4 B. F. SCHWEIER, TBI OOSSTITOTION TH1 VHIOS AHD IHI IHFOBGXMEST OF THI LAWS. Editor and Propr1toi VOL. MEFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA.. SEPTEMBER 14, 1S76. NO. 37. 1 TDSUXxI SONO. before the dy, jtoje'e after rohina, and the man U mt sibling "lown the hollow goes the boy lliet minus mj wjjii yy, aiather from the kitchen door is ceiling with wiu PoIIr! rol!y ! The eow are in the corn ! un, wuere 1-0117 s fjga til the misty morning air there cornea a gammer sounu t Bannor of water from akiea. and trees, end ground. jie bird they ein? npon the wing, the pig eon bill ana 000, 0Ter bill wl hollow ring iftia the load halloo "ToUt : Folly ! The eowa are in the oorn ! Oh. where' Polly ?" Ab0 the tree the honey bee (warm by with buzz and boom, 10 the field and garden a hundred flower bloom. ftihm the fanner'a meadow a brown-eyed daisy blow. down at the edge of the hollow a red and thorny rose, gat Poliy ! roily ! The cow are in the corn! Oh, where Polly? g.n string at each a time of day the mill ihould stop it clatter! bt firmer wife ia listening now, and won der what' the matter. Ok. wiJ the birds are singing in the wood and on the hill. fjule whistling op the hollow goea the boy that miuaa the mill. Bat Folly 1 roily ! The cow are in the oorn! Oh, where Polly? itcrOmer't Monthly. Faithful and Faithless. They lived up among the swallows, in the attic of a second-rate boarding house, these two sisters. Kadelelne wrote stories, painted photographs, and sewed, doing whatever else came within the way of her deft fingers. Cecile was 1 nursery governess. To-night the weary lessons were fin ished, the villain in the last story dis posed of by a dose of prussic acid, and the pretty toilers, lonely orphans though they were, sat enjoying the simple com forts of their poor little rookery. It was Madeleine whose voice inter rupted the musical performance of the tea-kettle. "It is rather strange, is it not, Cecile, that I have never seen him ?" she said, thoughtfully. Cecile looked up quickly, with a startled blush. But she required no explanation, perhaps because her own thoughts had been treading the same path. "You will see him to-morrow, Made line. He is coming particularly to see you. I wanted to ask him not to do so, but it would have been of no use he must come some time. Everything here is so so different from what he likes." Madeleine laughed a soft, satisfied laugh, as her sister's head drooped, that was very sweet and pretty. 'It is like a fairy story," she said. "To think you are going to marry some body as rich as a prince, and live in one of those wonderful houses ! Oh, Cecile t are you going to forget me quite? I expe1 some day your carriage will go whirling past and splatter the mud over 1 poor old beggar-woman at the corner selling peanuts. That will be me, you understand. Yes; it's quite like a story. I shall write it, I believe, and tall it 'The New Cinderella.' Only if I do," she added, with reflective disgust, Philip Abinger w ill have to be turned into a duke in disguise, half killed in a duel, and you will be made a rope dancer who nurses him back to life, to make it picturesque." Cecile laughed in her turn. "Madeleine," she said, admiringly watching her, "you certainly have the loveliest eyes in the world, but I am afraid of them. When I have my car riage, dear, you shall certainly sit be tide me; and we will make Philip take the front seat, to hold the parcels, when we go shopping." The next day was a day of importance in the eyes of these two. Fortunately it was a holiday, and Ccciie could re main at home; and Madeleine, with many a remorseful but stifled sigh as she thought of the untouched quires of blank Bath post lying in her desk, gave herself up to unwonted idleness, and to the discussion of Philip Abinger's visit He was not to come until evening, it Is true, but there was much to be done. After many consultations as to pro priety, and the commendable conclu sion that there could be not much In correct where nothing was wrong, it had been decided to receive their guest in their own room rather in the stuffy hoarding house parlor filled with gos siping boarders. The pretty plants In the window were disposed over and over again, they went to the expense of an investment in new ribbons to tie hack the muslin curtains, and the few engravingsreminiscences of other days were hung and rehung. It was fin ished at last, and the sisters contem plated the effect of their labors with entire satisfaction. Philip Abinger sauntered down the streets with somewhat the sensations of a man who walks in a dream-land. He Kgarded himself with a vague aston ishment as he left the stately precincts of the avenue of palaces, wandering on through the various and so perceptible shades of respectability, till he reached Mock of brick buildings that bore the signs manual of boarding houses In every luare inch, from the grimy upper windows to the unwashed steps and uttered areas. He paused a moment ore he touched the bell. She lived here! The woman who was to be his ife lived here, and plodded a weary huly round, teaching his younger bro thers and sisters their letters for her bread! And then a generous emotion glowed in his heart, and gave another turn to his thinking. The woman who to be his wife ! The brilliant-eyed ud lifeful beaurv who had rjromised herself to him she would grace the queenliest of all the crowns. Heaven bless herl How different would her he, how heaned with haDDiness. hen once it was given Into bis keeping; He rang the bell. .Mounting to the little room where Cecile was waiting to receive him, he took ner band In bis and murmured one of those greetings of which the words are the merest nothing, before he was quite aware that Madeleine was in ex istence. When Cecile said, in her timid, pretty fashion, "My sUter Madeleine. Mr. Abinger," he raked bis eyes to her for the first time. Cecile was looking at her sister; for she longed to read the impression that Philip would make. and save herself the waiting until he was gone before she could hear it She observed her sister's face with wonder. The unusual color that excitement had brought Into ber cheeks paled quite away, leaving them white; her calm, deep eyes lighted with an expression very foreign to them, and sank as sud denly