., ... - . . . ., .- , . . U.
K.F. SCIIWEIER, !r( ' .-... . THE CONSTITUTION THE TJHIOIf A5D THE EHrORCIMENT OP THE LAWS. Etlitor. nnd Piopriotor.
.. - i ' 'T! v. ?. .- ..... , - j ,t
VOL. XXXI.
MIFFLIXTOAVX, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., ."WEDNESDAY, JUNE 6,1877.
NO. 23.
:. x A ' i"t r i .: - 1 ,, ... L .. . r ,.
,' CHILD'S FAITH.
BT MRS. S. . B. MATT.
AU beautiful tales. I trust, are truest tr:
u., ti.r m m irrave in the moee.
And there is the eky. And the luda are bias,
AnJ a butternv biow ai-rona. ......
Yea. here is the grave and then u the ikj :
To the one or the other we go. -
Aud between them avers the butterfly..,.. ,
Ije a ecxJ that dace not know. :
Souieabere? Nowhere? Too-goldun bead. -1
And lip that I miss and hums. 1 r
" Tou would teTI Die the secret of the dead J
' ' Could I find you with a kiss ! . '
. Come here. I nay. little child of mine.
Come with your bioaji and your breath. -
I If be nbould believe in the life divine, . ,
I win not believe in death!) ' ; a
"Where in your brother ? 1 queatiaa low,
. And wait for hia wie reply. , j
Dues be sav,-Down there in the grave? Ah no;
, lie aaa, with a laugh, "In tueisky:''
. . - lycri'muTt Monthly.
Overshooting the Mark.
.. . Ci
by ?M Atn df.H i r.in.
I n-allr don't i tiliat is to le
lioiie," Vaiil .Mr;. StiTtt n, as the uieiii
t;ilivfly foblfU a h'tti-r ftiuniied with J
fWWjjii in-t-inirk. -
The Iftttr a from Charlie, who was
!. Ming liis lat iillogp vacation In
Knrc, ami who imw wrote to an
iifinm-e hU sicedy n-turii, aciompaiiii-d
by bis fri'Ul, Mr." Philip Warrinjrtofi
4'liarlie Stiltnii w evidently very
pr.Mi.l to vail Mr. Warrington hi
Irieihl. lie had met him in the course
of his travels, and always wrote of him
ac 'a sjilendid fellow, clever, handsome,
and" with a view to the special consid
ration of his mother and sister "rich,
and of one of the first families of IS ."
And now, in accordance with his
mother's instructions, he had invited
his friend to Seud a week with them
In-fore going on to his more Southern
home, and she must expect them in a
few days.
There was one drawback to Mrj. Sut
ton's satisfaction in this arrangement ;
and it was to this that her remarks on
" closing the letter, referred.
"This will he a capital chance for you,
Isaliel," she said, addressing her daugh
ter: "in fact, the liest probably that
you will ever have. But it requires
more tact than you have yet shown;
and. lnv-ides. there is Alice, who might
sxil all, as she did in the flair of Col.
Sawver. I reallv don't we what is to
lie done as regards Alice."
Alice was Mr. Sutton's niece, whom
he had taken to his home on the death
of her parents. She was at that time
fifteen, and as her cousin Isabel had
just made her fiitfee into society, she
was found to lie somewhat in the way,
and was sent to boarding-school.
Here she had remained until the past
winter, wb.-!. Wing nineteen, it was
found jKsiti.'ly necessary that she
should come home and le introduced
into society.
Hut, nn fortunately as Mrs. Sutton
considered, Alice's sweet face, and
graceful, winning manners had proven
with some iersonsa greater charm than
than the Inild lieautv of the rather 'fast'
I-alM'l Sutton Col. Sawyer in special,
to entrap whom the anxious mother and
daughter had employed the whole
amount of their talent and energies.
He had, iiiwii seeing Alice, trans-
ferred his attention from Isaliel to her
self, and had actually proposed to Mr.
Sutton for the hand of his niece instead
of hl daughter.
It made no difference that Alice de
clined the honor. Isaliel had lost her
liest chance: and though of course, her
cousin could not lie properly blamed in
the matter, yet she was "dangerous."
And now that another and yet lietter
chance was aliout to offer in the jhtsoii
of Mr. Warrington, Alice must, in
some wav or the other, I gotten rid of
for the time.
That evening, at tea, Mrs. Sutton,
after "adroitly leading the conver
sation in the propcrdirectiou, remarked
to her husband :
"J5y-the-by, my dear, when did you
last hear from your Aunt Curtis? I
fear that we have of late rather neg
lected the old lady."
"So I have often told you," returned
her husband, who was an enterprising
business man, not so woridly-ndndcd as
his wife. "Aunt Curtis was very kind
to nie when I w as a Iwiy, and certainly
deserves more attention than I have had
time to bestow. She is old and infirm,
too, and yet in four years not one of my
family have liecn to see her."
"Why it is such a lonely, out-of-the-way
country place," replied his wife,
"that really to go there seems quite an
undertaking. Yet I don't wish to neg
lect the old lady. She wrote last year
that she would like to see the girls, now
that they are grown up; and AliceV
mother, you know was her favorite
iiiei-e. I am sure she would lie gratified
at a visit from us. Iiuii-ed. now that we
sieak of it, 1 and the girls may as well
run up to 'opley Farm for a day or two.
What do you say, girls."
