ft. ft t : ;i '..it-. mmm T B. F. SCHWEIER, TH1 OOHSTrrUTIOK TH1 U5I0H AJTD TH1 KSrOBCZMZST OJ THX LAWS. Editor an4 Proprtotawv VOL. XXXI. . MlFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., v WEDNESDAY, MAY 9. 1877. , NO. 19. ' 1 lj sou bat. Some day earth will know no gloom, Some day faith will lioe from sleep, Soma day hope will bti4 and bloom, , Borne day men will seeee to weep ; When the path of life i rough, ' ' Some day death will cry, enough ! ' - Some day water will be wine, ' 6ome day woe be changed to weal, l ' "Some day captives will not pine, ' Some day deepest wounds will heal. Some day, with its sweet decree. Made imprisoned Joseph free. Some day, some day, en TV dies. Long ago the spirit spoke, ' Changing into purple dyes Jewish David's shepherd cloak. Making Saul, ert fierce and fleet. Follow on with lingering feet - Some day most the aloe bloom, fruit will grow npon the palm. Some day lijjht will vanquish gloom. Some day pain will find a balm ; Some days eyes will not be wet, Some day, some day will eome yet. Rhoda's Prisoner- BV ROSALIE OBAV. 'I start to-morrow for Belleville," said Khoda flare to her aunt, iion w hom the w making a farewell call. "Are you going alone, child?" in quired her relative. "Yes," was the reply. "Paji can not leave his business just now, to go with me, but lie will put me on the cars and my friends, who are already in Belevilie, wiM meet me at the deot. "I don't think it is sale," continued the old lady. "Just think, if you should be robbed, as I was, on that very road, last suiiiUier?" - "How was that?" asked Khoda. "Well," replied her companion, t"we were just approaching the tuuucl. when a gentlemanly looking young man wear ing spectacles, came up to me and in quired, "Is this seat engaged, madam?' 'No,' 1 replied, and he immediately ap propriated ir. He was disused to be rather chatty, and was quite interest ing; but he left at the first nation we reached. After we had passed through the tuunel, and when I put my hand in mv pocket. I found that my jiocket book had left with him!" 'The strange young man had proved toj fascinating for you," laugl'ed Khoda. "I dely any one to rob me so easily." Having just passed through the graduating course at school, and come off w ith flying colors, she felt equipped for arty emergency which might present itself in the battle of life. -Don't Ih too cur." replied ; tier aant: aTi(l beware of any gentlemanly looking young man in spectacles, w ho wishes to share your scat in the ears." Rhoda set forth w ith bright antici pations of a pleasant summer. Her ticket was bought, her trunk checked, and she was established in a seat, all to herself, ith an interesting book in her haixt, and iter lunch in a satchel beside her. ' ' - . The whistle blew, and papa, giving her a hurried kiss, bade her good-bye; and, for the lirst time in her life, she was traveling alone. For a while she watched the scenery, as the train whirled her rapidly along. Then she devoted herself to her book ; but finally beroming tired of both. slieyaw el and wished for companv. and even fancied that her aunt's fascinating young rob ber would be a rath : agreeable diver sion. "I should like to f-ee him get my oockst-book." thought Klinda. "If hi hand were once in mv iwtcket he would not escape so easily without an intro duction to the police." And she closed her own little palm tightly, as tnoitgn she already had the prize withiu her grasp. . . - " While these thoughts were jassing through the young lady's mind, the cars stopjied." and several passenger came on board. KhoU wan conscious of a shadow falling near, and looking up, she beheld a vision which mantled her checks with a tieep uiusu; a urn and rather elegant looking young man. w ith dark whiskers.' and wearing sjiec- tacles. was resectfully touching his hat. and imitiiring. "Is this seat engaged. Miss": And then he added, apologetically, "All the others seem to be occupied." "Answers the description exactly," soliloouized the voting detective." ow Aunt Ann shall" be revenged; I w ill rive him the ontiortunitv to pick my iKH-ket, if he desires it. Perhaps he mav not eniov it so much in the end Then she added, aloud, putting on a look of stearness which set comically noon her childlike face. "Tha seat is at your service, sir," and she proceeded to remove her satchel. "Allow me," said the stranger, and he elevated it to the bracket above. Rhoda kept her eye uihui her pro erty, although exacting to see it and her companion disaiwar together. "He prefers ocket-books," was her mental comment; "1 11 be on my guard." In suite of herself, our heroine be came interested in the conversation of the stranger. He was so erfectly ac quainted w ith the road and jMinted out all the objects of interests, telling amusing anecdotes connected with them. "But I must not forget that he is a villain." was her mental reservation, as she listened. "Aunt Ann, said that he was entertaining. How funny," she continued, addressing her self, "that J should meet the same person. But then I suppose, he frequents this road. Finally, they entered ths trnnel. I scarcely wonder," remarked the strange young man in sectacles, "at the mistake of toe old lady w ho, hav ing entered the tunnel for the first time in her life, and having never heard of it, supposed the Iay of Judgment had come," "He is trving to divert mv attention" thought Rhoda. "l'erhaps he imagines that I mi a young chit of a school-girl who can be "easily imiosed npon, but he mav find himself mistaken." Just then she felt a slight.tug at her linen polouaise., and immediately thrust ing her hand mtothe pocKei, imprisoned a masculine hand, which she grasped tightly. . -N'iw I can triumph over Aunt Ann thought Rhoda. "if I am not accus tomed to traveling alone." Thev emersred from the tunnel, and what was the chagrin of the young iailv to discover that she was imprison ing her companion s hand in the pocket of his own linen duster. "Oh ! I I beg your pardon !" stam mered Rhoda, feeling very much like the culprit for whom she had mistaken the stranger. "You are very excusable," he re plied, gazing in wonder at her blush ing countenance, while his face seemed to be an