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THE 005STITUTIOH THE TJ5I01I-AHD THE E5F0R0EME5T OF THE LAWS.
Editor and Proprietor.
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VOL. XXXI.
MIFFLIN1WN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, 1877.
NO. 31.
TA V-A V YA V Pf-Cv Y II I
15 r li
II W f I I ,Lk C
III
TBS BUSS MAS 15D TEE Lill 0H1
raox tu GUUfAS of aium
One day a blind nu chanced to Meet
A one hmpiiig ia the street ;
Tbe former hoped with fond del ght
The Utter would coudaet him right.
The lsme man cried, "Lend aid to thee?
I cannot walk, unhappy me '
And yet, methinks. to bear a load . - ..
Thou baat good shoulders, strong and broad.
It tfaonlt resolve to bear me hence. ' -
IU be thy guide as recompense ; .
Thy firm, strong fojt will then be nune. ' .
And my bright eye bs also thiua."
The lame man. with his crutches, ro im
Upon the bixni mau's ebooldera broad. '
United thus achieved the pair , ,
What each would have accomplished ne ar.
The gifts of others t'.iou hasi not.
While others want wht thou hast got ; .
And from this imperfection spriugs t
The good that social virtue brina.
If other men the gif ta possessed
With which by nature I am blessed. s
Their care but for themselves would bs
They ne'er would waste a thought on ma.
Plague not the gods with wail and cry !
The gifts which they to thee deny.
And give another, profit tbee ;
Ws need but sociability.
Nellie Austin.
"Have you heard that Mr. Staib Is
going to leave us?" asked a friend of
Settle Austin, as they met on the street.
"No; it cannot be true," replied Net
tle, with a perceptible start.
"I heard it from his own lips; he is
going to Louisville. Have you given
him orders to go, Nettie?"
The dark red color showed itself
tremulously on her cheek and then
died away.
"I have nothing to do with Mr.
Staib's goings or comings. Excuse my
haste, but 1 must bid you good morn
ing." And the friends separated.
Nettie Austin was au orphan and
heiress, and at home in the best circles
of Ow enshoro". Clever, cultivated and
brilliant all called her; handsome, too.
she was; tall, well-formed, with heavy
braids of dark hair, and hazel eyes,
whose depths could hold the saddest,
f;w"r:, dreamiest look possible.
Of course she was admired by the op
posite sex. There was but one of them
whom she had ever cared for, and that
was Ixmis Staib. She had loved him
so long that she could not remember a
time when he was nothing to her. His
circumstances were far from being op
ulent; aud he did not pretend to move
in Owensboro's test society. Those
who pretended to know, called him the
finest looking man in town; and there
was but one voice in regard to his emi
nently sensible, sterling qualities.
These things, coupled with his whole
souled nature, made of him a man as
liable to win a woman'' heart as any
about him.
He had worshipped Nellie Austin
afar off since they were children to
gether. In his boyish days he bad
looked forward to a time when he
would offer her a name made famous
by the wonders he would achieve in
science. He had given all that up now ;
for he had been left fatherless, w ith a
legacy of little brothers and sisters to
care for.
' "I w ill never be able to win her now
he had said then, "but I shall always
love her."
A few evenings after Nettie had heard
of Mr. Staib's intention to leave the
place, he called upou her. A few min
utes after she had heard of his presence
in the parlor, her hand was clasped by
him In friendly greeting.
"1 have called to bid you good-by,
Miss Austin."
"Then It is true that you are going
away?"
"Yea, 1 am going."
"I think for old friendship's sake
vou micbt bare acquainted me with
your intention before."
"Why, Miss Austin," as a surprised,
joyous look came Into his face, "I had
no idea you would take the least inter
est In my affairs."
"Whv do vou eo. Mr. Staib? Will
your business prosper?"
"Not as well, I fear."
"Then why do you go?"
"Pardon me I cannot tell you?"
How he wished he dared tell her that
he could not star w here he was liable
to see her day after dav in the company
of a man whom the world called her
accented lover ! ' He wanted her to
know that he loved her. But he would
not risk the scorn of the stately, beau
tiful w oman sitting so near him.
"1 shall make a fool of myself if 1
star five minutes loneer ," thought
Maii); so, rising, he held out his band,
saying, "I will not detain you longer,
Miss Austin, and will bid you good-by
Nettie knew tliat every drop of blood
had left her face ; for a moment she
was powerk-ss to speak. She had en
tered that room so exultant, feeling
sure that at last the hour bad co.ue
w hen the one she had so long loved
would tell her how dear she was to him.
And now this was the end of it.
She arose aud held out her hand.
"Good-bye, Mr. Sulb."
How far awav and unnatural
her
voice sounded ! '-
Louis Staib looked at the pallid white
face, and a great hoie leaped in his
heart. He held the cold hand more
firmly, and there was an Involuntary
pathos iu his voice as he mid, : : 1
"Nettie, Nettie, rvwt surely do not
care for my going?" ' -
"Care? Why should I?" the an
swered, haughtily, chagrined to think
he should guess her onreturned love.
"I am sure I do not know," said
Staib. "Once again, then, good-by."
