if!
13. F. SCHWEIER.
THE COHSTimriOS-THE UITIOS AJD THE DTFOECEEFT OF THE LAWS.
Editor and Pfopi-iVtor
vol. xxxr.
MIFFLINTOWX, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 29, JS77.
NO. 35.
FISHERS OF KEN.
Down the calm liver they leisurely floated ;
There, in a nook that waa ahady and oool.
They brought out their lines, and their hooka
were all coated.
With bait well adapted the finite to fooL
Mabel was w.th them, and Lizzie and Laura,
II ai dene light-hearted, and merry and fair ;
Each be-towed enulea on ber favored adorer.
Destined, perchance, to fall into her snare.
Idly they play, d with their liuea in the river ;
Little they cared though no fish should be
caught j
Fondly each hoped that the fates would deliver
Into ber keeping the lover ehe Bought.
Lightlv the.y talked upon tilings with which
Cupid,
Had lavwhly tilled both their bearU and
their braiua,
And laughingly said that the men were all
stupid.
The while they were artfully weaving tlie.r
The day passed away, and the firhiug waa
ended ;
I' leased with themselves the fair innocents
looked ;
They gazed on their victims, and each com
prehended Hie firh she had augled so loug for was
hooked.
Then back to the town the young men rowed
hgbtly.
Their baskets ail empty that fishing was
tame
While on each other the maidens smiled
briehtly
The fir-hern of men had won at their game.
MARIA VASSAR.
I had parted from my cousin Charles
lightly and merrily, as peopie part who
expect to meet again in a few days. If
I bad thought of him at all, it was as
one wiio had been enjoying himself
while I plodded on in the dull city
counting bouse, when there came to me
one morning, a telegram from Rivers
dale, where he had been stopping. I
bad no idea, as I leisurely seated my
self to open the message, that there was
anything more serious within than a
request tbat I would send him bis dressing-case,
w hich be had left behind him,
than 1 had that any impossible tiling
could happen.
Since then a telegram has always
given me a thrill of borrcr. You can
fancy the shock the cne I bad just re
ceived gave me, as, with careless curi
osity, I cast my eye over the paper to
read these words:
Chichester Hotel. Eivebhi&i4l
Charles Beldee died last night. Come at
once.
IL Chichester.
Charlie bad been my cousin and iny
very dear friend. Although not like
each other in any way, we had been
very intimate. We told each other our
love affairs, our little adventures. We
talked freely about other fellows, and
about the girls we knew. Indeed, we
were more lrai.k than any but brothers
usually are with each other. The night
before we parted he had said to me, "1
shall be married before the year is out,
and be had let me look at a picture be
wore against his heart. lie was full of
youth, and hope and beauty dead! Oh,
no, it could not be! The telegram was
a cruel, practical joke, or some mistake
had been made. Charlie might be ill,
wounded perhaps; but he was not dead !
Quivering with horror, yet at every
instant doubting tbat the message told
tbe truth, I hastily crammed some linen
into my portmanteau, and drove in a
cab to catch tbe train. I bad so far
failed to realize the truth when I
reached tbe stalion that I half expected
to si e Charlie waiting there for me;
and w ben I was at tbe very door of tbe
hotel at Riversdale, I said to myself
that I was mad or in a dream, that in a
moment more I should be mocked at for
my easy credulity, or should awaken
and find myself at home or in bed.
I was brought to a full sense of the
awful truth in a moment when a stout,
gentleman, with a round roy face, on
which its present expression of anxiety
and trouble looked utterly unnatural,
advanced towards me, and said, in
something of the tone in which people
speak at a funeral, "Mr. Ross, I be
lieve. My name is Chichester."
"You telegraphed to me," I gasped.
"Is it is it true?"
"I grieve to say tbat it is only too
true, Mr. Ross," he answered. "Corae
into this room. There is a painful
curiosity in the house about the event,
and we must secure privacy."
I followed him, growing fuint and
dizzy as I went on, and fell, rather than
sank into a chair which he had moved
toward me. I looked at him, without
being able to speak, and be, after a
pause, broke tbe silence.
"It is a very horrible thing. The
mystery is the most awful part. You
know that your cousin was in excellent
health when be left you. He was in
good spirits, also. Ilis intended wife is
at the hotel with her parents. They
stent the evening together. He seemed
very happy. Do you know of any rea
son why he should commit suicide?"
"Why be should commit suicide?" 1
gasped.
The landlord answered : "It is either
suicide or murder. He was found dead
in bis bed this morning, with a great
wound over his heart, A knife was
lying loosely in his right band. His
left was so tightly clenched, that the
nails are buried in the flesh. Something
seems to be clutched in it what we
cannot tell. Mr. Ross, I fear very much
that it is murder that in my house
your cousin's life has been taken by
some enemy or robber. In my house !
. I can never forgive myself for sleeping
so soundly tbat night for feeling no
presentiment of danger. Many a night,
doubtful of my watchman, I have stolen
out of my bed and gone in my slippers
from door to door, anxious about gas,
bilious about fire, fearful tbat the valu-
abes that some of my guests bring with
the, might prove a temptation to burg
lars. My w-ife has often laughed at me
for m nervousness And that night I
slept hat night when murder was
being oimitted under my roof!"
