iiiiii
leiilliciii
TEE C02fSTITHlI05-TEE TnTCOH AITD TEE ETrOBCIJiEIT OF TEE LAWS.
Editor and Proprietor.
13. F. SCIIWEIER.
VOL. XXX L
MIFFLINTOWX, JUXIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15, 1S77.
XO. 33.
AMONG THE DEAD.
With at era face set against the snn I stand,
A living soul amid death s haunted land.
I wander through a desert-warts of glooms.
By winding-way that lead to ghostly tombs.
I lire, alas! tut death is all I mm.
And niyht ia day, and day is night, to ma
Vet with nnwearving heart and will I press
Across this bare and desolate wilderness.
No sweet note breaks the ca'm f mote despair
Tbat sleeps upon the pillowing breast of air ;
No lore-breath trembles in the swooning breeze
That circles round the sbrnuken trunks of trees.
The duet lies thick npon my road ; I tread
The annihilated gardens of the dead.
Ah ! could these myriad shadows strewn like
sands
Tpon the indistinguishable lands,
Kise np, take form, and gaze with ladiant eyes
Into my life, spread forth like sunlit skies
Into my life, grown lordlier with new power.
And bright with hope's divinely -bkomiog
flower
Into my life, sweet fruit of death and dream.
Triumphing and trimnphaat and supreme ;
What strange, weird words of yearning and
desire
Might burn npon their lips like sonl-Iit fire !
The Oak Tree's Secret.
It is spring In California. Traversing
the undulating wild region, we come at
length to a swift running streamlet,
unon whose low mossy banks huge
rocks uplift themselves, while close be
side, extending its leafy brandies over
the rugged surface of the boulders,
stands au old oak tree.
"Why, you dear old oak!" exclaims
Florence Gerard, as she steps within its
grateful hade. "I I eel quite at home
with you. Now who would suppose
that one gnarled old tree could soclosely
resemble a household of human beings?
But, just now, you look to me the very
moral, as Maude would say, of the
Gerard family. There are your leaflets
and slender twigs dancing and singing
gleefully all the day long, and chatting
and coquetting alike with spring blasts
and spring breezes those are Kichie,
and Maude and me.
'Tour great branches which sway
and murmur sometimes pleasantly,
sometimes sorrowfully, to the whisper
ings and whistling of the winds, and
the m rry music of the dancing leaves
they are papa and mamma, and dear
Aunt Eleanor. While your great round
trunk, which has grown so gray and
unwieldly with age, and canouly croak
and grumble at the pleasant brandies,
and dismally chide the happy, thought
less little twigs grandma Gerard for
all the world !" And with a merry lit
tle laugh at her own conceit, Florence
seats herself at the foot of the tree and
busies herself in the arrangement of
her burden of wild flowers, and, in be
half of her tired limbs, casts occasional
lueful glances toward the clump of tall
evergreeus which hides from her view
tne house of Gordon Gerard, fully a
mile away.
It is summer now. The great oak
tree has become a favorite resort with
Florence Gerard, and we find her this
afternoon reading within the shadow of
Its wide spreading branches. The vol
ume does not prove very interesting, I
think, and she glances through it with
a listless air, until the following words
put in the mouth of the heroine claim
her wandering attention:
"Three things there are which come
to every woman in her turn love, mar
riage and death."
"Love, marriage and death," she
echoes; "why, I have not even loved."
The book slides from her grasp, while
Florie falls to dreaming of her possible
hero, unmindful that even now he
stands at her side. A voice in pleasant
greeting brings her to herself, and with
a cry of alarm she half rises as her eye
tails upon the form beside her the em
bodiment of her dream, a tall, hand
some man in the dress of a chieftain.
How It came about I cannot tell for
Florie is usually a handsome miss but
a half hour later finds her still at the
foot of the old oak tree, with the stran
ger by her side. His eye rests upon the
fallen volume, and as he raises it from
the ground he glances at the name upon
the title page, "Florence Gerard."
"Florence!" he repeats, "place of my
nativity! On, Italy, beautiful Italy!
Must I be repudiated forever by thee!
Accursed be the powers that keep me
forever from my birthright!"
Then as be notes the look of affright
In the eyes of bis companion, which his
wild manner and passionate words have
called up, his voice sinks to a soft, sad
cadence as he relates the story of the
wrong which banished bis family from
their native land.
How much of truth and how much of
fiction the story contains, neither you
nor I can tell, dear reader, since our
acquaintance with Luigi Albini began
with this summer afternoon.
Another half hour glides away an
other an hour the sun has almost hid
den its face behind the western slope,
and still we find them beneath the old
oak tree. At length Florie starts to her
feet, exclaiming at the flight of time:
"Aunt Eleanor will think I have
fallen into the hand of the robbers,
who, they say, have a hiding-place
near," she said, adding with a little
laugh, "and so I may if I remain out
lonirer."
"Have no fear, lady ! One so fair and
pure would not be molested by the
fiercest of that robber band."
I am not so certain of that. I fear
our California robbers do not possess
the fabled chivalry of your Italian ban
ditti. At any rate, I should not like to
meet them."
"And lest you may, I will accompany
you."