"J.et us go, aunt, by all means!" was
Alice's quick reply. "I should like to
see my mother's aunt; and you know it
is lovely in the country at this season."
Isaliel shrugged her fair shoulders,
hut prudently said nothing; and on the
follow ing day the three ladies were at
the quiet, old-fashioned little farm
house, some tw enty miles from the dry.
"It seems a pity to leave the poor old
lady so soon," said Mrs. Sutton, "she is
so infirm, and that housekeeier of hers
is not, I suppose, over-attentive to her
comfort. Then she seemed so fond of
you, Alice, and enjoyed so iiiuoJi your
reading to her. I w ish that one of you
girls would remain longer; I am sure
it would lea comfort to the poor old
lady." :
A lice needed no persuasion. She was
a kind-hearted and amiable girl, and
her sympathies had been enlisted for
this lonely, infirm old lady, her moth
er' aunt, who seemed so forgotten and
alone in the world. Her own'iuother
had been of very delicate health, and
the young girl, accustomed to attend J
upon her, had learned many little wa'vs
of nursing and comforting the sick, am
making dainty little dishes to tempt a
feeble appetite. Then she could read
to'Annt Ourtis In the w eet low,' voice
that had, been such.a'comfort to her
mother, and she felt. also, what th old
lady had saiif; that "Hhe very siglit of a
urigrit young face in the silent house
was as cheering as the ray of sunshine
rin a cloudy day." ; . , '
Remained at Vopley Farm,
while her arint and cousin, rejoicing at
the' success of .their iunoceut little
scheme, returned tothecirv to welcome
Charlie and his friend.
"It was a disappointment to find that
Charlie had arrived w ithout his friend,
Mr. Warrington. .That, gentleman,' It
nj.jicareti, i:i.l Had previous engage-
Vve," whom "tlieyfoiuid awaiting them
on the steamer's arrival i but .Jie would
make his apjiearauce in a w eek or so,
and Mrs. Sirttr.ii w rote to Alii-e that
she could remain at'opley until Char
lie and Isaliel -went tip for her.
au ,no oojeciKvui Mie -was
KrwaMyi-njoing her -rrsh to "the farm.
It was thrtrrtof Octolier, wben the
country - was- most tieautifui; w ith a
nugeringof summer glory mingling
i ne iieeiieuing lines of autumn. .
She w as an Impassioned lover of nat
ure, and yt city tired, had never be
fore wen nature in this glorious revela
tion of autumnal tieauty; and h dawned
npon her like the reading of some new
ami beautiful poem. ' -;
" "Strange that there are lieople cW
tent to live in the city; w hen the coun
try rs so beautiful '." she thought, one
evening, as, standing knee-deep in ferns,
beneath a canopy of crimson and gold
foliage, die gazed in dreamy delight
over the lovely scene before her.
A rustling in a neigbUiriug thicket
startled her. There was a sudden shot,
a whirring past of a brood of partridges,
and the nest moment a dog rushed
forth, deliberately followed by a gen
tleman in a gray hunting dress.
As his eyes fell upon the young girl,
standing in a graceful, half-startled
manner, he lifted his hat courteously.
'I hope that I have not alarmed
you," he said. "I should not have
tired had I know n that a lady was near."
The dog liounded back w ith a dead
partridge, which he dropied at his
master's feet.
Alice took it up gently.
"Poor little thing! It was cruel to
kill it !" she said pityingly, as she lifted
her brown eyes, softened with tender
compassion, to the face of the stranger.
He smiled a curious smile, in which
appeared both iuterest and amusement.
''Then I am sorry that I should have
killed it, and, in penance, will not fire
another shot ttMlay."
"I have no right to require that sac
rifice of you," she answered shyly, as
she turned away.
But he again addressed her.
"It appear that our pathways lie in
the same direction. If you are going to
Mrs. Curtis', will you permit me to ac
company you? The lady is an old
friend of mine, ami I was on my w ay to
see her. It was for her that I intended
these birds."
"I am staying a my Aunt Curtis',"
she said, "and in consideration of the
motive, I forgive you for shooting these
pior birds."
They walked, in the lingering sunset,
slowly along the lonely wood-iath that
led to the old farm-house, pausing a
moment on the brow of the eminence
that overlooked it, as it lay like a brown
bird's nest emlKiwered in trees in the
meadows helew.
"Time has forgotten this little nook,"
remarked the gentleman. "It's as un
changed now as I remember it fifteen
years ago.'! ' '
"Yoa do not reside in the neighlior
hood, then?" '
Xo. My home is iu the Sunny
South; but, when a lioy, I used to lie a
frequeut visitor to this neighborhood,
l'erhaiw I ought to introduce myself.
I am Philip Warrington of B. , and
nephew of Dr. Gray."
Dr. Gray was her Aunt Curtis,' phy
sician, and resided on the next farm;
hut it was the name of her companion
that now attracted Alice's attention,
she had become familiar with it from
Charlie's letters, and she said impuls
ively :
"You have just returned from Eu
rojie? Then you are my Cousin Char
lie Sutton's friend of whom he so often
wrote?"
It seemed a pleasant mutual discovery ;
and the two were no longer strangers.
Aunt Curtis was delighted to see
"Phil." He had grow n so wonderfully,
she said quite a big boy.
