iiisiii iWw fit B. F. SCHWEIEK, THE CONSTITUTION THE TOIOJT AID THE OrOECEMEFT OP THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XXXI. MIFFLIN1WN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1877. NO. 42. k- s' TEE FOmin OF TEARS. If yoa go orer desert and moan tain. Far into the country of sorrow. To-day, and to-n ght, and to-morrow. And may bs f x months and for yean ; Yon shall come with a heart that is bursting For tmnble, and toiling, and thirsting. Yon shall eerta nly come to the fountain At length to the Fountain of Tear. itj peaceful the plice is, and solely Far piteous lamenting and sighing. And those who come linn; or dying. Alike from their hope-nd their fears. Fall of eypress-iike shadows the place is, And statues that cover their faces ; But out of the gloom springs the holy And beautiful F. nuta n of Tears. And it flows, and it flaws with a motion Bo gentle, and lovely, and listless. And murmur a tune so resistless. To him who hath suffered aud bears. You shall surely, without a word spoken. Kneel down there and know vour heart broken And yie d to t e long-curbed emotion That day by the Fountain of Tears. APPLES. Madam sat in the sunny window sowing. The neelle twinkled in her rapid fingers, and the scarlet stuff she studied, glittering in the sunlight, shed a reflected lustre on her black hair, her tintles face, the bits of coral in her well-set ears. A high window this, into which the sunlight streaming illumines the sitter very high the topmost Jn the ramb ling, jambling. weezy old tenement. Madam prefers to be on the top story, she says. One is there away from the dust and noise of the street. Also, it costs less. Also, she will tell yon gaylv, she can see the tops of the sails, and the sun-lit masts of the ships that come and go at the wharves, to ward which this dingy street looks down. The ships bring wealth and plenty to somebody. Some of them come from France. Ah, beautiful France ! It is like being a poet, or hav ing a fine imagination, to own a win dow one can see the world out of. Should any one pity madam or offi cially offer sympathy, she will shrug her shoulders magnificently, spread out her hands, and say: "What will you?" glancing toward her window as though the world were at her feet. Has she not her sunshine, her sewing, and her little Fifine, who flits up and down the ladder-like stairs like a butterfly? Fi fine has black eyes and a dancing smile. Fifine is madam's poem, her princess; tf,e does not know poverty They had been poor in Paris, but Fifine had never gone hungry; they wanted many things in Paris, but Fifine ha alwavs her car frilled dresses and her tiny polished slippers. Was not her father a professor? was not her mother a lady? Should they, then, associate on equal terms with that degraded and de grading thing called poverty Nay intleed! it might own the house, but it should not sit at the board. It was poverty that had driven this family, thoughtlessly thoughtful, to America. Prof. Pierre would come here and teach the people French. It was a wide country, a roomy Country, and the people needed education. Prof. Pierre set sail and died on the passage "Ah, but he was a scholar!" says madam, sighing. '"If he have live .'madam English is not quite so jer feet a her French), "we shall by this time have the little w.n chamjtr. the pretty place in the country, ami the little school, which we have talk ainl dream of so iiuieh in Paris. For there is much room in America ah, so much of room !" She says madaln, looking down on the dingy, crowded street and the swarming tenements. She looks up, smiling from her work, as a light footstep comes flying along the lailder-Iike stair. "So come the angels!" said madam, devoutly, as Fifine dances in. She ha her tiuv apron full of red apples, w hich tumble and roll out upon the floor. The sunshine, gleaming n pon madam's scar let sewing, seems to recognize the ripe round fruit, and glows anew at having met it elsewhere in sweet familiar or chards and on sunny slopes of far-away hills. "All for von, uiauian," cries Fifine, looking down on the treasure. "And oh ! mamati, he will give me a ride in the irreat wagon out to the beautiful country and the little old mother!' Madam's cheeks flush, her eyes scin tillate with an angry light. "What is it you say, Fifine? And who gave vou these?" But the child only answered breath lessly and confusedly. The apples were delicious, and Fifine was happy, but na.lam did not like strangers or strangers' gifts. She sat anxiously at the high window next day, looking down for Fifine as she came from school. The street was long and winding, grimy and decaying; but people swarmed in it as if life was not unde sirable. They throve in the scents and sounds and stifling air; they langhed, they chatted, they congregated in the tumble-down doorways; and looking their poverty square in the face, shook hands with it, as it w ere. But the street had its pleasures, too, once iu awhile, and its pictures. As at this instant, when madam, looking down from the high window, saw a wagon-load of apples come jolting along, ruddy, shining, and mellow. A hoy in a brimless hat and a blue shirt sat in the midst of the heap, and a tall, sunburned youug fellow, w ith trousers tucked in his boots, walked alongside, hand in hand with a child, who danced about him, w ith her golden hair flying and her pretty feet twinkling, as she pointed up, to the far window where madam sat. In one sudden moment she saw the little one caught up, deposited in a half ful basket, and both, lifted on the young man's shoulder, disapieared in the house. I'p stairs they came, tramping, laughing, and