he turned them a' richt face a boot,
and drave them on to the foe like a
spate ! And the trouble God took wi'
Jacob was na lost upon him at last."
"An what cam o' Esau, sir ?" asked
a pale-faced maiden with blue eyes.
"He wasna an ill kin' o' a chield was
he, sir?"
"No, Mappy," answered the master ;
"he was a fine chield, as yon say ; but
he nott (needed) mair time and gentler
treatment to mak onything o' him. Ye
see he had a guid hert, but was a duller
kin' o cratur a'thegither, and cared for
naething he conld na see or hanle. He
never thoucht mnckle abont God at a.
Jacob was anither sort a poet kin' o' a
man, bnt a sneck-drawin' cratur for a'
that. It was easier, hooever, to get the
slyness oot o Jacob, than the dullness
oot o' Esau. Punishment tellt upo'
Jacob like upon a thin-skinned horse,
whauras Esau was mair like the minis
ter's powny, that can hardly be made
to unnerstan' that ye want him to gang
on. Jiat o the ltner nan , dullness is
a thing that can be borne wi'; there's
t- . l.A, il..A A WmS a 1 AAA t Fa
na hurry a boot that : but the deceitfu'
tricks o' Jaeob war na to be endured,
and sae the tawse (leather-ttrap) came
doon upo' him."
"An what for didna God make Esau
as clever as Jacob?" asked a wizen
faced boy near the top of the class.
"Ah, my Peery I" said Mr. Graham,
"I canna tell ye that. A' that I can
tell is, that God hadna dune makin' at
him, an' some kin' o' fowk tak langer to
make or-: than ithers. An' ye canna
tell wh: : they're to be till they're made
oot Bat whether what I tell ye be
richt or no, God maun hae the Terra
best o' rizzons for 't, ower guid maybe
for us to unnerstan the best o' rizzons
for Esau himsel, I mean, for the Creator
luiks efter his cratur first av' (qf all).
And now," concluded Mr. Graham,
resuming his Eoglish, "go to your les
sons ; and be diligent, that God may
think it worth while to get on faster
with the making of you," LippincotC $
magazine
Oa Stage Coach.
There are few pleasures in life eqnal
to that of riding on the box-seat of a
stage-coach, through a country unknown
to you, and hearing the driver talk
about his horses. We made the inti
mate acquaintance of twelve horses on
that day ride, and learned the peculiar
disposition and traits of each one of
them, their ambition of display, their
sensitiveness to praise or blame, their
faithfulness, their playfulness, the readi
ness with which they yielded to kind
treatment, their daintiness about food
and lodging.
May I never forget the spirited little
jade, the off-leader in the third stage,
the petted belle of the route, the nerv
ous, coquettish, mincing mare of Marshy
Hope. A spoiled beauty she was ; you
could see that as she took the road with
dancing step, tossing her pretty head
about, and conscious of her shining black
coat and her tail done up 'in any sim
ple knot" like the back hair of Shel
ley's Beatrice Cenci. How she ambled
and sidled and plumed herself, and now
and then let fiy her little heels high in
air in mere excess larkish feeling.
"So ! girl ; so I Kitty," murmurs the
driver in the softest tones of admira
tion ; "she don't mean anything by it,
she's just like a kitten."
But the heels keep flying above the
traces, and by and by the driver is
obliged to "speak hash', to the beauty.
The reproof of the displeased tone is
evidently felt, for she settles at once to
her work, showing perhaps a litle im
patience, jarking her head np and down,
and protesting by her nimble move
ments against the more deliberate trot
of her companion. I believe that a blow
from the cruel lash would have broken
her heart ; or else it would have made a
little fiend of the spirited creature.
The lash is hardly ever good for the sex.
I conclude that the most delicate and
important occupation in life is staee-
driving. It would be easier to "run,"
the treasury department of the United
States than a four-in-hand. I have a
sense of the unimportance of everything
else in comparison with this business in
band. And I think the driver shares
that feeling. He is the autocrat of the
situation. He is lord of all the humble
passengers, and they feel their inferior
ity. They may have knowledge and
skill in some things, but they are of no j
use here At all the stables the driver
is king ; all the people on the route are
deferential to him ; they are happy if he
will crack a joke with them, and take it
as a favor if he gives them better than
they send. And it is his joke that al
ways raises the laugh, regardless of its
quality.