And she related many remeinliered
liold liovish adventures of his, in the
old time, that seemed so long jiast to
him, so short to her. Finally she in
sisted, that, as he had had a long w alk.
he should "stay to supper," ami he, ap
parently nothing loth, accepted the in
vitation. There is no plac on earth (excepting
perhaps on ' ship-lMiard) where two
young persona throw n together are so
a(t to fall mutually in love as in a
quiet house in the country. Certainly,
in this instance, the Wing "thrown to
gether" was not entirely accidental,
since Mr. Philip Warrington iu his
interest in the old lady, every day found
something to bring him to Copley.
Xow it was to bring her a new paper,
or a message from the doctor; ti...i to
read her some very interesting extracts
from a new book ; and then again to of
fer larks or partridges, forgetful' of the
cruelty of shooting them.
And in the soft, rich and dreamy Oc
tolier evening, he and Alice, strolling
in. the old-fashioned garden, or down
the lane, rich iu autumnal flowers, or
seated on the .meadow stiles, liencath
the golden maples, spent such hours of
happiness as can come to us but once in
- -. 1 -1 A .. .1 ...... ... . .(
h nie-uui wiiii . m mi ii-i!i
dawning love. k
And so it came to pass. that. M rs.
Sutton, anxiously waiting at home, and
still taxing her ingenuity for excuses
to keep her niece "out of the way,"
suddenly heard. omethiug which sent
her flying up to Copley by the next
day train, in a mood of mind by no
means enviable.
And" the first person' she saw, on
reaching Copley, was Alice, standing
ou the old-fashioned "stoop," canopied
by autumu. roses. with a lemarkably
handsome and elegant-looking young
man by her side, the attitude and ex
pression of both revealing at a single
glance w hat Mrs. Sutton felt to tie a
death-blow to all her scheming and
hopes.. She had aimed well; but, as is
the case with even the most clever
jieople, had strained too hard, and over
shot the mark. ' i '-
' A Prlawry Arm) Hrhool.
One primary school iu Cairo Is well
worth having a peep Into. You open
a door in the street, and find a room
about ten feet square. It is Udow the
level of the room, and lofty for its sie.
A grated window, high up, gives a dim
light; but a flood of sunshine comes in
at the open door, and strikes full on the
bright crimson robes of the fakeeh as
he sits on . his cushiou in the corner.
At one end stands the only piece of fur
niture in. the room., it looks like a
large hariuouium done up in brown
holland, but turns out to be a box con
taining the bones of a saint. In front
of this curious piece of school-lurniture
squat four-and-twenty little brown and
black boys. One or two are disguised
as girl, to protect them from the evil
eye. All have dirty faces, and several
are suffering from ophthalmia. They
sit in two rows, lacing each other, ami
simultaneously rock their bodies vio
lently backward and forward as they
recite the alphabet or that verse of the
Koran which forms their day's, task.
The children shout at the top of their
little cracked voices in their nasal tones
far from musical. The noise they con
trive to make was astounding, consider,
ing how small they are. If they cease
their rocking and shrieking, even for a
moment the master brings down his
long palm cane upon their shaven skulls,
and they recommence with renewed
energy, and an even more violent see
saw. The sentence repeated does not
convey the slightest meaning to their
minds, nor is any attempt made to ex
plain it.
Two or three older children are sit
ting besides the fnkefh, getting lessous
iu the formation of the Arabic charac
ters. Their copy-book is a piece of
bright tin, and they use a reed pen
called a kulim. The ink bottle is a
sponge Saturated with a brown fluid.
A long row of tiny slippers, of every
form and color, lie neatly arranged at
the door; for the place w here the bones
of a saint are enshrined is holy ground,
and no one n.ay soil the clean matting
of the floor w ith outside defilement. Xo
register is kept of the pupils or of their
days of attendance. Indeed, although
the fnketh can repeat the Koran off
book, it is highly probable he would
find some ditliculty in counting up to
the number of his scholars. His ac
quirements begin and end with a tex
tual know ledge of the sacred book, and
unfortunately the wishes of his pupils
and the parents with regard to the edu
cation of their children are bounded by
the same narrow limits.
Paaer r- WBel.
The infinite variety of purposes to
which paper is applied In the Empire
of Japan has astonished all Kurojieaus
who have visited that country. They
have literally found paper, paper every
where, and in all shapes and forms.
The Japanese, however, with all their
ingenuity in this direction, would never
have dreamt of making paper wheels
for railway carriages. This, neverthe
less, Is being done at Sheflield at this
moment, and we have seen a sample of
the work. The paper wheels have steel
tires, made with an inside flange and
cast iron boss. On each side of the
boss are tires to whichsteel plates
of an inch thick are bolted, and the
space between the plates is filled with
compressed paper. The paper is coio-
osed of what are known as "straw
boards," and these are made to adhere
to each other by means of rye paste.
The combined layers of paper are next
subjected to hydraulic pressure to the
extent of 2,000 tons for the space of four
or five hours, and then dried iu a heated
air-bath. The final thickness of the
prepared paper is about inches, and,
as may be imagined, the quantity of
straw-board packed in this concentrated
space by the giant force of the hydraul
ic ram is something enormous. Still a
certain amount of the elasticity remains
to the substance, and this in unism
with its homogeneity and singular
smoothness of grain and texture con
stitutes one of its highest qualifications
for the duty it will presently have to
perform. lathes, slide-rests and sharp
tools are made to shape the compressed
paper into disks of the proper size, and
under a pressure of four bund red tons
these are then forced into the tires. The
steel protecting plates are subsequently
bolted to the inner and outer peripher
ies ot the wheels, and after a finish
ing touch to the latter they are ready to
be keyed on their axle and placed under
the railway carriage. It is understood
that experiments both in America and
in this country have gone to prove the
superiority of paper railway wJieels
over those of steel or wrought iron, and
that the brake, however suddenly and
sharply applied, does not Injure them
in the least. .