At the foot of the avenue, at Florie's
request, Luigl takes his leave. Florie
watches him until his retreating figure
Is lost in the gathering gloom. Glancing
downward, her eyes rest npon the book
in her hand, and she repeats mechani
cally, "Love, marriage, death, and I
have not even loved."
ghe start with a guilty look, while
swift-coming, conscious blushes dye
face and throat, and she looks hurriedly
about as if some one, hearing, may give
the He to the assertion, and then springs
along the fir-lined walk and enters the
house. Unheeding Aunt Eleanor's
chidirgs and inquiries, she locks her
self In her own chamber. Here we will
leave her, and retracing our steps, will
follow Luigi Albini to his destination.
As he hurries along many changes of
expression flit athwart that dark, hand
gome face.
Sometimes the look is tender, some
times fierce, sometimes an angry frown.
At length a resolve breaks from his lips :
"Yes, in spite of all, I will win her!"
And we who have looked into the
heart of Florence Gerard, know that,
so far, as she is concerned, the task will
not be over-hard.
We have reached the old oak" again,
and pause to look out over the low hanks
of the little stream to the prairie be
yond, hose royal robes of purple and
gold are fast deepening into the sable of
night.
A moment, and we turn once more to
Luigi Albini. What, was he a spirit or
devil? He is gone. And surely mor
tal could not in a moment have disap
peared where naught breaks the mono
tony of the little plain save the little
stream the old oak tree and the great
rocks by its side, and none of these con
ceal him.
The leaves are growing brown upon
the old oak tree. But so soft and balmy
have been the breezes that scarcely one
has flown from its parent stem, and
they rustle and murmur as cheerily as
before. A rare picture it presents as
the autumn sunshine gilds and bur
nishes its vari-colored leaves, which
shadow a picture still more rare.
Beneath that leafy canopy we End
once more Luigi Albini and Florence
Gerard. He stands with his lithe fig
ure proudly erect, while his eyes rest
in loving triumph upon the form beside
him. The breezes sway the folds of her
white dress and catch in the meshes of
the white lace mantle which Florie has
drawn up over heryellow hair, and fas
tened with a single autumn rose to simu
late a bridal veil.
The keen eyes of the Italian, wander
ing for a moment, noted the approach
in the distance of a dark, moving ob
ject, and, whispering to the priest, who
is before them, "Make haste," he again
stands immovable.
Even now the moving object may be
seen to be a swift-riding horseman.
Fast and furious he rides, but the last
words have been spoken, the blessing
pronounced, and ere he reaches the old
oak tree, Luigi Albini and Florence
Gerard stand there man and wife.
Vain are the reproaches, the threats,
the entreaties of Gordon Gerard. To
all Florie has but one answer:
"He is my husband now; I cannot
leave him. But, papa, please forgive
me! Lo not curse me!"
"So," he says, "I will not curse you
now ; but when disgrace has come upon
you through this adventure; when
through him you bring disgrace upon
the name of Gerard, then, to your
misery and shame, add the lull measure
of a father's curse!" and without an
other word the irate old man rides off
fast and furious as be came.
A vear and a season have passed a way.
The winter winds moan and shriek
through the bare branches of the old
nak tree. The hard, brown Dlaiu. with
its tufts of dried grasses, the stilled,
frozen streamlet, tne gray rocks strippea
of their summer mosses, and the lonely
tree, are overhung by a sullen sky,
which betokens tne approacn 01 a nerce
winter storm. All seem to sneak of
death death in its dreariest form. The
smoke which curls upwards from the
bouse among the fir trees snows that
there, at least, is life.
Soon after the wilful marriage of his
child, Gordon Gerard had removed his
family to the East, leaving the home
stead to Florence, although from that
autumn dav he refused to see or hold
communication with her. And here
we find the two under the old oak
tree. Florence is seated by the fire
with the bundle of "flesh, flannel and
flummery," which represents the heir
of Albini, upon her lap.
Luigi bends over mother and babe,
trying in vain to discover in the round,
wide eyes of the latter that look of in
telligence which the fond mother
plainly sees. Both seem happy, and yet
there Is something the shadow of a
shadow on the brow of each which
shows the presence of a serpent in this
seeming Paradise.
Rising, at length, Luigi says, as he
turns to leave the room : "Have tea by
seven, dear, as I must be out to-night."
The shadow deepens upon his wife's
brow as she say, hastily :
"Oh. not to-nieht. Luigi. See. it is
going to storm. Stay with me to-night!"
Impossible. 1 must go." Ana ne
passes out quickly, to escape further ar
gument.
This is the "skeleton lnmeciosei" in
the home of Flor-nce Albini. She Is
happy In her home, her child, and in
the love of her husband, but a mystery
hangs over the movements of the latter.
At stated Intervals, always in the
evening, he will leave her with some
flimsy excuse, returning far into the
night, though sometimes he is gone for
days. On these mysterious excursions
he invariably wears the jaunty Italian
suit of green in which he was attired at
their first meeting, and as invariably he
carries his sword and pistols along.
Poor Florie. ao entreaties 01 ners
win an ex ulanatlon from Luigi, and no
suspicion of the dreadful truth is forced
upon her.
This night she sits up un ng it
inn in the terrible storm.
miuiiiu .
awaiting his return. Wearied, she at
length throws herself npon tne coucu
in ihA lihrarw. and draw in e the baby's
crib alongside, falls Into a troubled
sleep. A restless movement mm me
child awakens her. He He with wide,
staring eyes, gasping and panting for
breath, while at intervals a noarsc,
chokiDg cry escapes him.