We carry the royal mail, and a we
go along drop little sealed canvas bags
at way offices. The bags wonld not
hold more than three pints of meal, and
I can see that there is nothing in them.
Yet somebody along here must be ex
pecting a letter, or they wonld not keep
up the mail facilities. At French River
we change horses. There is a mill there,
and there are half a dozen bouses, and
a cranky bridge, which the driver thinks
will not tumble down this trip. The
settlement may have seen better davs.
and will probably see worse. Atlantic
Monthly.
Attacked by Vampires.
What an awful item this is for the
worshippers of mere Xature. It is
meant to excite the self-protective in
dustry of Man "Jle who looks up
ward" to the destruction of the horrible
creatures? or to incite him to the dis
gust of mere Materialism, the thing
called "common sense?"
"A gentleman states that, while in
Surinam, he awoke abont four o'clock
one morning, and was considerably
alarmed by hading himself weltering in
congealed blood, and was unable to
account for this, as he felt no pain
whatever. 'This mystery,' says he,
'was that 1 had bitten by a vampire, or
spectre of Guana, which is also called
the flying dog of New Spain. This is
no other than a bat of monstrous size,
that sucks the blood from men and cat
tle while they are fast asleep, even,
sometimes, till they die ; and as the
manner in which they proceed is truly
wonderful, I will endeavor to give a
clear account of it. Knowing, by in
stinct that the person that they intend
to attack is in a sound slumber, they
generally alight near the feet, where,
while the creature continues fanning
with his enormous wings, which keeps
one cool, he bites a piece out of the
great toe, so very small indeed that the
head of a pin could scarcely be received
into the wound, which is consequently
not painful ; yet through this orifice he
continues to suck the blood until he is
obliged to disgorge. He then begins
again, and thns continues sacking and
disgorging until he is scarcely able to
fly, and the sufferer has often been
known to pass from time to eternity.
Cattle they generally bite in the ear,
but always in places where the blood
flows spontaneously. Having applied
tobacco ashes, as the best remedy, and
washed the gore from myself and ham
mock, I observed several heaps of con-
fealed blood all around the place where
had lain, upon the ground, on exam
ing which the surgeon judged that I
had lost about fourteen ounces of
blood.'"
Snow In St. Petersburg.
A correspondent of the Hartford Post
gives this account of the singular way
in which snow falls at St. Petersburg :
"The cold steadily increased for per
haps ten days, when a little snow began
to fall, and almost every day since a
little has fallen, till now there is per
haps six inches. There has been little
or no wind, though one day it blew
some and about two inches of snow fell,
which is called here quite a storm. I
learn there are never any snow storms
in this part of Russia during which
more than six inches of snow falls. Bnt
the acquisition of snow is constant. It
does not appear to come from the clouds,
but the water held in solution in the
atmosphere, which is very damp, it
being so near the sea, and country per
fectly flat, congeals and crystalizes and
then falls slowly bnt constantly half an
inch, or perhaps less, per day. No one
carries an umbrella, as it does not snow
fast enough to get wet in, and nobody
minds it, but they walk, ride or skate
all the time. Hundreds of men work
constantly sweeping the sidewalks, cross
walks and streets. It is not in sufficient
quantity to shovel, but is swept into
heaps and carried off, leaving only
enough in the streets to insure good
sleighing. In this manner, I learn, it
will fall for a month or two longer, and,
while there will be perhaps three or
four feet in the country, there will never
be enough in this city to impede travel,
and I believe the horse-cars, of which
there are many, run all winter."
It is stated that the wife of Senator
Sargent, of California, is a strong advo
cate of woman suffrage.
Pollto Piebpoebets.
Among the English visitors to Paris
during the gay season of the new year
were several pickpockets, who were,
however, in most cases, received by the
police of the festive city, so that, as the
American poet sings, "the subsequent
Droceedinirs interested them no more."
There were some of the elite of the Eng
lish practitioners who are. however.
rivalled, if not excelled, in dexterity
and ubiquity by their t rench compeers.