The I an's trouble waa ao genuine,
that in le midst of my sorrow I sym
patblzewthh!m I remember saying
something of tbe sort before a cloud
came over my eyes, and a sound, as of
a roaring sea, came Into my ears. After
that I remember very little. I had
been over-worked tbat summer and was
not well; this frightful shock had
quite prostrated me. When I began to
comprehend what was going ou about
me again, the inquest wasover, and my
cousin's body prepared for burial. They
bad found in his clenched left band a
slender bit of gold, about half an inch
long, with a tiny diamond in Its joint;
and the verdict they had given was,
"Murdered by some person or persons
unknown."
All that I could say was tbat my cou
sin had no enemies that I knew of. AH
that I could do was to kiss him upon
bis frozen brow and follow him to tbe
grave. I did not even see his betrothed;
but her mother told me sne suffered
terribly, and was on the verge of deli
rium. They took her borne the day
after the funeral, but I staid. I had no
choice but to stay. The weakness tbat
bad caused the swoon proved the fore
runner of a serious illness; and I was
but a troublesome guest at Chichester's
Hotel for many days.
As I recovered and found my way to
the coffee-room, I was treated with much
consideration, and, as an invalid, made
many acquaintances, who would not
have troubled their heads about me had
I been well.
One guest, a beautiful lady, with
great black eyes, and a voluptuous form,
often paused before my sofa, to ask me
with the most bewitching smile how I
felt, or to leave beside me a flower she
had gathered in the garden, or a hook
that might beguile a weary hour.
After a while we fell frequently into
conversation. She was bright and full
of pleasant repartee. She had, in her
earliest youth.been an actress. Whether
she got wearied of it, or did not succeed
upon the stage she did not tcil me. Bhc
was now twenty-eight, and her contact
with the public had effectually bauished
all reserve and restraint from tier man
ner. We were friends at once. In
three weeks I was her lover. My ill
ness had procured me leave of absence
I prolonged it to the utmost possibility,
The cause that brought me to Chi
chester's Hotel was a terrible one, but
it seemed to have brought me also the
greatest joy of my life. All the women
I had ever met before seemed tame and
spiritless beside Maria Vassar. I won
dered how I had lived before I knew
her. And she? Surely she loved ine.
She neither refused my kisses nor drew
her hand lrom mine, when I held it
passionately against my heart. Has
love need of many words hen it has
such speech as this?
My heart was often heavy, still I had
not forgotten my cousin, aud thedread
ful details of his murder were constantly
being rehearsed. Tne detectives were
herd at work. The slender arrow ol
gold, with a diamond at its head, was
their clue. It had in some way guided
them. They felt sure of discovering the
murderer.
I told my troubles to Maria Vassar.
She strove to comfort me.
She listened patiently to all that the
detectives had hinted at, but shook her
head over it.
"They only want the money those
poor parents will pay them," she said.
"They have found uo clue to the mur
derer's identity. They never will. It
was a case of suicide. He had a quarrel
with his sweetheart. Of course she
will not own it now."
"But the ornament," I said "the
broken ornament?"
"Something of hcr's he treasured, I
suppose," she said. "Oh, uo one mur
dered your cousin, rest assured."
It was a strange experience alto
gether.
Once I said to her, "Maria, sometimes
I am frightened. The murder of my
best friend brought me to know you.
We have talked of my love for you and
of his death: 'ogether. What does this
forebode? Trouble and a tragic part
ing? Sometimes I think so."
I saw ber turn pale, and it was my
turn to console ber. We parted that
night with fond farewells and kisses.
Before breakfast next morning the head
detective called upon me. He wore a
triumphant look, as of one who had suc
ceeded beyond the fondest anticipations.
"We have found the murderer," he
said. "That little arrow did 1U w e
traced it and found who it belonged to,
and that told the story. We arrested
her last night. It will be a surprise to
you when yon see her."
"A woman?" I asked.
"Yes," be answered, "and a young
ic"
There was a chambermaid in the
house, a black-eyed girl whom I had
always distrusted. I w as so sure of see
ing her in the room to which they led
me that I asked no more questions.
But when the door had been opened
by the stout man in charge, I looked
for her in vain. On a chair near the
window sat a lady dressed in black silk.
She turned her head. It was Maria
Vassar.
I saw in her face that it was she who
was the prisoner.
She arose and came toward me.
Hush!" she said holding out her
manacled hands. "You can do no
good. If they think I did it they must
try me. Only if I might have a word
with you alone,"
Her smile, beaming upon the detec
tives won her wish. They glanced
around the room, and saw tbat there
was only one means of egress. They
then strode outside the door, and closed
it upon us.
"This is a horrible outrage!" I
gasped. "What in heaven's name aoes
it mean?"
"Kiss me!" she said. "K;ss me as
you did last night, on my cheek, on my
brow, on my lips."
I took her in my arms i snowcreu
caresses upon ber, and called her my
poor insulted darling.
It was she who arew tiersen w ay.
"That Is the last," she said. "Xo one
will ever kiss me again. My roor boy.
I killed your cousin. He caught a pen
dant of mr ear-ring In his hand as I
tabbed him. He gave it to me. They
have traced the present to him, and
bribed my maid U search my trunks. I
loved bim. I never loved any man but
him. Why should I tell you anymore?