interrogation point. Rhoda felt that, in justification to herself, some explanation was neces sary, but with a fresh sense of mortifi cation, she remembered that the only one she had to offer was the reverse of complimentary. . , ' "1 thought. ' she began "that Is Aunt Ann said you were I mean. I thought it was my pocket and I mis took vou for a "Pickpocket?" .asked the stranger.as the truth began to daw n upon him. and his eyes tw iukled with a sense of. the ludicrous, situation. . : ' i "Yes," answered Rhoda, desperately while her blushes deepeued into St ar let. , "And so I was to lie brought to jus tice, I suppose, and delivered up to the police at the next station. ' And the dark eyes danced behind the sjiectacles with merriment. "IK please forgive me!" replied Rhoda, "I have never traveled aione before, and I have been from home but very little." "Well," was the laughing retort "I'll forgive you for putting your hand in my pocket. Aow see how much more merciful I am than you intended to he!" But Rhoda was in no mood for laugh ter; she felt that she had disgraced her i . i . i - -. ... i sen ; a Mil every uuie. me iraiu siopieu she wished that her companion would leave and that she might never see him again. She was doomed to be disa poiuted, however, for the cars were Hearing her own destination, and the stranger was still with her. "Bdeville!" shouted the conductor. and the inexperienced little traveler sprang to her feet, fancying that there was not a moment to lose. "I w ill bid you good-bye," she re marked triumphantly. ."Oh, don't be in a hurry," w as the reply ; ''there is plenty of time. 1 stop here, too. "Provoking!" thought Rhoda." Now I shall be constantly meeting him. I w ish the summer was over." Rhoda's friends were at the depot ready to smother her w ith kisses. "1 (id vou have a pleasant journev ?" asked Miss Townseiid, as thev were driving to the one large hotel of w Inch Belleville boastf. "I was somewhat louelv," replied Rhoda. "Iiuucan Rivers came on the train w ith you. He is quite a distinguished lawyer from Philadelphia, with any amount of wealth, w hich he inherited from an uncle. I wonder ii you saw him. He is tall, with dark w hiskers and wears sectaeles." "I was reading a good deal of the time," remarked Rhoda, evasively, "and paid very little attention to the passen gers." He friend wondered w hy the warm blood mantled her cheeks. On their way to the dining room, M r. Rivers came tip and shook hands w ith the Tow iiscnd family ; and Nina imme diately presented hiiu to her "particu lar friend and schoolmate, Missllure." 'Miss Clare's face is familiar," re marked the gentleman, roguishly. Were you not on the train this after noon ?" Again the roses deened on the soft, dimpled cheeks, adding new brightness to the dark violet eyes, and Xina won dered if any masculine heart could re sist the innocence, and freshness, and beauty of that fair face. Belleville was not a place in which people could sjiend their time yaw ning and going to sleep. The shaded drives, the maguilicent scenerv, w ith the noble old mountains frowning down ujion the river, which laughed back defiance to them as it sparkled in the sunshine all these proved to have greater fas cinations for the young eople than the cosv old-fashioned hotel surrounded as it was by great spreading trees, and lookiiig so invitingly cool to the pedes trian. Although Belleville boasted of many eligible beaux just now. who had come to rusticate for a few weeks, yet Dun can Rivers decidedly carried off the palm. . His cultivation, his personal aj earaiice, his polished manners, and his politeness to all and devotion to none, served to rivet the thoughts of the young ladies upon him rather than iton those whose particular attentiens were bestowed more indiscriminately. All but Rhoda. The recollection of the particular compliment with which she had favored him in the car, eerved to render her shy towards him now, and she avoided him upon every jxissible occasion. Meanwhile, this little eisode. which he considered a good joke, had only served to amuse him ; and the pet of society wondered, and was piqued, at the indifference of an unsophisticated yonng girl, just fresh from the school room. He carclesslv resolved that she should be conquered, not dreaming that he had anything deeper at 6 take than the amusement of the hour. His frequent invitations to her to walk and drive, his devotion to her on the croquet ground, their tete-a-tetes over the chess-board, were soon noticed by the other occupants of the house, w"ho, of course, did not " fail to make their comments. A picnic hal been planned to the Falls, almut twelve niilrs from the vil lage. . On the previous evening Rhoda had wandered to the end of one ef the long halls, and hail seated herself in the w indow, w here the moon poured in a flood of silvery light, bringing out in a shadowy beauty the leaves ol the grand old maple trees, w hich were re flected on the walls, dancing in their own grotesque fashions as they were gently swayed by the light breeze. " "I have found'yoii at last," said a pleasant voice. ""Why did you run awav from us?" "I accidently strayed into this cor ner," replied Rhoda", "and then I could not resist its beautv." "It is charming!" said Mr. Rivers, seating himself, "I have come to ask you, Miss Rhoda, if I may have the pleasure of your company in my car riage, to this picnic, to-mrrow." "I had half made up my mind not to go," said Rhoda, "for I promised pool old Miss Dennis, that I w ould spend a day w ith her before I leave, and now the suuimer is almost past." "Oh, it will never do for you to give up the picnic!" exclaimed her com panion ; "the last gayety of the season. Give the old lady some other day and go with me to-morrow. Come Miss Rhoda; you must say 'yes.' I think I will not take 'no fer an answer." "Well," was the reply, "I will think alout it." Just then the pair become conscious' of a presence. There was a rustle of starched muslin, and they caught a glimpse of a figure as it glided past, a little in the distance,- w here another hall intersected this one. How long had this presence been there? A nd how much of th conver sation had been