The Tollowing story is told of the latter
by a t rench journal : A physician, offi
cially connected with the prison of La
i orce and much beloved by this light
fingered patients, perceived on leaving
the Varieties one evemngthat his pocket
hsd been picked and that his opera-
glass was gone. Next day, on meeting
the denizens of JUa r orce, he expressed
his displeasure at the occurrence. "It
is all very well," said he, "for you to
say I am popular among you, but I am
treated just as others are. Some of
your friends contrived to relieve me
of my opera-glass last night, at the
Varieties." "That was only because
they did not know you, doctor," replied
a prisoner. "Who was on duty at the
Varieties last night ?" he required, turn
ing to a comrade. The answer was
given in a whisper. "You shall have
your glass to- morrow," he added. Next
day a person called on the physician s
wife. "Here." said he, "are all the
opera-glasses stolen two nights ago at
the Varieties. Please to point out the
doctor's." The lady having done so,
the obliging pickpocket handed it to
her, restored the others to their cases,
and disappeared. Pall Mall Gazette.
Dlckea's Domestic Life.
The vounger sister of Mrs. Dickens
Miss Hogarth, who was with Dickens
when he died was a member of his
household from the time of his marriage.
She was a lady of greater energy of
character than her sister, Mrs. Dickens,
and had the faculty of keeping the
house in order, and of doing wonders in
the education of the children. She was
housekeeper and governess in one.
Mrs. Dickens, after many years, became
acquainted with the fact that she was
of inferior consequence in her husband's
bouse, and was in deep distress because
the children loved their aunt better
than their mother. So the jealousy of
the lady was aronsed, not on account of
her husband's affections going astray,
but because her sister had won the
hearts of her children.
As this occurred after many years of
acquiescence in her inferiority as to
usefulness, the demonstrations of Mrs.
Dickens were regarded by her husband
as exceedingly absurd. Mrs. Dickens
could not bear to accept the situation,
aud at last made the issue that if her
sister did not leave the honse she would
leave it. Dickens said that he thought
the presence of the sister-in-law was
more important to the children, whom
she had cared for from their infancy,
than that of the wife, who had been of
no service to them after they were born
and suckled. Therefore his wife might
go ; and she did go, taking her eldest
son, Charles Dickens, Jr., with her.
After the separation the estrangement
grew more serious, and the terms in
which Dickens mentions his wife in his
will are cold and almost disrespectful.
The Art omnJaJiea Ware.
The Moorish potters made a very
beautiful ware, known to collectors as
Hispuuo-Moresque, and easily recog
nizable by the peculiar metallic lustre
ou its surface. This ware w; e Lirgely
expurtcd from Spain to Italy, ins miiii-h
that the most and the finest pieces are
to this day found in that country, and
not iu puin; and in time the Italians
began to set up potteries of their own,
and to imitate the Moorish ware. They
called their imitations Majolica or Maio
lica the ancient Italian name of Ma
jorca either because the Moorish pot
tery was made there or thence brought,
or because the Italians fancied that it
was. At going oil the Italian potters
could not compass either the lustre of
the Moorish ware or the rich, enamel
like glaze of these forciirn potters, and
their first works were led glazed, and
are known tocollectorsas half Majolica,
"Mezza Majolica ;' but towards the end
of the fifteenth century they liegan to
imitate the lustred wares. At last they
got hold of the great tin secret, and
their pottery soon surpassed the 11 is-pauo-Moresque
wares in beauty. In
the Moors' own speciality of lustred
wares they were excelled by the Ital
ians, and at the town of Uubbioa mode
of imparting a lustre of a red color of
surpassing beauty was invented a se
cret that was never disseminated, aud
soon lost; and the rare ruby-lustred
plates of Gubbio are now among the
greatest treasures of the art collectors.
A Trait of Tennjson.
One peculiar trait in the character of
the poet laureate is his unusual shrink
ing from active life and public view.
The world knows little of his life it
knows him by his poems. It has evi
dently been Mr. Tennyson's desire to
escape observation, and he succeeds in
doing so very thoroughly. Few stran
gers gain access to him, and conse
quently many ill-natured stories have
been circulated at his expense. One
anecdote, however, not particularly ill
natured, will bear repeating. A well
known prince of the house, of Bruns
wick, familiar with Mr. Tennyson's
shrinking habits, yet naturally anxious
to pay his respects to the poet, in the
neighborhood of whose home in the
Isle of Wight he found himself, made a
call unaccompanied and strictly incog
nito. A page came to the door, "Who
shall I say?" "The Prince of Wales,"
was the reply. Whereupon the page
playfully observed, "Ha 1 yes ; prince
of Wales. We know a trick worth two
of that 1" and slammed the poet's door
in his royal highness' face.