and heavily as if their lashes had been lead ; a faint shiver ran through her shoulders, as though a cold wind had blown on ber; she looked almost like one who struggles to repress a sudden terror. It was a minute, per haps, during which neither responded to the Introduction, and then Philip Abinger stepped forward and took ber hand, muttering some commonplace words. Neither of them understood the phrases, nor cared to, and he turned away with a strange air of troubled constraint, Poor Cecile's face discov ered her disappointment, It was hard to think that these two should dislike each other, even from the very first, as it was too plainly evident they did these two, upon whose affection for each other she bad builded so many cloud castles that must now fall, like the rest of them ! But before long Philip's savoir-faire and Cecile's pretty attempts to entet tain him warmed the first frosty air into one of pleasant freedom. Made leine joined in the talk after a while, which soon became animated enough, yet with still an indescribable shadow in the midst of all the cauterie. When be had gone away, Cecile curled herself on the floor at her sis ter's feet, with her warm, bright hair shining down her shoulders. "He is not, is he, quite what you fancied he would be, Madeleine dear?" half whispering the tender words. "What I fancied?" said Madeleine, with odd impatience. "But what has that to do with it? He is not my fairy prince, Cecile." But she added, with a quick change of expression that cov ered the former one, "Still he w ill do very well for one, considering the days he lives in. I like him yes, Cecile." "But you are disappointed, Made leine?" said Cecile, raising her eyes doubtfully. "Ami?" Madeleine held her head 1 one side in characteristic fashion, looking fixedly at the coals dying in the grate. "No, Cecile, I do not think I am. Ton surely would not have me value him quite so highly as you do?" Two great tears had gathered slowly in Cecile's violet eyes and rolled un noticed down her cheeks while her sister was speaking. She made no an swer, for her voice was untrustworthy. Madeleine rose and went to the dress ing glass, beginning to take down and braid her hair. She looked into the mirror at the pale, handsome face before her, with uneasy, shadowed eyes be neath the contracted brows. What her thoughts were it would be hard to guess, but they surely were not pleasant, A long-repressed sigh, stifled painfully on the lips, caught ber ear presently, and with a sudden horror of herself she turned from the glass and walked im pulsively to ber sister. She leaned over her, with both bands on ber shoulders, hating herself for the shiver of repul sion that accompanied the act, and kissed her tenderly twice on the fore head. Philip Abinger wondered at himself no more as he walked down in front of the block of boarding-houses. It was the path that his feet were most accus tomed to tread nowadays, and he seldom came thither without some rare token from the upper world, some fruit or flower which had hitherto been but a name to these dwellers in the barren shadows of poverty. Tet Cecile was not quite happy. There was no open enmity between Philip and Madeleine, but far less the quiet agreement and affection she had once hoped for. There was an avoid ance, a restlessness, in their eyes, and often an unaccountable bitterness in their words. Yet Philip, she knew, came sometimes when be was aware that her duties took ber from home. So she still, vaguely and without much reason, promised herself the time would come when they would forget their strange antipathy. A less-trusting heart than that of Cecile might have suspected there was another reason than that of dislike to ward Philip to account for Madeleine's unquiet manner and evident unhappi ness when her sister's lover was near; but to Cecile the explanation came with the force of a calamity whose approach could never have been imagined. One lovely afternoon In spring, when the earth was fragrant with the breath of the budding flowers, the illness of a pupil gave the little teacher an unex pected holiday, and fully two hours earlier than usual she turned her steps toward the old boardlng-heuse. As she turned the corner nearest home, she saw Madeleine and Philip walking slowly down on the other side of the street. Philip's head was bent down, perhaps no closer than the need of talk required in the midst of the roar of the city streets. Madeleine's face was turned aside and drooping. There was surely nothing strange in it that she clung closely to Philip's arm in a crowd Uke this; nothing so strange in so mere an act of friendship that it should make Cecile's heart thrill with such a sick, deadly nain. What was she afraid of? Cecile walked homeward with an ever- lagging footstep, a pa1"1 bair-smiie on hr Una. and putting out ber hand in stinctively to aid herself, for ber eyes hardly galded her, saying over and over to herself, whether aloud or silently she b-.-nnt: "Madeleine U right- lam very foolish. Maddie is always right. O God! what a terrible thing it b to be She went straight to her own room and sat down on the chair by the win dow, drawing it far in among the plants, in pretty bloom and full leaf. She was wondering vaguely when Mad eline and Philip would come back again. How long she sat there she could not have told.. The minutes passed unconsciously; but presently she beard steps and voices near the door, and reoognired those of her sister and lover. Cecile tried to move, but the power was denied her. A cold weight op pressed ber limbs. She sat still and dumb, and the door opened. They paused on the threshold of the twilight room. "You will not come in, then !" asked Madeleine; and It was in that tone that longs for and fears assent. "I can not to-night, I can not see her to-night. Madeleine, I would rather have iied than met you ! You know I love you. Shame and penitence and pity tnd despair let them go." "I know how it will end. You will leave me. It Is right you should. Let me go mad or die, my God, before he does what he must what is right !" Philip caught the speaker In his arms. In the half-articulate words of endear ment that followed there seemed as deep a pain as passionate tenderness. "My love! my life! my darling! In the name of God why did I love you ? It Is a sin ; but the sin, the suffering, is its own reward. My love ! I will not leave you." Madeleine struggled to free herself from bis embrace. v "What will become of us?" she mur mured, despairingly. "If one must be sacrificed, let it be me." 