overheard All of it, oronlvthe latter part? These were the thonghts that passed through Rhoda's mind, and she glanced up and encountered the merry twinkle in her companion's eyes. "There is the foundation for quite a romance; a lovet, deeply in earnest, and an undecided young lady taking him into consideration," laughed 'Mr. Rivers; as they separated. That he. Duncan Rivers, the spoiled pet of society, could be taken into con sideration, that any yuug lady, would not answer an immediate "ves " to proposition of marrige emanating from him, had never enntred that gentle man's head as one of the possibilities; therefore, he could afford to be amused in contemplation of Uie reports to which the conversations just related might give rise. ' The bright morning sunpverturnexl Rhoda's self-sacrificing intentions, and charitably resolving to bestow'mpon old Miss lleiinis the first rainv dav-houM one occur liefore she left Belleville, she took her seat in .Mr. Kiver s comforta ble little carriage. She was beginning to recover from the shyness which she had always felt toward her companion, in consequence of the awkward mistake she had made when she first met nun; and now the drive through a lovely country, surrounded by the most en chanting sceuerr, had an exhilarating effect njon her spirits, and her com panion was charmed w ith the wit and freshness of her remarks, and wished that the tete-a-tete might last all day. It came to an end all too soon, and the entire iiartv was established in the woods; some sitting in groups, some in twos, some taking solitary walks, per haps in quest or congenial company. Mr. Rivers had unconsciously fallen into a brown study, from which tre was rather rudely awakened by one of the arty, w ho stepped up to him Jxclaiiu iug: j, . "I was to lie the first to cofigratulat? you f '.'For what?" asked th gentleman, somew hat startled bv thaf abruptness. "For being the lucky chap who has secured the prettiest gtrj in the com pany," was the reply. f'XX, least, i we supmise vou have secured her. f We were told that she was taking yoti in consideration; but a-she drove with you to-day, we fancy fiiat is equivalent to an acceptance." And there was a malicious glance in the eyes of the seaker, who had so" frequently been eclipsed by the gifted young lawyer. "Save your congratulations until you receive your information from more reliable source than bfcardiug-hoase gos sip," replied Mr. Ritvrs, as he jtumed haughtily away. 4 "Confound that little school girl !" he mentally ejaculate! "She firs takes me lor a pickocket,anu men ptares me, to all apiiearance, i the position of a humble suitor, waitfng meekly (or my senteiice." ; Just then a jieal laughter greeted his ears, and tumiqg in the direction whence it proceecied, he beheld the "little school girl'Turrouiided by four of her conipanionsj'aiid Mr. Rivers was obliged to ackuow jpdge to himself that lie had never befori) seen so lovely a pic ture. The sunshine had lent an addi tional flush to her cheeks, and was playing bo K-ep through the leaves w ith her soft brown hair, from w hich her hat had partially fallen ; Ber beau tiful eyes sparkled w ith mischief, and a merry laugh parted her rosy lips. Id her fingers she held four bladcsof grass with one end concealed in her dimpled hand. Each gentleman eagerly drew, and compared lengths ittr his neigh bors, and then' they exclaimed in a tone of disappointment," "All alike!" "Certainly, replied Rhoda. de murely. "ilow could I be the partner of either of you w hen I api already en gaged for the1 first game ff croquet?" The gentlemen took her joke good naturedlj', aid went otf in quest of" other partners. I "That little coquette !? mentally ejac ulated Mr. plti vers. "I Jnever noticed before that.fche w as so much admired, she seemed such a shy little thing." ' But this .Jgeiitleii-T was doomed to make sevejal discc .-ies in the course of the day, one of w hich was Ithat lie felt a certain unpleasant sensation in the region; of his heart,' w hen- Rhode's smiles were showered -too indiscrimi nately ainong her admirer,? and that his own attentions, hitherto carelessly bestowed had a deenjr meaning than he wasf himself conscious of. lie noticed that his courtesies 2were now accepted or declineA will.' the same saucy indiflerence Which greeted her other adorers. He earie-fof the day and rejoiced when .'he foBnd himself once ire seated iaf his carriage, with Rhodai beside hi in,' their laces turned homeward. ' ' "Will," said Rhoda, "this is the last picni of the season! I Shall be half sorryJto return to the cKy and settle dow n to propriety once more." i "Tliat will not require much exer erti'ji," remarked her friend, mischiev-ously.i-fi yuMiu return to it as easily as you left it." " '- "What do you meanl'V demanded Rhoda, half angrily. "Have you forgotten that you . at tempted to pick my pocket on the jour nev?" - . "Oil!" laughed Rhoda. "It was you who were trying to rob me, only by some legerdemaiii you managed to get both hands into your own jiocket be fore you emerged" into the light." - "But: you really did : steal some thing from me. Rhoda. I was uncon scious of it at the time, but I have dis covered my loss since. Give nie an equivalent'for it, afid I w ill promise not to make the theft public." Then he added, more seriously, "Yon cannot want two hearts." A saucy reply rose to Rhoda's lips, but something in that earnest gaze put it to flight. "I don't think yon have been any more honest than I," she faltered. "I have missed ' But the rest of the sentence was lost as her lips were smothered with kisses. "Then you do love me, Rhoda, after all? 1 thought you were indifferent." "And I thought that, after you' had stolen my heart, you had merely played with it for awhile, and then thrown it awav." "When did vou begin to care for me, darling?" "I believe it was when I found my hand in your pocket, although I w ished then that I might never see you again." A few days more ended Rhoda's visit to Belleville; but slie did not return home alone. Mr. Rivers declared it would be necessary for him to accom panv her, to prevent her from making arrests on the cars! He said that she had taken him prisoner at