Tine and Momrj.
Many people take no care of their
money till they have come nearly to
the end of it; and .others do just the
same with their time. - Their best days
they throw away let them run like
sand through their fingers, as long as
they think they still have an almost
countless number of them to spend;
but when they - find their days flowing
rapidly away, so that at last they have
very few left, then they will at once
make a very wise use of them ? but un
luckily, Uieyhave by -that, time no
notion how to do It.
Envy, like llauie, soars upward.
. "The Beaatiral Blae Duake"
' The Danube; from its source .to its
month, in an air line, is 1000 miles, bat
the stream is so tortuous that its actual
length is 1820 miles, and it traverses
nearly 33 deg. of latitude and 5j deft, of
longitude. The Danube and its tribu
taries drain an area of 300,000 square
miles.
At Belgrade, the capital of Servia, it
receives the waters of the Save, and
then pursues an easterly course, consti
tuting the boundary between Austria
and Servia, until it reaches the Tran
sylvania or Eastern Carpathian at
the extreme western end of Roumania.
Its coarse through this range is eighty
miles, and the pass offers a great ob
stacle to navigation.. The river is nar
rowed to less than half its breadth
above, and in seven different places
there are rapids and whirlpools, of
which those iu tlie so-called Iron Gate,
below Old Orsova,are the most violent.
At this point, opposite the small village
of Ticheviztha, the stream is narrowed
from a width of a mile to about 180
yards, and with s depth, as far as can
be ascertained from the violence of the
current, of from KH to 1000 fathoms.
The monntains on either side' are very
lofty, nearly five thousand feet high
those on the Austiian side being one
thousand feet higher than those on the
opposite bank. The mountains rise
nearly sheer for about three thousand
feet above the stream, and where not
perpendicular, rather overkang the
water. When the river is low, the
sharp, craggy points of subaqueous
rocks begin to show themselves above
the stream, and between these the pas
sage is most narrow, winding and shal
low, and, iu fact, can only be passed by
steamers especially built for the pur
pose, of ligbt draught of water, four
paddle wheels and immense power, and
even these steamers make use of a
channel cut through the ledge. At the
breaking np of the ice in the spring of
1S70, the floating ice became jammed
among the crags in the Iron Gate,
which caused the stream to back up un
til vast tracts in Hungary were under
water. Such a deluge was unpreceden
ted, and it suggested at the time the
feasibility of producing a similar effect
by artificial means, as a measure of
war. The blowing up of the precifice
of Mt. Schireber, on the Austrian side
of the pass, would bring down many
millions ol tons of rock across the Iron
Gate, and long before the obstructions
could be removed a vast part of eastern
Europe would be turned into an inland
lake.
Having passed the Carpathians, tlie
Danube takes a southeily course, form
ing the boundary between liuumania
and Servia for a short distance, and
then becoming throughout the rest of
its course the boundary between l.'ou
maniaandtbeTurkifh province of Bul
garia. Below Widin it takes a turn to
the east, which it pursues uutil it
reaches a point only thirty-two miles
from the Black Sea. Then it takes a
suddeu turn to the north, flowing in
that direction for 100 miles, to the junc
tion with the Jereth, near Galatz. Then
it turns again to the east, receiving the
waters of the Pruth, which marks a
part of the liuasiau frontier. After
flowing east about forty miles, in the
vicinity of Ismail and Tultcha it is di-
vided into several branches. These
w iud sluggishly through the low and
dreary alluvial country known as the
delta of the Danube, and empty the
waters of the great river luto the Black
Sea by three principal channels the
Kilia, Sulma, and St. George and fonr
lesser ones. 1'he most northerly of
these the Kilia is the boundary at
this point between Bulgaria and Kou
mania, and is only about twenty-live
miles distant from the Hussian bound
ary line.
The rapidity of its current in its tip
per course, its tortuous windings, the
shallowness of the water in the portion
which flows through Hungary, and in
the outlets into the Black Sea, and the
reefs, rapids and whirlpools which
mark its course at many points, have
rendered the navigation of the Danube
so difficult that its commercial use has
not yet been fully developed. The in
troduction of steam in 1J0 inaugurated
a new era in iu history. By the con
vention of Xoy. 7, l.Si7, between the
States through which the river flows,
vessels of all nations were allowed to
ascend the Danube from its mouth to
any point above, but navigation
between the different points was re
served to the subjects of the countries
along the bauks. The treaty of March
13, 171, authorized the levying of a
provisional tax on all commercial ves
sels for pajiug for the removal of the
remaining obstructions at the Iron Gate,
in case that work should be undertaken.
An Austrian company, which almost
monopolizes the through traflic of the
river, has a very large fleet of steamers
and transports. Its vessels make tlie
voyage from Vienna to Constantinople
in seven days. This company employs
IV) vessels on the lower Danulie, and
these are now al! laid up by the im
pending hostilities.
Haw The Tallerlea Were Named.
It has been somewhat of a surprise
to archaeologists and antiquaries that In
the excavations of the Xew Avenue de
l'Opera so few buried historical records
of the past should have been brought to
light. Here and there a few lovii d'or
of recent date have been found, but
positively no treasure of any absolute
value or interest has been discovered.