'I swear I will not give you up. Madeleine, you do not love me." "Philip, let me go ! I thought better of myself and you than that this would ever be; from the moment I saw you, there was sin and treason in my heart, Philip, leave me, and let me think; I am tortured and half crazy. Philip! Philip! let me go!" Madeleine wrenched her hand from his grasp and opened wide the door of the room. Unconscious of Cecile's presence, she fled past her into the little dressing room beyond. Cecile, whose bonnet and shawl bad not been removed, waited a few mo ments, and then followed her to her retreat, as though she had but just come in. But Madeleine caught the deadly pallor of her sister's face, and cried out : "Cecile, what lias happened? Are you ill ? you look like death ! Some thing is the matter: what is it?" "I am tired, Maddie," said Cecile, in a low, wistful tone, as utterly different from her ringing cadences as was this ashen-hued, lifeless face from the sun bright and glowing cheeks that made half of her brilliant beauty. Madeleine was conscience-stricken, but she asked no further question, judging all too truly that her treachery had been dis covered. Two or three days passed away, and each, conscious of concealment, grew more constrained in the vain effort to banish constraint, Cecile was ill bodily; her cheeks paled and her eyes grew hollow and dim, and beneath them a purple shadow bore witness to her pain and weary thinking. Philip had not been to the bouse since that evening, nor had there been any remembrance from him. The sisters had been sitting together all day long, Madeleine busy with her pen, Cecile's languid fingers folded listlessly together, while her blue eyes wandered over the yet bare branches of the trees in the city square that their window gave upon. All day long they sat together, and scarcely a monosylla ble broke the silence, until the shadows of twilight gave Madeleine leave to raise her head from her weary task. She said nothing for a little time, leaning her head upon her hand, and looked at her sister for almost the first time that day. The awful suffering In the quiet face roused ber conscience, and with a des perate impulse she cried out, "Cecile, why are you 80 silent? What is it that you are thinking of? Tell me the truth, Cecile." Cecile turned her face slowly toward the speaker, without even a sigh, her pale lips motioning for a sort of smile more distressful than any tears could have been. "I was thinking of something I ought to have told you before, Maddie," she said, quietly. "Do you remember the story of that poor princess it is only a foolish fairy story who lost all her happiness forever because she was not content with the gift of her godmother, and tried to crown herself with the sweet noon-rays, when she was told to choose only the morning dew ? It was j foolish, but very sad. It U so natural to wish for sunshine. And so hard ah ! so bard to lose it!" Then there was a long silence; but presently she spoke again : "I m thinking, Maddie," she sata, in a soft, wistful tone "I am thinking that, after all, it is not, perhaps, either the sunshine or dew-drops that make one happiest, and that I could give up both." Still Madeleine made no answer. "You will not understand me, Made leine," said Cecile. She laid her hand on her throat, as if to press back the physical pain of speech, and ber next words came with effort. "I have been thinking of it for" oh, what a voice was this! "a long, long time, Maddie, and and I can give Philip up." A long pause followed. "His love was the sunshine and dew and all the bloom and glow of life to me. It is dead. He does not love me any longer. He is not mine now, Maddie." "Give him up?" said .Madeleine, when she must speak, in a voice un natural and cold. "You do it very easily It seems. Why should you give Philip up? Cecile, you are ill." Cecile made no shadow of an answer. She fore bore even to turn her eyes upon ber, lest the mere look might have con veyed reproach. Now happened one of those chances that occur often enough In life, but seem unnatural In fiction. Philip's step sounded on the staircase. A red surging blush, hot and painful, stained Madeleine's cheeks; but not a tinge of color passed over the quiet face turned out toward the dying daylight. Yet an indescribable change was visible the pallor seemed to increase, and the calmness was like that of death. He too was different. The last week or two had left its mark upon him There were incipient lines upon bis forehead; his eyes bad the harassed, hunted look of a man pursued remorse lessly by troublesome thoughts. "Cecile," be cried, bending down to take her hand "Cecile, how ill you must have been! And vou have said nothing to me! I could not come be fore. I have been kept away; I have been busy." "I am not ill, Philip," said Cecile, withdrawing her band quietly. "To day I have suffered with a headache, but it is gone now. I am very glad you have come. I have been wanting you. "And you did not let me know ! I would have permitted nothing to detain me, Cecile." "Philip, I have something to tell you," she said. "No, Madeleine, don't go, please. I had rather you would hear It too." She stopped a minute to gather calm and strength ; but her tone was very soft and natural and emotion less when she spoke again. "I want to ask you Philip, if you do not think it would be better if our engagement should end. I am not saying, you see, that it must be so, but only do you not think it would be better?" "You are the best Judge," he said, hoarsely, at last. And strange as it may seem, a sense of injury, a sudden anger, caused the color in his cheeks to deepen, and warded off both shame and pity. "It is rather singular that you have not intimated such a wish before. Was it for this that you wished to see me." "Do not be angry, Philip," pleaded the girl. "I was In the room the day the day that you and Madeleine were walking, Philip. I was here when you came home. Neither of yen saw me, for the room was dark. I ought to have spoken, but