their first meeting, and had held him in chains ever since. Mb sic Md VecelaUeu. A correspondent of the English Mechanic insists that musical sounds stimulate the growth of plants. He gives an instance in point. In barren section ofHortugal he built small conservatory and endeavored to culti vate roses and other flowers under shelter,-bat In spite of his precautions and industry they did not flourish. One day he took a harmonium into the greenhouse and played for several hours. This practice he maintained for several months and was surprised to see a gradual but rapid recovery of health on the part of his plants. Be attributes their improvement to the influence of music and unfolds the theory that the singing of birds Is conducive to vegeta ble lite. It is a pretty theory. , PRIDE. I had a little rosebud given to me. I dropped it as I wore it one fair day ; I would not turn to seek it no ; for then Twere plain I prized it ; so I went my wy, I bad a love that made' my life a joy. It seemed to falter one bright summer day ; I could have won it back with but a smile ; . I would not smile, and so I went my way. 0 pride, thou steal eat our most treasured - things, . Things which to gain we'd risk all else beside; Lest, lost my rosebud, lost my love, alas! I might have found them but for thee, 0 pride! . Tfi Galaxy, j THE DEACOV8 DIXXER PABTV. ' i Deacon Goodman was the very best man that ever lived. So at least said his friends and neighbors, who cer tainly ought to know; and for enemies, be probably had not one in the world. It is true, however, ..-.at the remark above quoted was generally made sort of apologetics! preface to something .like the following: "But then he has such queer notions; he is so unlike any body else that we hardly know what to make of - him." Perhaps these worthy people were oblivious to the fact that in order to be very good, it is often a pain ful necessity to be different from one's neighbors. We cannot better illustrate Deacon Goodman's peculiarities than by de scribing a little entertainment given by him at,-his country seat, not long ago, For the Deacon, with all his unworldly goodness, is a prosperous merchant in Xew York, and the owner (by per fectly fair means) not only of a brown stone front in the city, but of a charm ing suburban residence. The Deacon's wife, Uiough a very good person in her way. was a far less peculiar personage than her husband. She fell quite grace- full into an amiable conformity with the ways of the world, and is not to be distinguished from the thousands of other good women of the wealthy class who throng our city churches. Their two daughters. Miss Adelaide and Miss Ellen, had just left the re straints of a fashionable school, and en joyed the prospects of "coming out," in another winter as full fledged mem bers of society. "Husband," said Mrs. Deacon, one May morning soon after the family mi gration to the country, ''Husband, you know we did not give the dinner that we were proposing last winter; what do you say to having it here instead ? We are so convenient to the city that they can easily come out in coaches." "You gave a large party, did you not, which included all that should have leen your dinner guests?" "Dear me yes ! but that was quite a different thing. Xow at this little affair I am speaking of, I should want only our most particular friends." "Oh t if that is the plan. I like it well, rejoined the warm hearted Deacon. "But why not ask them to spend a week with us?" "Ask whom?" "Well, your brother John's family first; the children would enjoy it and then" "Oh, you don't understand me at all! I mean only a few of the best families, whose acquaintance it is most desirable to cultivate." "Really, wife, itdoes not seem honor able to Invite guests for our own selfish purposes. lean sell hardware with a good conscience, but the hospitality of my house " "Who wants to sell the hospitality of your house. Xo, no, my dear, that is one of your odd notions. Everybody in society does just as I am proposing. And, after all, this inviting is doing as we would be done by." "True, true," said the Deacon with a merry laugh. "But why not do this favor to some one who will value it, to whom it will be a real kindness. There are hundreds now whom I could name, to whom a day spent among these green trees, in the fresh, sweet air of the coun try, would be an event to be remembered for a year." .'''.'(? "Oh, if you mean a charitable visit, that is very good in its place, but a very different idea have I in hand. For our children's sake, my dear, it is really our duty to hold our place in good soci ety." i The Deacon was always accessible to considerations of duty. He merely said: "Well, name your day, and give me the list. I will have the invitations sent from my office.' "A capital thought; your accountant there is such a splendid penman. And, as for the names, you know the families to whom we are under the greatest ob ligations. I would have the company as select as possible, and I will try to make the affair pass off finely," said the worthy lady,, beaming already with amiable complacency upon her prospec tive guests. The expected day arrived. Mrs. Good man and daughters, their elegant toilets at last perfected, were seated In the drawing room, whose long windows looked across a cool veranda, and com manded the way of approach from the city. Though the fingers were occu pied with light fancy work, the eyes were glancing continuously down the road to meet the first arrival. "Xo one will come for an hour yet, you may be sure," said Mrs. G. "Your father has such a horror for late hours, that be wanted as to be dressed and waiting by four o'clock." "I never saw an omnibus on this road before," said Miss Ellen, as one of these plebeian vehicles made its appearance ever the brow of the hill. "Chartered for some special purpose, said the mother, presently, as she mused upon the dinner. "There is another," said Adelaide. "And another," said Ellen. "There is q ulte a procession of them,' said the mother. "And the first one is stopping at our gate," said Ellen. "What in the world do all those for lorn-looking creatures want here,' cried Adelaide, in consternation. "Do