On the "hamps de Mars and the Troca
dero, notwithstanding the primitive
condition of the ground, no remains
whatever of early human work have
been brought to light. But to make up
for this loss the engineers have come
across most valuable quarries of build
ing stone and gravel sufficient alone to
supply the enormous requirements of
the building. . ,
The other day, however, in excava
ting the new carriageway which passes
before the facade of the Tuileries,' the
workmen came ujion some remains of
the kilns iu which for centuries had
been manufactured the tiles for which
Paris liad so long been famous. If any
doubt can remain as to how the palace
of the Tuileries obtained its name it is
completely dissipated by this discovery
of the tile-kilns (tuileries), from the
fact of whose existence the property
took Its name.
It Is as far back as the thirteenth cen
tury that the tile-kilns were first estab
lished on this spot, then ouL-ide the
city w alls At the commencement of
the sixteenth century the mother of
Francis I., the Duehesse d'Angouleme,
having found the royal residence at the
Palais de Tournelles (on the site of the
present Piaee ries Vosges) somewhat
distasteful to her, resided at the house
of M. de Xeuville, built on the sight of
the present Palace of the Tuileries.
Charmed with the spot, Francis I. pur
chased it, and iu 15!4 Catherine de Me
diets, having determined to abandon
the old " Palace "' of the " Tournelles,
charged Phllibert de 1'Orme with con
structing for her another residence on -the
sight of the 'Matsou des Tuileries.'
From this time, then, i:ie palace of the
Tuilerhsrose, stone by stone, and began
to take a place in French history. There
as each monarch succeeded to the
throne, the court passed some portion
of their time. During the reign of
Louis XIII. there existed In the garden
of the Tuileries a restaurant,' kept by
one Kenard, and there, during the diffi
culties of the civil war of the Fronde,
met a great number of the principal
personages of the insurrection.
It was in this same house occupied by
Renard, that, toward the end of the
year of 1640, the famous painter, Xicho
las Poiisin, ever in search of that re
tirement and seclusion from the busy
and to him distasteful life of Paris, was
installed by the order of Louis XIII,
and there he remained till his final re
turn to his favorite, and congenial
adopted fatherland, Italy.
XwtaM Kvewta la the Hlatarj af Ibe
unaware alter.
Recently the X". Y. Mail published
an article containing recollections of
the olden time by Admiral Charles
Stewart, which were noted down by a
gentleman visiting tl e old hero, a short
time previous to his death, at his res!
deuce at Burlington X. J. We select
the follow ing items, which w ill be of
interest to our readers :
"In 178'J two hundred and fifty head
of cattle were washed on Smith's Island
Into the Iielaware. In 17'JO, I have
seen just below Trenton ships loaded
with flour and lumber for the West
Indies, now a shallop cannot get there
only on high water. In the year '9! I
was loading a vessel in the West India
trade at the wharf in Philadelphia, in
the month of March (early), and while
a northwester set in, which blew for
fifteen days, with so much force that It
forced the coast water off to the Gulf
Stieam, and drained nearly all of the
water out of the Delaware, so that men
women and children, with sacks and
shaw ls, baskets and bags, walked about
the bottom of the river at Philadelphia,
raking out old ropes, small anchors,
purses of money, watches, and various
other articles which had been lost from
vessels and ends of wharves. That
perambulating continued about a week,
and there were very few wharves at
Philadelphia where any vessel would
float; my own vessel was high and dry
in the mud, and we stopped loading for
a week. The sinie thing occurred in
the year 17S0, when Benjamin Cooper,
who kept the ferry at that time at Cam
den, walked over from Camden to
Smith's Island on the muddy bottom,
and .marked on one of the rocks the
precise point of the lowest water, putt
ing on the date of the year; and he
again went over in ".9 before named,
and found the same rock and the same
mark. There was then four Inches
lower water than it had been in 1730
which rock he marked again that year,
March 170G. This whole statemeut may
be found in the records of the Frank
lin Institute, and in the Philadelphia
papers of March 17!Hi. Iu the whiter of
!tl, there was a brig, I think, from
Maine, to Philadelphia, loaded with
peas and beans. She was cut through
with Ice; the water got in and swelled
the peas and beans iu her and burst her,
and that was the foundation of Pea-
patch. It was caused by the loss of
that vessel in March, hence the name
Pea-patch. The John in the winter of
'08, was cut through within and sunk,
and that gave the name to the 'Ship
John Shoal.' "
FhmthUC.
Men arc drow ned by throwing their
arms alnive water, the unbuoyant
weight of which depresses the head.
Other animals have neither motion nor
ability to act in a singular manner, and
therefore swim naturally. When a
man falls into deep water, lie w ill con
tinue there if he does not elevate his
hands. If he moves his hand under the
water, iu any way he pleases, bis head
will rise so high as to give him free
lilierty to breathe; and he will use bis
legs as in the act of walking (or rath-r
walking up stairs) his shoulder will
rise above the water, so that he may
use the less exertion w ith his hands, or
apply them to other purjKises. These
plain directions are recommended to
the recollection of those who have not
yet learned to swim in their youth, as
they may be found highly advantageous
in many coses.
Principle la Bnsiaeu.