The Dlfllenltlea of Prospective
Matrimony.
It is said that Sir Walter Campbell,
who was lately in a mercantile firm in
New York, wished to marry an American
young lady, of good position, in the
Empire State. TJpon his applying to
the young lady 'a father, the parent
stated he always referred all those
questions to his wife. The mother in
her turn, stated that she must refer it
to the Duke of Argyll. The Duke
pleaded that, considering his connec
tion with royalty, he must consult his
eldest son. The Marquis could do
nothing without the Queen's consent.
Her majesty felt that the issue must be
referred to the Dake of Saxe-Cobonrg-Gotha,
as head of the family. The
Duke rejoined that, since the recent
changes in Germany, he looked upon
the Emperor William as his sovereign,
and must bow to his advice. The Em
peror said he could do nothing without
Prince Bismarck's opinion ; and Prince
Bismarck declared he had no opinion
at all, one way or the other ; and so the
question to marry or not to marry
was brought to a dead lock.
Parliament's earliest fruit The
Queen's peach.
Youths Column.
Osc eweetly-aolemn tlxmcht
Come, to m off ad o'er.
Tin near-r to my F.t'era uooaa
Th.a ever 1 vita before.
Nearer the bound of !ife,
Wnrre we lay our burUena down.
Nearer leeviuir my eroa,
Nearer W(.ariu auy crown.
A Rica Yocso Mas. We call him
"Bobolink," and "Pappoose," and "Old
Blessed," and all sorts of names you
know how they call babies. Your great
six-year-old Harry wonld not think him
much of a fellow, I suppose, this
small man of six months, but he
thinks he is, and so does his mother,
and his father, and all the family.
He considers himself very rich, too,
or, as grown np people say, "well-off."
He has such white, round little pegs
hied on to his bands for him to play
with. He sticks them up and looks at
them sidewise, and edgeway, and every
way, and they never get lost like your
playthings, they are always on hand.
They aro so nice to eat, too. First one
fist goes into his mouth, then the other,
then both fists. The only trouble is he
cannot swallow them, they are so big,
or something. Too bad, isn't it ? Bnt
he doesn't get discouraged. Why, it
was only yesterday he was trying to
swallow a large blanket shawl and all
his petticoats ; then he plunged his
head into a big feather pillow, and
opened his month at that in a way which
must have been very alarming to the
pillow.
Sometimes he gets hold of those
little pink fellows down below. He
thinks they are the cunningest. There
is such a drove of them 1 He can't
count them himself, bnt I believe there
are as many as ten. One of them "goes
to market," and one of them "stays at
home," and there is a little mite of a
one that don't get any bread and but
ter. How he does squeal. Dear 1 dear t
You would think this young man wonld
cry to hear him ; but he don t ; the
ripples of laughter come gurgling up
Lia little fat throat, until, when at last
the poor piggy gives his very hardest
qneal, he almost explodes with glee.
n so pleasant to bava jollv little fat
pi of one's own to play with ! Ten
live piuk piggies ! Just tliiuk of it ! But
that is not all O no I He owns a most
lovely piece of red flannel, which his
graudnia gave him, that is very valuable.
It is such a pretty thing and so bright !
He turns it over, and views it in every
light, and tastes of it. If you should
lay a ten-thonsand-dollar greenback
down beside it, he would grasp in pre
ference that gorgeous, magnificent rag.
Yon conldn't buy that of him with ten
or twenty thousand dollars. I
Then he has a great many fine musical '
instruments that be plays on splendidly.
Every newspaper he can get hold of he
turns into a piano or organ. He
scratches his nails on them, and digs
holes through them, and you onght to
bear bow beautifully they ilo rattle ; but
the brown paper that came around the
sugar is the be: t, that is so crackly and
high toned.
Nelly's Compast. Nelly's honse was
on the door-step, and Bhe was going to
have company. She went down to the
other end of the walk, where Harry
lived, and rapped on the fence.
Harry did not seem to hear her at
first. Perhaps that was becanse he was
so bnsy making pies. He had some
currants, aud some sand for sugar, and
was stirring them briskly together in a
broken lamp-chimney.