Fifine, eager, joyful, aud breathless, was deposited at the door. "Oh, maman !" she cried, clapping her hands, "see what we hare brought you. And here Is Monsieur Jack." Outside, abashed, blushing, stood the young man with the basket. Madam appearing on the threshold put him to utter confusion. She had the bearing of a d uchess. "What will you?" queried she, haughtily. "Excuse me, ma'am," was the stain mering reply, as the speaker doffed his great straw hat. "I mean I did not mean that is, I promised Hie little one a ride." "And?" said madame sternly. "And," said the youth, gathering up courage, his honest, kindly eye look ing straight into hers, "she needs a lit tie change; a ride would not harm her, madame." "It is a liberty unpardonable. In my country it is not known that a vendor a street vendor will intrude himself on a lady's apartment. People know their place, and " "I beg your pardon, madam. You are right,' interrupted the stranger, his cheek flushing hotly. "But this L America. "But this is America, not Paris. Good-day." He was gone. The place was blank and desolate. The apples lay on the floor. The sunlight had faded from the window. Fifine set up a frightful cry . . ... . . oi uisappoinimcni. n: no ride, no pleasure, no delights in prosjiect now. She did not go dancing off to school next day, singing as she went. She came back with a headache, carrying it gloomily up to the top floor anil to the waiting mother. Two days, three, passed. Fitiue was really ill. She chatted incessantly about the ride and the lteautiful country. She cried to see Monsieur .Tack, as she had named her friend One day madam slipped down stairs to buy some apples. It was the day for Monsieur Jack's appearance. Theyoung man bowed when hecanght sightof this Princess from the top floor. Should he carry the apples up stairs for her? Little Fifine, sitting flushed and fe verish among a heap of pillows, lit up radiantly at sight of the sunburned face and the great straw hat. Ah ! maman," she cried, clapping her hands, "r we shall go in the country ! But Fifine was ill. Not for a day nor a week, but for a long, weary mouth the little creature pined and sickened in the upper story of the tenement house. And it fell out that i early every day the young ma ns step sounded on the stair, and Monsieur .lack's face became familiar to all the neighbors as he made his way to the topmost floor. He petted Fifine, and chatted to her, and charmed madam by stepping softly in spite of his big boots. Fifine watched hungrily for his coming, ami thus it was, doubtless, that madame also found herself listening for his footstep on the stair. One sunny afternoon she stood smoothing her hair in front of the cracked looking glass.. The day was a hojieful one. The day was clear, the sun shone, Fifine was belter. Madam's eves brightened as she stoxl at the glass. She adjusted her knot of rihlton, she touched up the white ruille altout her shajiely throat. Without there was a creaking of the rickety stair. The eyes shone brighter in the dim little mirror. Madam stop mi in her toilet suddenly, seeing their expectant glit ter. "Can it lie possible?" she said to her self. "Have I come to this to sewing in a garret, to starving, to begging, almost, for Fifine, and to looking for ward to the visit of a young man who is an apple vendor? Is it that I must at heart liclong to the ranailltf Paul Professor Paul, was I ever worthy of thee?'! But when she opened the door, and Monsieur Jack stood modestly on the threshold, madam's eyes did not lose their sparkle. He brought a hunch of pinks for Fifine. Ah. cried Jrifine, clapping her hands, "they came from the country. ua there, tminwn: w hen shall v go oh, trhen shall we go, maman?" The mother looked at her tenderly. pitifully. The child had grown so thin with long illness. "My little one," said she, "I wish I was back with thee in my beautiful Paris, where we should have music and flowers and parks, and " "Vou can have them all here," in terrupted Monsieur Jack, quietly. There were tears in Madam eyes, hut she turned upon him hotly : "What will you?" she said. "Shall I take shame to myself that I am poor? I was poor in Faris, but I named it not so. Iu my own country I have pleasant. gentle life. My Paul is very wise, very quiet. He will not have touched him self with what is rude and rough. The neighbors say he will never be rich. 'II it 'a pa inrente, la pondre,'' they say and laugh 'he was not the inventorof gun powder.' But we also laugh and are happy. I have my pot of flowers; I have my fete days. It costs but a few sous to le happy. Ah, why did we ever ... . a . -1 come away, my petite, to oe reiiniiueu that we are beggars?" Madam caught up her white hand kerchief and wiped her eyes. There was an awkward pause. Monsieur Jack played with Fiflne'slong locks, looking down silent and reproved. Fifine, not knowing what was the matter, liegan to cry. 'Ah, yes," said madam, excitedly, seeing the child's tears. "We can have all things here, my Fifine, yet tbou hast nothing. In Paris we need not be told that we are poor. If we know "that the last son is beiug spent, we will buy some charcoal, we will shut our selves in the pleasant little room with the flowers and the sunlight, and die decently, making no trouble; dm in America it is not so. Here it is rude and ofr. People will meddle. 