but I could not speak. I heard what you said. I tried to tell Madeleine then oh! why could I not? But, Madeleine, you were not quite Ignorant?" There was no answer, nor did any sound disturb the silence for five long minutes. They had called her a child In their hearts, and comforted them selves with thinking that if she felt grief, it would be but light and easily forgotten. In simplicity, in truthful ness, in sweet and trusting confidence, she seemed indeed a child. But not in the shailow-natured insensibility that refuses to suffer, or in the elasticity that rebounds from pain not in these things, If this white face might be taken in evidence, whose ashen pallor con trasted so pitifully with Its yet round contour, and more strangely still with the glowing red-gold hair, that caught the last gleams of daylight, deepening them into sparkles with its own living hue. Philip buried his face in bis hands. "Cecile, I am not worthy to sjx-ak to you," be said at last, brokenly, "lou will not believe what I am going to say and I can't blame you. It does not ex cuse me either ; but as God is my wit ness I meant to be faithful to you. Until that evening, if Madeleine knew I loved her, I had not told her so. But but you heard everything. I strug gled against it forgive me Cecile and I meant to tell you, but how could I ? I cannot ask you to pardon me, but don't blame Madeleine. It was not her fault, nor mine, God knows. 1 could not help it," She held out her hand at this; but just then the dim forms in the room swam round her, a dazzling agonizing light struck across her aching eyeballs, and all the world vanished suddenly, as one blows out a candle, into dark nothingness. They lifted her up and laid her on the sofa, Madeleine's hot tears falling on her head. "And they saw her face, as it bad been the face of an angel." Philip bent down and kissed her brow. bis bosom thrilling with strange an guish, and oh! inconsequent heart with blind regret, "It is farewell," said he. What remains is easily imagined. There were yet many hours of pain before the safe calm of sacrifice could be attained, many supplications for pardon, many tearful assurances of re gret and remorse, before the sacrifice was made perfect by acceptance. But the bridal dress was worn at last. And none who looked at the fair wreath. adding beauty to the pale full brow be neath it, guessed that a sting was hid den in every white heart of the blossoms, or imagined the troubled memory lying in the depths of the bride's calm, shin ing eyes. Cecile stood beside her Bister that day. There Is such a glory In self-abnegation that I dare not say the bride was the happier of the two. Cecile looked down the fair path she pictured for her sis ter, and saw the passionate-hearted rose of life, that should have been her own, yielding Its sweets to her, saw her own sunshine gilding her sister's bright days, and her own heart-music leading her along the way that should have been smoothed for other treading; but the light on the bridemald's wistful brow was crossed by no shadow of re gret, I dare not say the bride was the happier of the two. She also had visions: sweet eyes made sadder for all their lifetime, a fair face paled by her doing, a low voice sapped of its ringing happiness. Keady-Mavde (letblwa; tJnwa Tree. Very singular, I must say, but one can't doubt the word of Humboldt, and the Little Schoolma'am lead about it in his works. The garment grows on the trunk of the tree ; it is, in fact, a very wide ring of hark, cut around as vou boys cut a willow twig to make a whis tle of it, and taken off the beheaded trunk inone piece. Two holes are cut for the arms, the sontb American native slips it over his head and con siders himself ia full dress. Now, if vou boys wonld dress in that style, what a saving of trouble for mothers it would be ! Hi. A ichouu. Tk Lec-rad of the !( " Via." Seventy years ago there lived in the vicinity of Los Angoles. a town further south than Santa Barbara, a beautiful Spanish girl. Her name was Senorita Marcelina, and so great was the beauty of ber face, her black hair falling in long treaeea far below her waist, and herdarkeyea fringed with silken lashes, that from childhood she had been ac knowledged queen among the maidens of her native place. Her parents once rich had become poor, so they formed the project of bettering their tortunee by wedding their daughter to some wealthy Don. The lovely Marcelina did not lack for ardent lovers, and among them all Senor Carlos de Dominguez was the accepted suitor. He was handsome, tau ana mauiv, but alas : without tor tune. His suit was violently oppposed by Don and Donna Feliz. who. noon finding the attachment becoming stronger than they wished, resolved to move to Santa Barbara, a mission 1 hundred miles northwest, where re sided niauy wealthy families, anion e whom they hoped to make a suitable match for their daughter. All future intercourse between Marcelina and Carlos was sternly forbidden, but, through the medium of an old Indian nurse, they obtained one interview be fore parting. Caios renewed his vows of undvinir love, and told Marcelina betweeu his sweet caresses that, as ber parents ob jected to their union solely on the ground 01 nis poverty, be bad deter mined to win wealth: that an old In dian, bound to him by ties of gratitude, possessed knowledge of a rich mine to which he had promised to guide him, and his company. "Wait for me but two years, my darling Lin a, and if, at the end of that time, you do not hear of me, you may know that I have per ished in the atteront to win vou." He tli en gave her a cutting of a grapevine, telling ber to carry it to her new home and plant it, keeping it as a reminder ot him, ana that while it lived and grew she might know that he loved her. The cutting was in the form of a riding whip. Vowing eter nal fidelity, the lovers Darted, and the next morning Lina and her parents started on their Journey, while Carlos and his company, with the Indian guide, wended their way over the mountain to find the precious gold. Arriving at berdestination.Marcelina's first act was to plant the cutting upon the hillside, with many tears and pray ers for the safety and success ot her lover. The vine grew and nourished with wonderful luxuriance, gladdening the heart