go and send them away before our company conies," said Mrs. Good man. "I have seen some of them at the Industrial School," said Ellen, with a sudden gleam of merriment; "can this be one of father's curious tricks?" "It certainly is," said Adelaide, "for here he comes himself out of the omni bus." And in fact the good Deacon was now seen making bis way through a crowd of poor people, who stood humbly wait ing near the gote, and offering his arm to a withered old lady in a rusty black bombazine, who had been among the first arrivals. lie presented her and the foremost of his guests to bis lady, who stood in a rustle of astonishment and stiff brocade, on the veranda steps, and his elegant daughters, who were half way between laughing and crying at the novelty of the scene before them. Mrs. Goodman fortunately had the good sense and philosophy to perceive that a state of things which was not to be cured, had better be endured with the best grace possible; and ber innocent guests, though somewhat awe-struck at such undreamed of magnificence of ap parel, were all unconscious of the strug gle and triumph, too of grace that was going on beneath the studied hos pitality with which she received them. There was the old lady in black, who proved to be a widow, and utterly alone in the world; about the supply of whose wants the Deacon probably knew more than any man living. And there was an old man with one wooden leg, and a blind man, who was strongly suspected to have been seen at the way-side begging, until some benev olent individual name unkown had supplied him with a basket of salable articles, by means of which he was now able to support himself and family. There were women, too, with wan faces, who seemed to have never enjoyed the freedom of God's bibgsed air; and puny children in their arms, whose heavy eyes brightened at the sight of green grass and waving trees. The older peo ple were soon seated in the house and on the piazzas, while the children under convoy of Miss Ellen, who entered heartily into the spirit of the occasion, scattered about in merry games on the green lawn. Xever was there much a play before, and to Ellen herself it seemed that the little birds never sang so sweetly, nor the fresh summer air breathed so delightfully as on this very day. The company once disposed of asober, second thought occurred to the lady hostess, more distressing, doubtless, than the first. An appealing look brought her husband to the corner. "What in the world am I to do?" she said, "I have not half enough for them to eat." "That is all right," replied the dea con, pointing to a wagon which was just unloading at the kitchen gate. "There is abundance for them all, and I have given the directions to the cook." Anxiety was needless; every arrange ment had been completely made and the entertainers devoted themselves again to their guests. Happily passed the hours of the golden afternoon. The ladies of the family recovered speedily from the shock of disappointment, and could not help admitting that they had never so thoroughly enjoyed a company. It was a lesson worth learning. At six, the company was assembled around the long table, which, by the Deacon's direction, had been spread upon the shady lawn ; and never prob ably did guests more heartily ui. itein thanksgiving for the bounties of Prov idence. Before they rose from the ban quet, there was a gorgeous sunset, all In full view, to be enjoyed by many who, within the narrow walls, were almost as effectually excluded from God's free pic ture gallery in the heavens, as from man's aristocratic ones on earth. At the same time the moon was rising in the east, and there was a delightful evening, with the glancing fire flies among the grass, and the cool breezes that never dreamed of brick walls and heated pavements and by nine o'clock the whole company had departed in their train of conveyances for home. The lady hostess was too tired or too thoughtful to demand explanations now. When children and servants bad quietly assembled in the sitting room at the hour of prayer, the worthy father of the family read from the great Bible the story of a great feast given of old at the house of a chief Pharisee; and his voice lingered with special empha sis on the following words: "When thou makest a dinner or a sup per, call not thy friends nor thy breth ren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors ; lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recompense thee; for thou shall be re compensed at the resurrection of the just." lie was certainly a strange man, that Deacon Goodman, and unfortunately very different from the rest of the world. eratea Hawse Balldlns;. Pray, ought not he who cares to have a house built as it should be, contrive so that it should be as pleasant and convenient as possible to live in ? Is it not then, pleasant for it to be cool in summer and warm in winter? Does not the sun, in such bonsee as front the south, shine obliquely, during the wintertime, into the porticoer, while in summer it passes vertically over the roofs, and affords us shade ? Is it not well, therefore, if any rate this posi tion for a house be a good one, to build it in such a way that it shall be the highest toward the south, so that the winter sun may not be shut out, and lower toward the north, so that the eold winds may not beat npon it so vi olently 1 To speak aa oonoisely as pos sible, that would be probably the pleasantest and most beautiful dwell ing house to which the owner could most agreeably betake himself at all seasons, and In which he eonld most safely deposit his goods. The rierarr rsevtiwad. In the North Gountrr, at the present day, the free churches are fnll on the coldest Sunday, while the worthy parish minister has to take his shivering pre centor and congregation into his cozy parlor, and even there they will not oc cupy all the chairs. There is no doubt that the seoeders who at first, as is the manner of reformers, displayed rather leveling and ruthless tendencies frightened away many of the better sort from Preebytenanism altogether, and widened the distance between the gentry and the mass of the people. The numerous class of servant-girls, and