You can guess it alL And he had left
me for that school-girl he meant to
marry. I always carry dagger about
me; it is a fashion I learned in Italy.
Going up stairs alone at night, I passed
his door. It bad blown open. I saw
him lying upon a lounge, and be bad
her portrait in his hand, and pressed it
to his mouth and kissed it, and I went
mad, and flew into the room and stabbed
him. You have tbe story. I don't
think you'll try to bang me. Though,
poor boy ! I never should have married
you ; you were not rich enough."
She stooped her bead and kissed tbe
band that I had pressed against my
breast to still its tumultuous beating,
and then she lifted up ber voice, and
said, "I am ready."
I never saw Maria Vassar again. She
was condemned to death, but the sen
tence was commuted to imprisonment
for life.
Catching Sharks.
Do you know how sharks are caught
out in California? At Anaheim Land
ing, in that State, they make a business
of shark-catching, for about four
months every year, beginning in May.
Sometimes one person will catch from
one to fifteen in a day. This is the
way they do it. Large stakes are
driven into the sand at intervals along
the beach. To these stakes one end of
a large rope is tied ; on the other end is
a strong iron hook, baited with fish.
This is thrown into the water, and
when, tempted by the bait, the shark is
caught on the hook, he is drawn upon
the shore and killed. There is some
times a very exciting struggle during
the latter operation. The sharks are
generally from six to seven feet in
length, and weigh about one hundred
and fifty pounds. Of course a fish of
this kind is possessed of considerable
strength, and it is not often that one
man can manage the caught monster,
and it occasionally requires the united
strength of four men to place the victim
ou terra firma. Three kinds of shark j
are caught at the landing. The leopard
shark (so named because of its Sotted
appearance) aud the flat shark are
worthless, except for their fins, which
are sold to Chinamen. The Mongolians
make delicious soup from shark-fins,
aud it is also said that they make ex
cellent combs from the same material.
Each oil-yielding shark yields about
two gallons of oil, which is sold at re
tail at fifty cents per gallon.
IVIIcarv of Feeling.
Delicacy of feeling is a trait of
character almost more lovely ami en
gaging than an-other. It is a quality
whose hidden principle exists in a
greater or less degree in every mind,
though it is often thrown into the shade
by the working of the fiercer passions,
in the rude encounters of life. Man's
mind, as manifested in his daily con
verse with tiie outward world, seems to
be made of 'sterner stuff" and cast in
rougher moulds, but delicacy is no
mark of weakness, for it is essentially
consistent with the stoutest courage
aud the -sublimest energy. It is in
every resjMvt a manly quality, and
throws over the whole intellectual and
moral character a kindlier hue. If true
delicaev exist in a heart, it will crush
spontaneously from it, and never can
the cold cant of hypocritical formality
he mistaken for the warm welcome of
the soul. Power, mental or physical,
never apcars so great as in the hands
of those who seem unconscious of its
possession. True intellectual greatness
gathers an additional charm when ac
compli ied by real delicacy of feeling.
Kindness may enter where the sword
cannot jienetrate, and a "soft answer"
and a winning de)ortuicnt, springing
from delicate feelings and a generous
heart, have always proved irresistible.
Breathing nothing but harmony and
love, "a ministering angel' to man
kind, it goes to and fro in the earth,
uniting everywhere more firmly and
stronglv the bonds of social union.
What Plants Absorb.
Dr. J. C. Draper, of Xew York, main
tains that all living things, whether
animal or plant, absorb oxygen and
give out carbonic acid; ami that the
life of the plant is one of continuous
drinking in of oxygen gas. Having
grown plants similarly nourished in
the dark and in sunlight; he found that
all the parts were produced in both
cases almost at the same time, and that
the slightlv slower evolution of the
series grown in the dark was marked
by a slightly smaller weight, while the
same plant measured by night and by
day grow slightly faster in darkness
than in sunlight. The roots of plants
grow under both circumstances throw
out the same kind of matter. There
fore, as the evolution and weight and
root-secretions agree, he urges that the
carbonic acid has been, iu both eases,
thrown off asa consequence of growth,
and lias never been absorlicd by the
roots, and then given out as a vapor
from the leaves. Selected.
Old Time.
In the days of Sir Matthew Hale,
men who could read might, by law,
become priests. On one occasion a man
who could not read desired to be or
dained, and be took bis place before his
examiner, with a copy of the Lord's
prayer in his hand, and a friend who
could read at his back. Prompter com
menced whispering to him Our Father
who art in Heaven "Our Father who
art in Heaven," he repeated, in a loud,
confident voice; the prompter contin
uedHallowed be thy name "Hal
lowed be thy name." His thumb was
now over the next sentence, and tbe
prompter gently requested him to take
it away, when "Take away your
thumb!" rang through the room, and
this was clearly Illustrative of the
learning of that time.
For the honest people relations in
crease with the year. For the vicious
inconveniences increase. Inconstancy
is the defect of vice; the influence of
habit Is one of the qualities of virtue.
Largos IHamoad la EzUteaee.
It is not very easy to make out which
is the largest diamond now in existence.
Two are mentioned as entitled to the
honor the Braganza, iu the crown of
Portugal, and oue which belongs to the
Rajah of Mattan. in Borneo. The Por
tuguese jewel is of doubtful quality. It
weighs 16S0 carats, and is the size of a
hen's egg, but is believed ouly to be a
white topaz. The Portuguese Govern
ment withold any info.-.Htioii on
the subject, but if it is genuiue it is
worth nearly 500,000,000. The Bor
neo gem was found on the Island
about 120 years ago, and weighs 3CT
carats. A Governor of Batavia is said
to have offered $ 150,000 and two men of
war for it without success, and though
many battles have been fought over it,
the Bajah regards it as a talisman, and
it is still in possession of the same fam
ily. The Orloffdiainond in the Russian
imperial sceptre weighs 1M?4 carats;
Catharine II cave $450,000 for it, and
pensioned the merchant who brought it
to her at $20,000 a year. It is not cut to
advantage, and another among the Rus
sian crown jewels, which weighs SC
carats, is but partly cut. It is easy to
understand a reluctance to have dia
monds cut. The advantages of cutting
are not always very plain, while the
enormous diminution or weight which
commonly ensues affects the public es
timation more than the increase of
brilliancy. The famous diamond which
the Regent Orleans bought from Gov
ernor Pitt for $075,000 formerly weigh
ed 410 carats, but was reduced by cut
ting to 1304. The Duke of Westmin
ster has one which was reduced by
cutting from Ml to 78 carats. But the
most prominent example of the kind is
afforded by the recent history of the
Koh-i-noor, whicy weighed 1st carats
when it arrived in England, aud lost MO
by cutting in 1851. Why it was cut at
all nobody seems very able to say, and
competent judges deny that its brillian
cy has been increased to such an extent
as to make up for the loss. Sir David
Brewster warned Prince Alliert of the
impossibility of improving the lustre
without serious diminution of weight;
but a foreign diamond merchant thought
differently, and, as is usual in Kngland,
any opinion on matters of the kind is
taken before that of a native. The vul
garity of taste which only admires
regularity has deprived the world of
many great diamonds, and we shall
probably have to wait long before it is
universally acknowledged that symme
try is not absolutely necessary to lieau
ty. The ancient regalia of the Visi
gothic kings in the Hotel Cluny, the
so called sword of Charlemagne in the
Ijtuvre, the ruby iu the English crown
at the Tower, are not less beautiful be
cause they look a little rough. The
great jewel wearers and collectors, the
rajahs of India, seldom have their dia
monds cut into regular forms, and the
Koh-i-noor was no exception. Its his
tory may be traced for nearly 2,000
years, and it seems that at some remote
period it weighed 7"3vg carats; but that
Shah .lehan had it cut by a Venetian in
his service, who contrived to reduce it
tothel which it weighed when it
reached England. .-wW r' Cirrnhir.
Tapiora
When it is Found nnd How it is V re
fund Curious Farts. The plant from
which tapioca is obtained is a native of
South America, and cultivated exten
sively in Brazil, as also in many parts
of the East Indies and the Indian Arch
ipelago. It is a woody plant, with
slender stalks, aud grow's to the height
of about eight feet, and know n as the
Cassava or Mauioc plant. It has smooth.
palin-shaed leaves, and bears small,
green flowers, which grow in clusters,
with an inimcuse-sized -fleshy root,
sometimes weighing as much as forty
or fifty pounds. The plant belongs to
a highly poisonous tribe, aud is itself
one of the most virulent of the species.
This poison is found more particularly
in the juice of the plant, a small quan
tity killing birds, quadrupeds, and even
man himself, causing cold perspirations,
great swelling and convulsions, gener
ally ending in death ; but this deleteri
ous substance is so highly volatile if
exposed to heat, "or even the open air
for about two days, that its property is
entirely dissipated.
A Surinam physician administered
it, by way of experiment, to dogs and
cats, which died after twenty-five
minutes in dreadful agony. Dissection
proved that it operated by means of the
nervous system alone an opinion con
firmed by thirty-six drops being given
to a criminal. These had hardly
reached the stomach when such tor
ments and convulsions ensued that the
man expired iu six minutes. Three
hours afterward the body w as ojiciied,
when the stomach was found shrunk to
half its natural size, so that it w ould ap
pear that the poisonous principle resides
in the volatile substance, which may be
dissipated by beat, as indeed is satisfac
torily proved by the mode ol preparing
the root for food.
The root from which tapioca is pro
cured is of rapid grow th aud comes to
perfection in six months, and somew hat
resembles a huge arsnip. It is then
taken up and washed, and the rind,
which is of a dark color, peeled off;
then grated or ground into a pulp, and
the pulp submitted to pressure, by
which the juice is expressed and pre
served. The meal or pulp that remains
in the press being dried is called cona-
que, and is made into bread or rake,
which is called cassava bread. The
expressed juice, after being allowed to
stand, deposits a white powder, w Inch,
after being w ell washed and dried, con
stitutes what is called tapioca flour or
Brazilian arrowroot, and by the French,
moussache. All the products of tbe
roots are nutritious and easy of diges
tion. The natives frequently ferment
the expressed juice with molasses and
form an intoxicating lieverage called
onycan, that supplies the place of wine
and beer of the temperate climate, i
When the climate is favorable, the
plant is of a hardy nature and easily
cultivated. It requires a dry situation
and the land to be of good quality, and
will not well yield on the same ground
two successive crops. The mode of
planting is from cuttings, and a little
moisture is needed by the plant at its
first growth. There are nine different
species enumerated by botanists, but
two only of which are cultivated for hu
man food; they are known as the bitter
cassava and the sweet cassava. The
roots are very similar, the first by far
the most poisonous, the only percepti
ble difference between tbe two roots
being a tough ligneous cord running
through the center of the sweet cassava
root, w hich the bitter variety is w holly
without.
Bread is made of both kinds, w hich
is palatable and w holesome. In Guiana
the mode of preparation is as follows :
Ibe root is rasped in large tins or
wooden graters fixed on benches, be
hind which the women employed in
making it stand iu rows. A sutlicient
quantity being rasped for one time (for
the surplus would ferment and spoil),
it is put iu loug circular baskets of
plaited rushes, about ten feet long and
nine inches in diameter, called uiaugue-
ras. These are hung up with weights
attached to the lower end, w hich draw
the plaited work tight together, thus
squeezing out the juice. When all tbe
fluid is extracted, the maugueras are
emptied of their contents ou raw hides
laid out iu the sun, w here the coarse
flour soon dries. It is then baked on
smooth plates made of dry clay, with a
slow tire beneath. This is the most
difficult part of the process. The coarse
flour s laid perfectly dry ou the hot
plates, w lieu the women, w ith a dex
terity only to be acquired by practice,
spread it out in a round aud very thin
layer, nearly the size of the plate it is
laid on. This they do merely with a
piece of calabash, which they keep in
constant motion, pressing gently every
part of the surface until the heat has
united the meal into a cake, without in
the least altering the color or scorching
it. Their method of turning a cassava
cake of that size is like sleight of hand,
for they efl'ect it with two pieces of split
cane wihout breaking it, though
scarcely as thick as a dollar, and, as yet,
only half cemented together, and of a
substance always brittle, especially
w hen warmed.
This cake is very nourishing and will
melt to jelly in a liquid. This cake af
ter becoming cold, is broken up and is
the tapioca of commerce, but it is dan
gerous if eaten iu any large quantity
when dry, as it swells, on being
moistened, to many times its original
bulk. It w ill keep good for any length
of time if kept in a dry place. The
Eastern tapioca is generally packed iu
bags of about one hundred pounds each,
but that of South America, and com
mercially known as Rio tapioca, is
generally packed in barrels of about
two hundred pounds' weight, and is
considered far superior in quality; con
sequently it commands a much higher
price. TheIudianHofteutimese.it the
simple root after having roasted it in
hot ashes w ithout any subsequent pre
paration; the leaves are also Ixiiled and
eaten by the Indians. Such is the pro
ductiveness of the cassava plant that it
has been calculated that one acre ol" it
will yield nourishment to more human
beings than' six acres of w heat. Ameri
can Urofer.
What the Birds Accomplish.
The swallow, switt and uightliawk
are the guardian of tbe atmosphere.
They check the increase of insects that
Ot.ierwl-e would overload it. Wood
pecker", creejiers and chickadees are
the guardians of trunks of trees. Warb
lers and fly-i-atchers protect the foliage.
Blackbirds, crows, thrushes and larks
protect the surface of tbe soil. Snipe
and woodcock protect the soil under the
surface. Each tribe has its respective
duties to perform in the economy of
nature: and it is an undoubted fact that,
if the birds were all swept off the face
of the earth, man could not live upon
it ; vegetation would wither and die; in
sects would become so numerous that
no living thing could w ithstand their
attacks. The wholesale destruction oc
casioned by grasshoppers, which have
lately devastated the West, is undoubt
edly caused by the thiuning out of tbe
birds, such as grouse, prairie hens, etc..
which feed upon them. The great and
inestimable service done to the farmer,
gardener and florist by the birds is
only becoming known by sad experi
ence. Spare the birds and save your
fruit; the little corn and fruit taken by
tbem is more than compensated by the
quantities of noxious insects they de
stroy. The long persecuted crow has
been found, by actual experience, to do
far more good by the vast quantities of
grubs and insects be devours, than the
little harm he does in tbe few grains of
corn he pulls up. He is one of the
farmer's best friends. .V. 1'. Il-mtr
Journal.
The Omnibus.
Of all the public conveyances that
have been constructed since the days of
tbe ark, commend us to an omnibus. In
stages there is no change, no variety.
After the first twelve hours or so peo
ple get cross and sleepy; and when yon
have seen a man in bis nightcap, you
lose all respect for him. Then on
smooth roads people frequently get
prosy, and tell long stories. Again,
there is the whole train of evils conse
quent on a change of the coachman.
Now you meet with none of these
afflictions in an omnibus. The passen
gers change like the figures in a kaleld
escope, and though not so glittering,
are far more amusing. We believe there
is not an instance on record of a man's
having gone to sleep in one of these
vehicles. As to long stories, who would
venture to tell one in an omnibus? and
even if he did, nobody could hear what
he was talking about.
Yes, after mature redection, we arc
decidedly of opinion that of all known
vehicles, from tiie glass coach, in which
we were taken to be christened, to that
sombre caravan in which we must one
day make our last earthly journey,
there Is nothing like an omnibus.
CIIOOSIX6 A WIFE.
One day Marmaduke Oates looked
into tbe glass and was struck with the
fact that he was not as young as he
used to be. The dav before he had
heard some one speak of him as an old
bachelor. To be sure, It was a very
silly young person, his niece, who was
not yet sixteen, but he had not liked it
very much. And what was not, in his
opinion, quite true now, might become
true if be lived longer without marry
ing. A man of middle age was much
more solid and respectable at the head
of a family, very much more so.
"I think I shall marry," said Mr.
Oates, with an air of decision.
"I wonder how it would have been
by this time." he said to himself, "If
loug ago, when I liked her so much,
Delia Abbott had liked me as well; if
she had not married Mr. Roper, (and
why she married him I could never
tell) and bad married me. I wish 1
bad never asked her to have me. We
might have been friends still."
Then he considered.
"I was theoneotTended,"he said. "If
I choose to forgive, I may, I suppose;
Iielia is a widow now, with a son as old
as she was when I saw her last. I'll
call ou her. She's been married. I'll
get her opinion of married life. Per
haps she may know some young lady
who would suit me. One of the advan
tages of marrying late in life is that a
man can have a young wife who will
be young to him always, and no desire
to do, as iHiuglaa Jerrold suggests,
change his wrfe as people do bank notes
two twenties for one forty. Delia can't
be far from forty now. How the time
flies."
That day when the pro; -er hour for
calls hail come, Mr. Oates rang Mrs.
Roper's door bell. Having been shown
into the parlor, he waited for some time
before a rustling sound announced the
approach of a black silk dress; then a
lady stood in the doorway, and there
was a pause. He had sent up his card.
and Delia for this was Delia had
known whom she should see, as well as
he knew whom he should; but each
gave a little start and then exclaimed
almost simultaneously :
"Dear me, how stout you've grown."
But it was Delia, after all; Mr. Oates
saw that in a few minutes. The pretty
little nose and the soft little mouth
were there; the hands were prettier
than ever; and just at that moment sin
said :
"I begiu to know- you. How odd it
seems, iou re not married, are you ?
"Xo," sahi Mr. Oates. 'Tin an old
bachelor."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Roper; "so
you are."
He had expected her to say : "Oh
dear no."
"I've been through so much since
you saw me," said the widow, taking
out her handkerchief. "We've lost
poor pa, you know of course you know
that."
'I always thought your father died
in your infancy, Iielia," replied Mr.
Oates. Then he added : "Beg pardon."
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Roper, "call me
Delia, if you like. It reminds me of
old times; but I didn't mean my father.
I've called Mr. Roper 'pa so many
times that I forgot that you wouldn't
understand. Speaking to the children,
you know, gets one used in the habit."
"Yes, I know you had a son," said
Mr. Oates.
"And a daughter," said Mrs. Roer.
"Etlie, site's to be married next week."
'Shall I congratulate you?" said Mr.
Oates.
"Oh, y. s," said Delia, "he's very
nice. I wonder you haven't thought
of marrying, Marmaduke."
"Well, I am thinking of it."
"Who is she?" asked the lady, look
ing down at the pattern ou the carpet.
"Oh, I haven't decided," said Mar
maduke; "and do you know, I think I
will ask you to he'p me. As a matron
of experience, with grown children,
you must know girls that are nice aud
young and pretty, and to whom you
could introduce me, don't you!"
"Oh, yes." said Delia, "I'm sure I
will, too. You must come often, and
Etlie shall ask her friends. I know a
very pretty widow, but she's twenty
three." "I'd rather marry a girl in her teens,"
said Mr. Oates. "fhcre's something so
fresh and sweet about a girl in her
teens; don't you think so Delia?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Ropor in a very
low voice. And then she added, "and
a gentleman with money can always
get a young wife, even at your age."
"I am not an octogenarian yet, how
ever," said Mr. Oates, sharply.
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Roper, "you are
only a year and four months older than
I am. I have such a good memory for
things of that sort. You were forty
years old in September."
It was very candid of her, but then
she knew that Mr. Oates knew her age
already, and so could afford to stab him.
However, she soothed him afterward,
so that w hen he left he promised to
call again. He did call. He went to
Effle's wedding and gave her a present
of silver, and then he settled down into
a friend of the family ; and as it was
known he was really looking for a wife,
Mrs. Roper actually- did introduce a
number of young ladies to him. Some
blondes, some brunettes, some neither
lively girls, grave girls, accomplished
girls, sensible girls, and all so nice.
He was hard to please ; none of these
angels was the angel of his dream. The
winter passed and be had not yet chosen
a wife. Mrs. Roper, as an old long
married friend, professed a deep inter
est in his future. She herself favored
a Miss Baker, a wonderful housekeeper.
Miss Baker did Dot seem loth to listen
to anything this good-looking, well-to-do
gentleman had to say. But he seemed
to have nothing serious to communi
cate, and when the winter had gone
and spring had followed, and people
were talking of summer holiday-making,
the old bachelor sat with tbe
friend of his youth in ber cosy back
parlor, and she said to him :
"Really, Marmaduke, I'm sorry; I
thought you would certainly be please !
with Miss Baker. I begin to doubt that
you have a heart to give."
"So do I," said Marmaduke, turning
aside.
"Aud it is a pity," said Delia, "for
I'm sure you'd make such a good hus
band." "You didn't think so once, Delia,"
said Marmaduke.
"Oh, you ctn't tell w hat I thought."
said Delia.
"I know what you said," said Mar
maduke; "I know how miserable you
made me."
"Men are so stupid," said Delia.
"They think a girl must mean just
w hat she s-tys."
"Doesn't she? Didn't you?" asked
Marmaduke. He came nearer to Mrs
Roper and took her hand. She did not
take it from him.
"What is the use of your thinking of
things that lie so far in the past," said
she.
"But tell, didn't you?" said Marma
duke.
"It can't matter now," she persisted
"It does," said he. "Delia, you say
you think I would make a good hus
band prove it. A woman of your age
ought to mean what she says, if a girl
doesn't."
"But how can I prove it?" asked she
"By marrying me," said he.
"Oh, you should not joke," said she,
"Such Jokes are not uice."
'I am in earnest," be answered.
"Will you have me, Delia?"
"I thought you wanted a girl of six
teen?" she asked.
"Xo," said he, "I want a girl I loved
when she was sixteen. A girl I've
loved, though I scarcely knew It, ever
since.
Delia looked up in his face.
"Marmaduke," said she, "1 only said
no because I wanted you to ask me
again. 1 was sorry, very sorry, after
ward, but what could I do?"
Then she began to cry.
"Poor pa was very kind," she said,
"and he never knew; and it seemed
like a dream that you should kiss me
again." For he had done it.
"But you haven't answered me,"
saiil lie.
"Haven't I?" said she; "how stupid
men are ves.
How the Gallx. Kill the Black Panther.
Wonderful stories are told of how the
Galla hunters capture it, for they dare
not meet it face to face with their
Sc:us, and therefore resort to strategy.
It is said that when a Galla hunter has
discovered the haunt of a black pan
ther, he digs a round hole in the ground,
some six feet deep, and just large
enough for him to stand upright in. He
then gets into this hole, and placing his
round buffalo-hide shield on the top of
it, so as to cover him entirely, he calls
to the panther in a mocking voice,
daring it to come out of the jungle
where it is concealed. The panther,
who is naturally a very passionate beast,
on hearing this defiance, immediately
rushes out and tries to get at the hun
ter bp claw ing at his shield, which
covers the top of the hole where be is
ensconced; but the Galla holds tight,
and then ensues a dialogue, or rather a
monologue, for though the panther is
supposed to understand Galla, he only
answers by growls. The hunter first
abuses the panther, and then ridicules
it, calling it all sorts of names, until
the unfortunate panther gradually
works itself up into such a frenzy that
it at last fairly dies of rage, ami the
hunter, emerging from his hole, secures
its skin. In confirmation of this story,
the Abyssiiiians declare that when the
black panther skins are brought to
market, they never have any marks of
lance-thrusts or sword-cuts upon them,
as have the skins of other animals
killed in the chase. I fancy tbe truth
is that the panthers are snared by a de
vice which they often use lu Abyssinia
for catching the spotted leopard. A
running-noose is firmly tied to the
branch of a tree, and the branch is then
bent down and attached to a stake in
he ground in such a way thatanything
moving the noose will set it free; a kid,
or a piece of meat Is then placed behind
the noose, which is carefully concealed
among the leaves, and placed in such
way that the leopard iu springing at
his prey will pass through the noose;
of course he becomes entangled in it ;
the movement sets free the branch
which flies up, aud the leopard instead
of eatiug the poor little kid (whose feel
ings must be anything but pleasant)
suddenly finds himself suspended in the
air, where his struggles soon cause the
running noose to tighten round him,
and he is easily killed by the hunters.
Curious Karts about Food.
There is an old saying that what is
one's meat may be another's poison,
and how often we are reminded of this
as we see the likes and dislikes of peo
ple for the same articles of food, and
learn the reasons therefore. Straw
lierries, that are so delicious to almost
everybody, are poison to many. A
prominent member of the bar told us
tbat one strawberry would poison him
to such an extent that it would require
weeks for him to get over it. An elderly
lady of our acquaintance will almost
faint away at the sigiit of a cheese, and
wherever she goes this article is ban
ished from the table. Shell -fish are
pernicious to many, poisonous, and
offensive. We have read in a late medi
cal journal, a number of instances of
those antipathies confirming our own
observation. Some persons cannot eat
a lobster salad without its having a very
curious effect upon their complexion.
A lady indulged at supper-time in a
salad of this kind, and upon her return
to the ball-room her face and neck im
mediately became covered with spots,
obliging her to retire. A medical friend
tells us that eating veal gives a lady of
his acquaintance the nettle-rash, and
that orange peel has produced great
nervous excitement. Figs, again, give
rise in some people to a sensation like
the tickling movement of ants upon the
palate.
He that lends to all shows good will,
but little scne.
A a Irih Legend.
A rich lady sat up late one night
carding and preparing w ool, w hile all
the family and servants were asleep.
Suddenly a knock was given at the
door and a voice called '( ipen ! oiien !"
"Who is there?" said the woman ol'the
house. "I am the Witch of the One
Horn," w as answered. The mistress,
supposing that one of her neighbors had
called and required a i.-tance, opened
the door, and a woman entered, having
in her hand a pair of wool carders, and
bearing a horn ou her forehead, as if
growing there. She sat down by the
tire in silence, and began to card the
wool w it I violent haste. Suddenly she
paused, and said aloud: "Where are
the women? They delay too loug."
Then a second knock came to the door.
and a voice called as before, "Open
ojien .
The uii-tress felt herself con-
trained to rise aud ojmmi to the call.
and immediately a second w itch entered.
having two horns on her forehead, and
iu her hand a w heel for spinning the
wool. (Jive ine place," heaid; "I
am the Witch of the Two Horns," and
she began to spin as quick as lightning.
V ml so the knocks went ou, and tin
ea 1 1 w as heard, and the w itche, entered.
until al la-t twelve w omen sat around
the fire the first with one horn, the
last with twelve horns. And they
carded the thread, and turned their
spinning-wheels, and wound and wove,
all singing together an ancient rhyme.
hut no word did they speak to the
mist rex of the houx-. Strange to hear
ami frightful to look iiim.ii were the-c
twelve women, with their horns and
their wheel.-.; and their mistress felt
near to death, and she tried to rise that
lie might call for help, hut could nor
move, nor could she utter a word or cr .
for the sm-I1 of the witches was iimi
her. Then one of them called to her
in Iri.-h, and said: "Kise, woman, and
make us u cake." Then the ini-lress
searched for a vessel to bring water
from the well that she might mix with
the meal and make the cake, but she
could find none. And thev -aid to her :
Take a sieve and bring water in it."
And she took the ;icvc, and went to Un
well ; but the water poured from it. and
he could fetch none for the cake, aud
she sat dow n by the well ami wept.
Then a voice came by her, and aid :
"Take yellow clay and mo.,s, and bind
them together, ami planter the sieve so
that it w ill liul.l." This .-lie did. an I
the sieve heli' the water for the cake.
And the voice aid again: "Ilcturn,
and when thou comc-t to the north an-
le of the lioil-e cry aloud three times.
and ?av, "The mountain of the Fenian
women and the sky over it U all on
fire." And she did so. When the
w itches inide heard the call, a great
and terrible cry broke from their lips,
and thev ru-ln d forth with w ild lamen
tations and shrieks, and lied an ay I"
Sleive-iiainon. where was their chief
alxxle. Cut tile pirit of the Well hade
the mistress of the hoii-e to enter and
prepare her home agaiu.-t I lit- in.li.inl
nienr.o of the w itclic if they relumed
again. And tir-r. to iireak their
she sprinkled the water in uhicli she
had washed her child's feet the feel
water; outside thedoor of the threshold :
secondly, she took the cake which the
witches had made ill her ah-ciicc. ol"
meal mixed with tin- lioI drawn from
he sleeping family. A ud she hroke the
ake in bit,, and placed a hit in tie:
moiiih of each sleeper, and thev were re-
orcd.and -he took the i -loth the w itel a
hail woven and placed it hail in and hall'
out 'the ihi'.-l with tiie padlock; and.
la-tly, she -ecured thedoor with a great
cro-s-lM-ani fastened iu the jamhs, -
that they could not enter. And having
done thee things -he waited. Xot
long w ere the w itdic- in coining back,
and they raged and c.ilied for vengeance.
" Ipen ! open !" they -creamed. "( s-ii.
feet-water?" "1 can not," said the
feet-water. "1 am scattered on the
ground, and my path i- ilow n to the
Lough." "I l;cii, oM-n. wood and tree
and beam!" they cried to the door. "I
can not." -aid the door, "for the lieam
is fixed in tin- jainhs, and 1 have no
power to move." "Open, ojien, cake
that we have m. ell' and mingled with
blood '." they cried again "I can not,"
said the cake, "for I am broken and
bruised, and my blood is on the lip,, of
the sleeping children." Then the
witches rii-hed through the air with
great cries, ami lied Kick to sileve-n.-i-mon.
uttering strange cures on tin
Spirit of the Well, who had wished
their ruin, but the woman aud the
hoit-e were left iu e:ii-e, and a mantle
drop-d by one of the witches in her
flight was bung up by the mistress as a
sign of the night's awful contest, ami
this mantle was in m c--i..n of the
same family from generation to gener
ation for ."KM year- after. I'ui
rrsity lf,iiiriK.
iM-grven uf starvatiou.
Early in the -eason. the White Moun
tain i-oach drivers, while waiting for
the arrival of the train, for want of
business, generally worry each other.
Stanley of the Kearsarge ami Hill of
the Intervale met at the North Conway
depot and in the presence of the wait
ing passengers commenced the follow
ing colloquy :
'Say Stanley, do you know what thai
fellow said alsmt the Kearsarge. that
came np to the Intervale?"
"Xo; what did he?"
"Well, he said that they lived so
poorly dowu at the Kearsarge, that he
couldn't stand came near starving to
death ?"
"Is that so? I you know what that
fellow said who came down lo our
hou-e from the Intervale?"
"Xo; what did he?"
"He didn't say anything he wa- .-
weak he couldn't ss'ak."
It is unnecessary toadd that Hill lost
his situation. -l'ou the. Clou-Is.
Spend your time in nothing which
you know must be repented of. Spend it
in nothing which you could not review
with a quiet conscience on your dying
bed. Spend it in nothing which you
might not safely and properly be found
doing If death should surprise you Iu
the act, .