She closed the door after him, and
stood listening to the retreating foot
rtep,. They died away. She went to '
her room then, staggering as, though
she had received a blow. -As-fhe
opened the door, and the light-"" and
warmth streamed out, she put her hand
to her head with a dazed feeling, and
thought, - i
"Hit possible I am the girl who
came out here not a half hour ago? I
thought, poor fool ! that I was going
dow n to a new life; and so I did," she
moaned, bitterly, "to a life that I wish
death would this minute free me from.
The worst of all is that he could not
but see that I loved him ; and he pitied
me. 3ut I can remedy that," she ex
claimed, after a few minutes of deep
thoDght. "I'll cause him to think that
he is mistaken. To-morrow I'll accept
Clarence Preetou. lie w ill get all that
he . seeks my hand and money.
Heavens S w hat a life to lead ; but I can
endure it; anything is better than to
know that he U pitying me. Oh, Louis,
Louis, my first, my last, my only love.
snail l ever be able to cast you out of
my heart?" .
The next day Clarence Preston
ceived a note from Miss Austin, askiu
him to call that evening.
" ell," he said, as he eutered the
room where she was waiting to receiv
him, "the fates are propitious; I am to
have one more interview with you
seems."
"es," said Nettie, "strictly a bus
ness one."
"Iam all attention; proceed."
lh you remember what 1 told vou
the last time we met ?
"I shall not be very apt to forget it.
he replied, as his face darkened
"I have changed my mind since then
Mr. Preston.
"You surely do not mean. Netti
Austin, that you will be my wife?"
"That is exactly what I do mean
"My own darling"
"There, Mr. Preston, that ill suffice
You are a poor actor, and I will excuse
you from that part of the ceremony. It
suits you to marry me ; it suits me to
marry you. This Is all there is of it
We are both too sensible to go In rap
tures over so common-place an a flair
"So be it. Miss Austin, if it please:
you best."
"Thank you; aud now, as I have a
compiisneu what 1 wanted in sending
for you, you will excuse me from en
tertaiuing you this evening, and after
ward call at your pleasure."
tenantry, ne sain, rising to go,
"I shall i-ome and go at your bidding
aud be only too happv to be able to
oblige you. Good-evening."
t larem-e freston was a rising young
lawyer of the" place. Ambitious and
poor, anxious to build himself up more
rapidly than his limited means would
allow, he coveted Miss Austin's fortune
and had long been a suitor for her
hand. No encouragement had he ever
received from her until the night that
she gave herself to him
Nettie Austin felt that by engaging
herself she accomplished all that she
had intended ber marriage to do; so
she concluded to defer that as long as
possible.
"The last month of her "freedom,"
as she termed it, was spent in Cleve
land. On her homeward trip, the train
she was on went down broken bridge
She was dragged out and carried away
in half-conscious state, with this wish
uppermost in her mind : that she had
passed from earth and escaped the
dreary life that aw aited her.
She was cared for, and when asked
to tell the name of some friend whom
she wished sent for, she gave the name
and address of the only one that occu
pied her thoughts now
Louis Staib came in answer to the
telegram.
"Who hag sent for me?" he asked on
his arrival.
"A lady; step in that room across
the hall, and see if you recognize her
Another minute and he was in the
presence of the woman he loved.
"Mr God!" he exclaimed. "It is
Miss Austin!"
She heard his voice, and turned her
head toward him, while her face grew
perfectly radiant with happiness.
"Do rou know me?" he asked, as he
took her hand.
"Know you? Certainly. I feel as
though I had been in a new world for a
few days. It only needed the light of
a face that I knew to bring me back
again. I know what has happened;
but how came you here?"
"Didn't you send forme?"
Send for rou ! You are the last
person in the world that I would have
sent for.
He looked at her a moment, and
thought that she was never half so dear
to him as she was then in her helpless-
nesa, with that sad, tired look in her
. . . . i , j .
eves, it was more man ne couiu uo io
keep from saying, .
"Miss Austin, do you hate me?
He was sitting beside her, and in
answer she reached up her thin, white
hand, and passed it caressingly through
his dark hair.
He looked his surprise, while the
blood leaped through his veins, and
flooded his face, which was now bent
over hers, as he asked huskily,
"Nettie, Nettle, what do you mean?
"That I do not hate you," she said,
turnine awav her head.
Fool idiot-that I am, he exclaimed
as he drew away from her, "to dream
for one second, that rou could have
meant more?"
She looked at him now w ith w ide
nnenevea: the W noie trutn came iw
i i
her.
"He loves me!" she said joyously to
herself. "He has loved me all along,
and would not tell me of It."
She reached out both hands this time
and drew his face to hers, w hispering
"I do mean more. Oh, Louis, Louis,
how blind you have been not to have
seen that I have always loved you !"
Is that true, Nettie ?" he said almost
fiercely, as he nnclasped her arms. "Do
not trifle w ith me. 1 have worsnippeu
you all my life; aud to come so near
the prize, and then lose it, is more than
I can eadure."
"He needed only to look in her eyes
to receive the answer he wanted.'"
It is true, Nettie!.. Thank God, it
is true L .la It wonder that I doubted ?
It seems like a glorious dream, from
awaken and find my
. "To think, Louis, how miserable we
have both made ourselves! Only an
hour ago I wanted to be dead." .