Entirely apart from all moral and re
ligious obligations, principle is an ab
solute requisite to any great and per
manent success in business. Let two
men be engaged in any branch of trade,
with the same external advantages, the
one a conBcieDtous, truthful man, the
other unscrupulous, and a sharper; the
man of principle will be the more suc
cessful. We do not think that a man
can ever be entirely true to principle
from mere considerations of self-advantage;
but, nevertheless, if one's con
duct were to be influenced by no other
and higher motives, the upright course
would always be found the politic one.
The harvest reaped by fraud and dis
honesty always ptoves temporary and
barren. Any young man who sets eut
in life well grounded in sound prin
ciples, starts on the straight road to the
largest success.
Tlie true man is the happy man.
Circumstantial Evidence-
"I suppose I can prefer the gentle
man I like beat," said Virginia Wilde,
laughingly. "AnJ I will not be perse
cuted by Adrian Harwood's attention
any longer."
"Poor, dear creature,"- said old Miss
Pocklington, taking off her spectacles
and polishing them as though she
meant to wipe through the glasses en.
tirely ; "she ain't heard !" .
"Heard what?" said Virginia, still
intent on her stitching.
"How should she?" Interposed Mrs.
Taper; "she only came back from Bos
ton last night and it's a full fortnight
since it happened."
"Since what happened ?" questioned
Virginia, at last looking up, with the
crimson banners of suspense fluttering
on . her cheeks, and a restless, feverish
light In her eyes. "You are talking in
riddles. -1 don't comprehend you."
"Adrian Uarwood Is dead," croaked
Miss Pockliugtou. .
"Dead?.". vaguely repeated Virginia.
"Do you mean dead?" .
"Murdered," said Miss Pocklington,
with a smack of her lips, as if, ghoul
like, she enjoyed the evil tidings.
But she did not. She was a good Chris
tian woman m her way, only she was
carried away sometimes by the intense
flavor of gossio.
Virginia dropped nrr work and turned
pale as death.
"Ah, you may well shiver!" cried
Mrs. Taper, eager to have her finger in
the conversational pie. "And it was
Charley Awkwrightthat murdered him
so there, now. Dow n in a hollow by
the river bank, just where they moored
their boats last summer; and the re
mains were found hidden away in the
Gypsy's Cave, close by, tied up in a bag !
Folks are dreadful sorry for Charley,
but dear heart alive ! I declare if she
ain't fainted."
"People do say that she thought a
heap of Chaley Awkwright," said Miss
Pocklington, feeling in her dress pocket
for her camphor bottle. "And of all
proud folks, Virginia Wilde is the
proudest. This'll be a dreadful humilia
tion to her to be sure. Open a window,
just a little bit. There, she will be all
right again in a few minutes, now."
Poor Virginia! floating slowly back
luto the region of life, she felt a horri
ble weight pressing down her heart as
with a ton of ice.
Adrian Uarwood lying in a bloody
grave, consigned thither by the Cain
like man she had taught herself to love
best in the world. Could it be true ?
Or was it a portion of the hideous dream
phanta;mogoria that seemed eddying
and circling around her brain with end
less repetition.
She had gone away from Kivershield
in the full bright happiness of eighteen;
she came back to the consciousness of
of this horrid tragedy lying like a scar
let stain across the horizon of her life.
"You'll give him up, of course," said
Mrs. Wilde to her daughter.
"Give him up, mamma, why?"
And Virginia fixed her large serious
eyes on her mother's face.
"I should think the reason was suffi
ciently apparent,", said Mrs. Wilde
slightly drawing herself up. "Gen"ral
Ponsouby Wilde's daughter is hardly
the person to allow herself to be inter
ested in a man who is likely to be con
victed as a murderer !"
"Mamma," said Virginia, "Charles
Aw aright never did that deed."
"Circumstantial evidence is very
strong against him, my dear."
"But he denies it," protested Vir
ginia. "A man may make almost any asser
tion to save himself from the gallows,
Virginia. Aud these wretched remains
do they bear no blood stained testi
mony ?"
"They are accounted for easily
enough, mamma," said Virginia, talk
ing hurriedly and with an effort. "It
it was a subject for dissection which
Adrian and Charley hail brought down
in a box from the Gatesly Hospital.
They were surprised before they could
land it at the Arkwright Court. They
were obliged to hide it as well as they
could from the men who were out
spearing salmon at night. They in
tended to return for it in a few days,
but"
"All this is very plausible," inter
rupted Mrs. Wilde, with an impatient
movement of her head ; "but it may be
a story trumped up byeverbody or any
body. The question still remains unan
swered the question on which Ark-
wright's life- hangs: "Where is Uar
wood ?"
"I don't know, mamrna," the girl
answered. "I pretend to no seconJ
sight. All that I know is, that Charles
Arkwright never committed that mur
derno, never."
And to this Virginia Wilde, clung
alike through evil reports and good.
Of course Charles was not convicted.
The day is past when mere circumstan
tial evidence can rivet the hangman's
noose around a man's neck.
The mere fact that he and narwood
had been quarreling violently in the
river cove that afternoon, and that Uar
wood bad never been seen from that
time to this, was not enough to justify
a verdict of "Guilty."
The additional link of evidence, sup
plied by the ghastly remains discovered
ten days afterwards in the cleft of the
rocks called the "Gypsy's Cave," was
not enough. They were past identifica
tion ; although everybody believed them
to be the remains of the murdered man,
the law impartially stood aloof; and so,
after a weary formula of legal minuti:e
and delays past reckoning, Arkwright
was acquitted and released once more
from his prison dungeon.
How strange It seemed, to be free to
go and come whither he would to regu
late bis own occupation and escape
from the incubus of those four brood
ing walls! But how stranger far the
altered mien of those who had once called
him their friend!
His old medical preceptor turned
frigidly down a street corner to avoid
meeting him a knot of careless young
students, coming toward Gatesley Hos
pital suddenly became absorbed in the
shop windows. Miss Pocklington stared
him direct in the face, without a sign
of recognition, and Miss Elton, to whom
he ventured, unthinkingly, to raiie his
hat, took her companion's arm and hur
ried past, muttering something about
"the presumption of a jail-bird's daring
to bow to her!"
Arkwright's heart sank within him.
After all, was such a life as this worth
striving for? People believed him a
murderer why had he endeavored to
escape a murderer's doom!
Suddenly Miss Wilde came out of a
store nearby. Arkwright involuntarily
recoiled. He felt instinctively that a
cold glance from her eyes would be the
last bitter drop beyond endurance in
his cup.
But, before he could retreat, Virginia
hurried np to him, with crimsoned
checks, and eyes swelling over with
tears, w bile she held out both her hands.
"Oh, Charley ! Dear Charlie !"
"My Virginia," he uttered, fairly un
manned. "You believe in me still,
then?"
"I believe you now, Charley," she
answered. "I shall believe you
always !" "
"You do not suppose, dearest, that I
shall hold you to yonr troth?" he said.
almost bitterly. -'
"I don't know whether you will or
not," said Virginia Wilde, half-laughing,
half sobbing, as she clung to his
arm. "But I shall hold you, dear, to
yours."
And to this Virginia adhered through
all opposition aud remonstrance.
Mrs. General Wilde was shocked; the
world in general was scandalized. Peo
ple were hardly willing to believe that
the beautiful Virginia Wilde was actu
ally w llling'tfua-st in her lot with that
of the imputed- murderer.
"I love him," said Virginia, "and
that is enough."
"And I love her," said Mr. Ark
wright, "and that is the reason I will
not marry her."
In vnin were Miss Wilde's pleadings.
"Xo, dean st," he said firmly; "it is
because I do love you that I am unwil
ling to unite your fate with mine. Some
day, perhaps, when the world believes
in my innocence as firmly as you da"
'In that case," said Mrs. Wilde,
tauntingly, "my daughter is safe
enough."
"I think she is, madam," answered
Arkwright calmly.
Four years passed away. Silver
threads began to glisten in Arkwright's
raven hair, although he was not yet
thirty. And Virginia Wiide lost some
of her fresh brightness and elasticity,
but she never for a moment wavered iu
her loving allegiance.
"1 will wait for him, though it be a
lifetime," said she.
One day a gentleman called at the
Court to see its gloomy aud self-contained
master.
"Did he send up a card!" a?ked Ark
wright. "Xo, sir," answered the man, who
had lately entered service at Arkwright
Court.
"Then tell him I see no visitors."
"But, sir," pleaded the man, "he
said his business was of siec,al ur
gency."
Arkwright hesitated a moment; then
he went down stairs, slowly and unwil
lingly. "Great Heavens!" he exclaimed
starting back. "Adrian Uarwood?"
"Yes, old fellow, it is I," said Uar
wood, airily. "Been all around the
world. Just returned from China. And
never ouce dreamed, until I heard of it
here, that my abrupt departure could
make such a whirlpool of mischief!
Forgive me, please, Arkwright," hold
ing out his hand, "for indeed I meant
no ill. I was angry with you, and
meant to make you repent your rash
words and haughty airs but I never
anticipated this! Say that you forgive
me now, Arkwright?"
Charles Arkwright was silent for a
moment. A suffocating sensation rose
up in his throat, as he remembered all
that he had endured in consequenee o
this mere whim, this Idle caprice of
Harwood's fancy. But it was only for
a moment, and then he took Adrian's
hand.
"Yes," said he ; "I forgive you !"
He was married to Virginia Wilde
the next week, and they were happy at
last. But it was not the fresh, buoyant
happiness that might have come with
their earlier days. They hail suffered,
and they were at peace that was all.
Oae Way Of Caller tiac ftaanerlptiena.
A barrister recently received a letter
from a school board election agent to
this effect "Sir: I am deeply interes
ted in procuring the return of Mr.
for the board, and, knowing your views
upon educational matters, have
taken the liberty of placing your name
upon his committee. I have further
ventured to put down your name as a
subscriber of five guineas toward his
expenses, and unless you notify to me
on or before the th that you do not
concur in these arrangements, I shall
take the further liberty of assuming
that you acquiesce in them, and that I
may look to yoa for the subscription
recorded to your name."
The barrister promptly replied: "Sir:
I regret that I ran not accept the offers
made by yoa to me in your letter of
yesterday. I may, however, mention
that I am deeply interested in raising a
fund to provide for the necessities of a
destitute and deserving widow lady.
Knowing your charitable disposition, I
have taken the liberty of putting down
your name as a subscriber for ten guin
eas, and since bit dat qui eito, I shall,
unless I hear to the contrary from you
by midday to morrow, venture to as
sume that yoa accept my offices on yonr
behalf, and that Cm ay look to you for
that amount of subscription."
Early next morning came a messen
ger, in baste in a cab, bearing a letter
from the agent. "So sorry, but the
pressing calls npon Lis purse forbade
him to accept Mr. 'skind ofticea.
London Examiner.
Xever seek a wife until you know
what to do with her.