Luigi has not yet returned, and wild
with terror at the symptoms of the babe,
she knows not what to do, and does
nothing but hold the suffering little one
to her breast until, an hour later, he
breather his last ; then, mad with grief
and a sense of wrong done to herself
and her child, enveloping herself in a
mantle, the young wife rushes out into
the storm to seek her husband.
Mechanically she bends her footsteps
toward the old oak tree. She has almost
reached it, when there is a blinding
flash, a terrific report, which shakes the
earth to its very centre, and when Flor
ence recovers from the shock, she looks
in bewilderment around, for where the
great oak stood there is nothing but a
heap of seeming rubbish. With tbat
last crash the storm ends, and day breaks
with streakings of many colored lights.
Still Florence h urries on. A rri ved at
the oak tree, what a sight meets her eye.
The gray rock, storm riven, had scat
tered its fragments about, while the
tree uprooted, has cast its length upon
the ground, and under its heavy weight
lies the body of a man.
Florence Albini has found her bus
band at last.
Powerless, she sinks upon her knees,
while she shrieks and prays for aid. As
if in answer to her prayer, four men
appear, seemingly springing from the
earth, and, cutting and lifting the tree
away, they raise the body of Luigi Al
bini and turn aside. Scarce heeding
what she does, Florence follows in their
footsteps. "
The rift in the rock discloses a flight
of roughly hewn stone steps, and down
these the sad procession wends its way,
through a short passage, to a great
underground cave.
The body is scarcely deposited upon a
table in the midst of this apartment,
when a young girl, with passionate
cries flings herself upon It. This breaks
the spell which had silenced Florence,
and pointing to the girl, she demands:
"Who is slier"
The men answer quietly: He was
our chief. She Is his wife."
Florie looks about the cavern, hung
about with weapons of almost every
description, and tilled with merchandise
of every kind ; upon the band of silent
men, each in his hunting suit of green;
upon the beautiful Italian girl, whose
streaming hair covers the face of the
dead. Then, for thefirst time, the awful
truth bursts upon her. Luigi Albini
was the chief of this robber band.
If this fair young girl was his wife,
then what is she? With fearful dis
tinctness comes back the e cho of her
father's last words to her.
"When through him yon have
brought disgrace upon the family name,
then to your misery and your shame add
the full measure of a father's curse!"
With a cry she catches up a poniard
which lies on a table near, and raises it
to end her miserable life; but GikI sifs,
and pitying, sends His messenger,
death, who stays the suicidal hand,
while with his own He stills the tli rob
bings of that stricken heart.
Something abont Venus.
It is strange that of all the stars we
ee, Venus is the only one which re
sembles the earth in size. All the
others are either very much smaller or
very much larger. Most of them in
fact all the stars properly so called are
great globes of fire like our sun, and are
thousands of times larger than the globe
that we live on. A few others are like
Venus and the earth in not being true
stars, but bodies traveling round the
sun and owing all their light to him.
But it so happens that not even one of
these is nearly of the same size as the
earth ; they are all either very much
larger or very much smaller. Venus
is the only sister-world the earth has
among all the orbs which travel round
the sun. There may be others in the
far off depths of space, traveling round
or other of those suns which we call
"stars," but if so, we can never know
that such sister-worlds exist, for no
telescope could ever be made which
would show them to us.
In the first part of this article I have
given an acoount of the various change
of appearance presented by the beauti
ful star which sometimes shines as
Hesperus, the star of evening, and
sometimes as Lucifer, the morning star.
Let us now consider what this star really
is, so far, at least, as we can learn by
using telescopes and other Instruments.
Venus has, in the first place, been
measured, and we find that she is a
globe nearly as large as the earth.
Like the earth, she travels round and
round the sun continually, but not in
the same time as the earth. The earth
goes round the sun once in twelve
months, while Venus goes round once
in about seven and a-half months; so
that her year, the time in which the
seasons run through their changes, is
four and a-half seasons less than ours.
If Venus has four seasons like ours
spring, summer, autumn, and winter
each of these seasons last eight weeks.
Venus, also, like our earth, turns on
her axis, and so has night and day as
we have. Pro. Proctor.
Krmia and Muscle.
Men who use their muscles imagine
that men who use their brains are
strangers to hard work. Xever was
there a greater mistake. Every suc
cessful merchant does more real hard
work In the first ten years of his busi
ness career than farmer or blacksmith
ever dreamed of. Make up your mind
to work early and late, if necessary,
that you may thoroughly master every
detail of the business upon which you
purpose to enter. The system of per
intent, ranid work once formed, you
have gained a momentum that will
carry you very successfully tnrougn
many a pinch In business where a less
persistent worker would find It vastly
easier to lie down and fail.
So long as the word "God" endures
in a language will it direct the eyes of
men upward. It is with the Eternal as
with the sun, which, if but its smallest
part can shine uneclipsed, prolongs the
day and gives its rounded image iu the
dark chamber. Jiickter.
Patience and gentleness are power.
Importune of Cioort Manner.
