li. F. SCHWEIER,
THE COHSTITUTIOIT-THE TJ5IOIT A5D THE EJTOEOEMEST OP THE LAWS.
Editor and Proprietor.
vol. xxxr.
MIFFL1NTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1877.
NO. 50.
TIKE TO GO.
They know the time to go !
The fury ciouda strike their inaudible boor
Id field aud woodland, and each punctual
flower.
Bows at the siptnal an obedient head,
And hastes to bed.
The pale anemone
Glides on her wav wi.h scarcely a good-night ;
The violets t e their purp'e nlbt-capa tight ;
Hand in hand the dancing oo.ombines.
In blithsome hues.
Drop t'jeir last court ernes.
Flit from the scene and couch them for their
rest ;
The meadow lily folds ber scarlet Test
Aud hides it 'ueatu the grasses' lengthening
green.
Fair aud serene.
Her e str lily floats
On the hi ue pon ' aud raises golden eyes
To court the golden splendor of the skies.
The sudden a glial come, aud down she goes.
To fiud repose
In the cool depths below.
A litt'e ater. aud the asters blua
Depart in crowds, a brave aud cheery crew ;
While goldeji-rod still wide awake and gay,
1 urua him away.
Furis hi. bright parasols
And. like a little hero, meets his fate.
The gentians, very proud to sit up late.
Next follow. ETery fern is tucked and set
'Nuath coveilet.
Downy and soft aud warm.
No little seedling voice is heard to grieve.
Or make complaints the folding wood beneath;
Nor lingering dares, to stuy, for well they know
The tuue to go.
Teach us your patience brave,
lear flowers, till we shall dare to part like yon.
Willing God's will, sure that his clock stiikee
true.
That lin sweet day augurs a sweeter morrow.
With smiles, not sorr w.
.eir Jerusalem vengrr.
A Few Boarders.
BY UK LEX FOREST GRAVES.
"My dear," said Mr. Peter Pensico.
to bis wife, "don't you tli ink it would
be a good idea for us take a few
boarders?"
"Boarders?" echoid Mrs. Peter Pen
sico. "What for?"
"To turn an honest penny, my dear,"
said Mr Pensico.
"Pshaw!" said Mrs. Pensico.
"Times are hard," said Mr. Pensico.
"But you've got money enough," re
torted his wife, with a toss of her curly
head.
"Sylvia," said Mr. Pensico, gravely,
"do you know that nobody ever has
money enough?"
"Xo," said Mrs. Tensico, shelling
away with great vigor at the pan of lima
beans in her lap. "I don't know any
thing of the sort" '
"Just think how ' nice It would
sound," said Mr. Peter Pensico, with
his eyes half closed, and his head on
one side, "Sclitct board for a few gen
tlemen, in a cottage on the Hudson
fine view excellent boating plenty of
shade milk and vegetables terms
moderate. I think I see it now In the
columns of the paper."
I thought you rented this cottage to
please me.'" said Mrs. Pensico, raining
down the emerald shower of lima beans
at a double quick rate.
"So I did, my dear so I did," re
sponded her huband. "But why
shouldn't we please a few select
boarders, too?"
Mr. Pensico was a retired grocer,
"fat and forty," if not "fair." Mrs.
Pensico had been a pretty ward school
"teacher, fall twenty years younger than
-her husband, who had boarded at the
arae house with the dealer In nuts,
rspices and moist sugars.
Love is like the whooping cough, a
more dangerous disease the older you
grow. Mr. Pensico took it very hard
so hard, indeed, that he married Syl
via Smith at the end of a fortnight's
acquaintance, and took her to live in a
pretty little cottage on the Hudson.
"You are a jewel, my dear,"said Mr.
Peter Tensico; "and I mfean to place
you in an appropriate setting."
But as the conflagration of his young
love died Into a more steady and uneven
flame, Mr. Pensico's old spirit of thrift
arose within him. Love In a cottage
was all very charming; but the wages
of cook, chambermaid and hardy man
counted up amazingly at the end of the
nicnth. A cow grazing in the meadow
was picturesque, to be sure, but the feed
bills were something to shudder at.
Sylvia in white muslin was an adorable
object; but it sometimes occurred to
Mr. Pensico' perturbed brain that cali
; coes would have been more economical,
Viewed fronf the laundress' standpoint.
In . shortloye . and economy were at
daggers drawnin the noble soul of the
ex-grocerymarw .
"Don't you think its a good idea, my
love?" persisted Mr. Pensico, brushing
a fly away from the circular bald spot
on the top of his head.
"So, I don't" said Mrs. Pensico.
"But why not?" '-
"I dup't like the idea of keeping a
tavern," retorted the bride.
"My dear," said Mr. Pensico, "you
exaggerate. A few select boarders "
"A few select fiddlesticks!" inter
rupted Mrs. Pensico, as she rose up,
flinging the lima bean pods all over the
floor.
Mr. Tenslco looked at his wife with a
calm and speculative eye.
"She dou't like boarders." pondered
he. "And she don't like to submit, as
. m-if should, to her husband's au
thority. Good! I'll enforce both these
questions, or I'll know tne re-u
whr!"
And Mr. Peter Pensico sat down to
write. the advertisement whose giow-ino-
neHnri had been floating in frag
mentary radiance through his britri for
the last five or ten minutes.