"But you will not die now, my darl
ing! l ou shall live to know by my life
how thankful I am for this precious
gin."
"Louis," said Nettle, a few mornings
alter she sat in an easy chair, making,
her lover thought, a very beautiful
convalescent, "Next Wednesday is my
wedding day."
"Nettie," said Staib, looking his sur
prise, "you are a darling to name so
early a day. I wanted it to be so, but
scarcely dared to ask It."
She raised her hands deprecatingly
as she spoke, and then hid her face
from him in them.
"Why, Nettie," continued her lover,
as he laughingly imprisoned her hands,
"you need not care: we will be mar
ried to-dar, if rou say so. You took
me by surprise, that was all ; and I
could not help expressing it ; there is
no need for you to look so confused."
"Oh, Louis, how provoking of you to
think I could have meant our wedding
day!" "
"You said yours, dear."
"Yes. but not yours."
"What do you mean, Nettie?" said
Staib, w ith a grave face.
"You are so stupid! You must surely
know. Next Wednesday Is the day set
for me to become Mrs. Preston."
"Nettie," said Staib, "you do not
know- what rou are talking about."
Nettie Austin looked up now, and
saw that every vestige of color had left
her lover's face. She began to com
prehend tnat he was Indeed ignorant
of her promise and arrangements to
marry Preston.
"Why, Louis," she said, w ith a trou
bled face, "I did not think it worth
w bile to explain it to you. The sub
ject wu hateful, and I took it for
granted that you knew all about it."
And so you are to marry him?"
said Ixuis Staib, in a voice so changed
that Nettie scarcely recognized it.
"No, Louis; I intend to write to-day
and offer a price for my hand, which
is promised him. I know him too well
to fear he will not accept it."
"Oh, Nettie, to think of. you being
the promised w rife of another aud affi
anced to me at the same time!"
'Indeed, ou are a little too fast Mr.
Staib. I promised to be Preston's wife
but not yours."
Nettie Austin !"
How could I promise." said Nettie,
turning half away from him, "when
you have never yet asked ?"
She was in her lover's arms the next
second.
You know very well, darling," he
said, kissing the face that was trying
to hide from him, "that I have told you
over aud over again that I loved vou
aud that you were mine forever."
"Yes, Louis, I know, but you "
"Oh, I begin to understand. You
want me, as Maud Muller says, to ask
you as they do in books. Well, dear,
will you be my wife?"
"Nonsense, Louis ! Of course I want
to be asked ; and of course "
"Well, Nettie, of course what ?"
"I'll be your wife."
"Thank you darling; now make me
as happy as I was a half-hour ago by
setting au early wedding-day."
" That was stupid of you, Louis !"
"Well," said Louis, laughing, "for
give me, and I'll set the day this time
l ou will hear from Preston, to-mor
row, and we will be married on his day
after all."
So, on the Wednesday set, Owens-
boro was put in a little uproar of talk
and excitement ; for In the church, at
the hour appointed for Nettie to be
come Mrs. Preston, she walked up the
aisle with Louis Staib, whom, before
she walked back, she promised to love,
honor and obey,
The strangest part of all, the gossips
said, was that Clarence Preston was
the first one to offer the happy pair
congratulations.
No one guessed how Nettie had man
aged affairs, even when the young
lawyer announced to his friends that
he was the possessor of suddenly ac
quired wealth.
Prejudices.
The past generation of Englishmen
has been so generous to Jews that we
should be ungrateful If we accused cul
tured Englishmen of the present day of
being consciously repelled by the idea
of a poor Jew being worthy of admira
tion. But 15 centuries of hatred are
not to be wiped out by any legislative
enactment. Noon can say that the
fact of a man being a Jew makes no
more difference in other men.s minds
than if he were (say) a Wesleyan. There
yet remains a deep unconscious under
current of prejudice against the Jew
which conscientious Englishmen have
often to fight against as part of that
lower nature, a survival of the less per
fect development of our ancestors which
m pedes the ascent of men. Along with
this unconscious Judaeophobia there
has gone the Intellectual element of a
tacit assumption that modern Judaism
is a lifeless code of ritual instead of a
living body of religious truth. Mae-
millan'i Jfagmine.
After Breakfast.
There Is no period at which the feei
ng of leisure is more delightful one
than after breakfast on a summer
morning in the country. It la a slavish
and painful thing to know that instant-
vou rise from the breakfast table
you must take to your work. In that
state your mind will be fretting and
worrying away all the time the hurried
meal lasts. It is delightful to breakfast
leisurely; then go out and gaunter in
the garden ; walk down to the water
and give the dogs a swim; sketch out a
kite, to be completed lu the evening;
to stick up new colored picture in the
nursery, and to do thia and more with
the sense that then is no neglect that
you can easuy ovenasw una;
work. Jrtlng.
w hich I shall
treasure gone.'
Changes la ths Moon.
Although the moon may be regarded
a to all intents and purposes dead, it
must not be supposed that no change
whatever take place upon her surface.
On the contrary, some of the peculiari
ties of the moon' condition must tend
to cause even more rapid changes of
certain orders than take place in the
case of our earth. Thus the great
length of the lunar day, and the moon's
waterless condition and rare atmos
phere, must help to cause a compara
tively rapid crumbling of the moon's
surface. During the long aud Intensely
hot luuar day the rock substance of the
moon's surface must expand consider
ably, for it Is raised to a degree of beat
exceeding that of boiling water. During
the long luuar night the surface is ex
posed to a degree of refrigeration far
exceeding that of the bitterest winter
in the arctic regions, and must contract
correspondingly. This alternate ex
pansion and contraction must gradually
crumble away all the loftiest and steep
est portions of the moon's surface and
will doubtless, In the long run that Is,
some few hundreds of millions of years
hence destroy all the most marked Ir
regularities of the moon's surface. The
cause of change which have been
recognized by telescopists who have
carefully studied the moon's surface
may all, without exception, be referred
to this process of gradual, but steady.
disintegration.
The most remarkable case hitherto
known, for example, the disappearance
of the lutar crater Linne, i far better
explained in this way than as the result
of volcanic outburst. This case has re
cently been described as follows by the
present writer: In the lunar sea of se
renity there was once a deep crater,
nearly seven miles across, a very dis
tinct and obvious feature, even with
the small telescope (less than four
inches in aperture) used by Beer and
Madler in farming their celebrated
chart. But, ten years ago, the astron
omer Schmidt, a selenographer of selen
ographers (who has, in fact, given the
best energies of his life to moon-gazing),
found this crater missing. When
he announced the fact to the scientific
world, other astronomers, with very
powerful Instruments, looked for the
crater which had been so clearly eeh
with Madler's small telescope; but
though they found a crater, it was
nothing like the crater described by
Madler. The present crater is scarcely
two miles in diameter and only just
visible with powerful telescopes. All
: around it there is a shallow depression
occupying a region about as large as
the whole crater had been before.
seems impossible to doubt that a great
change has taken place here, and the
question arises whether the change has
been produced by volcanic activity or
otherwise. Sir John llerschel pro
nounced somewhat confidently In favor
of the former hypothesis. "The most
plausible conjecture," said he, "as to
the caue of this disappearance seems
to be the filling up of the crater from
beneath, by au effusion of viscous lava,
which, overflowing the rim on all sides,
may have so flowed down the outer
lope as to eflace its rugged ness, aud
convert it into a gradual declivity cast
ing no stray shadows. "But how tre
mendous the volcanic energy," we note
in the passage referred to, "required to
fill with lava a crater nearly seven
miles In diameter, and more than half
a mile deep. The volcanic hypothesis
seems on this account utterly iucredi-
ble, for if such energy resided in the
moon's interior we should find her
whole surface continually changing,
Far more probable seems the idea that
the wall of this crater has simply fallen
lu, scattering its fragments over what
had once been the floor of the crater
tne forces at work In the moon are
quite conipeteut to throw down steep
crater walls like those which seem
formerly to have girt about this deep
cavity." Cornkill Magazine.
Saplas as it Is.
If the human aud outward life of
Naples is Interesting from Its variety
and color, the things which are to be
seen there and the places to visit the
treasures or art and- the beauties of
nature are beyond the power of
words to render in anything like their
perfection of glory and grandeur. The
museum alone would justify a whole
volume of eulogies ; and, after all had
been said, what would there not remain
of subtile and untranslatable beauty in
that exquisite fragment of the Psyche
surely the very idea of budding maiden
hoodin the enus of Capula and the
Faruesse Flora; in the majestic figure
of -Cschines and the playful fancies of
the Nereid on her sea horse aud the
Cupid diving with the dolphin; in that
pathetic table of four small figures
the wounded Gaul, (something like the
dying Gladiator in Rome), the dying
Amazon, the dead Persian, and the
dead Titan taken from the votive
offerings on the Athenian Acropolis
which were the present of Attains?
That museum of Naples a place to be
visited lovingly aud often is a subject
to be avoided by all writers who un
derstand the futility of language and
the unelastlcity of space. But were
nothing else to be seen hereabouts, it
would be worth the whole iourney
from England to this beautiful bay "a
fragrant of heaven to earth vouchsafed"
simply to study such masterpiece as
the old workers in bronze and marble
have left us, and which it possesses.
But add to this such a view as that of
San Martino, from Camaldoli, from the
Chiara Itself ; and the quaint things to
be found in the churches; and even the
oddity of the superstitions; and the ex
cursions to be made to the countries
lying around and one can understand
how the old saying came to be taken
seriously, and the " Vedi Xapoli poi
tort" waa a recognized confession of
unapproachable superiority.
Take that little excursion to Camal
doli alone what a charming afternoon
it gives one! Those who like can hire
donkeys or the four miles which lie
between the stopping place or ,the car
riage and the monastery; but those
who cau walk there and hack had bit
ter do so, if they care fur the sweet
wild flower that grow in profusion
along the banks and in the wood, and
also to make little side dashes for beau
tiful peep where even a mule' sure
feet would scarcely carry him. There
la plenty of time for resting In the gar
dens of the monastery when you get
there. An old monk one of the four
survivors of the once flourishing estab
lishment, who are suffered to finish
their lives as they have begun, but
without successors who will come to
you In hi white woolen robe as you s
on the marble bench that looks across
the bay to Ischla and Proclda, an
point out the objects of historic Interest
In the bay.