of the waiting maiden. But days of trouble were in store for ber, for Don and Donna bad found, as they thought, a suitable companion for their daughter, in a Spaniard reputed to be very wealthy. Marcelina disliked him from the first, Why should she not f He was ugly in appearance and grizzled with years. Her violent opposition had the effect of postponing the marriage, her parents hoping that she wonld for get her former lover. The two years were rapidly drawing to a close, and nothing had been beard from Carlos. At length her parents, pressed with poverty, fixed the day for the wedding with the rich suitor of their choice. The eve of Marcellina's wedding day was the second anniversary of her parting with Carlos in the olive grove. She had crept away from the scene of busy preparation within her home, and biding herself beneath the shadow of her beloved vine, she sobbed and wept, wishing that she might die. Approach ing footsteps arrested ber attention. She started and attempted to hide her tears for fear of ber parents. "Lina, Lina !" greeted her ears in a familiar voice. Tremblingly she waited the near apnroaeh of the intruder, when with one wild, joyous cry of "Carlos," she dropped iuio his arms, her beauti ful head pressed close to his throbbing heart. It was indeed Carlos, returning at Inst faithful to his promise, bringing the fortune with Inm which his honest Indian guide had found among the Merras. Other things being equal, these avaricious parents consented that their daughter should c noose Detween the suitors, and the next day she be came the wife of the adoring Carlos. Years Dassed away, the parents died. and Carlos lost his wealth ; but the faithful vine. once the token of fidelity between these lovers, now became the means of their support its fruit while they lived bringing a sufficient income for their maintenance. The BrntallllrtBe llamtlac Field. Anv one who reads the hunting re- norts even in so respectable a paper as the Field will find very unpleasant evi dence of the sort of bloodthirsty de light with which the more brutal inci dents of the chase are relished by a certain class of sportsmen. It is impos sible to imagine any thing more sick ening than desciiptions of wretched hares and exhausted foxes being torn into bits and eaten by the bounds. In one case we read of a fox being pur sued into the cellar of a country house. and killed in the presence of an "ex cited crowd;" and in another me worrying- of a counle of foxes is spoken of as "the cream of the day." The sight of an old bare plucked from its seat by furious dogs, and, as it is gracefully put, "allied to currant jelly," fills the mind of the chronicler with "a feeling of gratitude for an op portunity of sharing the sport of such a pack." Again "They ran into aud killed this fox on a window sill in the middle of the main street (of a village) tn the delieht of the whole population. who. to indite by the crowd, turned out to a man." In another case a fine old dog fox was killed in the shrubbery of a house and "eaten on the lawn," and the writer thinks "the hounds well de served their fox," a common phrase in these reports. It appears that foxes are also some times dug out of a bole for the mere mrpose of being gobbled up by the lounds. There is really no necessity for hunting being associated with such stupid brutalities; but it is to be feared that custom baa too strong a hold as yet to admit of any effectual treatment of such abuses until public opinion has ripened a little more. London Satur day Review. Aieeetetee f M. !. In his work on the Suez Canal, a per sonal narrative (translated by Sir II. Drunrhiond Wolff, M. P., Blackwood At Sons. M.LeaseDS gives some amusing experiences of bis relations with En gland. Before going to cngiana. 31. de Lesseps had published a work to prepare the public minu ior 11 is propo sal. On arriving in Ensland. be caused a translation to be made, and consulted a publisher as to the cost and the best means of insuring a large circulation. "The publisher promises me an answer for the next day. Xeit morning 1 re turn to him, and he gives me a bill of costs, in which the largest item is in tended for an attack on the work. We must believe that the epidermis oi the English is less sensitive than ours. We certainly do not pay for the rods that scourge us. There is no need for praise of a book,' says the publisher ; 'when it is attacked, honest people want to see it, and judge for themselves. How many works have bad an im mense ran only because they have been cried down !' The English publisher was a man of good practical sense." The English publisher was laughing at M. de Lesseps. No such item ever figured in a bill of costs, and the bare supposition of charges for either praise or blame is so preposterous, that it can not even be regarded as a serious charge against the Press, and M. de Lesseps, too, must have had ample ex perience that attacks a discretion may be bad gratia, lie attended numerous public meetings in England, and had no reason to romDlain of his reception. The "bead of wood" were eonfiined to the politicians. "My addresses having given lull satisfaction, and public opin ion being favorable, I had only to fol low it np. I returned to Egypt and Constantinople, and employed the suc cess of my meetings to counterbalance the effects of English diplomacy. succeeded only in 1858. As you see, the brst steps were long and laborious. Fancy that in the first four years I traveled 10,000 leagues every year- more than a journey round the world !" In one respect, English opposition was 01 use 10 mm. 11 stimulated me eager ness to subscribe in France. To take shares in the SuezCanal became a popu lar way of avenging Waterloo. "An old bald-headed Driest, doubtless an old soldier," is one instance. Another was a well-dressed man, profession un known. " 'I wish' said he. 'to sub scribe for the railway of the island of Sweden.' 'But' it was remarked to him, 'it is not a railway, it is a canal ; it is not an island, it is an. isthmus; it is not in Sweden, it is at Suez. 'That's all the same to me,' he replied, 'provided it lie against the English I subscribe.' The same patriotic eager ness was found in many priests and military men." Vrmy'a !