Nelly waited a little while, and then
rapped again ; and this time Harry
shonted, "Come in !"
' Hiiw do you do. Mr. Rice ?" said
Nelly. "It's a ieautiful day, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Harry; "very fine. Won't
yon take a seat ?"
"I'm Mrs. Bradley," said Nelly, seat
ing herself upon the block of wood that
was Harry's sofa. "I'm going to have
company, and I want you to come to
tea."
Harry dropped his currants, and took
his hat down from the fence.
"I don't want you to come now," said
Nelly. "It is morning now. I don't
wautyon come nutil afternoon. The!
lowest step is my parlor ; and after din- j
ner x snuii ue lutie, aud then you may
come."
Harry waited until he saw Nelly
seated in her parlor, and then went to
make his visit. Besides Harry, there
were Nelly's little brother Willy, and
Dinah the cat.
They had a footstool for a table, and
pretty little dishes with gilt bands and
flowers. They had real bread, and cake
too, and currants for preserves. Neily
poured the water into the little cups,
aud pretended to pnt in sugar and
cream. Harry sat on the other side of
the table, and passed the currants.
Little Willy did not know how to
play having company, and soon ran
away to play with his ball. As for
Kitty, she played with her tail, and
acted so badly, that Nelly had to tell
her that she must go away, and have
her snpper by herself.
After Nelly and Harry had eaten np
the bread and cake, they wished the
dishes, and put them away. Then
Harry asked Nelly to come and see him
some time, and said, "Good-by, Mrs.
Bradley." The Sursenj.
A Swarm op Bees. Take B from an
instrument of sound, and leave a mea
sure. Take B from a small vessel, and leave
a grain.
Take B from a basin, and leave a
bird.
Take B from a blossom, and leave a
machine.
Take B from a color, and leave want.
Take B from a note, and leave sick
ness. Take B from a shrub, and leave to
wander.
Take B from an aniraal, and leave a
human feature.
Annwer.- (B)ell; (B)oat ; (B)owl;
(B)loom ; (B;lack ; (B,L1 ; (B;ramble ; !
(Biear. j
A gestlexas, coming home at even-;
irg, spoke hastily to his little three-1
year-old, who was playing very noisily. I
The little lady dropped her playthings, '
and retreated indignantly to a corner, j
"What is the matter ?" asked papa, i
"Well," said the child, "I've beea a !
good girl all this day, and now yon .
come home an! make trouble the first
thing !"
Word Square.
A girl's name.
An Eastern country.
A small brook.
Name of a college.
Answer: M A R Y
ASIA
RILL
YALE.
Longfellow, on being at-ked by a
country scboolmar'in recently to write
his name in her album, "with a senti
ment," replied, "I will write my name,
bnt 1 haven't any sentiments."
"Varieties.
Gertrude thinks Lent a good time for
proposals, for then it is so easy to aah(k)
papa.
Nothing can make a man truly great
but being truly good, and partaking of
God's holiness.
Small frather fans are said to be tak
ing the p'ooe of the gigantic wind sails
of last summer.
The beginning of things is in our
own power, but the end thereof resteth,
at God's disposing.
The farmers in Scott county, HL, find
it difficult to keep the wolf away from
the door, positively, not figuratively.
A young lady in Indiana was so dis
gusted with her young man for running
at the sight of a ghost, that she is mak
ing preparations to marry the ghost.
Busy not thyself in searching into
other men's lives ; the errors of thine
own are more than thou canst answer
for. It more concerns thee to mend one
fault in thyself, than to find ont a thou
sand in others. Bishop Leighton.
Mr. Beecher says, in a recent sermon:
To fall from high position socially by
reason of misfortune in business, or by
loss of wealth, is to the lower sort of
men degradation, but to the higher it is
coronation.
The Sultan Abdul Aziz, it is said.
was most graceful in his bearing to
wards the Empress Eugenie daring her
stay at Constantinople, his habitual
brusqneness giving place to an unwon
ted amiability. After her departure he
actually moped.
A lady lecturer, who has the right to
pnt M. D. after her name, argues that,
because American women are enthusi
astic, they are the handsomest women
in the world. Foreign women, as a
rule, become too stout, are too phleg
matic, too expressionless "
Joannin Miller is said to have cwed
the inspiration of his verses entitled
"The Indian Summer, contained in
"San Land Songs," to a Cleveland lady.