Saying rude things, or running peo
ple down, springs not so much from ill
nature as from that vanity that would
rather lose a friend than a joke. On
this point Mr. Johnson once remarked :
"Sir, a man has no more right to say
an uncivil thing than to act one no
more right to say a rude thing to an
other than to knock him down." The
vain egotism that disregards others is
shown in various impolite ways; as,
for instance, by neglect of propriety in
dress, by the absence of cleanliness, or
indulging in repulsive habits. Some
think themselves so wellborn, so clever,
or so rich, as to be above hearing what
others say and think of them. It is
said that the ancient Kings of Egypt
used to commence sjieeches to their
subjects with the formula; "By the
head of Pharoah ye are all swine."
We need not wonder that those who
take this swine theory of their neigh
bors should lie careless of setting their
taste and feelings at defiance. Contrast
such puppyism with the conduct of
David Aucilton, a famous Huguenot
preacher, one of whose motives for
studying his sermons with the greatest
care was "that it was showing too little
esteem for the public to take no pains
in preparation, and that a man who
should apjiear on a ceremonial day in
his night cap and dressing-gown could
not commit a greater breach of civility."
"Spite and ill-nature," it has been said,
"are among the most expensive luxu
ries of life;" and this is true, for none
of us can afford to surround himself
with a host of enemies we are sure to
make it, when young, we allow ill na
ture to produce iu us unmanly habits.
Good manners, like good words, cost
nothing, and are worth everything.
What advantage, for instance, did the
bookseller on whom Dr. Johnson once
called to solicit employment get from
his brutal reply. "Go buy a porter's
knot aud carry trunks?" The surly
natures of such men prevent them from
ever entertaining angels unawares. It
is ditlicult to see how the "natural-born
fool" can ever hope to lie well man
nered, for without good sense, or rather
tact, a man imi-t continually make a
fool of himself in society. Why are
women, as a rule, letter mannered than
men? Because their greater sympathy
and power of quicker intuition give to
them liner tact. Nor is talent which
knows what to do of much use, if the
tact be wanting which should enable
us to see how to do it. He who lias
talent without tact is like the millionaire
who never has a penny of ready
money about him. Mr. Smiles illus
trates the difference between a man of
quick tact and of no tact whatever by
an interview which lie says once took
place between Lord Palnierston and Mr.
Bchnes, the sculptor. At the the last
sitting which lord Palnierston gave
him. Itch nes opened the conversation
with : "Any news, my lord, from
France? How do we stand with Louis
Napoleon ?" The foreign secretary
raised his eyebrows for an instant, and
quickly replied : "Keally Mr. Belines,
I don't know; I have not seen the news
papers?" Beh nes, with much talent,
was one of the many men who entirely
missed their way in life through want
of tact. CAmiJr' Journnl.
Climbing Ben Nevis.
It was a clear, cool night when Ron
ald and I joined the little party of sun
worshipers who aspired to ascend four
thousand three hundred and seventy
three feet of as bleak and perilous
mountain slope as the Scotch mount
ains afford. We were driven in three
coaches to the base of the mountain,
where we arrived at twelve o'clock,
with four hours left to make the ascent
before dawn. On our way .1 hail a
a glance at the dark crumbling wails of
Inverlochy Castle all that remains of a
stronghold whose antiquity no Schlie
mann cares to ascertain; and also at
the handsomer modern structure of the
same name occupied by Lord Abinger.
At the Ben Nevis Distillery, which was
to be our starting point, and which
nestles cozily in the shadow of the
mountain, guarded by a pose of gov
ernment "gangers," we were each
handed a flask of the ''mountain dew,"
as inspiration for our journey; then,
each man grasping his staff, and re
sponding to the hoarse "Are you
ready?" of the guide, we marched
away in pairs.
When we had accomplished the easier
hall of the ascent, most of us were suf
fering from intense thirst, and we
halted beside a tiny stream to have a
draught qualified with a jmrtion of the
now warm enntentsof our flask. There
was little conversation : all seemed to
have set themselves down to a piece of
hurd, silent work. The peak of the
mountain was not yet visible, being far
withdrawn behind the range, and we
could only see above us a dark semi
circle drawn across the sky. As we
slowly climlied the sloiie, picking our
way among masses of rock and jiatches
of strong, prickly heather, the preci
pices on our right and left were apall-
ing in the dismal shadows which hi led
them ; but the sense of power and calm
self-possession was exceedingly sweet.
as from time to time we paused to take
breath and look around us. At last we
emerged on a damp, barren plateau,
and sighted the peak. Up the arch of
the opposite heavens the moon, within
one day of being full, was sailing.
While for some minutes we leaned
against the shattered bowlders, which
pointed their long, weird, parallel
shadows toward the lurid northeast,
she appeared exactly touching the cone
of the mountain the projection of the
neak on the disk darkening for a time
our face to each other, and lifting oil
the plateau, as if by magic, the attenu
ated reflection of the rocks. Only for a
short though gloomy interval, however ;
for the queenly orb sailed aloft, cleared
the mountain, and bore splendidly away
through the tinted sky. The motion
was quite visible, and resembled that of
a vast baloou. All the lower portions
of the mountain were deeply shaded,
while the peak, craggy and irregular,
was fully exposed to the raining moon
light, and it seemed to be swimming in
a splendor that was intoxicating to be
hold. We traversed the plateau, and in
less than another hour we had scram
bled up the steep into the cold, ghostly
moonlight, and simultaneously It seined
as if the rest of earth were extinguished
to us; for beyond the circle of light all
was darkness. And here was the pure
perennial snow, very fine and a little
moist and sending a chill through the
body as we slowly walked across it to
the rude stone shelter that was our goal.