with them, of course' farm-laborers, went over to the new body en rtae, taken with the novelty of the thing ; and their "moderate" or old-Kirk em ployers had the satisfaction of knowing that their menials who were allowed to consider the question at issue, i e one which affected their eternal desti nies believed in their hearts that they were on the' road to perdition, and were proper objects for their commiseration and prayers. The people were disin tegrated : thousands joined the new Church ; hundreds of the gentry, dis gusted with the melee, joined the Epis copacy ; a feeling of religious caste strongly developed itseif . divinity stu dents, who regarded a good congrega tion as more desirable than even a good living, became disheartened and were lost to the ministry ; the schools were affected and, in short, the whole country was revolutionized. And only three years ago the conservative Church of Scotland, too, abolished patronage, and the whole texture of the student eommnnities was, therefore changed. Xow, we presnme that no man to-day (unless, indeed, he were seeking effice) would defend churoh patronage. But, as even the Corsair had "one virtue linked to his thousand crimes," the system of patronage had one redeem ing feature. Through it, boorish cubs were licked into shape, and vulgarly bred lads acquired the manners of a gentleman, for most of those who had the ministry in view could obtain the favor of a patron in no other way than by becoming tutor's in gentlemen's and noblemen's families after the com pletion of their course. Iu this capac ityentering the houses of landed gen tlemen, associating there with people of cultivated habits they, however humble their origin, acquired those courtesies and graces of manner and bearing which were more the charac teristics of the jolly Scottish clergy men of thirty years ago than they are of their successors. It would be quite a mistake to suppose that the pulpit has kept pace with the advance of the people in other respects. There are notable exceptions, but - the Scottish parish minister of to-day is only - a preacher not the second gentleman in the country, and the local fountain bead of literary and antiquarian lore. The manly traits and strong, universal sympathies which so preeminently dis tinguished the late Norman McLeod are by no means so common in the Scotch Chnrch as they were even twenty years ago, whatever its minis ters may have gained in evangelical breadth and activity. The gentry have now stepped across the Tweed, or sent their sons and daughters across which of them does not boast a diDgy house within bugle-call of St James's ? The average Scottish clergyman's salary has not advanced with the increased cost of living, and is not equal to that of a French cook in one of the Edin burgh hotels ; the inadequacy of the means of creditably supporting them selves and their uniformly large fami lies, of which most ministers have to complain, is drainirg away talent from the pulpit ; and the yonng men who nowadays aspire to the ministry go through the course in the shortest pos sible time six years and pass their vacations in mission-work, or in their fathers' workshops or barns. Family tutorships are all but extinct in Scot land ; the numerous subdivisions of society which have become so clearly defined during the last thirty years de maud permanent and special teachers, who may go to college if they choose, but who must, though they were Per sons in scholarship, and Arnolds in natural capacity for imparting instruc tion, tread for the specified time the floors of an exacting but red-tape nor mal school. Students there are, in deed, who omit a session and go to re cruit their finances by teaching, but it is to England to one or other of the cheap boarding-schools whose name is legion in that country. AppUton' Journal. . Glae;w wad the Mjdf. A hundred and fifty years ago the in habitants of Glasgow, then only a few thousand in number, resolved on im proving the Clyde, and they have gone on working at the idea ever since. It wan a shrewd occupation. The city had great capabilities of advancement. The neighborhood abounded in iron and coaL The river opened into a channel communicating with the west roast of England and the Atlantic ; and the Atlantic was the highway to America. There lay the elements to wealth, and no doubt wealth would be realized in immeasurable abundance if the river could be rendered navigable. Such was the reasoning of these Glas gow people. They hardly yet imag ined the possibility of bringing the sea up to their city. They would establish a port near the salt water, and carry on traffic by means of lighters. That was the primary motion, and it did good service in its day. In process of time, as trade and wealth increased, the im proving of the river on a grand scale, and making Glasgow itself a port, be came a predominant idea in this keen witted and self-reliant community. In short, the tidal water must be made to flow upward over a space of fifteen to eighteen miles, to the Broomielaw, so as to secure the advantages of harbors and docks with a clear and direct route to the sea. Mr. Deas presents a nar rative of proceedings for deepening, widening and straightening the river, which in some places was so shallow that it could be forded on foot. Where sand banks were bare at low water, land plows drawn up by horses were employed to break up 'the banks so that the current might carry the sand away. Where the sand-banks were under water they were torn up by har rows attached by tackle to the stern of steam-tugs, the liberated debris being swept away by the current and reflux of the tides. Then began processes of dredging, at first by a chain of iron buckets worked by hand and by horses but afterward by steam power. Some times the dredge encountered rocks and boulders, and these had to be mas tered by recourse to diving-bells and blasting. For a long time the engi neers were unaware of a remarkable bed or dyke of whiustone rock at the bottom of the rive, near Elderslie, about four miles from Glasgow. This formidable bed of rock, which was only discovered by the grounding of a large steamer in 1874, extended nine hundred