The fair inspirer is said to have been
offended at what a great many girls
would give their newest boots to gain.
In a French industrial establishment,
employing 630 men, chiefly vegetarians,
the sick fond was constantly in debt.
By the introduction of meat into the
food of the men, the average loss of
time per man, on account of illness or
fatigue, was reduced from 15 to 3 days
per annum.
Said Lord John Russell to Hume at
a social dinner, "What do yon consider
the object of legislation ?" "The great
est good to the greatest number?"
"What do you consider the greatest
nnnalier?" continued his Lordship.
"Number one, my Lord," was the com
moner's reply.
The English Nobility are divided
into dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts,
barons. These all are specified in a
big book called the Peerage and Baro
netage of the British Empire, by Ed
mund Lodge. In some large libraries,
like Astor, it can probably be found,
bnt as it is little needed in this demo
cratic country, it is rarely seen here.
Ill-health should be avot 3d. br state
action as well as personal care, inas
much as it diminishes mental and phy
sical force ; bnt as we. are all under sen
tence of capital punishment, is it worth
while to make the enormous fuss every
body is now doing abont every thing
which makes, or possibly may make,
death come a little quicker? Is there
no force in Frederick's apothegm, as he
caned the flying soldier, Yoa rascal, do
you want to live forever T "
A peculiar case of forgetfulness and
increase of treasure came up in Lowell,
Mass., recently, at the Lowell institute
for earnings. Years ago, a yonng lady
from Sand ford. Me., came to Lowell,
and from her earnings deposited 31 "5
in this institution. She left the city
twenty-one years ago and returned
home, and in course of time forgot her
deposit. Recently it occurred to her
that she might have some money there,
and she wrote to inquire if there was
anything left for her. Mr. Canney, the
treasurer, reported that there) was a bal
ance there of $785.95, which will un
doubtedly be gratifying intelligence.
The Boston Public Library contained
on the first of January 258.0UO volume,
an iucrease during the year of 55,700.
Sixteen thousand is estimated as the
ordinary increase for the year, as of the
total increase, over 20, 01)0 volumes were
acquired by the " annexation " of
Charleston and Brighton to Boston, and
12,000 were received as an exceptional
gift. The Boston library is not as large
nor as valuable as that of the British
Museum, but is probably more useful
to the general public Of the British
library, a writer in the London Times
says : "The nse of the library is practi
cally restricted to the few who inhabit
its purlieus," while that of Boston aims
to realize the inscription over its por
tals, "Public Library, Open to All."
Ia England a more rigorous observ
ance of etiquette obtains, in the graver
relations of life, than with ourselves.
People am invited to prayer-meetings
in London the same as to an evening
party cards being issued bearing the
following, or similar, announcements :
"Mr. and Mrs. propose (D. V.) to
hold a Bible reading on evening,
from seven to nine o'clock. Morning
dress." Bibles are handed around on
trays, and, altogether, piety is presen
ted" in rather an amusing phase. "Mem
oriam cards" are also en regie there.
They are issued a week or ten days
after the decease of a relative, and bear
the words "In Memoriam," with the
name, age, time of death, and place of
interment ; also the names of the par
ties who issue the cards; and those
who receive them are at liberty to make
a call of condolence on the bereaved
family.
Mr. BertalL a well-known French
caricaturist, has been photographing
modern society in sixty chapters, ana
among his classifications are several in
reference to the dress coat. The pro
fessor, he says, the orator, the econo
mist buttons bis coat hermetically as if
in solemn attempt to compress the tu
multuous outbursts of stupendous in
tellect; the coat of the savant never
fits ; the officer's coat fits too welL The
artist's coat takes every form ; the ban
ker's coat is just as he chooses it
might be a sack and he would be equally
well received. The clerk's coat has no
characteristic, while that of the literary
man fluctuates between the apogee of
elegance and the depths of slovenliness.
An odd paragraph in M. Bertall's album
tells the story of the way in which the
late eccentric fashions in feminine cos
tume were adopted. He contributed a
series of caricatures to the Vie ParisU
enne ridiculing, as he thought, the ab
surdity of the dresses worn in Sardou's
comedy. Im Famille Benoiton. A fort
night after, all the fashionable dress
makers in Paris had literally and seri
ously copied his satires. "Be a Juvenal
after that !" says BertalL