Such a view as this can scarcely be
seen iu the whole world, and there are
different versions of it from differen
points, but all beautiful. One other
version is from the windows of the
Carthusian monastery of St. Martino,
just below tbe castle of St. Elmo,
whence the town is seen spread out
like a gigantic map below you the
flat roofs where the women lounge or
work, gossip or stare, and the glittering
gold ar.d blue tiled cupolas of the
churches giving it a curious Oriental
look. The museum of the convent is
well worth seeing, and there are grand
old pictures and wood carvlnirs and
mosaics iu the churches, chapels, etc
Some roses of Egyptian granite are es
pecially commendable in the way of
carved marble, and the mosalo pave
ment and high altar are payment sutfi
cieut for the drive, if it has been
trouble.
Of the churches, however those 300
churches the most notable are the
cathedrals, Santa Chiara and Santa
Maria del Carmine. In Santa Clara
which is wonderfully rich and elabor
ate, but the reverse of beautiful, are
some line got hie monuments; that ol
Robert the Wise (J. 1343;, and executed
by Masculo II., Is a masterpiece. But
it is set behind the high altar, so that
you can only see it by climbing up i
rickety little stair with a slender hand
rail not suited to the grasp of a stout
shortsighted or nervous woman. When
you get on the platform behind the
altar and can examine the details of the
work, it is a flue thing to see; and like
all the rest, pays for the trouble of see
ing it. Else the coarse traces of gild
ing, and the spraw ling boys holding up
medallions, holy water, shells and var
ious things after the manner of those in
St. Peter's at Rome, are not in the most
refined state.
The Cathedral or Duomo of l'Arciv-
escovado, as it is called, with its lofty
towers and pointed arches, Is rich in
tine pictures and historic monuments,
At Santa Maria del Carmine we have
the fine statue of poor young Conradin,
the last of the llohenstaulen, made by
Schopf, of Munich, after a design by
Thorwalsen, and placed there iu 1S47 by
Maximilian II., of Bavaria, when
Crown Prince. The tomb was orii
natly behind the high altar, but now
what little dust remains of the unfor
tunate youth lies beneath the statue.
It is said by some, and denied by others,
that Masaueillo is buried in this church,
at all events, in the Largo del Mercato
close by, the largest of the three foun
tains Is called Fontana dl Masantello,
to commemorate the rebellion in 164
and It was on this spot that Conradin
was executed. These are but a few of
the attractions of Naples. London
Queen.
The Hague.
The Hague Is the most fashionable,
the handsomest, aud the most modern
looking towu in Holland. It is the res!
dence of the court. Here the King has
his palace within the town, and the
Queen her palace in the woods. The
latter Is reached by a short but delight
ful drive, amid treee w hich shelter you
from the glare of the sunshine. It is
not a large house, and it is built after a
very straggling style of architecture;
but the portiou iuhabited by the Queen
is fitted up with an exquisite taste and
refinement that eclipses many palaces
of far greater pretensions to gorgeous-
ness and grandeur. One of the few
pictures in tbe Japanese saloon was a
portrait of Motley, show ing a refined
intellectual face, but scarcely doing
justice to the expression of the eyes.
The Queen is universally beloved aud
reverenced for her great virtue, piety,
aud amiability ; but she lives a some
what retired aud secluded life. The
King aud Queen rarely meet.
The appearance of the Hague is quite
different from that of any other towu
in Holland. There is an atmosphere
of fashion and gayety about its broad.
well-built streets suggestive of a small
Paris or Berlin ; au atmosphere which
the presence of a court invariably con
fers. Signs of wealth, too .fire manifold.
Fashionable equipages abound, as well
appointed as any to be found iu Hyde
Park during the Londo'i season. Ladies
dress as luxuriously as those of Paris;
and possibly the small rivalries and
jealousies that reign in the two great
capitals are not absent here. Human
nature is much the same all the world
over, and like causes bring forth simi
lar results.
One of the chief attractions of the
Hague is its admirable picture-gallery,
containing some of the finest examples
of the Dutch school to be met with in
the wide world. Paul Potter's famous
Bull is once more here in safe posses
sion. It was carried away to the Lou
vre, and kept there a considerable time
as one of its chiefest attractions. It is
a picture great in size and stupendous
In execution, faithful to the very life.
One wonders at the amazing vigor pos
sessed by so young man ; a man, too,
whose constitution yielded to consump
tion before he reached his thirtieth
year. In the firm set of the lips, and
the general outline or the profile, as
seen in his bust, there is something
which reminds one slightly or Gustave
Dore. There are few who have not
seen or heard of Paul Potter's Bull, for
it has been produced in oleographs and
engravings without number.
Slavts of tbe Ring engaged maiden.
The Embroidery of Hlrturr.
One of the bits of history most famil
iar to Americans Is Jackson's battle of
New Orleans, where, from behind hi
breastwork or cotton bales (a material
which the enemy's cannon could not
pierce), he repulsed with prodigious
slaughter Packenham'a veterans, fresh
from their European victories. Thl
story of the rampart of cotton, as re
lated In both English and American
histories, is, however, purely apocry
phal. Its origin seems to have been the
fact that, many days before tbe battle
of January 8 (for Jacksou's troops had
been working steadily at the intrench
ments since Christmas), about fifty cot
ton bales were taken out of a neighbor
ing flat-boat and thrown Into a line of
earthworks to increase its bulk. About
a week before the assault, in a prelimi
nary skirmish, as Walker tells us Iu his
"Jackson and New Orleans," the ene
my's balls, striking one of these bales,
knocked It out of the mound, set tire to
the cotton, and sent it flying about, to
the great danger of the ammunition
All the bales were consequently re
moved. "After this," coutiuues the ac
count, "no cotton bales were ever used
In the breastwork' the mound was
composed entirely of earth dug from
the canal and the field in the rear. The
experiment of using cotton and other
articles In raising the embankment hud
been discarded."
Again, for eighteen years after this
battle it w as gospel w ith lis that the
British officers at dawn "promised
their troops a plentiful dinner in New
Orleans, and gave them 'Booty and
beauty' as the parole ai.J countersign
of the day." In 1833 General Lambert
and four other officers, w ho had been
engaged ill the luckless expedition, d
nied this story, which accordingly has
meusnrablv vanished out of history
The absurd fictiou of the "Booty and
beauty" w atchw ord reappears.however,
at intervals iu our own civil war,
ascribed to General Beauregard aud
other Confederate officers.
Our ancestors, also, used to enjoy the
story of Putnam's exploit at Horseneck.
w here he escaped from a party of Try
oil's troojR-rs by forcing his horse dow u
a nilit or seventv steps (another ac
count swells thriu to a hundred) that
for.;i"d the stairw ay by w hich the vil
lagers aseended to the church ou the
brow of the hill. This is the narrative
in Teiers' '-Historv of Connecticut,
book w hich Dw ight calls "a mass of
follv and fasehood." The storv of the
stairway is sheer fabrication, founded
on the fact that common stones here
and there aided the villagers to ascend
the hill; yet there exist pictures of
Putnam charging down a long tier of
steps as well defined and regular as
those of the cnpitol at Washington
w hile the discomfited dragoons at the
top mr iu a volley that doe not harm
him.
A partial parallel to this exaggeration
may be round in the current descrip
tions of "Sheridan's Ride," at Win
chester, a solid exploit, brilliantly
touched up in Buchanan Read's verse.
concerning which last the great cavalry
general Is said to have jocosely re
marked that if the bard had seen the
horse, he never would have written the
poem. (iaLisy.
Cooke aud Mathews.
One night Mathews having played
Xorthmi to Cooke's Sir Ar?hy Mucsnr-
casnt in Maeklin s "Love a la Mode"
much to the tatter's satisfaction, he was
nvited to Blip and share a jug of whis
key punch in the tragedian's room. The
young novice delightedly accepted the
nvitaiion, thinking himself much hon
ored, and tailed not to pour forth tliose
laudations uon his host's talents which
w ere so grateful to George Frederick's
ears. One jug or punch was quickly
emptied aud a second filled, and Cooke
began to prai.-e his guest in a patron-
zing way. "You are young," he said.
and want some one to advise and
guide you. Take my w ord for it, there
is nothing like industry aud sobriety.
In our profession, dissipation is the
bane of youth, villainous company,
low company, leads them from study,"
etc. Holding forth thus, the jug of
punch continued to disappear with
ever increased rapidity. Mathews arose
to leave, but was pushed back into his
seat again. "You shau t stir; we'll
have one more cruiskeen lawn, my dear
fellow, and then you shall go to bed,"
said the tragedian, now grow ing very
runk. "You don't know me. The
world don't know me. Many an hour
that they suppose I have wasted in
drinking I have devoted to the study of
my profession, the passions aud all
their variations, their nice and imper
ceptible gradations. You shall see me
lelineate the passions of the human
mind by facial expression." The power
of the whiskey, however acting in di
rect opposition to the will on his strong
ud flexible features produced contor
tions and distortions of which he wa
nsensible. Mathews, a litttle hazy
himself from the potent liquor, half
larmed, and yet with difficulty re
pressing hit laughter at these extra-,
ordinary grimaces, sat staring at him,
endeavoring to understand these deline-
tions, and wUhing himself out of the
room. After each horrible race, tooke
demanded with an air of intense self-
pproval,"Well, Sir, and what is that?''
It's very fine, Sir," answered Math
ews, without the remotest conception
hat he should say. "Yes, but what is
!" "Well a oh, yes anger?"
You're a blockhead," roared the
ragedian; "the whisky has muddled
your brains. IU rear rear, Mr."
hen followed more contortions and
more questions, but Mathews never
guessed right. "Now, Sir," said the
ngry delineator at last, "I will show
you something you cannot possibly mis
take." And he made a hideous face,
compounded of Satanic malignancy and
the leering of a drunken satyr. "What's
that, Sir?" That? oh, revenge!"
Dolt, idiot! despite o'erwhelm tbee,"
burst forth Cooke, furiously ; "its love!"
This was too much, and forgetful of
consequences, Mathews fell back In his
chair and roared with laughter.
"What, Sir! Do you laugh? Am I
not George Frederick Cooke? born to
command 1,000 slaves like thee?"