1011 cannot manage your small scraping of ife yourself. You must starve and beg and steal, If need be but you must live. It is, therefore, no fault of mlTie,mt)trriettrv"that my little Fifine is HI and pining. I cannot advertise tnat I must have her helped ; and I am poor I am poor ! I am poor !" It seemed to be a relief to. madam's mind that this well-kept secret was out at last. "Madam," said the visitor, rising, "I also am poor 'Excuse me, I prar vou," said madam, her face paling suddenly ; "I have talked much it is weak. I ask your pardon "When shall we go when shall we go in the country ?" asked Fifine, see ing a pause. "Thou canst not go alone, little one, said the mother, smiling, and rallying her spirit. "She need not go alone, madam. suggested Monsieur Jack, patting the child on the head "not if you will go with her." Ah ! What can poor people do? Was not madam the wife of a professor, and was not her pride very great therefore? Could she go out riding with an apple vendor? "When?" related the tiny invalid, imperatively. Aud the mother, driven into a cor ner, answered, "To-morrow." There was a little old woman in a yel low gown stepping quickly about a farmhouse kitchen. The yellow gown was short, revealing her blue, woolen nose ana sturdy shoes. She was ma king fine biscuit, her brisk, horny hands molding them deftly and quick)-. She has set out a round table with a white cloth, taking down the shining dishes from the old-fashioned dresser. "They will soon be here, I think," die says, ever and anon looking from the great door, of which the upcr half swings in, after the manner of old 1 )u tell farm houses. She comes out presently, courtesying and smiling to a party who drive up in a neat little ou-horse wagon. "This is my mother," says the youug man who drives the equipage. He lifts down Fifine; he helps madam to alight. t ihne s little face is shining like that of a cherub new fledged in Paradise. She kisses the little old mother, and they are friends immediately. She sun shines down on hedge and meadow, the quaint old house, the quiet orchard. Blissful scents float on the air. There is corn rustlingon the sunny Ioes, there are blackberries ripening in the lane. The whole air is hazily sleepy with its freight of sunshine and s weet ness. After that rare, that delicious lunch in the old kitchen, they went wander ing about the place to the old red barn, t" the pasture, where two cow stood patiently and st'lpidly looking through the bars. "They are tame saiil Fifine, who had once been to a menagerie. The -little old mother laughed, and the two prattled gayly aloug baud in hand Madam, with a wild rose iu her hair, strolled ahead with the elate Monsieur Jack. Bound them rolled the billowy hills, a faint autumnal haze floating at their low summits, and the smoke from there and then a farm house wreathing up to the sunlight. Some birds twit tered softly in the copse, scarcely dis turbing the silence and sweetness of the summer-time hush. A tiny brook running along the hedge glittered with cardinal Dowers. Her companion gathered a handful of the flaming likes for her. "Ah, how beautiful they are!" she cried. ''How lteautiful it all is here! One could, indeed, live here forever".' She glanced aliout at the purple hills the fields, the jieacc and plenty every where, "How can yu have all these glories, and be poor?" ,she asked. "In my country a peasant would call himself rich with all these. He will have many friends, and his wife will wear a silk gown. He will not traffic in the city with the canaille." A deep flush rose to the young man's heck. He did not reply at once. "Madam," said he at length, "in this country there are no easants. We are all free, and we do not care for trifles. A man who owns his little farm is inde pendent; he can make his own market if he chooses. That Is enterprise; that is what keeps the fence trim, and the little old mother stirring. I buy and sell where I can. I have no wife to otiject, he added, laughing, "and for the rest, I am, after all, a jxior man." "Such poverty !" cried madam, lift ing her hands. "Here, I rejtcat, I could stay forever, my friend." .Vnd fi''you?" said Monsieur Jack, turning his sunburned face suddenly upon her. "See, madam, how happily we have spent the day together. Iet us have many such." Fifine came flitting up the path, laughing and singing. "Oh stay ! oh stay, maman !" she cried; the dear old mother will not have us go away." "I shall buy my wife a silk gown. whispered Monsieur Jack, mischiev ously. "Say yes, maman!" cried Fifine. And madam, blushing and smiling, looked down at the cardinal flowers and said "Yes." Action of To-baee en the System. Some years ago the French Govern ment directed the Academy of Medicine to inquire into the influences of tobacco on the human system. The report of the commission appointed by the academy states that a large number of the diseases of the nervous system and of the heart, noted in the cases of those affected with paralysis or insanity, were to be regarded as the sequence of excessive indulgence in the use of the articles; and it is remarked that to bacco seems preliminarily to act upon the organic nervous system, depressing the faculties and influencing the nu trition of the body, the circulation of the blood and the number of red cor puscles in the blood. Attention is also called to the bad digestion, benumbed intelligence and clouded memory of those w ho use tobacco to excess. An uncommon degree of imagination constitutes poetical genius. Dugald Stewart. Slduw." Almost the first thing to excite the risibility of a foreigner on eutering Russia for the first time Is the sight of half-a-dozen, or it may be a dozen, big- bearded men sitting around a wooden bowl or bucket, and eating gravely, with wooden spoons, therefrom a green ish kind of liquor, which, on inquiry. he finds to be. "stchee," or cabbage soup As this decoction, with the attendant rye bread, enters as largely into the diet of Russian soldiers as into the liv ing of ordinary Smoojiks, it may be well to describe it more fullv. It consists of cabbage boiled in water, to which are added meat and condiments, according to the taste and means of the maker. Communism is strongly implanted in the Muscovite mind, and Russians, whether they be soldiers, sailors, or workmen, usually mess together one of - their number being appointed caterer, and receiving for that purjiose a certain amount monthly. The money U devoted to the purchase of materials for "stchee," together with black bread and buckwheat all eatables beyond these three things being paid for out of the member's own pocket. Caterers have usually a keen eve for esculents that swell the sulistance of soup, and mostly manage to add beet-root, cucum bers, onions, turnips, and other vegeta bles to the conventional cabbage. Very often, among the agricultural classes, there is very little meat in "stchee"; but this is rarely the case with the sol diers, unless the commissariat is too far off for its malpractii'es to lie detected by the Government. Russian soldiers have the reputation of being capital foragers, and thus the common kettle is usually well stocked when the order for bivouac is given. "Stchee" is mostly boiled in a big iron crock, out of which It is afterward poured Into a howl or bucket. The messmates then gather round, and, after a short grace, sit down, with un covered heads, to the meal provided them. Each man is armed with his own particular wooden spoon, which. when not in use, he mostly "arries in his trowsers pocket. They dip these spoons into the soup one after another, and thence, without any intermediate istance from plates or dishes, convey the liquor to their mouths. A certain amount of regularity is maintained iu taking from the common stock; hut. as a rule, perfect freedom prevails, the men being too well accustomed to com munism iu comestibles to take advan tage of a member' slow ness. If, how- ever, any member does betray an incli nation to emulate "Mrs. lodgers in 'dodging" among the tender bits, he is instantly called to order by the "gan ger," w ho iu his little sphere isasauto cratic as the Czar. Between w hiles the eaters munch massive slices of rye bread cut from the common loaf, aud ilip occasionally into a smaller liowi containing lioilcd buckwheat, millet, or some other kinds of grain. The Late Master of the llostoa l-sllli School. A stranger entering the great hall at the top of the I-atin School building, where the first class always had their desks, would get the impression from the kill, muscular and 1m. ny figure that glowered ujmn him with eiiet rating eyes through a pair of gold bowed spec tacles, that the master was a most stern forhitlding man: and his impression would probably be deepened if he were to catch the master hearing a class re cite, his head partly bent and turned to one side, and thequestionseoming fortl in a gruff voice, curt, and very likely snappish. Certainly Mr. Gardner w as not a lovely man at first sight. It hap pened to one lad to enter the school in the last year, ami so to know it person ally only as a first-class boy under Mr, Gardner's charge, for he had sole care of these boys. His initiation was a little dismaying. The tall master stood before him, eying him as if he were some specimen for his cabinet. "Well, hoy, have vou grit?" came the words short, summary, and to the point. The boy's stumbling answer was of little at' count. He had been shot onpresenting himself and was not likely to forget the winged words that had pinned him to the school. A year s experience gave him an opportunity to see the master in other asjects, and to look be hind the gruff manner which made one of the tenderest of men seem churl ish. His very odities seemed to enforce the lessons he taught. Who was likely to forget a diagram which the master drew on his own coat sleeve? Who that has studied Casar under him will forget the model of Cesar's bridge with which he illustrated that pn ari- noruiu Did he w ish to enforce some nice point in pronoiinciatioii and nicety was a characteristic of the schol arship he demanded he would jier- hans sing, delightfully regardless of musical effect, a line from "Robin Adair," "What's this dull town, Imtm) r or tell some quaint anecdote or storyf Ills memory was a magpie's nest o. queer bits, but every one was put to some capital use. Nothing came amiss; in illustration of some advice as to the use of the razor in shaving; and his modes of punishment were as various as the offences. One class had behaved, as he thought, in a silly, childish fash ion. He sent out for some muslin and confectionery, and drawing out the "housewife," which he kept in the drawer of his desk, made up little bags of candy, which he presented to each boy. One urchin in the first class, who had been tormented by his neigbor in recitation a teasing fellow finally lost bis temper as his hair was twitched rather harder than before, aud slapiied his persecutor's face. It was at that moment that Mr. Gardner looked up. "There ! there !" said he. "Let's have a public exhibition. We must all see this performance. Boys, go up on the platform;" and up they went to the great stage at the end of the room. "Xow, W , you pull II 's hair," and the first offender enjoyed a second twitch. "And, II , you slap W 'a face," which was done, when the boys were allowed to come back, crimsoned with mortification. Such stories might easily give the im- pression that the master was au un dignified, merely eccentric man; they are but hap-hazard illustrations of his odd, individual ways. Through his teaching and discipline ran a broad cur- rent or patient un weary attention and study to make the most of every lv anl many a lad, given over as a lioe- less dunce by under masters, has been saved by Ir. Gardner for a manly, stu- dious life. He surrounded the boys w ith every obtainable aid in their w ork, I he school library, belonging to the Ijitin fH-nool Association, was enriched by his efforts, and the great schoolroom was made beautiful and useful by the apparatus which he gathered there. "By his personal exertions," says Dr. Iitnmock, "the Latin School acquired probably the largest collection of pic torial aud other illustrations of Roman and l.r. cian topography and antiquities possessed by any institution in the country, comprising paintings, rare and old engravings, models in cork, casts from antique coins, specimens of marble from ancient ruins, and him- ards or photographs of Italian and Athenian views ami statuary. But these w ere not merely placed Umii the wans, tney were used by nun in the instruction of his classes, and no reci- tation was more interesting to visitors from Euroe, as w ell as from this coun try, than those in which the boys, af ter giving an outline description of Jome or Athens, proceed to different parts of the room pointing out the dif ferent localities ujion the maps and pic tures, or giving from the m dels detail of the buildings. Their knowledge came directly from him from no text book, save a brief manuscript of his writing; ami one of his pupils told me that he found this outline, learned in his school days, of more value to him in Athens than all the guide books that he hail. And yet Ir. Gardner was never in Athens or Rome. llnrprr Mtfh'ziur, Interrupted Table Talk. Hie other evening the Rev. Mr. Phi- lacter sat down at the tea table with a very thoughtful air and attended to the wants of his brood in a very iV stracted maimer. Presently he looked up at his w ire anil said : "The Aiiotle Paul " "Got an awful lump on the head saf- ternoon," broke in the pastor's son, Playing base ball. Bat flew out of player's hand when I was umpire and cracked me right over the ear and dropiied me. Hurt? Golly!" and the lad shook his head in dismal but ex- pressive pantomime as he tenderly rubbed a liimn that looked like a billiard ball with hair on it. The pastor irravelv mused for the interruption and if- sumed: "The Apostle Paul " "Saw Mrs. O'Gheininic dow n at Grecubaum's this afternoon." said the eldest (laughter, addressing her mother. "She had on that same old everlasting black silk, made over with a vest of tillenl green silk, coat-tail basque pat- mountain peaks north of Mount Pavid tern, overskirt made with diagonal son, is a rugged and picturesque group folds in front, edged w ith deep fringe; yellow straw hat. with. black velvet facing inside the brim and pale blue flowers. She's going to Chicago." The good minister waited patiently. and then, in tones just a simile higher i than before, said : "The AiMstle Paul" "Went in swimming last night w ith Harry and Ben, jM.p, and stepiied on a clam shell," exclaimed the youngest son; "cut my foot so I can't wear my shoe; and please, can't I stay home to- morrow The pastor informed his sou that he might stay awav from the river, and then resumed hi topic. He said : "The Ajsistle Paul says" "Mv teacher is au awful liar," shouted the second son; "he says the world is as round as orange, and it I turns around all the time faster than a c.cus man cau ride. I guess he ain't got much sense.' The mother lifted a warning finger to the bor, and said "sh !' and the father continued : "The Aiostle Paul says " I "I)oirt bite off twice as much as you I can chew !" broke out the oldest son, re-1 proving the assault of his little brother I ou a piece of cake. The pastor's face I showed just a trifle of annoyance a he 1 said, in very firm decided tones : I "The Apostle Paul says: " "There's a fly in the butter;" shrieked the youngest hopeful of the family, and a general laugh followed. I When silence was restored, the eldest I daughter, w ith an air of curiosity, said : "Well, but pa, I really would like to know what the Apostle Paul said. 1 l ass me the mustard, said the pastor, absently. Then the committee ro.-e and the Senate went into executive session, and soon after adjourned. Diirliiujtim llawk- eye. Subsisting on Potatoes, Halt and Tea. A correspondent of the Utica (Mtserrer writes from Remsen, Oneida county, to the following effect concerning the habits of life persisted in by a citizen of that place' without a days deviation, for period of sixty years: "The Indi vidual referred to is a maiden lady, be tween seventy aud eighty years old and a resident adjacent to this village from her early childhood. There are different theories, and probably for the reason that but few if any survive who knew her as a child, accounting for her truly remarkable abstemiousness. Be that as it may, she has, during the whole time indicated, paxtakeo of no food or nour ishment save roasted potatoes, salt and tea, while all the time in the enjoyment of sound health. Her longlifj has been one of activity, Industry and usefulness. ane is a lauy oi culture ana refinement, nd possessing abundant means, and is benevolent, discreet and liberal in her charities; and though, owing to the weight of years, she U not erect In form. and with the exception of a recent In- ury resulting from a fall, she is now as hale and hearty as U usual to one of Tears." The bone-picker's motto is. "pro bono I publico." I Dining ha Pari. Iu the boulevards and iu the arcades f the Palais Royal are famous, time- honored