"I v,'t tike boarders." aald Sylvia.
"My dear," said Peter "you will do
just pre-cisely as I think best.
"We'll see !" cried out Mrs. Pensico.
"A woman ought to be proud to hare
an opportunity of helping her husband
on in the world," oracularly observed
Mr. Pensico. .
"I believe the richest people In the
world are always the meanest," said
Sylvia, with a toss of her pretty brown
curls.
"Economy, my dear economy !" said
Mr. Pensico. 'Take care of the pence.
and the pounds will take care of them
selves.' 'A penny saved is a penny
earned.' 'Money makes money. "
And Mrs. Pensico.fairiy overwhelmed
by this cataract of proverbs, ceased her
unavailing remonstrances. After all,
what good would they do?
Poor little Sylvia was beginning to
Domprenena that marrying a rich old
screw was not the shortest way to per
fect happiness.
But a woman defied, becomes a wo
man dangerous, and Mrs. Peter Pensico
determined that she would not be con
quered. Four days after the appearance of the
advertisement which cost so much time
and pains, three young gentlemen ap
plied for board.
Mr. Pensico assumed a magesterial
air.
"Ten dollars a week Is my fixed
price," said he; "but as there are three
of you, I don't mind saying twenty-five
dollars."
And on these terms Messrs. Smith,
Brown and Jones became possessors of
the three best bed-rooms of the cottage,
driving Mr. Pensico and his wife to the
sofa bedstead in the back parlor.
"Are we always to live so?" plain
tively demanded Mrs. Pensico.
"One shouldn't mind a little incon
venience, my dear, when a matter of
twenty-five dollars a week is at stake,"
said Mr. Pensico, with an air of superior
wisdom.
But as the days wore on, and Messrs.
Jones, Brown and Smith began to feel
more at home, matters began to be less
pleasant to Mr. Peter Pensico.
"My dear." said the paler familial to
Ms young wife, oneday, "do you think
it is quite dignified for you to be romp
ing out on the lawn with those three
young men?"
"I wasn't romping," retorted Sylvia,
with a pout that showed the coral curve
of her lip to -the very best advantage.
"I was only playing croquet. You
charged me especially to try and make
things agreeable to the boarders, didn't
you?"
This was on Monday. On Tuesday
Mrs. Pensico went fishing with the
three boarders. Pensico might have
gone too perhaps only that the boat
was capable of holding but four.
On Wednesday there was a picnic up
the river, to which Mr. Smith invited
Mrs. Pensico. On Thursday Mr. Jones
and Mr. Browd had a "camp out" in
the woo!s, of which Mrs. Pensico and
one Miss Tomlinson of the neighbor.
hood formed au indispensable accom
paniment. On Friday Mr. Brown undertook to
lay out Mrs. Pensico's verbena bed in
true landscape gardening style. On
Saturday it rained, and Mr. Jones, who
was considerable of an elocutionist, read
poetry alone to Mrs. Pensico, while she
darned the family hose. On Sunday,
Mr. Smith drove Mrs. Pensico to a
church ten miles away, in an elegant
little buggy with a leng-tauea horse.
"This is getting intolerable," said
Mr. Pensico.
And he wished he hadn't written
that advertisement.
But this was nothing to his chagrin
on the next day, when he found Mr.
Smith sitting under the apple trees
with his arm around Sylvia's waist.
Sir!" thundered Mr. Pensico.
"Eh ?" said the boarder.
"Leave my premises!" said the
grocer.
"I've just paid a week's board in ad
vance,' suggested Mr. Smith.
"Take back your wretched dross!"
bellowed Mr. Pensico. flinging a roll of
bills on the grass. "Go! Depart! Lose
no time, and take those other two young
men with you. I'm sick of boarders!"
And so the three young men departed.
When once the garden gate was closed
behind them. Mr. Pensico elevated his
right arm theatrically in the air-
" Never never will I receive anoth
er boarder into my family," said he.
' As for you, false wife
"Xo; but is 'honor bright' about
the boarders?" interrupted Mrs. Pen
sico, with sparkling eyes.
"I swear it by yonder cerulean
blue?" said Mr. Pensico, who had just
been reading " St. Elmo."
"Certain sure?" said Mrs. Pensico.
Certain sure!" said her husband.
" In that case," said Mrs. Pensico.
" I may as well tell now now, as any
time, that John Brown and Ferdinand
Jones are my eonsins, and that Charlie
Smith is my brother."
Eh ?" gasped Mr. Pensico. " Was
it was it a counpiracp
They wanted board in the country,'
said Mrs. Pensico, "and you wanted
boarders."
A heavy weight seemed to be lifted
from Mr. Pensico's heart as he remem
bered the arm around Sylvia' waist.
So it was only her brother ! And little
Sylvia hadn't played the married flirt,
after all !
He took his wife in his arm and gave
her a hearty kiss.
"My dear," said he, "you re a mis
chievous littie girl but liorgive you
And I guess we'll .give up the boarding
business.
Which waa all tqat Mrs. Pensico
wanted.
"I wag determined to. conquer him,
thought she, "and I've done it."
Woman.