It consisted merely of blocks of stone
that had been thrown confusedly to
gether from east to west when it had
been first discovered that Ben
Nevis surpassed by a few feet
both Ben Macilhiu and Cairn
gorm. We squatted down in compact
order as best we could, and proceeded
to draw on our flasks and sandwiches.
A few lighted their pipes, and there
was a faint attempt at jocularity, but it
died away in space like an echo, while
not a few were soon snoring in their
rugs, in imminent danger of suffocation.
I rose up quickly. The moon was
declining, aud the eastern heavens, low
down, were rapidly assuming a deep
purple hue, altove which, and bleiidiug
with it by infitiiteismal gradations,
there was coming out a belt of red, ami
over this again zones of orange and
violet. At length a faint illumination
overspread the west ; no cloud was to
be seen ; as far as the weather was con
cerned, we were going to have fair play.
The dawn advanced; the eastern sky
became illuminated and warm. The
sun had not yet smitten the snows of
the lower mountain; but the whole
eastern sky wa.s. becoming deep orange,
(Kissing upward through amber, yellow,
ami vague green, to the ordinary firma-
iiieutal blue. Away to the north purple
clouds were becoming dimly defined.
hanging motionless, and giving depths
to the spaces between them. There
was something saintly in the scene a
something that lew ispered the repres
sion of all action, and the substitution
for it of immortal calm. At last rose
the great artist of all this, the sun flood
ing the revealed panorama of hill and
silver lined vale and burning loch with
unspeakable glory. Here and there
along the lower sliijies there aeared
faint, white streaks of mist that lost
transparancy as the niomeiitsadvanccd.
The gauzy haze of the distant air on
our plane, though t lllicicnt to soften
the outlines and enhance the coloring
of the seemingly endless mountains, was
far to thin too obscure them. Over their
crests and through the valleys the sun
beams poured unimpeded save by the
mountains themselves, which in some
cases drew their shadows in straight
bars of darkness through the illumin
ated air. Far off to the southwest could
be seen the island of Bute, resting like
a coiichant lion on the deep, and sur
rounded by a score of the islets that
dot this portion of the Atlantic; and,
perched on the woody fai-e of every
sheltered bay, shone the white walls of
s4ime outlandish village rt.
This strange, sweet light was fleeting,
however. Soon the w hole horizon as
sumed its normal morning colors, and
heavy masses of cloud, hitherto invisble
or floating in their air like barges of
gold and purple, put on the gray, dull
livery of full day. .4j.MV Journal.
A Wedding Kmc.
Among tiie Huzaretis a people of
Asia the following is the way wed
dings are managed :
The suitors of the maiden, nine in
number, appear in the field, all un
armed, but mounted on the best horses
they can procure; while the bride her
self, on a beautiful Turkoman horse,
surrounded by her relations, anxiously
surveys the group of lovers.
The conditions of the bridal race are
these : The maiden has a certain start
given, which she avails herself of to
gain a sufficient distance from the crowd
to enable her to manage her steed with
freedom, so as to assist in his pursuit
the suitor whom she prefers.
On a signal from the father, all the
horsemen gallop after the fair one, and
whichever first succeeds in encircling
her waist with his arms, no matter
whether disagreeable or to her choice,
is entitled to claim her as his wife.
After the usual delays incident upon
such interesting occasions, the maiden
quits the circle of her relations, and,
putting her steed in a bard gallop, darts
into the open plain. When satisfied
with her position, she turns round to
the impatient youths, and stretches out
her arms towards them, as if to woo
their approach. This is the moment
for giving the signal to commence the
chase, and each of the impatient youths,
dashing his pointed heels into his
courser's sides, darts like the unhooded
hawk in pursjlt of the fugitive dove.
The racecourse is generally extensive
say twelve miles long and three In
width and as the horsemen speed
across the plain, the favored lover be
comes soon apparent by the efforts of
the maiden to avoid all others who
might approach her.
On a certain occasion, after two
hours racing, the number of pursuers
was reduced to four, who were all to
gether, aud gradually gaining on the
pursued; with them is the favorite,
but, alas! his horse suddenly fails in
his speed, and as she anxiously turns
her head, she perceives with dismay the
hapless position of her lover; each of
the more fortunate leaders, eager with
anticipated triumph, bending his head
on his horse's mane, shouts at the top
of his voice, "I come, my Peri ! I am
your lover!"
But she, making a sudden turn, and
lashing her horse almost to fury, darts
across their path, and makes for that
part of tne plain where -her lover is
vainly endeavoring to goad on his
weary steed.
The three others instantly check their
career; bnt, in the hurry to turn back,
two of the horses are dashed furiously
against each other, so that both steeds
and riders roll over on the plain.
The maiden laughs; for she well
knows she can easily elude the single
horseman, and tbat she will reach the
point where her lover is.
Louis Blanc and Victor Hugo.
The contrast between the two men
who were thus brought together was in
the extreme. Louis Blauc was boyish
or student-like in appearance, pale
faced, large-uosed, erect, and small.