Mathews Immediately apologized, aver
ring that the punch had stupilled htm
This modified his host's iudignatiou
and finding the Jug empty he called for
his landlady to refill it. But he had
faithfully promised the previous one
should be the last, aud Mrs. Burn In
tended to keep htm to his word. "Sure,
Mr. Cooke," she auswered from below.
"I am gone to bed, and you can't have
any more to-night." "Indeed, but I
will," be replied. Mathews tried to
get away, but was again thrust In his
chair, while Cooke reiterated his de
mand for more punch. But Mrs. Burn
remained obdurate. Cooke took the jug
aud smashed it umu the floor over her
head. "Do you hear that, Mrs. Hums?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Cooke." Then smash
went the chairs, the ttre-lrous, the
table, and between each the question,
"Do you hear that, Mrs. Burns?" "In
deed, but I do, and you'll be sorry for
it to-tnorrow." Up w ent the w indow,
and out, one after another, went th
fragments of the broken furniture Into
the street. Mathews, believing he was
iu company w ith a madman, and uow
thorough frightened, endeavored to
make a holt, but was seized and dragged
back. Finding him struggle violently,
Cooke threw up the window aud
shouted, "Watch! watch!" A watch
man, attracted by the uproar, was al
ready beneath. "I give this man In
charge," roaied Cooke; "he has com
mitted murder." "What do you mean?"
cried the alarmed youth. "Yes, to my
certain knowledge he has this night
committed an atrocious, cold-blooded
murder. lie has most barbarously
murdered an inoffensive Jew gentle
man, named Mordecai: I charge him
w ith it In the uame of Maeklin, the au
thor of 'Love a la Mode.' " Here Math
ews, by a desperate ettort wrenched
himself away and tied, Cooke hurling
after him the candle and candlestick.
Temple Bar.
A Primitive Extlngui-hsr.
An old German woman, says the
Indianapolis Sentinel, w he came here
not long ago, from the land w here the
Suabians dwell, and who had never
seen a steam fire-engine, created quite
a scene at her abode, ou South Delaware
treet. She had her dough set to make
bread for supper, but on seeing so many
people running by the house and hfcar-
ng the clanging of bells, she inquired
w hat the rumpus was all about. Ou
being informed, she ran into the hou-e,
got two buckets, and then started In
the direction of the fire, having on only
a short skirt and a small sack, with a
long blue handkerchief for a headdress.
By the time she arrived on the scene,
he fire was extinguished, but directly
afterward she heard the alarm from
another direction, and started for that
locality with other people. When she
arrived, she talked in her native tongue
to all, and wanted to know-where the
bucket brigade was. Some German
lady asked her why. She said she had
come with her buckets "to help put out
he fire the way they do it in Schwoha-
land." There all the burgers come
w ith their pails and form a pncession
from the well to the house aflame.
Diose on one side hand the water to the
others, and these empty the pails and
return them. The old lady was shown
the engines and other apparatus. She
hought that the engine was a railroad
masheen" to bring people to help put
ut the fire. She was disgusted with
our system, and did not get home until
nfter supper. Herhushand was waiting
for herat the door, and was a little angry
because she had not his supper ready.
When she entered the kitchen, nearly
exhausted from the long trip, she looked
t her bread dough and found that it
had not risen. Mie called her better
half to look at it, and said: "Yetz
guckamold ; dita hist gescheidergew esa
isich; ich bin begange, mid du hist
nicht gegange." "You had more sene
ban I ; I went and you ilid not." The
word "gegangen" is translated as
going, or more rreely, ri.-mg. tier
husband laughed at her remark until
he tears came from his eves.
Adaptability.
As a general thing, lads have their
n ideas concerning the occupation
they desire to follow in life, and are
grievously disappointed if circumstan
ces prevent them from following the
bent of their inclinations. It is true
that the natural bent is of service in
helping to decide ou a calling for life.
Vnd yet, come to think of it, it is very
hard to pick out the tastes that were
born with us, and those that come by-
early education. Daniel Webster would
have followed the sea if his father had
not turned his mind in an opposite di
rection. He set his two boys to argue
ases with one another. His first case
as in behalf or a captive woodschuck,
hich they had in a trap. Zeke was
for drowning it, and made out a very-
good case. But when it came Daniel's
turn he put quite another face on the
juestion. His appeal was so effective
that the old man roared out "Zeke, do
you let that woodchuek go!" A great
seedsman and florist said he never took
ny interest in plants until he bought a
geranium to help sell his painted flower
pots. That one went off so quickly that
he bought two more and placet! in his
indow, which were likewise quickly
sold. From these small beginnings
grew up a large and prosperous busi
ness. He was settled in life before he
began the study of plants and flowers,
hut he carried bis practical knowledge
to a rare extent. And yet he began
ithout any particular "fancy for it."
The fact is, there is a wonderful adapta
bility iu the human mind to almost
anything resolutely required of it.
Likethe old Indian w ho was laboriously
munching a very hard crust, and was
asked if he liked it, he replied. "It is
my victual and I will like him !" So,
boys, say, "It Is my work aud I will
like him." If it is right aud honorable
work you w ill be sure to succeed.
A maling medium A cobbler.
Aaai-rk-aa Csuilemr
I uever reflect U)ru the breadth aud
generosity of the underlying Idea of
our idea of government, with all Its
manly equities. Its constant deinanJ
uhiii its citizens for the most elevated
sentiments known to our nature, and
the opportunities afforded for their ex
ercise, (hat It does not appear to ws
more aud more, and beyond nit other
forms of Government yet devised, ths
most favorable theatre lor the exerclss
of all the qualities that dignify and
adorn mankind, and that If penetrated
with a trim sense of the part which
each man among us should bear iu such
a plan, au American citizen ought to ba
lu tbe best sense of the word a geutle
man. 1 have had good rea.-on lu realize the
exacting nature of the toil and varied
occupation of our busy struggle Iu
American life, and amid what a rush
of events we have been carving civili
zation out of the w ilderneas, emulating
with hot Impatience the reaults aud ac
cumulation of centuries of work and
thought in the older nation. Th
graces of life (hose fruits of repose
aud well-earned wealth and lei.-ure
are or gradual growth, and have been
necessarily postponed until our ten p'e
of civil and religious liberty was erect
ed upon secure foundations and our
graud experiment of self-coutrol by a
free people shall have been well tested.
Art, Its studies and higher influences, I
do not underrate, and the great advan
tages it can impart to its disciple, but
personal contact ban taught me how
much of that true refinement, delicacy
of sentiment and sensitive considera
tion for the feelings of others, which
we justly regard as the best fruit of
high breeding aud culture, can and
does exist in the simplicity of American
society, uninstructcd even by that
European example which to some of
our countrymen seems the necessary
imprimatur of social success.
The American snob has none of tha
inducements or excuses of his British
brother, and when he follows iu his
track and gilds and veneers his petti
ness and vulgarity in imitation of rank
and distinguished station, he sins more
against nature aud the honet simplic
ity and natural dignity which are akiu
to republican Iiisti'utious, and which
may well be worn by every man w ho
lives under them accordin-r to their
true and manly spirit.
ft U la our power to create a slaudard
of American character and ul&TihooJ a
lofty as that of any age or nation, ami '
to compel our representatives at home
and abroad to conform their conduct to
it. The spirit of true chivalry In all its
gentleness and unselfishness, showing
tenderness to the feeble and resistance
to tbe oveabearing, mercy to whom
mercy was due, and honor to whom
honor, can and does exist iu America
to day, under the "hodden gray" ol
the laborer and mechanic, the thread
bare coat of the clerk or the grave garb
of the hard-worked men-haul or man
of the professions, as truly as it ever
did under the helmet and chain armor
of any knight-errant in the olden time.
The American people can justly de
mand from those who are delegated to
represent them abroad or at home a
punctilious observance of honor and
delicate pride in their private and pub
lic conduct, and the moral influence tu
be obtained by dignified self-respect.
Intelligence and high personal integ
rity will far outweigh any attempted
competition with the show aud glitter
of the representatives of other govern
ments not based upon the principle of
voluntary and orderly self control. In
truth it will be found that where Aruer
lean representatives abroad have drawn
obloquy and just censure or contempt
upon themselves or their country. It
has been usually caused by some ignor
ant attempt at ostentatious display, or
the unworthy pursuit of private gain,
in both of which the dignity of theli
position was forgotten or disregarded,
and the fault was nut "Americanism,"
but the absence of It. Va.iJ.r S-.Tri'i
A'ldrtmt at Harvard.
A Horrible frunlshUM-nl.
The I'er-ian Government inflicts a ter
rible punishment upon toMhts w ho are
captured by the authorities. Barbarous
expedients are resorted to in order to
frighten them from their illegitimate
calling. Of fifty men who were re
cently captured, twenty-three had their
throats cut. Others were crucified, be
ing nailed to tbe walls of the town by
their hands and feet, anil then left to
perish slow ly of exhaustion and starva
tion. Others again were buried alive in
pits of brick-work, in w hich they were
placed erect, with their heads just above,
ground. Pinioned and naked, the rol
bers w ere placed in these short, open
columns, and a white plaster, not unlike
plaster-of-Paris, w as then poured, neck
deep, over their bodies, around w hich it
set with the hardness of stone. In their
dying hours the miserable men were
barbarously ill-treated on their exposed
and defenseless heads, by the rabble
and the soldiery of Shir'az. Despite the
adoption of these frightful measures for
the punishment of highway robbery,
the crime is of constant occurrence,
especially in Southern Persia, and, ex
cept in the most bitter weather iu w in
ter, the persons and effects of travelers
are in constant peril.
Muftical Warrior.
Russian soldiers upon marches sing
to w hile away tedium, and the solos,
always in a minor key and monotonous,
are varied by lively bursts iu the chorus.
The solo singer always improvises, and
is usually accompanied by a man with a
fiddle, a triangle, a clarionet, or by one
who whistles. Tbe ordinary uniform
of the infantry consists of a kepi, a
tunic, vnd pautaloons of dark green
cloth, the latter garment being inserted
in the boots. The gray overcoat la
carried in a roll at the back, from the
right shoulder to the left hip. Two
cartridge boxes are attached to the
leather belt in front. A canvas haver
sack hangs at the right behind the
bayonet, ami tbe knapsack covers the
back."
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