feet in length by about three hundred feet in breadth, it was blown np by gunpowder, the charges being fired by a galranio battery. The cost of these blasting operations was up ward of 10,000. Much, we are told, remains to be done ; but the northern half of the rocky area has been low ered so as to give a channel of fourteen feet at low water, the other half hav ing an available depth of eight feet. Ultimately, as is expected, there will be a depth throughout of twenty feet at low water. The cost of the sundry operations on the Clyde has from first to last, in virtue of acts of Parliament, been borne by levying rates on the tonnage of vessels using the river. The administration throughout has been marked by great prudence. With some insignificant failures, whatever has been done has been done well. The total expenditure of the Clyde Trust from the year 1770 to June, 1875, amounted to 6,711,000. At present the minimum depth of the navigable channel may be stated at fifteen feet at low water, and about twenty-five feet at high water. Ves sels drawing twenty-three feet three inches have within the last few months eome to Glasgow in one ttde from Greenock. Ship-building on the Clyde has advanoed in a remarkable manner. In 1875 there were built on it three war vessels, thirteen paddle and a hundred and a hundred and thirteen screw steamers. Including other kinds of craft, there were built on it a total of 276 vessels. For the year ending 30th June, 1875, the revenue of the Clyde Trust was i.rJb,Jo. A survey of the shipping at the harbor and docks of Glasgow would communicate a feeling of an enormous trade with all parts of the world. The truth is, the rise of Glasgow is one of the wonders in the modern history of Great Britain a greater wonder considering the poor and backward state of Scotland at the Union. -From thirty-five thousand in 1771, the population of Glasgow has swollen to half a million, and it has be come the second city of the Empire, with apparently no limit to its wealth and importance. As a centre of manu facturing industry it has several advan tages, but all would have been una vailing without the Clyde and its mar velous improvements. Chamber' Journal. UnntlBg Ibe Viper. The scientific gardens of Paris are be coming quite a theatre for field sports of a select order. Not long ago an Eng lish falconer was invited to establish himself and his trained birds at one of them, and the Parisians were indulged with the eight of falcons wotthy of the age of chivalry. While the peregrines were allowed to perform in the air, a group of cormorants attracted quite as much attention by their exploits in the water, and the French bourgeois, who had never stirred further beyond the rampants than St. Germain oc Yille nenve, began to talk as loudly about hawking as if he had been a member of the famous Loo or Champagne Clubs. It is now the turn of another, and, per haps a new sport, iu which birds are also the performers. The Jardin d'Ac climution has been enriched by the ad dition of some fine secretary birds, and a few days ago occasion was taken with their help to offer to the public what a French paper calls '"a most attractive spectacle." Some vipers had been pro cured, and were thrown down before the birds, who to the intense delight of the spectators, lost no time in "engag ing in struggle" with them. The com bat must have been rather one-sided if the birds were any thing bike full grown for the sectary has been known not only to vanquish, but to devour bodily s nikes as large as a man's arm. But the gestures and tactics of the birds while engaged in the tight were highly amusing to the visitors, who will, no doubt, urge all their friends to go and patronize the exhibitions that may be given in future. It is certain that the gardens are far better suited for the efiae aux ripere than for displays of falconry, for the secretary does not fly, but runs after his prey, and that at a prodigious pace, reserving his wings to serve as a weapon of offense and de fense. When the snake is overtaken, one of the wings is used as a shield and the other as a club, while the long and hard legs of the bird are impervious to the attacks of the foe. A common viper is, however, by no means a fair match for the newly-trained chasseur, and it would be well on the next occasion to make a qnnrry of a stout cobra or a youlg python. London Globe. Hvspltikllty la Khiva. Capt. Burnaby, the Englishman, who has just made a tour through Turk estan, was well treated in Khiva, and received especial hospility on reaching there, in the home of a dignified old gentleman. The Khlvan hosts were very humble and deferential wherever he went, but they were very inquisi tive also, and curious to know of the ways of Europeans. Their notions upon such subjects are very vague, as is shown by this passage from one of the conversations which the traveler reports : '"Which do you like best, your horse or your wife?' inquired the man. " 'That depends upon the woman, 1 replied; and the guide, here joining in the conversation, said in England they do not buy or sell their wives, and that 1 was not a married man. " 'What! you have not got a wife?' "Xo; how could I travel if I had one? "'Why. you might leave her behind and lock her up, as our merchants do with their wives when they go on a journey.' "'In my country the women are never locked up-' "'What a inirrel!' said the man; 'and how can you trust them ? Is it not dangerous to expose tliem to so much temptation ? They are poor weak crea tures, and easily led. But if one of them is unfaithful to her husband, what does he do?' " 'He goes to our mollah, whom we call a judge, and obtains a divorce and marries some one else. "'What! you mean to say he does not cut the woman's throat?' "'Xo; he would very likely be hanged himself if he did.' "'What a country" said the host; 'we manage things better in Khiva.' "The guide was much astonished on hearing the prices of horses in England. 'And what do the poor people do?' he inquired. " 'Why, walk.' "Walk? " 'Yes, walk, this appearing to the man such an extraordinary statement that he could hardly credit it." "Fathxb," said little Toddy, "hiw can the sea run when it is all tide?" WOO WK THOUGHT. A man may buy gold too dear. Beal glory consists in the conquest of ourselves. Virtue deserves respect even In beg gar's clothes. Born, lived and died, sum up the great epitome of man. Goldsmith said : "Women and music should never be dated." What Is that which flies high, flies low. has no feet, yet wears shoes? Dust. A single sigh breathed from the bot tom of a burdened heart is a loud cry in the ear cf God. Why are many people like eggs? Be cause they are too full of themselves to hold anything else. They who respect themselves will be honored ; but they who do not care about character will be despised. The strokes of the pen need delibera tion as much as those of the sword need swiftness. Julia Ward Howe. Pope says: "The boy despises the infant; the man, the boy; the philoso pher both ; and the Christian all." There Is this difference between char acter aud reputation ; character is what one really is, reputation is what he seems to be. Death is the only monastery; the tomb - is the only cell, and the grave that ad joins the couvent is the bitterest mock of its futility. Jokeing iz a risky bizziness ; just for the sake ov a second klass joke menuy a man haz lost a fust klass friend. Joth Billing. There is pleasure enough in this life to make us with to live, and pain enough to reconcile us to deatu when we cau live no longer. Passionless characters are worthless in good or in evil; their gentleness U inability to feel auger, their virtue in ability to do w roug. Hope is the best part of our riches. What protketh the wealth of the Indies in our pockets, if we have not the hope of heaven iu our soul ? Mental pleasures never cloy. Unlike those of the body, they are increased by repetition, improved by reflection, and strengthened by enjoyment. There is no merit where there is no trial ; and until experience stamps the mark of stremrtb, cowards may pass for heroes, faith tor falsehood. We should alwars be very careful on whom we confer benefits; for if we be stow them on the base-minded, it is like throwing water into the sea. What an exquisitely delicate precept is that of the Hindoo law w hich savs: Strike not, evn with a blossom, a wife though she be euiltv of a hundred faults." Shakespeare says we are creatures that look before and after. The wore surprising that we do not look arouud a little and see what is passing under our very eyes. .... The rules of fashionable life drill the character out of girls until they are as much alike as pins in a paper, am? have about as mucli sense and sentiment iu their heads. Let It be impreed upon your mind let it be instilled into your children that the liberty of the press is the pal ladium of all civil, political and re ligious liberty. The liberty of the press is a blessing when we are inclined to write against others, and a calamity when we And our selves overborne by the multitude of our assailants. If a million people were standing to gether, and each person occupied ex actly four square feet of ground, they would all occupy but little more than a square mile. Laziness grows on people. It begins in cobwebs and ends in iron chains. The more business a man has the more he is able to accomplish, for he learns to economize his time. Lowell says of Carlyle. that "His imagination is so powerful that it makes him the contemporary of his characters, and thus his history seems to be the memoirs of a cynical humorist." Trne religion teaches us to reverence what is under us, to recognize humility and poverty, and, despite mockery and disgrace, wretchedness, suffering aud death, as things divine. &xth. Vanity is a confounded donkey very apt to put his head between his legs, and chuck us over; but pride is a tine horse, that will carry us over ground, and enable us to distance our fellow travelers. If you must form harsh judgments, form them of yourself, not of others, and, in general, begin by attending to your own deficiencies first. If every oue would sweep up h is o w n walk, we shou Id have very clean streets. Virtue is a service a man owes to him self, and though there were no heaven nor any God to rule the world, it were not less the binding law of life. It Is man's privilege to know the right aud follow it. Hindu Scripture. Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings, as some savage tribes determine the power of their muskets by their recoil ; that being considered best which fairly prostrates the purchaser. Lunyftllun. Have the courage to give occasionally that which you can ill afford to spare; giving what you do not want nor value neither brings nor deserves th inks iu return. Who is grateful for a drink of water from another's overflowing well, however delicious the draught? I heard of a very old man like my self, who was asked what hU a9 was; he answered, "the right side of eighty." "I thought you were more than eighty," said the inquirer. "Yes, 1 am beyond it," he replied, "aud that is the right side, for I am nearer to my eternal real." S-JKland Hill. Language Is properly the servant mi thought, but not unfrequently becomes its master. The conceptions of a feeble writer are greatly luodiled by his style, a man of vigorous powers makes his style bend to his conceptions, a fact compatible of Dryden that a rhyme has often helped him to an idea. Begin the education of the heart, not with the cultivation of noble propensi ties, but with the cutting away of thosf that are evil. When once the noxious herbs are withered and rooted out, then the more noble plants, strong in them selves, will shoot upwards. The vir tues, like the body become strong and healthy more by labor than by nourish ment. Bichter. We know not what we are, any more than what we shall be. It is a high, solemn, almost awful thought for every individual man, that his earthly influ ence, which has had a commencement, will never through all ages, were he th very meanest of us, have an end I What is done, is done, has already blended itself with the boundless, ever-living, ever-working, universe, and will also work there for good or evil, openly or secretly, throughout all time. Voluirt.
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