He seemed to me that evening the em
bodiment in sectacles of all that was
cold and classic a dogmatic little ban
kmume pert and formal. Victor Hugo
thrust his hands into his pocket now
and then, and. looked like an athlete,
being a little above the medium size,
with a strong ami easy movement not
unlike a swagger. He stooped a little,
sometimes, but rather like a giant than
like an invalid. His hair was perfectly
w lute, likewise his beard, worn full,
but closely cropped, and making with
his uniformly flushed cheeks and fore
head a very striking contrast. Every
inch of cuticle exposed to view showed
blood in it, and impressed me as a man
of tremendous physical energies. His
forehead was broad, projecting, and
massive, but his eyes small, much
smaller than I had ever seen them in
any picture.
The eloquent Castelar, by the way,
describes him as follows: "Victor
Hugo's face is bright and animated,
like his mind ; his head is large and
spherical: his forehead broad, like a
heaven destined to contain many stars;
his eyes small, but deep as the abyss of
his thoughts; his nose is aquiline, his
beard snowy white, and his w hole ex
pression indicates the culminating
qualities of his spirit: athletic jiowers,
indomitable energy, the countenance of
a warrior, who retains his Olympian
serenity iu the midst of the rude-t
shock of battle .... the soul
moulded in the bronze reserved for the
greatest human intelligences.
Women in Medicine.
I say that to oieu the study anil
practice of medicine to women-folk,
iimler the infallible safeguard of a stiff
public examination, will be to rise in
resjiect for human rights to the level of
Kurojieaii nations, who do not brag
about just freedom half as loud as we
do, and to resjiect the constitutional
rights of many million citizens, who all
pay the taxes like men, and by the con
tract with the State, implied in that jwiy
ment, buy the clear human right they
have yet to go down on their knees for.
But it will also import into medical
scien"e a new and less theoretical,
but cautious, teachable, observant
kind of intellect: it will give
the larger half of the nation
an honorable ambition and an honor
able pursuit, tow ard which their heart
ami instincts are bent by Nature her
self; it w ill t I to elevate this whole
sex, and its young children, male as
well as female, and so will advance the
civilization of the world, which in ages
past, in our ow n day, and in all time,
hath, and doth, and will keep step
exactly w ith the progress of women to
ward mental equality with men. I'.
How to Fish for Trout.
Always, if Ksille, fish down a
stream. There are many reason fur
this, among otl.ers the following: In
fishing up stream the bait is continually
coming home to one's feet after every
ca.-t, and the nearer it approaches the
Iersoii the less chance of a bite. The
contrary is the case in fishing down
stream; the bait is carried by the cur
rent away from the fisherman, and his
chances of capture are each moment
increased.
If the brook is large enough and
even in very small ones if practicable.
it is alw ays liest to wade in the bed of
the stream, as by this means one can
keep the bait in the water for long dis
tances without making a cast, w hich in
the localities I am speaking of, almost
always, unless skilfully done, ends iu
one's seeing one's tackle fast to some
overhanging bough or bush overlapping
the stream. Again, in fishing up stream,
it is impossible to keep the bait station
ary in any spot one may desire to cast
in, unless by standing upon the bank,
and the chances of capture are thus
greatly decreased ; while in fishing
down stream one can not only hold the
bait in any one spot, hut by a motion of
the arm conduct it in any given direc
tion sink it toward the bottom, draw
it up stream, to the right or to the left
to tempt the hidden trout, the motion
of the running water upon the halt giv
ing one complete control of it by the
slightest motion of the firm. To le suc
cessful in this sport, first give up all
idea of using artificial flies; there is
usually no chance to cast them, and
very few fish will rise to them, and
then only, usually, at early morn or
sunset. L'se a light but very short
jointed pole, not over twelve feet in
length, with fine delicate running gear
and small compact reel; small hooks,
ganged upon silk-worm gut, of any
make that one prefers, there being great
diversity of opinion on this matter
among fishermen. The Limerick hook
has nearly gone out of date, and how it
was endured so long is a mystery. The
Kirby and Aberdeen have taken its
place. Put no lead npon your line at
any time; it kills the artistic and na
tural motion of your bait. Use. as the
most killing bait yet discovered, angle
worms, and these may be much im
proved by being kept a few days ujion
clean moss in an uncovered, large-
mouthed bottle, that they may scour
themselves. In baiting, do not pay the
slightest attention to whether the point
of vour hook is covered or not ; it is of
small consequence, or, rather, it is more
deadly and better not to be covered
than otherwise. The trout does not
nitMc, he dart; he takes, as a rule, the
Iwiit at once, or leaves it severely alone.
You will find no more taking bait the
year round than angle-worms, although
grasshopjiers at certain seasons are very
killing. In baiting, take a worm by
the middle and pierce the hook through
a small portion, say half an inch ; then
put on another in the same way at the
sauie time. If the fish are very small,
half a worm treated in this manner will
do; but a trout has a large mouth, and
a large bait no doubt attracts. The
dangling ends of the worms placed as
above upon the hook have a peculiar
and natural motion of their own In the
water, which a hungry trout is utterly
unable to resist; while one may, on the
other hand, cover the w hole hook and
part of the gut with a worm stiffly
strung on without motion, aud the same
trout will let it be carried past him by
the current without winking.
