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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.