' A Peroiaa CSaveraer.
Yahia Khan is the most acrnnmlt.'
and Europeanized man in Persia. His
manners are cnarminx. and there can
be bnt very few Asiatics who have such
easy command of the French language.
If he wer s man of firmness, vigor, of
strong and lofty ambition, Yahia Khan
might do great things for his country.
But one sees at a glance that though
superior to his brother in culture, and
probably in moral worth, he has not
the energy, the boldness, or the power
of intrigue of Mirza Houssein Khan.
He wore a military undress of Europe
an cut tlie only Governor who hail
not recieved me with all the jewe's a id
ornaments at command. Iu this aud
many ot her points the superior ci viliza
tion of Vahht Khan was evident. His
apartment was not unlike a barrack
room in olneers' quarters ; the walls
white and bare, the floor covered with
matting, with two carpu laid npou it.
Chairs are always scarce in Persia;
there were only three in the Firman
Pinna's room, two for Mr. Oddling ami
aiyself. beoides the arm-chair of the
Governor, which he eouipeUed me to
accept. The British agent, a nativo or
rank, the Mirza Hassan 'All Khan, a
man of 'very airieeable manners aud of
much cultivation, arrived as soou
as
we were seated, aud gracefully accept
ing lama rvliau s apology f.ir the ab
sence of a fourth chair, took his seat,
in probably greater comfort, njiou the
floor. All the weakness of the Firman
Firma's amiable character appeared iu
his conversation. Of the ills in the.
condition of Persia he was in n..
ignorant; of amendment he had noth
ing to say. i did not expect much in
that direction from a man hn i,!u
drawing a splendid income from the
province was coutent to leave the front
of his house a heap of ruins. It is this
supiue submissoin to the nroce r .1-.
cay which is the bane of Persia. From
highest to lowest, everything is admin
istered as it the only object ot those iu
power was to seek their own momen
tary advantage ; as if, in fact, the Per
sians held the country as yearly tenants,
and nothing more. When Sir Lewis
Pelly was (iu his capacity of Political
Resident at Buahire) in official commu
nication with the Government of Shi -raz,
he showed kis true appreciation of
the political system of Persia iu a re
port to the Bombay Government. "A.,"'
he wrote, "gives to his sub-farmer per
mission to collect the revenue, bv forcer
this is done; next year some of the peas
ants are fled; some of the land is lying
waste. 1 he country, in brief, is reven-
ued as if the Government were to end
with the expiry of the Governor's
The Firman Firma hail but one word
of explanation concerning the condition
or i'ersia; the country, he said, was
"very, very poor." There had been a
few robberies lately in his province,
but he believed it was eenemllv niio-i-
(he has since been recalled, owing to
nis mammy to control the turbulent
people of Shiraz); he should nrovi.le. n
with an armed escort from Shiraz to
Bushire, which he bad intended should
be ten men and an officer: bnt as t nn-.
terred to have only two sowars,
would give orders that hut: two
' r-
il e.
and
those the most trustworthy, should ac
company onr caravan. He provided
the customary entertainment of tobac
co, tea, aud coffee, aud was most polite
in desiring to do anything which could
conduce to the comfort ami nleaniiro ,,f
onr stay at Shiraz. From Through
i'ersia oy caravan.
Do i it ar
There are a host of people who seem
to have little else to do but to consider
theirihysical condition and administer
doses for its impovement; people who
are positively dissipated and intemper
ate in their use of medicines, and appear
to think this world not so much a vale
of tears as of drugs; people to whom a
new prescription affords a delight only
equaled by that which a savant would
Jerive from the possession of a bone of
the extinct megatherium.
If they are In the least under the
weather, it never occurs to them to
allow Xature to work out her own sal
vation, but they take their affairs into
their own hands, and having small ac
quaintance with her processes, the re
sult resembles that of a novice attempt
ing the tasks of a superior, and making
them the more difficult for that superior
to accomplish. One of the peculiar
pleasures of such persons consists in
persuading others to try their method
of cure. The most delicate compliment
you can pay them is to swallow som
nauseating mixture upon their recom
mendation, which all the while bears a
strong family likeness to that of those
who, with bad complexions, assure you
that soap Is wholesome for the skin, or
bald people who extol the virtue of cer
tain washes which they have employed.
This art of dosing does not interfere,
however with the usefulness of the
family physician, but rather supplies
him with practice by laying the foun
dations for positive disease. The stom
ach which has been unrighteously cor
tected rebels at length; the nerves that
have been too often artificially soothed
finally refuse to acknowledge the power
of the charmer; the strength engen
dered by stimulants proves but a broken
reed; appetites fortified by frequent
tonics surrender one day without re
serve. If the science of medicine Itself is as
yet only experimental, must not ama
teur dosing, beyond question, belong to
the most objectionable class of empiri
cisms ! HiiTfri' U"2or.
Beware.
Great preachers have been defined as
men who can preach great sermons but
rarely do it. We suppose they become
over-confident after a few brilliant suc
cesses. Great swimmers sometimes
comes to an untoward end in their
favorite element. In fact, it is on the
side where our excellence Is admitted
that we are in danger from defective
caution and excessive con fidence. There
fore we say respectfully to all the great
great politicians, great speculators,
great whips, - great warriors, great,
bankers but who can enumerate the
great ? to tbem we say, watch tlie side
on which you are tlie strong st.
Foreign journals announce the dis
covery or valuable silver deposits iu
several islands of th White Sa.