There is a great science In baiting,
and it chiefly rests in the skill of having
the worms lively, and with the extremi
ties left dangling. The bait is often
carried over a little fall into a smooth,
deep pool; allow it to sink, and all the
while it is doing so these four ends of
the two worms are moving about in the
clear water in a much too enticing way
for any chance trout to resist. When
you have a bite, do not js at all, but
strike your fish, as it is called; this is
done by a motion of the wrist, sharp,
short, abrupt ; not a jerk a motion
which is commenced sharply, but ends
almost Instantly ami abruptly. I can
liken it only to a quick movement of the
hand in bringing a foil, in fencing,
from fierce to cart". It is done by bring
ing the fingernails, which are down
ward, holding the roil, suddenly to the
left and upward, moving the end of the
pole upward and to the left some one or
two feet. Having struck thus, you
will in most cases have captured your
fish. Be in no hurry to land him; that
is a simpler thing to do; you can do it at
your leisure, stepping back to a sure
foundation should you lie iu an uncom
fortable Msitioii in reaching to make
the cast, or make any other disposition
that you desire before raising your fish
gently lroin the water, thence to your
creel. The great mistake often made
by those who do not understand this
Sort is to pull the moment they have a
bite; the result usually is to see the
trout wind himself round about some
limb overhead, or if he fail to be hooked
which is often the case in pulling, to
see the bait and hook ill the same jiosi
tion, causing a loss of time, patience,
ami too often teinjier, esecially w hen
you feel confident that there are other
trout in the pool ahead, and ltecome
aware of the fact that you have got to
make a splash and dash and complete
exposure of yourself to get at your
dangling line, so that you may tih in
vain in the same jool afterward. Ke
memlier that trout are very shy, and
once having disturbed them, it is use
less to li-h for them. H-r,rr' V..o
ziw. Canadian Snort .
The English element in Canada has
lost none of its wonted fondness for'the
sports of flood and field; finding fuller
vent in the free scope of our wds and
waters, and the wildness aud abun
dance of our game. There is indeed a
"new world" opened to the lover of
gun and rod from the old lands across
the sea, who here finds himself the lux
urious monarch of all he can bag from
sunrise to sunset, with no other let or
hindrance than those which the gory
pot-hunters compel.
Does he come in quest of the wary
moose and running caribou, the quail
thief of the corn-field, the mud-loving
snipe, the stupid pheasant, the pine
loving grouse, the cosmopolitan plover,
the strategic partridge, the saucy wood
duck, the shy black duck ; does he court
the bear, wolf, beaver, marten, mink
or the otter, or does he woo the salmon,
the trout, et hoc genus omne. here he
may find everywhere food for his sport
man's fancy. If his spirit waxeth hot
to chase the fox, I can commend him to
the courtesy of the Montreal Fox Hunt,
who will give him fences to leap,
harder than any English hedge, and
fox to run down, cunning as an Indian.
From "find to finish" he will have all
his nerve and daring can do, with the
clear blue Can ad. an skies above, and
the hard, dry eround below. None of
your fog and swamps, wet to the skin,
and mud to the eyes, horses, hunters,
hounds, all a color, and a wild splutter
of slop when the carcass, head, pads
and brash excepted, is thrown to the
yelping, frothy dogs. Or doth his fancy
turn to thoughts of foot-ball, yachting,
rowing, cricket, golf, here he will find
acclimatized and natural as life, the
recreations, good, bad and abominable,
high and low, costly and cheap, prince
ly and plebeian, of almost every coun
try on the face of the earth. Some of
the worst immigrants have brought us
their best diversions.1 The foot-prints
of the earliest known Indian races are
left in their particular games; the very
Mennonites, the last arrivals, have
fixed the Imprint of their pastimes
among tbe settlers of the far West.
Canadian sports, however, have a
character of their own. They Smack
more of the nngoverned and ungovern
able than the games of the Old World,
and seem to resent the impost of regu
lations. Scrihner.
A Mouse's Mratagem.
A strange sight was witnessed one
afternoon recently by a writer In the
Corinne Record tflice. Our attention
was attracted by several lusty squeaks
from the inside of a pail, almost full of
water, into which a half grown mouse
had fallen. The alarm had hardly died
away before four or five more mice ap
peared on the scene, and began clamber
ine to the top edge of the pail. For
several moments after gaining the top
of the pail and catching sight of the
mouse in the water a squeaking confab
was held.
First one mouse and then another
would cling to the rim of the bucket
with his hind legs, and while almost
touching the water with his nose,
squeak out either consolation or advice
to the immersed ; but while all this was
going on the swimming powers of the
unfortunate mouse in tbe pail were
rapidly giving out. At last a happy
thought seemed to strike the biggest
mouse in the crowd, and almost with
out squeak he firmly fastened his fore
feet to the edge of the pail and let bis
body and tail hang down. The drown
ing mouse saw it, and making a last
desperate effort for life, swam to the
spot, seized the tail ot his brother
mouse, and amid squeaks of delight
from all the mice present, was hauled
high and dry out of tbe water and over
the edge of the bucket.
The If illorr.
No punishment seems to have been
more thoroughly appreciated, admired
and maintained among mankind as the
perfection of reason than the pillory ;
and from the universality of its accept
ance throughout the world, Its Ingeni
ous varieties, and constant uniform
tendency, it approaches as near as
possible to the law of nature. In order
to attract the greatest contempt in the
most public and conspicuous way upon
an offender, to rivet the gaze of the
rabble upon him, aud to expose him
helplessly to their derision, their kicks
and cuffs, few implements so rude as
this in structure have done so muc'i
rough work in their time.
The pillory was usually a combina
tion of planks put so as to enclose the
head and feet and hands of the prisoner
in a fixed position, so as to be exposed
to the public gaze, and so as to attract
public contempt; and a license was a!
lowed to bystanders, which was largely
taken advantage of, to throw filth and
rubbish at his head. The punishment
of the pillory was very early In full
working order in England. Coke say
it was used by the Saxons. Fraudulent
bakers and butchers were specially
ordered by the assize of bread aud of
bakers to be set in it; and in that age
probably all nations deemed It th
suit'.ble punishment for false weights
and measures. And when it became
urgent to deal with runaway servant
and laborers, the duty was imposed ou
every village to provide stocks, a milder
punishment of the same class. In
London a fraudulent baker was drawn
on a hurdle through Cheapside in his
stockings, with a light loaf hanging
round his neck. A prejurer was ordere.1
to stand on a stool at Guildhall and pro
claim aloud his offence. Owing to the
way in which the pillory was used in
153.1, and probably long after, the ears
of the offender were so nailed to it that
by moving they were torn off. Th
court of Star Chamber, with an addi
tion fjustlem generis, condemned a per
jurer to go thrice round Westminster
Hall, and thrice at Cheapside market,
and also at assizes, with a paper round
his neck, inscribed "This man is wil
fully perjured." And this wearing of
papers was long practised as an appro
priate addition to the punishment.
Nayler was sentenced to be put in thu
pillory and whipped by the hangman
to the Exchange, and to wear a paper
describing his offence; and at Bristol
was made to sit on a horse with his face
to the tail, and was publicly whipped
in the market place. So Dangerdehl
for libel was put in the pillory, ordered
to go about Westminster II 11 with a
paper In his hat signifying his crime,
and whipped from Aldgate to Newgate
and Tyburn.
Fuller also, convicted of libel, was
most unmercifully handled by the mob ,
as he stood in the piliory at Chariot
Cross and Temple Bar and Koyal Ex
change. In 17j'J, w hen Dr. Shebbeare
underwent the punishment of the
pillory, he had a livery servant stand
ing beside him, holding an umbrelli
over his head which merely rested on
the frame; though, as Lord Ellen
borough said, the sheriff had not ou
that occasion done his duty, and he was
afterward fined and imprisoned on ac
count of it. The more usual case wai
for the mob to worry and illtreat the
prisoners put in the pillory, and on oue
occasion, wheu such prisoners stood
near Hatton Garden, though the sheriff
him-elf w as in a balcony hard by, the
mob pelted and nearly killed the men
with stones and oyster shells, or with
cabbage ptalks. This additional punish
ment inflicted by the mob was ap
parently treated as au unavoidable in
cident of the punishment. lMI.iherij of
the Snhittt.
ftirls Altltmle to Young Men.
There is a thing of wnich I want to
speak, and that is. of the behavior of
girls toward young men who are not
lovers but simply friends. Let me tell
you plainly that our sex were not
meant to be wooers. The custom pre
valent among a certain class of young
ladies of asking, directly, or indirectly,
the attentions of young gentlemen is
not an admirable custom. "My son,"
said a lady to me, not long since, "is
much prejudiced against a young girl,
whom I admire, because she is con
stantly sending him notes, inviting him
to be her escort here and there, and
planning to have him with her." A
modest and dignified reserve, which is
neither prudery nor affectation, should
distinguish your manner to gentlemen.
Too great familiarity and too evident
pleasure in the society of young men
are errors into which no delicate and
pure-minded girl should fall.
Hearing: but not Knwwiui;.
The story is told of an intelligent
man w ho many years had sat under the
preaching of an eminent minister. This
man's sickness at la-t brought hi in
under the minister's !-r-onal care,
when the man was found entirely ig
norant of the way of salvation. Seek
ing the cause of this ignorance, the
minister was told, "For years I have
not heard a sermon." "Why," ex
claimed the other, "I have always re
garded you as one of my most atten
tive listeners." "But," said the man,
"while I sat resjiect fully, and appeared
to listen, the fact is. my thoughts were
far away, for my habit was to spend
the preaching time each Sunday in
planning out my next week" work.
MortpitMlit?.
One honors himself and his house
hold by the noble company who pass
his threshold ami the free hospitalities
bestowed uMu thein.
some rrlenllT (rtiest.
Who le-.-linf us awuile, Uie rest
irt our com(aiiiiDs luoK luomxe and dull,
lie wan SB guuu and beuuillul "
The house is unfurnishilariil desolate
without woman: eoci'' .conversa
tion were incomplete w itliour -r pres
ence and participation. Plain as lt
apartment may be, these are enhanced
by the presence of a hostess upon w hom
one looks graciously as upon a fur pic
ture ornamenting house aud household
the presence of the host adding nobilit J
to the mansion. .!.' Tahle Ttli.y
S It