-!! Illatery atad ABtlqal. ties. We have been favored with a copy of this volume, compiled by W. K. Douthwaite, Librarian. The time of th foundation of Gray's inn as a So ciety of Lawyers has not been ascer tained, but it was not later than the reign of Edward III. In the days of Henry VI II. the Priory of Shene, then the owners of the property, granted it at a fee farm rent to, or in trust for, the society at a yearly rent, Mr. Douthwaite thinks that, as the result was afterward paid to the Crown, the society must have had a grant from the Crown. But such a grant was not necessary ; when the Crown succeeded (on the dissolution of mouastaries) to the possessions of the Priory, it only succeeded to the rent reserved to the Priory aud to the seignory of the land, but not to the land itself, which re mained in the society by virtue of the grant from the 1'riorv. A Cartulary or Register of Shene Priory, and per haps the index Cartaruiu aud Register of that House nientioued at vol. ii. p. 106 of Nil hols' ColleeUtnea, would show the grant. The author notices the mention by Narcissus Luttrell in his Diary of the riot Wtween the Gray's Inn gentlemen aud the workmen of Dr. Bareltone. who was beeinnintr to build on 1 ifil Lion Fields, which he bad pur chased. We have seen a letter (still in M.S.) in which the writer says that the Gray's Inn men went out in their gowns, and that the workmen were very civil, and said they would rather lose their work than disoblige the gen tlemen. But there was afterward a disturbance, and the Chief Justice sent word to the benchers that if they could not rule their house lie would come and do it for them. The gardens, as once a place of fashionable resort, are of course nientioued, and Francis Ba con's care for them, and Charles Lamb's encomium. Dr. Abbott and Mr. Sped ding have both doubtless been to view the garden ot dray s inn Immortal Bacon studied in. Survey the trees he planted there. And sigh and drop a silent tear,a That such a man should be inclin'd To be so weak with such a mind. Kensatlon ef fttarTlBK. For the first two days throngh which a strong and healthy mau is doomed to exist upon nothing his sufferings are perhaps more acute than in the re maining stages he feels an inordinate, unsneakable craving at the stomach night and day. The mind runs upon beef, bread, and other substantial, but still, in a great measure, the body re tains its strength. On the third and fourth days, but especially on the fourth, this incessant craving gives place to a sinking and weakness of the stomach, accompanied by a nausea. The unfortunate sufferer still desires food, but with loss of strength he loses that eager craving which is felt in the earliest staces. Should he chance to obtain a morsel or two of food he swal lows it with a wolfish avidity ; but five minutes afterward his sufferings ate more intense than ever. He feels as if he had swallowed a living lobster, which is clawing and ieeding upon the very foundation of his existence. On the fifth day his cheeks suddenly ap pear hollow and sunken, bis body at tenuated, his color is ashy pale, and his eye wild, glassy, and cannibalish. The different parts of the system now war with each other. The stomach calls upon the legs to go with in quest of food : the leirs, from very weak ness, refuse. The sixth day brings with it increased suffering, although the pangs of hunger are lost in an over powering languor and sickness. The bead becomes giddy the ghosts of well-remembered dinners pass in hide ous procession through his mind. The seventh day comes, bringing increased lassitude and fnrther prostration oi strength. The arms hang lifelessly, the legs drag heavily. The desire for food is still left, to a degree, but it must be brought, not sought. The mis erable remnant of life which still bangs to the sufferer is a burden almost too rrievons to be borne ; yet bis inherent ove of existence induces a desire to preserve it : if it can be saved without a tax upon bodily exertion. The mind wanders. At one moment he thinks his weary limbs cannot sustain him a mile, the next he is endowed with un natural strength, and if there be a cer tainty of relief before him, dashes bravely and strongly forward, wonder ing whence proceeds his new and sud den impulse. Evllaer Early Blslats;. The attention of medical men in this great Republic, observes Uawkeye Bur dett, is called to the injudicious and absolutely hateful habit much in vogue in the rural districts and among early risers in the city, of getting np in the night to eat. This nocturnal meal is faintly disguised under the name of breakfast, and there is no doubt that it has much to do with creating, spread ing, and sustaining the national disease dyspepsia. The custom is sometimes visited by severe judgements, but nothing seems able to deter its vota ries from continuing its practice. We once took Summer boarding with a man who used to eat in the night and roused np all his household to share the unnatural meal. Oue night he stirred us all up at 4 :30 o'clock to eat. We rose and ate. That very day his best'eow immolated herself on a wire fence, one of his horses bit himself with a rattlesnake, a reaping machine ate np his best farm band, a distant relative sent his youngest boy a drum, his wife took to writing poetry, and one of his most popular, talented, and handsomest boarders flitted, leaving an unpaid Summer's board bill to re member bim by. The latter circum stance is indelibly impressed upon oar memory, and we often think of it in connection with the somewhat strik ing coincidence that we have never been in that country since. CESTEHXIAL HOTES. The total value of the Centennial buildines and their contents is estima ted at the neat little sum of a hundred and four millions. The fellow who couldn't get a julep on the Centennial grounds has made up his mind that Philadelphia is not the proper place for the mint. The chocolate exhibit In the Trench Agricultural lepartment is an attrac tive feature. It contains a plan of the celebrated plantation of M. Menier at Nicaragua, which contains 250,000 trees. Mr. Geo. W. Childs and Mr. A.J. Drexel have accepted an appointment as honorary members or the British Centennial Commission. Mr. Charles E. K. Kortright, H. B. M. Consul for Pennsylvania, has also been appointed an honorary member of that body. The appointments were made by the Duke of Kichmond and Uordon, Loru iresldent of the Council. A Philadelphia correspondent of the Baltimore American says that "much fun has been made of the Washington statue recently placed In position in front of Judges' Hall. The sculptor, while partially successful in portraying the general features of Washington's face, has imparted to them a sternness that is very different from the calm and benevolent air that pervades all the ac credited likenesses or the r atner or nis Country. The chapeau is very unlike the Revolutionary hat, more resembling that or the French Kelgn or I error than the style worn on this side of the At lantic. Nearly every nation shows some thing of its light-house system. The French, English, Kussian and Japanese make more elaborate displays than any other nation except the United States. The actual articles, not the models, are shown. And the most curious are the harbor and the channel lights of the western rivers. In the small lights for river service the houses are cast in a solid cylinder, which is surrounded by prismatic bands deflecting the upper and lower rays from the lamp and pro jecting them, with the rays from the body of the flame, level with the plane of the horizon . Statistics in connection with the exhibit show that the United States employs 1300 men in attendance upon 953 lights and 2J lightships. The display of Ohio is rich lu min erals and their manufactured results; in agricultural staples, especially wool, and In agricultural machinery. The mineral exhibit consists or salt, build ing stones, bromine, coal and iron ore. The Cleveland Iron and coal company exhibit a Bessemer steel rail which has outlasted 34 good iron rails. The show ing of coal, iron, stone and clay is large and varied. Here is seen a block of coal from Mahoning valley twelve feet in diameter and weighing 15,000 pounds. The Mahoning valley coal Is the best of the variety known as "block coal." 1 he Masonic apron worn by Washington. Another ieature is the photographs of the survivors of the battle or Lake trie, framed iu wood from Perry's flag-ship Lawrence. Ohio's archaeological speci mens are excedingly interesting, espec ially the relics of the mound-builders. Solid ciiler is on exhibition at Phil adelphia. The water of the cider is all evaporated, leaving a substance looking something like dried glue. The solid residue of the cider is rolled around a wooden roller, like cloth, and is ready for transportation across the ocean or elsewhere. If liquor cider is wanted, a piece is cut off and water poured on, when it is dissolved and is ready to drink, and it is said to be equal to the cider just from the press. They also have bricks made of apple butter. The apple butter is carefully prepared and it is then made into bricks, all the mois ture is evaporated and they are ready for transportation, packed in boxes and sent to Europe with safety. The apple butter does not ferment as when left in a liquid state. By the application of water to the bricks the article is ready for the table. In the Massachusetts marine ex hibit in Machinery hall is a model of the old propeller schooner Midas, made by Mr. K. B. Forbes of Milton, at the age of 71 years. The craft was about 181 tons, and had twin screws. She was the first American vessel to ply Chinese waters, sailing for China in 1S44. She was also the first vessel rigged with the double topsail, now in such general use. Near the "Midas" is a model of the pro peller packet ship "Massachusetts." She had a single screw which could turn up completely out of water. She was the first American propellor pac ket to run between New York and Liv erpool, in 1S45. She was successfully operated, both in and out of the navy, until 1874. Near these models is one of a three-masted schooner, showing some new arrangement of sails between the masts, but the feature most noteworthy is the fitting of the launch on pivots, like a gun, so that it can be "slewed around" in various ways, for instance, in transferring guns from one side to another. The display of Kansas indicates its great agricultural resources. The build ing is unique, being In the form of a Maltese cross, three of whose wings are occupied by Kansas, the fourth by Col orado. In the center, suspended from the dome, is a fac-slmtle or the Indepen dence bell, eight feet in height, made of Kansas products. The rim Is formed of wheat, millet, broom-corn and sorg hum, the Inscription of millet and flax, and the tongue is a gourd six feet in length. The exhibit is especially strong in cereals, some of the specimens of which are of remarkable height, Forty two varieties of woods are shown, the rings indicating very rapid growth. The fruit display is expected to surpass that of any other state. Indications of this have already arrived in the shape of apples of large size and delicious quality. A case of raw and manufac tured silk attracts particular attention, as no other state has a similar one. It is from the works of M. Broissiere, a French capitalist, who erected the first silk factory in Kansas in 1809. One of the largest buildings devo ted to a special interest is the shoe and leather annex to Machinery Hall. In it are exhibited all the various descrip tions of leather, Including sole, harness, calf and kip leathers, tanned by hem lock and oak bark ; by oak bark alone and by hemlock alone, as well as leather tanned by various patented processes. Also extra large hides, one with 115 square feet of harness leather. The for mer was from a prize ox slaughtered last Christmas for a barbecue in Indiana. The hide weighs 175 pounds. Also a huge elephant hide of sole leather, some portions of which are about an inch thick. There are also the various fancy leathers for upholsterers' and bookbin ders' uses of various color and finish. Also the various manufactures of leather boots and shoes, harness, saddles, satch els and traveling bags, pocket-books, portemonnaies, etc., Tn great variety. All the different nations and their pro gress in tanning, and the materials used in tanning, are shownand an opportu nity is afforded of forming some judg ment as to the relative merits of the leather of different countries and of the various processes of the same country. Altogether this Is one of the