The perception of a woman is as quick
as lightning. Her penetration is in
tuition ; almost instinct. By a glance
she will draw a deep and just conclu-
. . . tVirmOfl it. find
sion. Ask ncr now
t n.iw the miestion. A
she cannot aucn. ---philosopher
deduces inference, and his
inference shall be right; but he gets to
... - - if T mir sav
the head ol tne suur.- -
. j mimtincr step by
SO, DV SlOW uegicca, o -
.ten' She arrives at the head of the
. .n as he- but whether
staircase as ell "f; " . n Rhe
she flew there or not -- -
know, herself. While JrU8thr
. . i. .i,i, .iwelved. and6he
Instinct sne is -- , .
i. generally lot when she begin to
reason.
The Suburbs of IxmhIo
A for the river, in Ulking about
London suburbs we should have come
to that first of all. The Thames I the
great feature of suburban London; and
these neighborhoods are, for the most
part, worth describing only as they
bear some relation to It. Londoners
appreciate their river in the highest
degree; and they manifest their regard
In a thoroughly practical fashion.
They use the Thames; it might almost
be said they abuse It. Tbey use It, I
mean, for pleasure; for above Chelsea
bridge there are happily few traces of
polluting traffic. When once indeed,
going up the stream, you fairly emerge
from the region of the London bridges,
the Thame turns rural with surprising
quickness. At every bend and reach It
throws off something of its metropolitan
degradation ; with each successive mile
it takes ou another prettiness. By the
time you reach Richmond, which is
only nine miles from London, this
suburban prettiness touches its maxi
mum. Higher in its course the Thames
is extremely pretty; but nothing can
well be so charming a what you see of
It from Richmond bridge and just above,
The bridge itself is a very happy piece
of pictureso ueuess. Sketches and
photographs have, I believe, made it
more or less classical. The banks are
lined compactly with villi embowered
in walled gardens, which lie on the
slope of Richmond hill, whose crest, as
seen from below, is formed by the long
bosky mass of Richmond park.
To speak of Richmond park is to speak
of one of the loveliest spots in England.
It ha not the vast extent of Windsor,
but In other respects it is quite as fine.
It is poor work talking of English parks.
for one Is reduced to ringing the chang
es of a few lamentably vague epithets
of praise. One talks of giant oaks and
grassy downs, of browsing deer and
glades of bracken ; and yet nine-tenths
of what one would say remains unsaid.
I will therefore content myself with
observing that, to take a walk in Rich
mond park and afterward repair to the
Star and Garter inn to satisfy the
appetite you have honestly stimulated,
is as complete an entertainment as you
are likely to find. It is rounded off by
your appreciation of the famous view
of the Thames from the windows of the
inn the view which Turner has paint
ed and poets have versified, and which
certainly is as charming as possible,
though to an American eye it just grazes
a trifle painfully, the peril of over-tame-
ness. But the river makes a graceful
conscious bend, and wanders away into
that thick detail of distance character
istic of the English landscape. The
Galaxy.
Bohemias Glass. Where
and How it U
Made.
Bohemian srlass diners greatlv from
all other kinds, both ancient and mod
ern, in its manufacture and getierai ap
pearance. 1 be enetian glass, wuicn
reached its hiffhest level of artistic ex
cellence and commercial supremacy in
the fifteenth century, was essentially
liirht and graceful in form and decora
tion ; the German glass that appeared
in the sixteenth century, was very uu
ferent. bein? rather hcavv in form and
dull in color, aud almost always paint
ed in enamel with portraits, heialdic
designs, coats-of-arms, etc., whence it
is sometimes known as Baronial glass.
Glass of a much finer quality and
clearer color than the German or Vene
tian was made in Bohemia in the six
teenth centurv. and in 1C09 the art of
engraving on glass, until then unknown
was invented by Gasper Lehman, ami
did much to soread the taste for the new
glassware, which rapidly became very
popular. The industry has steauuy in
creased in imnortaiice to the present
day. and shows every sign of a long fu
ture of commercial and artistic activty.
Bohemia seems fitted by nature for a
glass producing country. Its rugged
hills are covered with heavy pine for
ests that furnish the glass manufactur
er with the fuel for the furnaces anil
the potash, which is an essential iugre-
lient of this glass. The other materials.
iuartz and lime, are found in great
pleutv in close proximity to the faetor-
IT
ies. The forests are owneu uy nouics,
who have no wav of using UD the wood
but in glass-making, and therefore give
every encouragement to the industry,
often building the.glass-ractorics and
renting them out to small manufactur
ers, supplying them wood at a fixed
rate. These buildings are very poorly
constructed, but are generally roman
tically situated in this nuiy, woouy
country. W hen all the wood in tne
neighborhood has been used up, mey
are removed to the cent re of some dense
forest, there to remain till that, too, is
exhausted. The pieces made in these
rude factories are often transported to
nishing shops in the villages, wnere
the engraving, enameling, painting,
nd gilding is added.
Resides the nominal cost of the mate
rials for irlass-making. the Bohemian
manufacturers uossess a great advan-
tage in the low wages paw tome w ora.-
1.
inon which areoulv about one-iourtn
what isnaid in other countries. M. Teli-
got estimates the wages paid in Bohe
mia at from one-third to one-iounn
thiit of the French workman, but adds,
"this, however, does not speak much
for the wealth of the proprietor, the
profit, of the manufacturer, and espe
cially for the general well-being of the
orking classes of that country.
with these natural advantages, aided
by
a lnnsr experience and the researcn-
of skilful chemists who are constant
es
ly experimenting in the interests ol the
factories, it is no wonder that they
stand confessedly at the head of glass
makins countries. Mr. Peligot, the
best French authority on the subject,
"The Bohemians excel in glass
colored in the body; most of the colors
used in France were discovered by
them ; the price of their colored glass
is often no more than that of their white
Tlass. They also excel In glassengrav
Fng. and almost all the good engravers
from Bohemia."
IU
pj... nrravinfr originated In Bohe
mia, and has never been brought else-
where to the perfection it has attained
here. This work is often very artistic,
and can only be compared to the art of
engraving on precious stones. The en
graving is done with copper wheels of
various sizes ; upon these the glass is
cut away to a greater or less extent, or
the surface rendered opaque, as the ar
tist may wish. An elaborate pattern
will often require the use of a dozen or
twenty wheels, each of which has its
special work to do.
Glass-cutting is similiar to engrav
ing, being done on a revolving wheel
ill the same manner, except that the
wheel is of iron and is used with sand,
which cuts away the surface of the
glass in any form desired. Afterward
the glass is polished on wood and cork
wheels, the finish being given with a
cloth wheel covered with rouge.
The different colors of glass are form
ed by the addition of metals, either pure
or in the form of oxides. The rich
rose color is produced by adding Pur
ple of Cassi us, which is largely com
posed of gold, to the white glass. The
blue color conies from cobalt, the yel
low from antimony, or silver, red from
gold, and violet from manganese. Black
glass is formed from a mixture of man
ganese, copper, iron and cobalt, and
this composition is largely used in the
manufacture of artificial jet ornaments;
but a much finer quality of black glass,
called Hyalith, is formed by the addi
tion of sulphur to the crystal glass.
This gives a rich black glass that takes
a high polish, is very strong, and can
stand a great amount of heat. This
glass is at present the most fashionable
kind made; it is adapted to any style
of ornamentation, is very durable, and
looks well with almost all surround
ings. Articles are often formed of two or
more layers of glass, and these may af
terward be cut away so as to show the
pattern in different colors.
Enameling is now the most popular
decoration for Bohemian glass. Enam
el is a glass, made white by adding the
oxide of tin, that melts at a less tem
perature than the article to which it is
applied. The enamel is laid on the
glass, and the piece is put in a umtlle
or finishing oven and heated until the
enamel melts and fuses with the glass.
Afterward the enamel may be colored
with mineral paints in the same way as
in glass painting. Bohemian glass is
esjiecially well suited for this style of
decoration, as it will stand twice the
amount of heat required to weld French
or English crystal. A very rich effect,
almost equaling in beauty cameo-cutting
or pale-sui-pate decoration, which
lait it very closely resembles, is produ
ced bv painting figures in pure white
on the black Hyalith glass, the vary
ing thickness ot the enamel producing
the richest effects of light and shade.
The pure white enamel is more dilllcult
toproduce and more artistic in effect
than that which is intended to be col
ored, as the latter is put on of an even
thickness throughout, the effects of
light and shade being added during the
coloring process. The painting of these
pieces is often verv arti.-tic; the color
stands out from the body of the ware in
a manner unattainable by any other pro
cess.
The Hvalith class is sometimes deep
ly engraved in a set pattern, and the
cavities thus formed tilled with a col
ored paste which melts when the piece
is heated, thus giving a true chaiuplerc
enamel on glass.
Observations on a Singing Mouse.
The singing of mice is a phenomenon
which was recently affirmed by Dr.
Berdier in a letter to La Suture. A dis
tinguished herpetologist, M. Lataste,
suggested that he may have made con
fusion with the singing of a ranuorm
batrachian, the Buml-inatur vjneus, but
Dr. Berdier said there was no marshy
ground near the room in which he had
heard it, and he stuck to his assertion.
His observation has leen coufirmed at
a recent meeting of the French Societe
d' Acclimation, by M Brierre, who
stated that he, with several others, had
heard mice sing at Saint Michael-sur-1
Heron fin Vendee) in 1S51-1S53. The
singing (which was at first attributed to
reptiles) came from an old cupboard
bought in a market-place, and conceal
ing mice. It was about sunset that the
sounds generally commenced. M Brierre
soaped the joints and wood so that he
might opeu the cuploard suddenly with
out noise. He did the latter oue even
ing soon after the sounds had com
menced, and succeeded in observing,
for about a minute, the movements of
the throat of a mouse, which emitted a
song like that of a wren, the snout
being elongated and held up in the air,
as a dog does when he howls, lie seized
the animal with his hand and called
others to see it, but it got off. The sing
ing was resumed the same night and
those following. M. Brierre Is unable to
attribute the singing of the mice (as
Dr. Berdier does) to imitation of that
of canaries, for he had no birds in the
house, nor had the previous proprietor
of the cupboard any. Xature.
Consolations of Age.
Let us ask whence old age Is to de
duce most of Its consolation? There
should be some unfailing supply of
mental peace for old age. That I a
mighty change In nature when the
white hair comes. It would seem that
one's heart ought to break when one
finds that be ha crossed the line and
will never return to youthful days
airain : that for him the great sun is de
clining and will soon set; that his
friends will be fewer In number and
these less demonstrative in their devo
tion. But no! the heart does not break;
for what is little in the present is atoned
for bv the strange power the mind
possesses to gather np a long past and
hold it as a part of the earthly day. Into
this noble consciousness the last years
can withdraw, and can there find a
blessedness which youth and beauty
might envy but could not surpass. The
orchards which the old man planted,
the shade trees by path and house, set
there vears atro. the home itself, the
part he took In defending the State
against foes from withoutor within, tne
citv or villaire he helped to greatness
from the condition of a trading post of
a few wlirwams. all these array mem
selves around old age a so many angels
of consolation.
Human Xature Amoag Anta,
Wars among the ants have very much
the same causes as among men. It is a
piece of territory that is coveted, and
the stronger tribe goes out In force, van
quishes and eject the weaker; or it Is
the possession of it flock and herds,
which one colony wishes to wrest from
another; or in the slave-making species
a colony requires a new relay of servants
to relieve it of all care. In this case a
number of Formica rva or Formica san
guinea muster and advance against a nest
of Formica nigra, after a desperate battle
for the red ant are very brave, and
the black ones though cowardly are
fighting for their young the aggressors
who are almost always victorious, bear
off the pupa? of the black ants to their
own nests. When they hatch out into
perfect insects the slave take upon
themselves the whole care of tho colony ;
they tend the young, take charge of the
nest, and even feed and carry about
their lasy masters, who will often die
of starvation rather than help them
selves, even when food is close at hand.
The slaves, however, have something
to say in the nest. They detain their
masters when they desire to go out on
a slave-making expedition, till after the
time that the males and female of the
negro colonies shall have taken flight,
so that the species shall not be exter
minated. When the red anta come
home without booty, the slave treat
them with contempt, and sometimes
even turn them out-of-doors. They
are willing to work for their masters so
long as they can hold them in respect.
In these combats the ants often mani
fest a singular resemblance to human
beings in the effect which battle pro
duces in the case of raw recruits. An
ant which at first seemed fearful and
hesitating, after a time becomes excited
and shows a frenzy of courage, reck
lessly throwing away its life without
accomplishing anything. When an ant
which has reached this condition of
insensate fury happens to fall in with a
body of self-possessed workers, they
quietly lay hold of it, several of them
holding its different feet, gently touch
ing It all tne while with their antenna;
till it calms down and is able to " listen
to reason."
RukUi on Uying Poor.
One of Ruskin's latest eonvictions is
that a man ought to die poor. Nothing,
says Mr. I lamer ton, in the International
Herifir. can be more opposed to our
usual English theory, that the beauty
of dying, and its blessed consolation, is
the sweet assurance that we shall "cut
up handsomely." "I shall die rich,"
said a I-ancasltire manufacturer to me.
with the conviction that it was a beauti
ful end to look forward to. For Mr.
Ruskin there will be no such bliss.
Whatever may be said against his views,
nobody can deny that they are more
easily carried into practice than those
of my manufacturing friend, To die
poor is given to many ; to die rich is the
lot of a few. Even the rich man may
die poor if he will only spend freely
and be liberal beyond his income. This
is what Mr. Ruskin has done and been-
His father anil mother left him 1.7,-
000 in hard cash, and a lot of property
also in houses and lands, beside a valu
able collection of pictures. Following
the advice of wise business men, he in
vested one third of the cash in mort
gages whereby he lost 20,000. This
seems to be the only loss of importance
of unite a voluntary kind. A sum of
17,000 has been freely given to poor
relations; another of 10.000 has been
lent to a cousin, to whom the debt is
also fredly forgiven. Mr. Ruskin's gift
to Sheffield and Oxford cost him 14,000.
The rest of the cash has gradually dis
apcared by the familiar process of fix
ing expenditure above income, the an
nual expenditure being 5,.VK), and kept
steadily to that figure when the captital
had been so reduced as no longer to
vield that interest. The most curious
thing is, that this year, 1S77, Is tne last
of Mr. Ruskin'sexistenceasa rich man.
so he allows himself a trifle of 3,000 to
be spent in amusement at Venice or
elsewhere. He does not intend to com
mit suicide next December, but merely
to invest money enough in the funds to
bring him a pound sterling per day, or
a fraction less. He keeps his house,
but gives most of his other properties
awav
This line of action has from the first
been dedicated by Mr. Ruskin's natural
temrjer. which is not one of careless
ness about money matters in the usual
sense, but extravagance and generosity
on principles of his own. Terhaps he
may object to my word extravagance,
since his expenditure has always bee a
carefully restricted. Well, so Jit has;
but to a sum considerably beyond what
he co-ild really afford; and the best
proof of an extravagant disposition is
this allowance of 3,000 for mere amuse
ment this year in Italy. I need hardly
observe that a single man might amuse
himself during a whole year in Italy
for fifth of that sum, seeing everything
aud living at the best hotels. I do not
question Mr. Ruskin's right to do what
he likes with his 3,000, especially after
his gift of much larger sums to others
hut for a man who is to live on 1 a day
during the rest of bis existence, such a
costlv excursion is an odd apprentice
ship to poverty. Again, Mr. Ruskin
tells us that he spent 15,000 on his
conntry house, which was certainly ex
travagant in proportion to his means. I
think I have proved the extravagance;
the generosity needs no proving. Mr,
Ruskin, after a fashion of his own, is
one of the most generons of men, and
continues to be so, as he reserves his
literarv earnings to his charities. It
seems very doubtful whether, before
this voluntary acceptance of compara
tive povertv, Mr. Ruskin had fully re
alized its consequences. It may not
matter now, but money was a wonder
ful help to him during his most produc
tive years. It Is a great thing to have
capable assistants; to be able to withold
a volume until it is ripe ; to be able to
reject and destroy engravings which
are not quite up to the mark. It is
great thing to have full leisure for the
collection of materials, ample time and
means for comfortable travelling, so
that all the galleries of Europe are
within a day or two of your writing
desk whenever you choose to visit them.
Besides this, in a country like England,
a wealthy writer has a prettige which a
poor one has not. The advantages
which he has are very great, but people
imagine them to be still greater, and
have confidence in his superior oppor
tunities for information. They are
glad to think that he does not write for
money, and so believe in his honesty.
The general report exaggerates a rich
man's means, and so gets him greater
respect. Mr. Ruskin s fortune, before
his own revelations, was estimatrd in
London at half a million sterling, and
his opinions came with the weight of
all that gold behind them. His volun
tary poverty will diminish his authont y
as a writer, not at all among really su
perior people, but with the vulgar, who
are the majority. It Is an odd coinci
dence that Mr. Ruskin's periodical
publication should be called "Fortune
Keeper of the Keys," Fur Clariyra),
when we reflect with how little tenacity
fortune has kept the keys of his own
treasury
I may add that he sells his own books
now through an agent who lives in a
country place, and only for ready
money. Ten per cent, is the allowance
to the trade. Including this percentage,
the price of the illustrated volumes is
thirty shillings each, and that of the
volumes without plates one pound. All
this is done in obedience to the author's
theories of political economy.
The books are well bound in blue calf,
yet dear, nevertheless Even the dear
ness is a matter of principle, as Mr.
Ruskin objects to cheap books, forgetting
that the difficulty of purchasing is vari
able when.the price is not, being depen
dent upon the means of the buyer. "I
do not care," he says, "that anybody
should read my books who grudges me a
doctor's fee per volume." Surely this
is a wrong view of the subject. One
man may be a greater admirer of Mr.
Ruskiu and begrudge him nothing, yet
simply not have the means to buy ex
pensive books, while another may care
very little about him, yet toss him a
sovereign for the gratification of an
evening's transient curiosity. For my
part, I always wish that the money
question could be ignored entirely, aud
books given for nothing toali who cared
to have them.
Ivory and its Imitation.
Larger demands of civilization for
manufactures employing this material,
an increased knowledge of African
ivory districts, and the ready advantage
of combining some slave expedition
with the pursuit of ivory, a few year
since, added extraordinary stimulus to
the activity of elephant hunting, Con
ditions of this nature at length menaced
the proboscidian family to a degree
never known previously. It is reported
that in Cape Colony not an elephant
survives; that in all the African coast
regions the ivory hunter finds herds of
these pachydcrniata extremely few and
far between. In Guinea, once distin
guished as the Ivory Coast, the number
of elephants has been decreased by the
native hunters, until commerce in ivory
has there also become quite insignifi
cant in amount. How numerous the
animals may be in the interior can be
only matter of conjecture, and whether
the number native there is augmented
by the retreat of others from the mari
time countries, in which hitherto they
have been persistently hunted. The
Galary.
The Heart.
Throb, throb, throb. Xever sleeping.
but often tired, loaded with care, chill
ed by despair, bleeding with wounds,
often inflicted bv those who do uot un
derstand it, or burdened with affection,
it must beat on for a lifetime. Nothing
finds a lodgement in its chambers that
does not add to its labors. Every
thought that the mind generates steps
upon the heart before it wings its way
into the outer world. The memory of
the dead loved ones are mountains of
weight upon its senitiveness; the anx
ieties of the soul stream to the heart and
bank themselves upou it, as the early
snowdrifts cover the tender plant ; love,
if it loves, fires it with feverish warmth
and makes it the aiore sensitive; hate,
if it hates, heats it to desperation and
fills it with conflicts. Still it works on.
When slumber closes the eyelids the
heart is beating beating beneatn all
its burdens; it works while we sleep;
it works while we play; it aches when
we laugh. Do not unnecessarily wound
it; do uot add to its bleeding wounds.
Speak a kind word to cheer it; warm it
when it is cold ; encourage it when it
despairs. frood Word.
Green and Red Days.
Binary and Multiple stars being
guns are probably attended by their
planetary systems, giving rise to cos
mlcal conditions of extreme interest.
The inhabitants of those earths if
there beany will frequently see two
suns, or two sunrises and sunset on
the same day. Occasionally there will
be no night, from the continuance of
one of the suns above the horizon, or
one sun may be rising while another is
setting. It often happens, too, that the
stars are of different colors, from which
the most singular and beautiful appear
ance will arise. " It may be easier
suggested in words," says Sir John
Herscbel, " than conceived in Imagine
tion what a variety of illumination two
stars, a red and a green, or a yellow and
a blue one, must afford a planet circu
lating round either, and what charming
contrast and grateful. vicissitudes a
red and a green day, for instance,
alternating with a white one and with
darkness must arise from the presence
or absence of one or other or both, from
the horizon." G. Chapi Child.
The man who lives right, and is right,
has more power in his silence than an
other baa in hia words. Character is
like bells which ring out sweet music,
and which, when touched accidentally
even, resound with aweel music
Taote.
The gospel of good taste wa probably
never preached with so much energy as
it has been during the last ten years.
Looking back at the history of the
world, Indeed, one might almost say
that, till tne middle of the present
century, the gospel of good taste was
never preached at all. The periods in
which art was most prosperous, and
in which all the Instruments of daily
life were made most beautiful, were
precisely the periods in which there was
least talk about "culture" and the least
need to sing it praises in the streets.
Even when conscious thought about the
principles and aims of art came in, it
never happened till now that discussion
of these topics passed from the studio
and the drawing room into the parlors
of the middle classes and the dwellings
of the poor. There might be a great
deal of self-conscious and curious refine
ment, but it was limited to the classes
which enjoyed wealth and leisure. Xo
one thought of making good taste univer
sal; but rather the aesthetic Pharisees
of the day held themselves a peculiar
people, separate fr-m a fallen world
out of which they were not anxious to
call any proselytes. They themselves
were "the polite;" they haunted curi
osity shops and public auctions, and
went Into raptures over Chinese mon
sters, or the fore-arm of some decrepid
Greek statue brought home by my lord
from bis grand tour. The rest of
humanity wa "the vulgar," and was
not expected to know anything of these
joys, or to ape the modes of dilettanti
and macaronis. The modern change is
remarkable enough. Persons of taste
and it is very much to their credit
are of the mood of Dorothea in Middle,
march. They cannot enjoy theirchintzes,
etchings, roses, and Nankin blue with
a clear conscience while an enormous
majority of people piss their existence
In the midst of foul sights, sounds, and
smells. Hence come popular lectures
on the Beautiful, hence worthy little
books on domestic art, and hence the
existence of a benevolent Society which
endeavors "to bring beauty into the
homes of the pcor." One might think
that the demand for soap and fresh air
was even more Imperious than the need
of carved brackets In soft wood trimmed
with Berlin worsted work. A well
cooked dinner will do more to keep a
man from the public-house than a
photograph of even the most admirable
design of Lorenzo Credi. Granting
this, however, it would be superfluous
cruelty, to sneer at the efforts of people
who, finding almost tneir chief good in
beauty, try to spread the knowledge and
love of it. One need not go all lengths
with Mr. Browning's Fra Lippo Lippi :
If jroa fft simp! tvtv Dd soaffht
Y'-n ff-t aKut the beat UMus Otxl laveB ;
That uaH-bt.
The taste for "simple beauty and nought
else" has proved one of the worst quali
ties of a man or of a stage of society.
But it is not the imminent danger of the
London poor, and we need not, so far,
be afraid that workingmen will grow
too much absorbed in contemplation of
the paintings of Lumi, or in the study
of that high class of poetry in which
sense is ju-t swooning in melodious
nonsense. Saturday Hitiew.
The Wolf awl the Hoc.
But what I wasgoin'to tell you about
was a big piece of fun 1 had one day
when out huntiu on the Whitewoman
bottoms.
As I was slippiu along liopin' I'd see
somethin to .-hoot, all at once 1 heerd,
aw ay off through the woods, a awful
roarin' and "booh '. boohin' !" of hogs.
I didn't know what in thunder w as the
matter with 'em, but I determined to
find out. It was a wet, drizzly kind of
day, and I could git along over the
leaves and not make a bit of noise. I
scooted tlong from tree to tree, and at
last I come to a place where thar was
about two acres of hogs.
Sich a sight of hogs I never did see.
Thi.r they stood and squirmed about,
kiverin' all the ground. AU had thar
bristles up, an' all war a "booh, booh,
boohin' !" at a fearful rate. Thar was
w hite hogs, and hogs of all sizes, eolors
and degrees of etissedness. Mad ! they
was just bilin mad froth in at the
mouth and champiu' their teeth fear
ful. A sort of steam rose up out'n the
wet hair of that mass of ragin' beasts,
and filled all the country round with
an overpowerin" smell of mad hog.
What was a causiu of all this commo
tion I w as not long in seein'. Thar in
the middle of the great convention of
ho"s, stood a big oak stump, about five
feet high, and in the centre of the stump
stood a big gray wolf a gaunt, hungry
lookin' devil as ever I seed.
He was handsomely treed, and wasn't
in any pleasant fix, as he was begiuuin'
to find out. All about him was a mass
of uneasy hair, devili-h eyes, frothin'
mouths, and gleamin' teeth. Poordev
il! thar he stood his tail tucked close
betw een his legs and his feet all gather
ed into the exact center of the stump
and Lord, asn'thcaick lookin' wolf!
He seemed to be thinkin' that he had
sold himself awful cheap.
Right close about the stump, and rat
riu' up against it, was a crowd of the
biggest and most onprincipled sows I
ever sot eyes onto. Every half minit
one of these big old she fellers would
rair up, git her fore feet on top of the
stump aud make a savage snap at one
end or 'tother of the wolf, her jaws
comin' together like a flax brake.
The wolf would whirl round to watch
that partickcler sow, when one on
'tother side of the stump would make a
plunge for his tail, an' so they kept the
poor, cowardly cornered critter whirl-
in' round and round, humpin' up his
back, haulin' in his feet and tail, and in
every possible way reducin' his aver
age.
Almost every instant their was a
ch.irge made on him from some quar
ter, and sometimes from three or four
directions to ouct. Lord, wasn t it nur-
rvin times w ith him then !
When he had a moaient to rest an'
gaze about all he saw was them two
acres of open mouths, restles Dristies,
and fiery eyes. His long, red tongue
hung out of his open jaws, and as he
moved fhi head from side to suie ne j
seemed to have about the poorest con
ceit of his smartness of any wolf I ever
seed. He had got himself into a nice
pickle by tryin' to steal a pig, and he
knowed itjistas well as if he'd been
bumau, and was ashamed of himself ac
cordin. No quarter could he expect
anywhere in 11 that sea of open, roar
in' mouths.
Sich was the noise, and chargin' and
plungin' and surgin' to anil fro that I
hardly felt safe behind my tree, 100
yards away.
I determined to try an experiment on
that wolf. I raised my gun and fired
into the air. At the report the critter
forgot himself. He bounded from the
stump at the crack of the gun, am) he
never tout-lied the ground. Haifa doz
en open mouths reached up tor him, and
in them he lauded. There was jist one
sharp yelp, then for a rod around was
seen fly iu' strips of wolfskin, legs, and
hair for half a minit was heard a crun
ehin' of bones, and then them old sows
were lickin' their chops, rarin' up onto
that thar stump and propectin' about
for more wolf.
'Bout that time I concluded the neigh
borhood was likely to prove ouhealthy,
and I got up and peeled it for the near
est clearin's. Xrcada Territorial En
terprise.. The Future of Women.
Sir David Solomons has recently pub
lished a pamphlet expressly devoted to
a consideration of the future of woman
in England, and suggestive of practical
methods for Insuring her elevation in
the scale of social developement. The
author commence his work by setting
forth the numerous disabilities under
which the girlhood of the humbler
classes of that country has suffered in
past days, and then propounds under
the following three heads his plans for
their removal In days to come : 1. To
provide better education for girls and
improved means for studying when
they shall have grown up. 2. To find
larger number of occupations for
women suitable to their capabilities, and
for performing the duties of which they
shall be fairly renumerated. 3. To
found organiz ition for carrying out
practicably the first two divisions of
the scheme, Sir David suggests the
subjoined as the principal points to be
attended to: "Every woman," he
says, " whether single or married, and
whatever her station ot life, should
know something about elementary
physiology and the principles of health
domestic economy and account keeping
culinary manipulations, elementary
geometry, social scieuce and moral
philosophy." With this as a programme
and alter having mastered it in detail,
there is no doubt, as Sir Duvid Solomons
observes, that women will live with
much more comfort to themselves, more
satisfaction to society, and become
generally more agreeable companions.
After euumeratiug forty or fifty varie
ties of occupation to which women
might, as he thinks, easily adapt them
selves, and thereby obtain subsistence,
the author of the pamphlet concludes
by expressing a hope that "all local
societies at present in existence for pro
moting the employment of women will
amalgamate and become a national
society for the employment of women
and f.r the promotion of women's
rights."
A Treiiientluuft Talker.
Coleridge was prodigal In his words.
which, in fact, he could with difficulty
suppress; but he seldom talked of him
self or his affairs. He was very specu
lative, very theological, very metiphys
ical, and uot unfrequently threw in
some little pungent sentence, character
istic of the defects of some of hi
acquaintance. In illustration of his
untailing talk, I will give an account of
oue of his days when I was present.
He had come from Highgate to London,
for the sole purpose of consulting a
friend about his Son Hartley ("our
dear Hartley"), towards w hom he ex
pressed, and I have no doubt felt, much
anxiety He arrived aOut one or two
o'clock, In the midst of a conversation
which immediately began to interest
him. He struck into tne middle of the
talk very soon, and held the " ear of
the bouse" until dinner mule Its
appearauce about four o'clock. He then
talked all through the dinner, all the
afternoon, all the eveaing, with scarce
ly a single interruption, lie expatiated
on this subject and on that; he drew
fine distinctions; he made stbtle criti
cisms. He descended to anecdotes
historical, logical, rhetorical; he dealt
ith law, medicine and divinity, until,
at last, five minutes before eight o'clock,
the servant came iu aud announced that
the Highgate stage was at the corner
of the street, and was waiting to convey
Mr, Coleridge home. Coleridge imme
diately started np, oblivious of all time
and said, in a hurried voice, "My
dear Z , I will come to you some
other day, and talk to you about our
dear Hartley." He had quite forgotten
his son and every body else, In the
delight of having such an enraptured
audience.
Words of W iMiom.
A grain of prudence is worth a pound
of craft. Boasters are cousins to liars,
Confession of faults makes half amends.
Denying a fault doubles it- Envy
shooteth at others and woundeth her
self. Foolish fear doubles danger.
God reaches us good things by our own
hands. He has hard work who ha
nothing to do. It costs more to avenge
wrongs than to beat them. Knavery is
the worst trade. Learning makes a
man a fit company for himself. Modesty
is a guard to virtue. Not to hear con
science is the way to silence It. One
hour to-day Is worth two to-morrow.
Proud look make foul words In fair
face. Quiet conscience give quiet
sleep. Richest t he that wants least.
Small fault indnlged are little thieves.
The bough that bear most bang lowest
Upright walking Is sure walking. Vir
tue and happiness are near kin. True
men make more opportunities than they
find. You never loose by doing a good
turn. Zeal Without knowledge is fir
without light.
V