restaurants, where the best of dinners may lie had good but expen- sive. But it w ill be generally found : I more convenient certainly moreecon- omical todine where the price is fixed I One of the best of these places, the Brabant-Vaehcttc. furnishes a faultless dinner, wine not included, in an elegant room for 11.20. Near by is another place long deservedly popular the ih.r de Paris. For 1. you may have soup, butter, and a sardine, or radishes .,v three dishes vou mav choose from a varied bill of fare, of fish, vegetables. meats, or pudding, a salad, an ice cream. and two articles of dessert of your selec tion and also, either a bottle of Eng- n, a- or 0f common wine, or half a bottle of choice w ine. The material are excellent, and the meats, well cooked for you expressly, are served hot. Another restaurant on the same plan, and similar also in finality and price, has been opened within a rew days in the Palais Royal. I'inncrs at much lower fixed price mar he had iu many places, inferior to those mentioned above, yet quite tolerable. I have be fore me the advertisement of one of these, ofleriinrsoun. a nlate of veeeta- bles or fish, a desert and wine, for 22 cents. I or dinners at the table d bote of the large hotels you pay fl. 20, poor wine included. It is better to dine else- w here. There is another class of resta urants, known as Establissements de Bouillion. The best of these bear the name of I'uval. At the entrance you are presented with a card, containing a general list of articles furnished and the prices affixed. On the card, opposite ie nriW) ymlT atten(iat makes a mark as he supplies each item. Ihus at a glance you see the cost of your repast And this card when paid receives the cashier's stamp, and then presented at the door enables you to leave the place I he system Is perfect, tvery oue pays "icpror sum. iney are gen era".v f"Ood, wen prepared, well serTed an" remarkably cheap, this will ap- F1' from the prices of a few articles w hich I will state : Soup 5 cents, a u,t11 'H-efsteak w ith potatoes 12 cents, 1 11 mutton chop in cents, a pint of goo bahlis w ine 11 cents, a half syphon of !i,lla water 3 cents, and a carafon of ordinary wine (anoui two-thirds oi a tumbler) 4 cents. I am so pleased with t''P4P places that I frequently make use of them, for their economy and ctmven- pence; and 1 enjoy the facilities they furnish for the study of manners and character, the trench people are practical economists. There's a charge at these places for the use of a napkin one cent only. To save this thev fre- Iqueiitly may be seen putting their nap- kin in a ring to use again. Vari Lrtt-r, A c nrl"M Gro"p Bv"k- On the ridge between Mount Ophir d Nevada Hill, the first and second of rocks standing some thirty or forty foft above the general surface. About sundown and after, during tw ilight these rocks are distinctly outlined against the western sky, and seen from the north end of the platform of the freight depot, or the south end of the trestle work bridge leading to the Ophir, present the apiearanee of a group of Indians. The most prominent figure of '" ijroup is one that resembles a squaw standing with hands uplifted above the heads of number of "little Injuns, squatted and kneeling about her, as though saying, "Bless ye, my children." We admit that, like most other objects of that nature, some little exercise of the imagination is required in order to bring out the details of the group; but the squaw holding up her hands is plainly to lie seen is much more readily recognized than is the face of Shakespoare on the face of the'big rock up at LakeTahoe. The best thing of the kind in the country, however, is the bust of Washington, situated on the road leading from the Whiteman mine, Palmyra district, to the old town of Como. When this was first discovered .soma half dozen prospectors were marching along ub a ravine, when one of them said, "Hold on, boys! look at that rock up there on the side of the ravine and tell me whose face you see in it." "Where's his little hatchet? cried one. "He's the chap that couldn't tell a lie !" said another. "Old George Washington himself!" shouted all hands ; and, sure enough, there he was and there he is to this day the "Father of His Country." in solid rock, aud carved by the hands of nature. Iir- 0iHit EtrTi'rit Lore. The following is w hat some of the old authors say about love : In love we are fools alike, Gay. AVhen we love we live. Congrere. Love is an affair of credulity. Orid. She that is loved is safe. Jtremy Tay lor. Where love dwells is paradise. J!irh ter. Love is the virtue of women. - r(ml Iove is an egotism of tw-o. A. De la Salle. Wonls of love are works of love. Alger. Wish chastely and love dearly. Shnkepeare. Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies. Pop. Hate makes us vehement partisans, but love more so. Goethe. In love, the deceit generally outstrips the distrust. Bxhefocmild. Love sacrifices all things to bless the thing it loves. Bulin-r Lytton. I could not love thee, dear, so much, hived I not honor more. LmeUiee. Gold does not satisfy love: it must be naij jn jU 0wn coin. Madam Delaz. Love is nreciselv to the moral nit or what tlie . u to tne earth. Balzae. i,ve oue time, laveth burdens: another time, giveth w ings. Sir P. Sid- ney How shall I do to love? Believe. How shall I do to believe? Love. Uightrm. The Flxhennaa'a Story. I saw him so often sitting lieside the door of his little house quite alone. It was a pretty home and there w as a lit tle gnrden. Once there had been flow ers; only the hardier sort, that live for years w ithout care, now grew in a wild and staggering fashion over the fences and against the wall. Once passing him he looked up w ith a smile and a sailor-like low , and spoke to him. "ou are hsking at the sea," I said, "do you see anv signs of change in the weather? No doubt yon an read them better than most people. I have heard that sailor always can." He smiled again and nodded. "Aye, aye. ma'am," he said, "in doubt there'll Itea storm; but I w aren't thinking of the weather. It's a wav of watching the ea. a habit, that's all "Perhaps you expect something of it, I said, lie sighed, and shook hi head again. No ma'am." he said. "I expect the sea has brought me all it ever will. Xed was drowned and Ian hasn't been heard from for five years; the other lxiys are dead. Middle-aged men w hen they went. And Rose, you don't know Rose, ma'am. No, no, nor Nellie my wife. But as sit here watching the sea, It seem only a little while since I was a young sea-faring fellow, coming home from my long voyages w ith bird. and shells and comical foreign things for her. Coming home to marry her at last, and live here, just here by this bore, with babies one after the other climbing my knee, anil I turned fisher man and staved at home. "But It all conn's back as I talk. I've had good luck along the shore, and bought this home, and I think I'm as happy a man as lives, with such a wife and boys like those, and a home for them and no fear of poverty ; hut one after the other they sailed away, this one to the East, this one to the North Ned is dead, and we don't know whether I hi n is living or not; and there are only the wife and me and little Rose Rose wa.s Ned's child ; we've taken her. Yes, years and year ago. Years and years then I w as a man w ith a gray bean I. ami Nell was an elderly woman; ami we'd sir and talk over the lxv- and Rose was our great comfort. h : but she was pretty pretty and sweet and good. And so she grew up. We had her taught and we dressed her well. We w ere rich enough to do that for Ned's girl SMr Neil's little girl and she loved us, and we thought, as she grew older, that may be she'd marry, as one might say, aliove her station; for there was the minister's son, a fine young man. in love with her; and he to he a minister himself one day: and his uireiits willing. In-cause our girl was as sweet and as fine as any lady in the land, and well taught. Phi; and for her good we rather laid command on the child t say 'yes when she Wa asked. "I wish we hadn't. 1 w ish w e hadn't May tie she might have fold n more of w hat went on. "It was no harm at fir-t,only a voting fellow w ho came to fish by the sea, and sMke to Rose, asking the way some where, and that's the way they got acquainted. But she, having said 'yes' to the minister's son. was afraid of being scolded, and she met the young man without our knowledge; and the young heart is hard to train, and if love and duty do not go together, God help my girl. How he did it w e never knew; but one day we could not fiud Rose. We thought some terrible ac cident hail hapM'ned to her, and we searched the country through, and all who knew us helped us, hut in vain; for in a few- days there came a hoy, who said a lady had given him a letter for us; and it was from Rose. "Gr.npiatm fr axp Granp.mothfr pears," she wrote "I've done a wrong tiling I've gone off to be mar ried. I was engaged to Mr. Glenn, I know, but I did not love him. and I do love Arthur. When I comeback you'll have to forgive me. for there'll lie no help, and Mr. Glenn will have another wife better than I. He is cold and stern with me, 1 never pleased him; and you will like Arthur. He says his mother will like me. And we shall he married at her house. And oh, yon must forgive your own love, who al ways loves you." "That is w hat she w rote to us. "The grandmother cried and said : " 'Pcrhajw it would all ! well." hut I knew men better than she. "I did not exM--t the girl back as she did, and I was right. Iays passed and weeks and years. She never came. Nellie hoped for a long time; when she gave up hoping, her heart broke. She died, and I w as alone. The boys were far away or dead. I sat by the house door, as I do now, an old man, with w bite hair, w hose work was over, but I watched the sea. It seemed to me that it would bring me something one day, and so it did. "Over there, ma'am, where you see something black rise, like the back of a great dolphin above the water, are dreadful rocks, on which many a good ship has gone to pieces. I've seen more than one wrecked th.re in my time; and there, one, night, a great French steamer, in such a plight, that every sailer knew there was no hope for her. Perhaps some of the oor souls on Isiartl her could be saved, but no one could tell certainly. There was a terrible storm and very few boat could live in such a sea. However, as I said, they did the best they could all through that terrible storm, ami when day broke they had saved some; but many a dead body lay along the beach, and I walked there, looking at them, and thinking of Xed and Ihin both drowned as these poor sailors were, w hen I came iiMn a woman's body lying on its side. "It was a young w oman, and her hair was long and black, and somehow her hands were folded together under her cheek as If she had been sleeping. I looked and looked, and the more I looked the more I felt that the face was like one I knew: and suddenly it all came back. This dead woman looked like Rose, and suddenly the truth came it rf Rose. And I cried out, and the lieople gathered aUnu it. I was trem bling so that I could hardly sieak; but I managed to tell them what I thought, and they lifted the body and brought it to my home here, and the women dressed it forthegrave; audit its bosom they found a little bag, sewed up in oil silk, so that the water had not harmed it, and they brought it to me. " 'If it is your Rose, and w e think it is,' said one of the good souls, 'you should look at this.' "And I cut the ,ilk.and there I found a letter, and on it was written my name, and a prayer, that if she did not live to reach America, some good soul would scud it to me. " Granpfatiikr ter" it began 'I am coming to you as fast as I can; but there is a dread iijshi me that I shall not reach you. I heard from you a while ago. A sailor from our "old home says that you are alive: and I know, if I ever get to you. ; forgive me. There's a great deal to forgive; hut I've suffered; I've hwn punished. "lie w ith whom 1 went was a very bad man. I think he's dead, but I aiii not sure: and I'm coming home. xr and ashamed to tell you all, and live with you, if you'll let me. oh, I know you will: I haven't anv fear. Just a- God forgives sinners, you'll forgive uic. But if I don't come, then you may know I'm dead. 1 kiss the puner. Good-hy, dear grandfather, good-hv. ionr ioor, w retched little Rose. That was all. ma'am. But it wa enough. The s,.a has brought me all it can. Xed is dead, and Ian hasn't been heard of for years. The other boys yes, they are dead too. The sea caiim t bring me anything, ma'am no. no." So lie shook his head aud walked awav. That w as a year ago. Recently, go ing to the sea-side place again. I passed the home of the old fisherman. He was sitting at the door, but he arose and came toward me and smiled. 'You're the lady I spoke to a year ago," he said. "I remember that I told you that the sea could not bring me anything, but it has. My Ian has come back my Iau. He's been on a desert island for years, but he's hale and hearty, and he's married to a girl that's waited for him, ami never gave him up all this while. That's her inside, and I feel young again, they are so fond of me. and she makes it such a borne." And then I saw that the garden had been weeded ami that the windows were bright, and from one of them peeped just then a coinelj , middle-aged woman's face, and a pleasant voice called: Father, when you're ready, dinner is." 'That's my daughter-in-law, said the old man, cheerily. "Good-by. it sort of seems as though you brought me luck, a-king if the sea was going to send me anything. I shan't forget you. Good-hy, and good luck." St. Antonio. After an ea.y passage of six days from Teneriffe, we arrived, on the morning of the :nth of July, off the Bay of Tara fal, in the Island of Antonio, one of the Cape le Verdes. Here vessels can ob tain coeoanuts, bananas, sweet potatoes, poultry, sheep, goats and, above all, a copious supply of excellent water. Taraf.tl Bay is sheltered from the pre vailing trade w Inds. but it is otherwise completely ocn. We lauded near the mouth of au ample brook, which de scends to the sea, by a narrow and sin uous ravine, from a deep circular basin or crater formed amid the mass of lofty mountains iu the interior of the i-laud. Wherever the water can be conducted sugar cane, coeoanut and banana grow luxuriantly. The sugar, w Inch forms the principal article of export, is for warded to Lisbon in schooners. The sides of the ravine, which extends for nine miles into the interior, arc terraced and industriously cultivated in every part in w hich the water has access. The laboring population, w ho are all negroes, live in mud huts. T.-irafal Bay, lying on the southw est side of St. Antonio, is in an almost perpetual aim. There was no steady breeze throughout the day of our visit, and we stood off and on under steam. Facing the burning south, sheltered from the cooling breezes of the northeast trade, the cli mate would lie almost unendurable to an Englishman. There was an air of depression about the negroes and their employer, which was attributed iu part to their Isolation, in part In the exces sive heat. The scenery of this little-know n spot would, if it lay in a temperate zone and within the scope of ordinary travel, have been long since highly renowned, and would have Inspired the pen and the pencil of many lovers of the sub lime and lteautiful. The bay lies in an amphitheatre of mountains mid pre cipices. Pinnacles and spires and turrets of rock are flustered together in noble masses, and in forms and out lines of infinite variety. The rocks have a burnt wp volcanic aspect, and are absolutely barren of Tegetation. The only green spot in the landscape is the grove of coeoanut trees and bana nas, surrounded by a few fields of su garcanes.in the small delta on the shore formed by the solitary brook of Tarafal. Our moist and variable climate furnishes a frequent topic to discontented people n England ; and yet, to be wholly de prived of refreshing and fertilizing showers, to spend long months un sheltered from the ray of a tropical sun, is a far more serious privation. It is not In such a climate a that of the Cape de Verdes that those pleasant places can be found which anouiia in dear old England, and which are so happily depicted, in harmonious num bers, by the poet Gray : Where'er tne oak's ttiicK Draorues sireiea A browner, i roader snaue. Where'er the rode anil moss-grown beach O'er canopies the iclaue. B.11e xu- water's rushy brink With me the innse shall sit Here, too, it may be added, the sports man may carry his gun, may ride to hounds, or wield the bat or the oar, ou a greater number of days in the year than It would be iossible to devote to similar wholesome exercise in anj other climate in the world. Ml I & t s ---ie
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