moat prac tically useful of the exhibits, H1W3 IS BRH7- Evansville, Ind., has a banana tree in full bloom. Montreal's population, according to a recent census, is 148,000. Horses can be bought from the In dians in Oregon at $10 apiece. The Connecticut tobacco crop Is re ported to be ei 'Xllent this year. According to the Dead wood Jfiner there are 7,000 men engaged in gold and silver mining in the Black Hill region. It is proposed to celebrate the Pope's episcopal jubilee, which occurs in June, 1877, by a pilgrimage of Cath olics to Rome. A San Francisco scientist has con trived a flying machine which, he avers, will carry him to New York in twenty-four hours. In Contra Costa, Cal., resides Don Fernando Pacheco, who weighs 4J0 pounds, and is as weighty financially as he is physically. The new Liverpool docks are com pleted, so that now the docks of that port cover an area of 420 acres, and are valued at $100,000,000. A lady can dress moderately well In Paris for about $12,000 per year. In this country the figure runs from $5 to $25,000 according to taste. Switzerland County, Indiana, has over $25,000 invested iu the bee busi ness, producing 60,000 pounds of honey annually, valued at $13,0X0. Mrs. Lincoln, widow of President Abraham Lincoln , is staying in Boulder one of the most picturesque places in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Three brothers, sons of one of the Siamese twins, jointly cultivate a fine farm In Jackson county, Mo , making a handsome profit on large crops of to bacco. Miss Marguerite Cleveland, eldest daughter of John F. Cleveland, and niece of the late Horace Greeley, it is reported, will enter a convent in the autumn. A little girl died at Barnard, Ver mont, the other day by paralysis caused by the poison In colored stockings which she bad been in the habit of wearing. Aunt Patsy Vaughn 11, a colored woman claimed to be 114 years old. died recently near Amelia Springs, Va. Her youngest child is living aod is a woman 75 years old. Citizens of Savannah, tia., have purchased a handsome cane of orange wood, with a gold head, which will be sent to Governor Tilden as a testimo nial of Southern esteem. The chairman of the New York Mining Stock Exchange says that $50-, 000,000 can be profitably invested in developing the gold mines of Virginia, Georgia and North Carolina. William B. Hunt,of Iowais wanted by the sheriff. Also by twenty-eight different wives scattered over different States. He says he could have married forty If he had been given time. A tract of forty acres purchased ten years ago by a California fruit grower for $100 now yields its owner $3,000 a year net profit. This year's crop of fruit is estimated at 100 tons. There is a baby, two weeks old, in Vassar, Mich., which only weighs on pound and a half. Its mother's wed ding ring will easily pass over the child's hand and up to the shoulder. A wealthy New York manufactur ing firm has voluntarily raised th price of making shirts from fifty to seventy-five cents a dozen. At this rate a poor woman can earn over a dollar a week. Mr. George Cruikshank has had the rare pleasure of arranging his works in the gallery of the Westminis ter Aquarium at London, the directors having recently purchased the entire collection. The Chicago Club, with a $130,00( club-house, has been originated by the rich young men of the city. The in itiation fee is $200, and the yearly tax is $110. The membership is limited to 350, and is now 21ti. Rockport, Mass., appropriates the proceeds of her tax on dogs to the pur chase of books for her public library, and thus makes lovers of th; canine species pay for the literary entertain ment of the other citizens. Disraeli has no children to inherit his Earldom. Besides his own fortuue, he has received in bequests from his ad mirers about $200,000 and he has for some time received a pension of $10,000 a year from the Government as an ex Minister. There is a woman named Allen, 70 years of age, who has lived fifty years within five miles of Carrollton, 111., but has never seen a railroad train. She never goes in town, giving as a reason that every time her sons go they get home drunk. Investments made in Texas sugar planting by Northern capitalists are said to promise to prove highly remu nerative. In some cases fifty per cent. on the purchase money paid for the plantation will be realized lrorn the present crop. There are forty cotton mills In Georgia, and they have been in active operation during a very dull season. Tennessee has taken great strides in manufacturing, and throughout the south the drift of capital is toward In dustrial pursuits. A Portland paper tells a fishy story about the son of a poor man who moved est I rom Portland, many years ago, now Drovinz heir, through the will of an English knight, killed at Waterloo, to the famous Burton-on-Treut brewe ries, worth $4,000,000. An artificial chicken hatcher is ex hibited in Cincinnati, it consists of a Urge glass box, holding 400 eggs, on wire trays. The temperature is regu lated so accurately that It never varies half a dozen degrees from one hundred. The machine works well. The annual life insurance report of Massachusetts, just published, shows a diminution in the amount of outstand ing policies at the close of the year 1875 of nearly $32,000,000 from the amount written by the same companies at the close of the preceding year. Old Izaak Walton would have been happy had he been able to fish in the Jordan river, Upper Michigan, for there trout are so numerous that re cently a party of four persons, after six days' fishing, caught no less than two thousand ot the speckled shiners. Captain Richard Kelly of Falmouth, England, has received Irom the Presi dent of the United States a handsome telescope, suitably inscribed, as a re ward for bis bravery and humanity in rescuing the crew of the American brigantine II. F. Eaton, in Atlantic mid-ocean, in ls( 1. An enterprising East Norwood, N. H., boy of 16 eloped with and married a girl of 14, four years ago, but she left him In about two years; whereupon he married another girl of the town with out the formality of a divorce. Wife number two left bim, a while ago, and nothing daunted, he now takes to him self a third. so very foolish I"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers