1 &?( : . . glllll if B. F. SCIIWEIER, THE OOSSTITUnOI-THE TJSIOI-AFD TEE Or0B0EZ5T OF THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. li s : VOL. XXXI. MIFFLINTOAVN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1877. NO. 49. Dew little teacup, OL! my rare wee cap, Work of Celestials ! yon mint be divine ; Tea noone drauk in Porcelain of Nankin So fit to rank in Richer ceramic collection than mine. Those curious blue marks. Not sham, bat true marks. Trove von are nearly fire centuries old ; In your young beanty rerhapa you did brew tea For the King Chaty, Itobed. like the sun, in a mantle of gold. Where is his charmer ? Who would dare harm her. She who ruled over the ruler of meu ? Bat in the places Which knew her graces She left no traces They hare forgotten their fair denizen. She was not brittle. Frail perhaps a Utile. Why is she m ssing, and you here to-day t Say by what token Von are unbroken ? Patent to no ken Is the distinction for both are of clay. onnnnnnnnnnnnoB Jenny's Faith. "You fee," said the jailer, after lurk ing the last door, and seating his pretty niece in his own. pleasant office, ""the young man that's killed and this young man were cronies till Burgess saw Jen nie Anderson, when he w is silly enough to fall iu love wilh her. Well, instead of acting like a man when lie knew that Henry was engaged to her, he acted like a fool tried to cut Henry out, you see. That naturally angered Henry, t hough he acted very well about it for he's a generous fellow, and no doubt pitied him until Burgess began to throw out hinu that were unfavor able to the girl. Then Henry got mad. stinging mad, but still lie kept his hands off. Burgess grew more and more insane, however. He visited Jenny at all times, till his strange con duct began to frighten her. He laid iiimseu along places wncre sue was going, and came out all of a passion like, begging her to love him, giving out insinuations about Henry. "Well, one day he carried this thing too far, and Jenny went and told it to Henry. I wish she'd come to me; I'd have stopped it. But women are im prudent sometimes, as well as men. Henry didn't take that very calmly he had hard words with the fellow, and there came near being a fight. It was Mopied in time, however, but not be fore Henry, in his anger, had said some very hard things, that goagin him now. "Well, 't wasn't more than a fort night after that Burgess was found dead iu his lied, struck through to the heart with a knife. He had been behaving singular for some days, but nobody had seen that Henry took any notice of it. On the day of the night of the murder, it seems, he had sent Jenny an insult ing letter, w hich was read in evidence yesterday in court. Well, as I said, he was found murdered. Blood was tracked to the door of Henry's room they loarded iu the same house blood was found on Henry's shirt, face and hands, and a knife was stuck in an old stove among the ashes that was covered with blood, and that knife had Henry Isling ton's initials on its haft, cut in deep. Another knife was found under the bed of the murdered man. That's the whole story. A fine fellow roomed with Henry.' "He says he woke at the same time Henry did, roused with the exclama tion : 'My God ! w hat is the matter with me?" He says he never saw such a horrified face, and you can't make him Ix-lieve that jioor Henry had any hand in it at all. In fact, they have tried hard to clear the ioor fellow, but his threats very unwise they were the letter that Jenny had shown him, the knife, the tracks, all go against him, although it is thought that he must have done it in his sleep, to go back to led in that fashion. It's six months now ; the lawyers have put it off, and put it off, iu hopes that something would turn up to clear him, but noth ing has as yet, and I'm afraid nothing will." Eugenie sat and listened with tearful eyes, and w hen she went away, carried the impression of the "sorrowful face home with her. Meantime Jenny stitched away iu the dim cell, and Henry wrote. There had been a long silence. It w as broken by Jenny, w ho said, iu a light, cheerful tone: "Wasn't that a pretty young lady, Henry?" "Very," was his reply. Then pausing suddenly, he laid down his pen, say ing: "Jenny, cant you possibly realize the danger I am in?" "lHn't believe anything about it," said Jenny, quietly, and iu the same cheerful tone. . "But, my dear girl, you must. My lawyer told me this morning that I was as good as convicted. I love you for your faith in my innocence, your faith that it will be proved but, alas, dear Jenny, there is no hope !" He bowed his head on his hands. Jenny looked at him once all her face quivered with anguish, but with an almost superhuman effort she com posed her features again. "There is hope !" she said, stoutly. "I wish you could see into the misty future as God has given me to see." "Jenny, when I am gone you will copy this and send it round to those who loved me," he said, gathering up the manuscript. "You will outliv nie," she said quietly.. , . r , "Strange you are 'so blind to my danger strange you will not see where I stand. But, Jenny, if I lo die that horrible death" he shuddered "there will come a time when my innocence shall be proved clear as the noonday." "You will not die. Your iunocence will be proved even where youjstand" her lips quivered now, her chin trem bled convulsively. "Jenny Jenny; my. brave firl raf beautiful beloved, you do fear, but you would hide it from me. That is well. he said, as she fell sobbing into his arms. "Your heart would break, Jenny if you did not weep." She looked up, smiling even through the falling tears, as she exclaimed "My faith is just as strong as it ever was. God w ill interpose!" lleury Islington was convicted. He sat in the condemned cell. By permis sion Jenny was with him sometimes. Her fat was a shade paler, but her smile was just as sweet. She talked in a low, earnest voice 6he sang- to him. read to him. There were many visitors caned to see him, among them several clergymen. To them he always said "I am ready. An innocent man w ho has feared his God and loved his neigh bor as mmscir, need not tremble at the prospect of death." His calmness, his resignation, were the theme of all tongnes. His spiritual advisers hud no doubt of his genuine piety. Jenny still said: "He will never be hung." It seemed almost a mania born of uespair, this desierate belief. It made stout men w eep to see her shin- ing eyes to hear her quiet protesta tions "But to-morrow, my dear child," some one would say, as the time less ened, "he will erish ; nothing can save him. You had much lietter prepare your iniud for the worst." To which her reply was: "To-mor row night he will be w ith me, his iu nocence proclaimed." "Will she kill herself?" thev asked each other. The fatal day came. How bright. now beautiful the morning was! Earth never seemed more regal. The birds sang, the sun spread his ' luminous mantle over the greeii fields, the flowers gave their sweet and subtle odors to the breeze. Forth from the cell window looked the man that was condemned to die. He w as still calm, still serene. thinking w ith wonder over his last in terview with Jenny, now could she smile w hen he held her to his bursting heart for the last time? How could she leave hiiu with that unclouded face, Well, Heaven was kind if it spared her one pang. 1 hen he looked at himself, held out his strong right arm, corded with sinews, struck his feet boldly against the flags as he walked, and mur mured : 'Young, healthy, strong "Oh, my God, what a fate !' Tears and groans convulsed him praywr calmed him. The hour drew near. All the pre- limiuaries were gone through with. Some superhuman strength was given him. The jailer gazed at him with awe, and dashed away tear after tear. '"How is it, Harry?" he asked, when be could command his voice. "Well, well," replied the young man, with slow, prolonged utterance. "My poor Jenny see her;" to the lip trem bled. The jailer took his hand with almost a crushing pressure. "I'll do it, Henry Islington!" he said; "I'll do it. My own daughter shant have more care." "Thank you ; now I am ready." He stood out there in the bold sun light his face lofty, beaming with a strange light. They were adjusting the rope when orders were given to sus pend the execution to lead the con demned man back to bis cell. There was great shouting. Henry Islington looked about him like a man lost to the things of this world. He was not pre pared for life. "God be thanked, !',' said the jailer, as he crushed his hand again he could hardly sjeak "there 'sa chance of your acquittal after all more than a chance." 'Tell Jenny !" cried Henry, as he fell fainting iu the jailer's arms Ouly that morning had a good ship arrived from sea, after a six mouth's voyage. The first thing that ihe sailor calls for, if he is a good, industrious man, is the newspajier. Jack Biince was second mate of the Xeptune. It was eleven o clock before he had a chance at the daily paper, and there he read a summary of the trial, deportment of the prisoner up to nine o'clock, etc. Xo sooner had his eye 'athered in the most important testi mony, than he sprang into the cabin like one mad. "Hold, Jack! What are you rummag ing about?" asked the first officer. "Dun t say a word to me, captain, for Heaven's sake," cried Jack; "they're hanging an iunoceut man!" And out he dashed again, Having donned a longshore hat and coat. Co to the Mayor's office ran Jack, out of breath, gasping, choking, as he cried : I'm Jack Bunce, second mate or the Xeptune just got iu. - You're hang ing the wrong man ; he's as innocent as a baby. I'll prove it. And w hile Jack told his story the messengers were sent to remand Henry Islington to jail. ' : Shall I tell you in Jack's own words? "Jim Burgess was always a crazy fellow. I tell you, your honor; 1 am t no manner of a doubt about it, not a mite. 1 board at Col. springer w nen I'm at home, cause you see I ain't one of them low sort of sailors as go any where. I knew all about the fun. Henry's sweetheart was a pretty fair girl, worth a quarrel or two. But, well, there, be blessed n ever i inougin he'd do it! Burgess came to me one nio-ht I was getting ready to go to sea then. Yes, it was the fifteenth of Feb ruarysqually weather two days be fore I went. Says he : "Jack, do you want to know now i u have revenge out oi lien isims""" 'Sid I : 'Xo Jim, you better let him alone. You had no right to bother him in the first place. "I don't care.' says he, .'I tell you I II be revenged, and I'll do it in this way. I'll get bullock's blood no, I won't; i'ii dr niv own. I know how to do it.' Them's the exact language he used. I'll get his knife' Lord, he swore .u. .,ti ,,t I'll track bis floor and daub bi shirt and hands, and then I'll sub here.! Then he laugnea, wuu ... hand on his heart. It almost made my hair raise to hear him ; it sounded more like the yell of a mad dog. "Says I : "Burgess, you're a fool for telling it,' never once supposing, you see, that the fellow was In earnest. Well, I went to my'mother'stliat night, to say good-bye, and I told my cousin that was there courtin Ann that's my sister and I told Ann too." "Says I : 'Do you suppose he would ever attempt such a tiling?" "Says Zeb: 'Xo' that's Zebulon, my cousin, a foremost haud on board the Xeptune 'he's always talking in that lightheaded way.' "There, there's my story. You can send for .eb, who went to Taunton this morning, before he or I read the news about it; you can send for Ann, who's been gone six months to the west, and didn't get home till yester day, to be in time for the Xeptune, What I've told you is a fact. - I'm sec ond mate of the Xeptune, and folks will tell you down our way what a charac ter I bear for veracity and any of my ship-mates ask 'em. I tell you Hen Islington is as innocent as the unborn baby. You'll hang one of the best men, your honor, God ever made, if you hang him." The story was so coherent, the sailor's manner so truthful, his character so far above reproach, that every word car ried weight in court. His sister, blush ing like a peony, gave the same evi dence, although there had been no col lusion so did his cousin. Indeed it was one of those cases where everybody was willing to be convinced, from the judge down to the shoe-black, who had heard the progress of the trial from an intelligent newsboy. The prisoner was dismissed with a verdict of not guilty in deed or intention. How shall I describe the meeting be tween Jenny and her lover? She, poor thing, who had kept herself so calm during the terrible ordeal, shrieked like one in delirium when she saw him, still pale," but restored to life and to honor. It was feared for some little time that her brain was shocked, her reason shattered. In the excess of her joy her life had nearly paid the forfeit. "Was my faith iu vain?" she asked, again and again.. "Are you not sorry you doubted me? Did I not say God would be with us?" Henry was fully remunerated by gen- orous men for all he had lost. Jenny, was presented with a beautiful silver pitcher, on which was wrought the form of a kneeling girl, smiling toward Heaven underneath, the inscripiou. Jenny's Faith." Henry was given a frame house com plete, to carry with him to the West, and one bright summer's evening the two fond hearts were united at the resi- Ience of a gentleman who had taken a more than ordinary interest in the tri al, and used great exertions to clear him. They are to-day citizens of a thriving town in the land toward the setting sun. The Florentine Arithineticiaa About three hundred and fifty years ago, when Venice was In the height ot her power and the full flower of her glory, and when she was engaged in constant warfare with the Turk, there was among her senators one named Brabantio, who was held in honor by his fellows and by the Duke or Doge bimelf. The mistress of bis household was his young daughter, Desdeinona, whom he loved the more tenderly because her mother had died in her childhood, and the girl had grown to early womanhood watched over only by his fatherly eye, and had gradually come to fill a wife's and a daughter's place both in bis household and in his heart. The lack of a mother's watchful care and constant cautions had devel oped In Desdemona an independence of character and a self-reliance to which otherwise she might not have attained ; and this independence her position as the head of the domestic establishment of a member of the proudest and most powerful obligarcby of modern Europe greatly strengthened and confirmed. Desdemona's nature was gentle, submis sive, and self-sacrificing, but at the same time passionful ; and the result of the Influence of her circumstances upon this nature was a anion of boldness, or rather of openess in thought and action with a warmth and tenderness of feel ing and a capacity of self devotion which are found only in women of high ly and delicately strung organizations. With an imagination which wrought out for ber grand ideals, and a soul finely attuned to all the higher influen ce of life, she was yet a careful house keeper, and gaveherself up loyally to the duties imposed upon her by her position in ber father's boose. ot withstanding her beauty, her rank, her accomplish ments, she bad suffered herself to be little wooed, and had not Inclined her ear to the Toice of any lover, partly because of her youth, partly because of ber preoccupation, but chiefly rather because she cherished in her heart such a lofty ideal of manhood that there were few noble gentlemen even in Venice who could captivate her eye, or touch her heart. One young Venetian named Roderigo had become deeply enamored of her beauty. He could not love her mm she would be loved, and still less oouH not look upon her with an eye of favor; for he was a silly snipe a com pound of self-conceit and folly and foDDery; a coarse out leeme animai, with an outside fantastically tricked out by his tailor. Galaxi. False Friends. There are friends who are friends ilv for the hour, friends for the noon tide and the flood ; they have no real rooting, as you discover if your horizon gets clouded over, and foul weather in nlaee of fair: if vour rushing waters run dry and your goodly vessels are the stranded on the beach. l nese are parasites of life, and clinging growths which twine around tne stronger trees and mayoe strangle mem before they die. . . . . Harrisburg has shipped 2,000 bush- .i. nhoamtitji this season an! CX- jects to ship 1.000 busheU more. Motto's VgUness and Goad Humor. Meagre as our information is, and doubtful as we must be concerning much of Giotto's history, something at least we know of his person and char acter which helps to make the great Florentine more than a mere name, and serves to endear him to us with the warmth and reality of a living being, Little of stature, and ill-favored of countenance, Giotto's exterior ugliness formed a striking contrast to the beauty of his mind, and was so evident that it formed the constant subject of his friends' good humoicd jests, and is often alluded to by contemporaries, Beuvenuto da Imola tells us that the artist's children were as ugly as him self, and Petrarch and Boccaccio both mention Giotto as an instance of the strange fact that the rarest treasures of soul are frequently hiddeu in misshapen forms. But under this repulsive exte rior dwelt the kindliest heart and hap piest disposition, and a mind that, with all iu many-aided accomplishments, was far too large to admit of the least shade of selfish vanity. Xone of that morbid melancholy which frequently clouds the most gift ex 1 natures saddened the life or darkened the soul of Giotto; ou the contrary, he was endowed with a large share of practical common sense, that rare accompaniment of genius, with a shrewd intellect, and excellent power of reasoning, along . with the keenest sense of humor and most un failing lightness of heart. Xo man loved a joke better, or was quicker at repartee, or more full of innocent fun; and countless are the amusing anec dotes, the mirthful sallies, and witty sayings which dropped from Giotto's lips and are rcjeated by his contempa- rarles and friends. Every one who has heard the story of the courtier sent from Koine by the Pope to inquire into the merits of the respective artists; how he entered Giotto's shop and asked for a speciaien of his drawing, and how Giotto, taking up a sheet of paper and a pencil, and setting his arm firmly against his side, drew a ierfect circle at one stroke and then handed the paper to tiie astonished Roman, saying, iu reply to his exclamation and question if that was all, "It is enough, and more than enough ;" whence the saying, "Piu Umili, rhe V O di ffiutto," passed into a common proverb in Tuscany. Charm ing, agaiu, is the picture left us by Boccaccio in the Decammme, of the lit tle, ill-favored painter trotting along the road to Mugcllo on a hired nag, in company with the learned advocate Messer Foreje, one showery .Summer's day, both clad in old cloaks and hats, borrowed at some jieasaiu's hut, and all bespattered with mud from head to foot. "Well, Giotto," said Messer Forese, "could a stranger, hapeuingto meet us now, even guess that you are the greatest painter in the whole world?" "Assuredly he would," re turned the quickwitted artist, "if, be holding your worship he could ever imagine that you had learned your A B C." 77e Xeie Quarterly Mayuziue. A Itird that Caused a Dtrorce. Vampires or huge bats, which are re puted to extract the blood from human beings while sleeping, and eagles which fly off to their nests with babies to sup ply the eaglets with their suppers, are regarded as dangerous birds, but a par rot why a parrot, will, at times, as j shall relate, wreck the peace of a house hold, and almost drive its victims to suicide. Xow, there used to be one kept on Baltimore Street, Baltimore, in 1872, which led to a divorce between as happy a couple as the Monumental city could boast of. Mr. and Mrs. Wood were parrotized. They owned a most wonderful bird a large gray African which, for profanity, intelligence and mischief was nnequaled. The first named habit, to be sure, was partially cured, though not uufrequeutly at the morning meal the family would be sa luted wilh : "Hang you, I want my breakfast," but the mischief, backed by the intelli gence, was what brought woe to Mr. and Mrs. Wood. . The wife was exceedingly handsome, and had many beaux previous to mar riage; she was still, though it must be confessed, given to flirting. . Alas ! that such can truly be Raid of many of our married ladies. Yet the tongue of slander had not yet touched her, the human tongue, I mean. Xow, occasionally visiting Mrs. Wood you would find there Gus Learning. The Learning family and that of Mrs. Wood's lather had ever beeu the warm est friends, and Gus thought nothing of stepping into Mr. Wood's to hold con versation with the wife while the hus band was at liis business place. Against this Gus Learning this Afri can fiend conceived an insane hatred. The cause of his animosity, I fancy, grew out of the fact that Gus on one occasion put his fingers through the bars of the cage, when the bird fas tened on to one of them, and Gus was compelled to rap it on the head ere it would loosen its hold. How it cursed him when he came into the room where it hung in its cage. The Woods oft thought of parting with this creature, but then he was "too smart and cunning for the world." Better a thousand times had they sold or given him away, for before long he raised a domestic storm which wrecked two lives. One day as Mr. Wood entered the sit ting room on bis return from his store his wife and Gus being there, while the parrot was in its cage against the wall the bird cried out, sharply: "That man kissed your wife ! That man kissed yonr wife!" Was there ever a man feeling so ag grieved as Gus, so furious as Wood, so wretched a woman as Carrie, the wife? The husband did not doubt the truth fulness of the bird, for jealousy be lieves ever on the slightest evidence. But at last the husband ' was aptieased, or at least seemed to be. Gus continued his visits. ' -' - In less than a week, however, Mr. Wood, on coming into the sitting room, where were his wife and Gus, found that Toby, the jiarrot, had been removed. "Where's Toby?" he inquired. "In the hall. I thought it a more suitable place," replied his wife. "I prefer he should be iu this room, answered the husband. "Why?" "I have my reasons," coldly said Mr. Wood. "Mr. Wood, I thiuk I understand you; but we will not talk further on this matter now." Gus rose quickly, anticipating a scene, and bowing to the lady and gentleman, passed into the hall. Mr. Wood soon followed him, to go up the stairway, when Toby cried out with a shriek : "That man kissed your wife that mau kissed your wife !" In a day or two a quarrel followed about Toby. Mrs. Wood determined to be rid of him her husband was equally decided on retaining him. At last, one morning, poor Toby was found dead in his cage. Wood really loved and believed in this strange being, and iiMin investigation ditcovered that he had been poisoned. On questioning a simple negro girl on the subject, she admitted the poisoning at the instiga tion of the mistress. The married pair never lived together again, and in less than a year a divorce was granted for uncongeutality and abandonment, whereas the true cause was Tobv. The 3opel of Traveler. It cannot be too often remarked that kindness is one of the virtues which hardly ever fails to produce an effect: kindness, "in season and out of sea son;" kindness which is every one's power. How very much the wheels of life would be smoothed, how very much every one would add to the sum total of human happiness, if every one were to take hold of any of the many opxir tuuities which every situation offers to be kind, courteous, easy and agreeable toward the chance travelers that he meets in his journeys towards the chance sufferers that he comes across! It is never forgotten. The boy at school never forgets the kindness of au elder schoolfellow. The poor, solitary and wayworn man or woman never forgets the pressure of a kind, feeling hand, the glance of a loving, sympathetic eye. "A cup of cold water" given unexpect edly at the right moment, will indeed not "lose its reward." Think of this, all those who are concerned in the move me nts backward and forward which makes England, and we may almost say the whole civilized world, at this season of the year, a world of travelers, a de scent and ascent from Jerusalem to Jeri cho, from Jericho to Jerusalem. Rail way otlicials, how very much you can ease the burden and soften the difficul ties of some helpless solitary creature, by speaking a kind word to him, by showing him the way, by telling him what he ought to do in the hurry and confusion of our multitudinous railway stations! Policemen in our great cities, how very much you can and do enno ble your excellent vocation by a readi ness to guide, by a willingness to give information, by the friendly hand or encouraging w ord in the crosssng of the streets, by the unceasing vigilance to avert every kind of roughness or dis order in the vast area of your multipli ed callings! Cabmen, in taking up or setting down some suffering woman or child, how much in the course of a day you may add to their comfort and your own happiness by genlleiiess Instead of rudeness, by courtesy instead of harsh ness! Servants, officials, passers-by iu our great public building, what a pleasure you can give to all who come through this or any like resort, by mak ing thein feel that they are welcome and at home; what a delight you can im part by a word of instruction, or warn ing, or advice ! Travelers, whoever you be Englishmen, Americans, here or abroad how far and wide yon may make vour own srood influence and the good fame of your country extend by an agreeable turn given to some travel ing disaster, by not pressing hard on your neighbors in a crowded vehicle, by giving place to those who are weak er or less befriended than you rscl ves, by extending to those around yon, or w ho come within the reach of your notice, any protection which your sujierior wealth, or health, or strength may have put in your possession ! The "presence of miHd" to catch these, opportunities of diffusing Christian kindness is one of the graces which we should value as among the most valiiahleof God's gifts. which we should endeavor to strength en by prayer, by habit, by remeinl)er- ing that God, in whose presence we are, is ever requiring of us the special frame of mind which makes us ever "present" with Him, and ever "present" to the call of our fellow-creatures. Dean Stum U,. Thiers as a leba4er. . M. Thiers, it is well knows, always took great pains with his speeches. which were studied even to the last refinement of phrase and verbal color lug. They were long prepared; and after they were delivered, he used often to spend entire nights 1m the office of the " Monlteur" correcting and amend ing them for official publication. Yet in extempore debate he had uo superior perhaps no equal, until Gambetta sro-e. . A sudJen discussion always found him ready with his facts and his figures, his ever available power of irony, and his inveterate pugnacity. Kor did extempore debate ever betray him into flying over, or descending below, his subject. Sometimes he was impetuously indignant, and exceeding ly bitter in his retorts; but he rarely made use of his temper to lend the impressiveness of wrath to his eloquence He was most dexterous in speech ; there were tact and finesse in the wit that once in a while fparkled forth, and he was almost finlcally precise in the accu racy of his figures and statement of facts; but was not master of the art, In wbicb Gladstone is facile princept among recent statesmen of making figures eloquent, Scribner't Monthly. Making a Bow Hint M ths Etiquette of that -Hoc il Procedure. 'A bow," says La Fontaine, "is a uote drawn at sight. Yon are bound to acknowledge it immediately, and to the full amount." According to circum stances, it should be resiectful, cordial, civil or familiar. An inclination of the head is often snflicient between gentle men, or a gesture of the haud under some circumstances, or the mere touch ing of the hat; but in bowing to a lady the hat must be lifted. If yon know lieople slightly, you recognize them slightly;-if you know them well you bo- with more cordiality. The hotly is not bent at all iu bowing as iu the clays of the old school forms of jxiliteuess; the inclination of the head is all that is necessary. Oue's owu judgment ought to be sufficient as to the einpressmeut of the salutation. In bowing to a lady, the hat is ouly lifted from the head, not held out at arm's length for a view of the interior. If smoking, the gentleman manages to w ithdraw his cigar before lifting his hat; or, should he hapen to have his hand in his pocket, he must remove it. Gentlemen w ho are driving are often embarrassed by bow ing ac quaintances. They are obliged to keep a tight hold of the reins, and that is im possible if they remove their hats. A w ell-bred foreigucr would never dream of saluting a lady by raising his w hip to his hat. American gentlemen have adopted this custom, hut it would be still lietter if they would set the fashion of bow ing without touching the hat or raising the hand when occupied by their driving. Our ideas of what constitutes politeness in sueh points are entirely controlled by custom, and if it were an understood thing that gentlemen w ho are driving are not expected to take off their hats, the simple inclination of the head, a trifle lower, perhaps, than when the hat Is lifted, w ill soon be accepted as in good form by all sensible people. It certainly is a more respectful form of salutation than raising t lie whip, which shocks those who have not become hab ituated to this modern innovation. A well-bred erson instinctively bows the moment that he recogjiizes au acquaintance, at the instant of the first meeting of the eyes. According to the rule of courts, and of good society everywhere, anyone who has been in troduced to you. or any lady to whom you have been introduced, is entitled to this mark of respect. A bow does not entail a calling acquaintance, and to neglect it shows a neglect iu early edu cation, as well as a deficiency in culti vation and in the instincts of a gentle man; so that the truth of Saint Loup's assertion, that the bow is the touch stone of good breeding, is made good. A gentleman walking w ith a lady re turns a bow made to her, lifting his hat not too far from his head. It is a civility to return a bow, al though you do not know the one w ho is bow ing to you. The more cultivated a htsou is, the more prompt he w ill be found in such civilities. Either the one w ho bows know you. or has mistaken you for some one else. In either case, you should return the bow. and proba bly the mistake will lie discovered to have occurred from want of a quick recognition on your ow n part, or from some resemblance that you bear to another. In either case, the liow costs you nothing, and the withholding of it shows you to be gam-he or rude. Young people often wait for the recog nition of the elder, having been in structed by hooks that it is the place of the elder to show the first recognition. Xo books can replace the training of parents in such maters, or the instinct of kind hearts. , The one introdiiotion that entitles to recognition haviug beeu once made, it is the duty of the younger person to recall himself or herself to the recol lection of the elder persou by bow ing each time of meeting, until the recog nition becomes mutual. As persons ad vance in life, they look for these atten tions upon the part of tlie young, and it may be iu some instances that it is the only way w hich the young have of showing their appreciation of courte sies extended to them bv the old or middle aged. - Those w ho have large circles of acquaintance often confuse the faces of the young whom they meet and do not know, and from frequent er rors of this kind they get into the liamt of waiting to catch some look or ges ture of recognition. Porcelain Tainting;. There is no pleasanter or more fash ionable occupation at the present day than that of pjiintingon china. This art has, for some time, been very popular among German ladies, especially in Dresden and Berlin, w here the facili ties for painting and . firing the china are much greater than with us. In England, the Mintons have established an art studio at South Kensington, aud nearly all of their finest orcelaiu is decorated there by talented lady artists. At the Doulton Pottery, in London, over fifty young ladies, who have stud ied under Mr. Sparks, are engaged in the decoration of the Lambeth faience, and one of them, Miss Hannah B. Bar low, is considered by a I-ondon art crit ic, as the equal of Rosa Bouheur, in the delineation of animals. Outside of these schools ol art there are a great many talented lady artists in England, and not long since an exhibition of paint ings on porcelain by artists and ama teurs w as held in London under the pa tronage of II. I. II. the Crown Prin cess of Germany. These pictures were all original and attracted a great deal of attention, with a unanimous expres sion of approval from the art critics. The gold medal, presented by the Crown Princess, for the competition of lady amateurs, was wou by Mrs. George Sta- pleton, who exhibited three fine de signs of flowers and fruit, convention ally treated. Many other paintings were almost equally meritorious. In this country the art has not made so much progress, but in Cincinnati, Xew York aud Boston, there are a num ber of really talented artists,' who make a specialty of painting on porcelain, be side a host of more or less skillful ama teurs. . In Chicago there are several la dies who do really excellent work, and the number of these would undoubted ly be greater were it not for the tech nical difficulties to be mastered before one can paint readily on such a sub stance as porcelain. The greatest trou ble is. that in painting, the colors should lie painted iu side by side, not over one another, as, iu the latter case, they w ould not come out clearand pure after being fired. The only exception to this rule is that dark shades may be painted over lighter shades of the same color. Then, too, the colors cannot be mixed together, to form other shades with the same freedom as when oil colors are used, as the result after the piece wa fired, might he something very differ ent from what w as intended. The chem ical combinations of the different colors have to lie carefnlly studied and exeri- mented with before it is safe to mix them. Then, too, some of the col ors change con-iderably w hile being fired, what goes into the kiln a deep red coming out a light pink, a dull brown becoming gold, etc. The best way of overcoming these difficulties is by be ginning with painting sketches iu monochrome, and thoroughly master ing the use of a single odor before at tempting to paint with several. Very beautiful sketches may be made in blue. shaded from light to dark ; black and brow n are good colors to u- in this way, w bile pink aud red are harder to manage and less satisfactory iu results. A very useful thing to remember, and one often loet sight of, is, that w hen tainting on a w hite ground, dark colors show to the best advantage, and ou a dark ground light colors show the best, bright colors show well almost any where. There are a great number of colors prepared for porcelain painting, but some shades, a bright red, for example, it is impossible to obtaiu. These col ors come prepared for use in small tubes, the same as oil colors, but they are used wilh the fat oil and spirits of turpentine. A pattern iz.ay be sketch ed ou the china before commencing to paint, by putting on a thin coat of tur peiitiue, and theu sketching in the de sign w ith a hard lead pencil. After the decoratiou is completed the pieces have still to submit to the ordeal of tiring. Thev are arranged as com pactly as possble iu a square oven or kiln made of fire brick, aud tightly sealed, and then brought to an intense heat, sufficient to melt the glaze aud fuse the colors with it. If there is any gilding on the piece it comes from the kiln with a dead finish, and to give .1 i bright metallic lustre, it is polished with bloodstone burnishers. A very pretty effect is produced by burnishing only a part of the gilt, leaving the rest dull and lusterh ss. There is a wide range of subjects es !ecially suitable for china decoration, that arrange themselves naturally into several distinct classes. At present, flower painting is receiving by far the most attention, and it possesses this ad vantage, that a beginner can produee very creditable and pretty pieces, while the best artists can find no more pleas ing subjects for their brush. Violets, ixqipies, daisies, morning-glories- and buttercups are favorite flowers wilh amateurs; roses are very beautiful, but much more difficult to draw and paint well. Flowers are sometimes arranged iu bouquets and garlands, treated conventionally, but more frequently are painted in w hat is known as the "de tached" or Sevres style, w ith sprays of flow ers and gra-sf s throw n carelessly over the article orua mclited. iK-lii ate ferns are ery pretty treated iu this way. A w ay of arranging flow ers, much iu favor w ith German artists, is to group ferns, grasses and wild dowers around a va.st naturally, as if they grew there. Birds and butterflies form very good accessories to flower paintings, but they also make excellent decorations iu them selves, and should receive more atten tion from artists than is given them. Little has Ix-en done iu this country as yet in the w ay of elaborate landscae and figure paintings on porcelain, al though English and German amateurs have produced very creditable pieces of this sort. landscapes would lie es pecially pretty, and uot very difficult, sketched iu blue and en 'ttmttien, or sha ded from light todark, and would be an agreeable change from the mouotony of flow er painting. The interest takeu in china decorating all over the country has had one gixl effect in raising the standard of pulilic taste, so that, instead of the daults ou china that were thought pretty a few years ago, the eople demand and ap preciate the finest decorations of Sevres and Limoges, of Wort-ester and Dres den: and by comparing and studying these specimeus of the best European work, the amateur decorator can judge of tlte relative positions of the diderent schools, and learn how to raise Ameri can porcelain painting to the high po rtion which the art has reached in oth er countries. A Pig-eon's Love. A writer in the Scottish Xaturalist tells a story of a pi&eon, which illus trates the truth of the saying that God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and the higher power of instinct promp ted by parental love. Two pigeons had built their nests in the top story of the dove-cote, and had hatched their young which came out of the (ge about the middle of March 1876. Ou March 1C, a very severe stcrm of snow and snow drift set in at duk. It must be noticed that the door of the dove-cote looked to the north- est from whence the storm was coming, so that the snow blew right into the portal where the young pigeons were lying; only a few days old. The storm was very severe, so much so that it was thought to be the hardest that had happened for many years, and the young brood would have perished but for the bappy expedient that the father or the pigeons adopted. He stood in the doorway, with bis tail spread oat to the storm, and the, wings in a fluttering position, evidently with the intention of stopping the draught, so as to shelter his naked offspring ; and there he stood for hours, with the snow thick upon his back and tail, breaking the intensity of the cold. But for this the young must have died. Napoleon K!rt Marriage. The Directory was esubli.-hcd. It had now to renew its champion. Barras having become chief of the Directors, resigned his miliiary appointment, the command of the Army of the Interior, as it was called ; and procured it for his recent coadjutor. But such a post, which must either keep him out of actual warfare, or confine his e.iergies to civil contests, if any more should arise, was far from satisfying the am bition of Bonaparte. It was equally far from meeting the requirements of the State. The Republic w as at war ou all sides; in Germany, in Spain and in Italy. In the other quarters it had not been successful: but in the Xorth of Italy, a series of disasters had befallen its arms, ami the feeling of dissatisfac tion with its general, Scherei , was uni rersal. A change was evidently re quired there; and Bonaparte, w ho wa perhaps alone in his erceptin how grand a field for exertion and distinc tion was oien iu that country, conceiv ed an earnest desire to obtain the com mand, for w hich the experience of the state and character of the adjacent dis tricts, which he had acquired w hile serving in the Alps, was some recom meudatiou. And w hile his mind w as full of this hope, chance threw him in the way of a lady who hail great influ ence with Barras. Among the victims of the "Terror" had beeu a Jeneral Beaiiharuais. lie had left a w idow and two children ; and w hile Bonaparte w:ia General of the Army of the Interior, his son. a fine hoy of tw elve years old, came to hiiu one day to beg that his father's sword might hp returned to him. Bouajarte complied w ith the re quest, the very character ot w hich com meuded it to his favor, aud spoke to the child wilh such encouraging kindness that his mother visited him a few days afterw aril to thank him for his notice of her boy. Madame Beaiiharuais was handsome and pre-eminently graceful md attractive. She hail shared her husband's prison, but hail been released at the fall of Rotiespierre, sinee w hich event she had been on terms of the clos est intimacy w iih Barras. Her graces now made a very deep impression on the young general, w hose previous circum stances had not thrown him much into the society of ladies of high breeding. After a short acquaintance he sought her iu marriage. She hesitated. Some of those who envied him have fixed on him the nickname of General Vende- miaire; as if the only triumphs which he was qualified to gain were over citi zen soldiers. And there were not wanting friends of her ow n to ridicule his somewhat wild appearance; his meagre face, and long hair hanging down over his shoulders; and, what was a gTeater objection still, his evident poverty. But she, too, was ambitious; he had au enthusia-tic wav of talking which iMTsiiaded her thai he was capa ble of great deeds; and Barras promised her that, If she would consent to marry him, he would procure for him as her husband the command of the armv of Italy. His argument prevailed; the lady consented; the Director kepi his promise; the marriage took place on March 1. 17!', ami tw o daysafterw ard. the young commander in chief quitted his bride's arms to commence a aui jiaigii w hich w as to lead lo the attain ment of a loftier destiny than either of them hal as-yet ventured loex'wet. How Small Iteut Count. Five cents each morning a mere trifle. Thirty-five cents -r w eek -not much: yet it would buy coifi-c and su gar for a whole family, !s.2." cents a year aud this amount invc-ted iu a savings bank at tin' end of a year and the interest thereon at six per cent., computed annually, would iu twelve years amount lo more than ifiVs'.i enough tobuv a gixid farm iu the west. Five cent- before each breakfast, din ner" and supper; you'd hardly mi-s it. yet it is fifteen cents a day': $1.05 cents a week enough to buy a small littrary oflMxiks. Invent this as before, and in twenty years you have over $-".uoi. finite enough to buy a ginnl house and lot. Ten cents each morning hardly worth a second thought ; yet with it you can buy a paper of pins or a shmI of thread. Seventy cents per week it would buy several yards of muslin; $X.."0in one year. ltqo-it this moiiey as liefore, and yon would have $"J,:M0 in twenty years quite a snug little for tune. Ten cents before each breakfast, din ner anil stipjier thirty cents a day. It would buy a book for the children; $J.10 cents each wei--k more tliau enough to pay a year's subscription to a good newsprtper: $lll."i.50 a year with it you could buy a good melodeon. from which you could produce good music to pleasantly while the evening hoursaway. And thisamount invested as before would in forty years produce the desirable amount of f 13,000. Whoamongst women or w ho amongst men first decked the hand with the pli ant skin of an animal? Xecessity or ele gance, which invented the first glove? And yet we know that glove have been made from time immemorial. Iu an cient Rome, as well as Athens, the wearing of gloves was regarded as a mark of luxury and elegauee. And in laterdays history relates that when the last scion of the dynasty of Suabia was driven to the scaffold by Charles of An- jou, eonquoror at Champs du Lys, he justified in loud and haughty tones his title to the erown, and just before his death, thinking that be would invest some of his friends w ith the dignity which had been taken from himself, he threw bis glove into the midst of the crow d, calling ou a courageous man to pick it up and avenge his fate. In our days the glove appertains principally to private life, and is as much a matter of necessity as one's hat or coat. The Baldwin Locomotive Works at Philadelphia have contracted to furnish the Russian government with 150 first class locomotives. f i : 1
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers