sr : A.
111111
13. F. SCHWEIER,
THE COSSTITTJTIOH-THE U5I0N AHD THE EHTOROEME5T OF THE LAWS.
Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. XXXIII.
MIFFLINTOWX, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12, 1S7D.
NO. 11.
n
9
i
i
PATIENCE.
Vtere there no niht, we could nut rtad the
stars.
The heavens would turn into a blinding
glare;
Freedom ia bet eeen tliroah the prison-bars.
And rough aeaa nuke the haven passing
" fair.
We cannot measure joya but by their lose ;
When blessings fade away, we see them
then ;
Our riches Ptlusters grow around the cross.
And in the night the angels aing to men.
The eed must first be buried deep in earth
Before the lily opens in the sky ;
So "light is sown," and gladness baa its birth
In the dark deeps, where we can only cry.
Life out of death," ia heaven's unwritten
law;
Nar. it is written in a myriad forms ;
The victor's palai grows on the field or war.
And strength and beauty are the fruit of
storms.
Come, then, my soul, be brave to do and bear:
Tby life ia bruised that it may I mare
aweet ;
Thy eroaa will soon be left, the crown wel)
wear
Kay, we will cast it at our. Saviour's feet.
And up among the glories never told.
Sweeter than music of the marriage bell.
Oar hands will strike the v brant harp of gold
To the glad song. "lie dotth all things
well."
'That Talbot Girl'
Bertie Talbot sat upon the great flat
stone that formed the doorstep to the
side entrance of theX'ewton f-trmhouse,
picking currants, and Frank Desmond
lay upon the grass watching her.
"Bertie," he said presently, "do you
know that your lips are a great deal
redder and prettier than those cur
rant?" The girl colored furiously and com
pressed her lips forcibly, but made w
answer.
Then he laughed.
Why don't you atisweruie Bertie?"
The girl flashed a look from her an
gry eyes, and asked in a low angry
tone
What do you expect uie to say ?"
"You might at least thank me for my
compliment any lady would do that !" j
"But I am not a lady, cried Bertie
bitterly and passionately, "and you
dont meau thoe things w'ueu you say
them to me you know you don't!"
"But I do," iersisted Frank, admir- !
inr the flush in Bertie's tanned cheek j
and the angry light in her gray eyes.
'But I do," he repeated again, more"
earnestly, lazily getting off the grass
and seating himself upon the stone be
side her. "Bertie," he continued,
when he was where hecould talk to her
in whispers, "why do you always laugh
or get angry when I tell you that you
are pretty, and tlwt I like you !"
"Because," said Bertie, liercely, "no
one else tells me that I am pretty, or
that they like me, and I know you are
making fun of me."
"Iain not making fun of you, Bertie,"
Frank whi-ered, with an intonation
that made Bertie' heart beat so hotly
and tumultuousiy she almost feared her
companiou could hear it. "1 do think
youare prett3", and what is more I love
you, and in token of it I am going to
take a kiss a lover's first kiss. Don't
make a noise please, or you will awaken
some of the ladies from their afternoon
siesta. There, that was the first kiss,"
he said, when he had withdrawn his
arm from about her waist, and his lips
from their long, clinging touch to her
trembling ones, "but it shall not be the
last by a great many, darling."
And then, while she finished picking
the currants, he talked to her so ardent
ly of his love that Bertie, innocent as
she was. could not but believe it.
By-and-by gay voices commenced to
sound upon the front porch, and some.
one came bustling into the darkened
dining-room behind them, and Mr.
Desmond joined the young ladies, after
winning Bertie's promise to meet him
by midnight and moonlight under the
walnut tree in the field adjoining the
farm-yard.
"Bertie, havu't you finished those
currants yet?" cried Mrs Xewton,
sharply, coming to the dining-room
door.
"Yes, ma'am." answered the girl,
gathering together her paus of fruit,
and taking her way towards the kitch
en; and for the rest of that day Bertie
was supremely happy.
Ah. how soon some blissful allusions
are doomed U lie shattered.
Late that night, when all her work
was finished, and nearly every one
about the farm had retired, Bertie
crept to her little attic room, over the
back kitchen, and knelt down by her
open vine-screened w indow, herarms
folded upon the sill, to wait until she
should hear the clock below strike
twelve.
As she knelt there, along the lane
that ran close by that side of the house,
Frank Desmond and Miss Stouor wera
walking, the lady holding her thin
drajieries from contact with the dew
with fair hands sparkling with jewel.,
one great flashing diamond felling a
story, that Bertie had she been less in
nocent of the world's way might have
read.
"1 wish you to understand, Frank
lesmond," Mis Stonor was saying,
"that I will not tolerate any flirtation
on your part with that Talbot girl."
"How can you talk so preposterous
ly, Grace? As if I would flirt with a
servant girl."
"Well, as it happens, Mr. Desmond. I
saw you sitting on the doorstep beside
her this afternoon, and must confess it
looked suspiciously like flirtation."
"I was only amusing myself with the
little ignoramus," laughed Frank;
"I hope you are not getting jealous.
irace, and imagining that I am about
to fall in love with that girl?"
"Jealous of you ?" echoed Miss Sto
uor, with a contempt that made Frank's
blood tingle, but which he dare not re
sent since he had wooed the lady for
her money. "Xo, indeed! But ?ery
young and pretty girls are occasional
ly made the victims of young men's
filiations for anything bnt laudible
reasons, and soe we are engaged, I
want It distinctly understood that I
will not tolerate any attention from
you to a pretty servant girl, that may
result In scandal."
"My dear Grace, pray let us drop this
subject. I assure you I have no de
signs, either good or evil, upon Birtle
The girl is of no more importance to
me than any of the farm hands here."
The next day as Frank idled in the
shady front porch, reading aloud
poem to the ladies a stranger drove up
to the gate.
"What splendid horses," said Miss
Sonor, as the gentleman fasteiiaxi his
hcry black team.
"Surely I have seen them before,"
remarked Frank, meditatively; then,
as the visitor opened the gate, "Well,
upon my soul; it's Charlie Thorn!"
and he sprang up to greet the comer.
"Oh! Mr. iK'smoud, how are you?"
I did not expect to meet any one here
that I knew. This is the farm, is it not.
kept by Mrs. Amelia Xewton?"
'lt is, and we are on a visit," an
answered Frank, introducing Mr.
Thorn to the ladies.
"Perhaps you can tell me. "remarked
Charlie, when the introductions were
over, "whether a girl by the name of
Alberta Talbot lives here"
The ladies looked at each other si
niflcantly, and Frank answered :
"There was such a girl here a house
maid but it was discovered this morn
ing that she had run away."
"Kun away !" said Mr. Thorn quick
ly. Why, and where has she gone?"
'Xo one knows why; and as she
was only a child whom Mrs. Xewton
took from an orphan asylum to bring
up, she says she shall not take any
trouble to find her. She surmises that
the girl has gone to London.
"1 am sorry, very sorry," said Mr.
Thorn, thoughtfully, ids handsome
face wearing a vexed look. "That girl
is an heiress, and I am her guardian.
I had just tracked her here, and now to
have lost her again is very provoking.
As I drove up from town 1 cannot pos
sibly think of starting back to-day. I
wonder if Mrs. X'ewton could accomo
date me over night?"
It was soon ascertained that Mrs.
Xewton could accommodate him as long
as he chose to stay : but the next morn
ing that gentleman accompanied by
Frank Desmond, set out on his return.
So late was it on the second day !
their drive, when the gentleman
reached the city that little could be
done that night towards hunting up
the runaway heiress, and he invited
iH-smond to spend the evening with
him at some place of aiu'isement.
After dining they sauntered into the
Strand, in no hurry to be present at
the opening of the play, the gentlemen
walked slowly, talking gayly of society
news, but scarcely noticing the people
they passed. But near Wellington
street, where there Was a slight break
in the crowd, the lonely figure of a girl
standing irresolute, with a jwle, wear)
face, before a closed shop window, at
tracted Iesmoiid"s a'tention.
With a quick exclamation of ajuinph
and surprise he sprang forward and
caught the g'.rl's hand.
Bertie, Bertie, darling," he ex
claimed softly, but eagerly, "why did
you run away from me?"
The girl's only answer was a slight
scream, and a look of terror as she put
up her disengaged hand to shield her
face from his gaze.
"Bertie," he went on rapidly, for
Mr. Thorn was nearing them, "you
ought to be glad to see me, I have
brought you such good fortune. This
gentleman came to Xew ton Farm, to
find you the morning alter you ru
away. He traced you from the orphan
asylum, where you were placed as a
child, because you are his ward and an
heiress.
"Aud my cousin," added Charlie
Thorn, who had come up in time to hear
the last words.
The poor girl stared wondeajngly at
the stranger, too terrified and m sur
prised to utter a word ; but Charlie ex
plaiue j briefly and kindly.
"Your mother, my own cousin, dis
pleased her father by her inarriage,and
he disowned her. Just before his death
repented, and searching for her discov
ered that she and her husband had
died suddenly, but had left a child,
who had been sent to the orphan asy
lum. He was taken ill, but before
he died he arranged that if you were
living you should be the heiress to two
thirds of his fortune, and I should be
your guardian. And now tell us why
you ran away, and what you have been
doing."
"1 cannot tell you why I ran away,"
said she,"but I have walked the streets
two days trying to get a place, and last
night I walked the streets or slept on
doorsteps, and I did not know w hat I
should do to-night."
"You are all right now," said Char
lie.gently. "I havean auut Hying near
here where I will take you. Under
these circumstances, Mr. Desmond, you
will excuse me if I fail to keep my en
gagements with you."
"Of course," answered Frank polite
ly. Good evening Miss Bertie." and
he raised his hat gallantly to the pale,
forlorn girl, who trembled upon the arm
ot the wealthy and stylish Mr Thorn.
Bert'.e gave him a glance and turned
without speaking.
Five years from the night she stood a
trembling outcast, Bertie Talbot moved
a stately, handsome and elegantllr
dressed woman through the goigeous
ball-room of the most fashionable hotel
at Scarborough.
"You have seen the new star, of
course," says Gus Talboys to Frank
Desmond, w ho stands chatting with his
long ago sweetheart, Miss Stonor.
"What new star?" asks the lady.
"A Miss Talbot, Charlie Thorn's
ward, whom he has just brought from
abroad, w here they say she has made
the greatest sensation. There they
come now. Isn't she splendid."
In a moment more the handsome man
for whom Miss Stonor cast off her lover,
but whose regard she had failed to win,
and the beautiful Miss Talbot, in her
exquisite Parisien toilet, have come
close to the group, and Bertie recog
nizes her old acquaintance. Still she
waits to be introduced by Charlle, and
acknowledges the presentation as In
differently as if she had never seen thU
man and woman before.
Miss Talbot," Frank says presently.
"You dance? May I have the honor of
this walti?"
"I am already engaged for it."
'Then what is the earliest one I may
have?"
"There is none that you may have,"
replies Bertie, cooly. "Xot because
my card is quite full, but because,
five years ago, I heard Miss Stoner for
bid you to pay any attention to 'that
Talbot girl!' And 1 could not think of
allowing you to displease her!" and
Miss Talbot moves smilingly away,
leaving Grace furious and Frank crest
fallen. "I am afraid she heard more than
one sentence," said Frank laughing
uneasily, and doesn't intend to show us
much favor."
"She will soon see that Mr. Thorn
will not counteuance her impertinen
ces, "retorts Grace, angrily, resolving to
make one more desperate effort to w in
Charlie's heart.
But she began to change her mind
when day after day passed, and Miss
Talbot and her guardian quietly ig
nored the existance ot any such person
as Grace Stonor. But Frank Desmond
would not thus be ignored without an
attempt to win Bertie's handsome face
and fortune.
When he put his fate to the test Ber
tie turned upon him scornfully. "Fray
do not think, Mr. Desmond.that I can
be as easily deceived as hve years ago.
Then, for reasons which, perhaps, your
conscience knows best, you made an
innocent, ignorant girl believe that you
loved her. But she was not long in
learning your falseness, and she hates
and despises you as utterly to-day as
she did that night when she ran away
from your contaminating presence.
And from this hour, both Mr. Thorn,
my affianced husband, and myself, must
beg leave to be excused from further
association with those persons who
years ago fixed theirestimatiou of 'that
Talbot girl,' and need not seek to
change it because fortune has smiled
upon her!"
Aud six months later, when the
cards were out for Charlie Thorn's sty-
h wedding, Frank Desmond and
Grace Stonor found that Bertie Talbot
had spokeu truly, and they had been
dropjed completely from the aristo
cratic circle of acquaintances who
were to be granted the future eutret of
the splendid mansion that Charlie
Thorn had selected for his bride's
home.
An Honet Legal Opluloo.
An honest farmer once called upon
the late Roger M. Sherman, the cele
brated lawyer, and told him he w anted
an j iHiii. lie had heard a great deal
about the value of Mr. Sherman's opin
ions, and how a great many people
went to him to get an opinion; and
John, who never had had, nor
was likely to have, a law suit or other
difficulty for a lawyer to help him from.
thought he would have an "opiniou".
"Well, John, what can l do for you?"
said Mr. S., w hen John, in his turn,
was shown in the room.
"Why, lawyer," replied John, "i
happened to be In town, aud having
nothing to do, I thought I would come
and get your opinion."
"State your case, John. "What's
tha matter?"
"Oh! nothing. I ain't got uo law
nit: I only want to get one of your
opinions: they say they're very valuable,
"But John about what?"
"Oh! anything, sir; take your pick
and choose!"
Mr. Sherman, seeing the notions of
his client on the matter in hand, took
pen, and writing a few words, folded
them up and handed them to John,
who carefully placed the paper in his
pocket.
"What's to pay, sir?"
"Four aud sixpence," Yankee money
75 cents.
When John returned home the next
morning, he found his wife, w ho pretty
much took the lead in his business mat
ter;, anxiously discussing with his
chief farm servant the propriety of get
ting in a large quantity of oats on that
day, which had been cut on the one
previous, or of undertaking some other
labor.
John was appealed to, to settle the
question, but he could not decide. At
length, he said : "I'll tell you w hat,
Polly, I've been to a lawyer, aud got
an opinion that cost me four and six
pence. There it is read her out : it's
a lawyer's writing, and I can't make
head or tall of It!"
John, by the way, could not read the
plainest print, but Polly, who was
something of a scholar, opened the
paper, and read as follow s : "Xever put
off till to-morrow, what can be done
to-day."
"Enough said !" cried John; "them
oats must be got in." And they were
"got in;" and the same night such a
storm came on, as otherwise would
have ruined them entirely.
John oltcn afterward con-ulted this
opinion, and acted upon it; and to this
day entertains a high estimate of law
yer's opinions generally, and of the la
mented Mr. Sherman's in particular.
A 'ew Tlsas Kstprr.
An English paper says : "A railway
signal-man must have all his wit
about him, and be very attentive to his
work, for terrible consequences might
result from his forgetting to give the
right signal at the right moment. We
heard the other day of a signal-man at
a country station who was reminded of
his duties In a novel manner. Before
the arrival of eaeh train, a tame mag
pie would come and Up with his beak
on the window of the signal-box. The
bird seemed highly delighted when the
man came out to ring the bell, and
would wait to watch the train pass, and
then fly off to his quarters at cottage
a little distance from the station. He
was perfectly at liberty to fly anywhere
else if he choose, as bis wings bad never
been dipt, but he did not choose ; the
faithful bird was as constant at his post
as the signal-man himself."
True la His First Love.
Since the arrival of Gen. Harding's
late purchase. Great Tom, at Belle
Meade, Old Bob, his head groom, has
been twitted no little by horsemen
visiting the place, about the general
notorietythe horse has acquired through
the extended notices given him by the
turf papers, to the apparent forgetful
ness of Bonnie Scotland, who, next to
"Old Mrster," (General Harding),
stands highest in Bob's affection. On
a recent visit to Belle Meade, after
looking at the young Englisher, we
went up to the stable of the olJ horse,
to have a look at him. He was enjoy
ing the freedom of his padlock and hail
just Indulged in a roll on the grass, his
body was pretty muddy from the thaw
ing ground, and the hardy old teilow
in his rough winter coat presented
quite a contrast from the sleek, well
groomed stallion we had just seen.
Knowing Bob's weakness, aud in order
to get him to express himself, we re
marked :
"Why, Bob, the old horse does not
show up well
Tom."
after looking at Great
"He don't! don't he?" replied the
old man in a half resentful tcne. Then,
turning to the gentleman w ith us, he
added, "that sir, is the only twenty-
six-year-old rult in America."
"But, Bob, 1 am afraid you are just a
little inclined to "go back" on the old
fellow, now that you have such a dis
tinguished young one to look after."
"Me, sir! m go back on Aim?" point
ing to Scotland, "no, sir," he added, as
he walked up to the old stallion, and
straightened his mane with a caressing
motion of his hand. "Xo, sir, de sor
rel horse (Great Tom) Is the best made
big horse I ever laid eyes on, and they
tell me his pedigree is as pure as spring
water, but he must show a Bramble, a
Busqwhacker. Balance All, Board man
and a Bonnie Wood, all in a season, be
fore he ean eat out de same trough w id
old Bonnie. I tell you, gentlemen,"
he continued, placing his arm on Scot
land's neck, "I have buried Jack Ma
lone, de gainest son old Lexington ever
got. He actually died standing on his
feet; 1 buried Vandal, one o' the best
stallions that ever looked thro' a bridle,
an' you can see de gra.-s on both de
graves from where we are standing
now; but wheu I heap de clodsoverold
Bonnie, den Bob wants to quit de biz-
ness, kase 1 know I Jl never see another
one like him; you hear me," and turn
ing, he led the way to the stable, quiet
ly lollowed by i old charge, to get
his evening oats.
The Fonrr or Kindness.
Patrick McKeever was a poor Irish
linn, u ho lived in Philadelphia many
years ago. He was arrested on a charge
of murder, convicted, and sentenced to
be hung. I am ignorant of the details
of his crime, or the cause that led to it.
But there were probably some palliat
ing clrciiHistmces; for when brought,
seated on his colli n. in the death-cart.
to the foot of the gallow s, in company
w ith another criminal, he w as reprieved,
and the other was hung. His sentence
was changed to ten years' Imprison
ment; and this was eventually short
ened one year.
I luring the last three years of his
term, I was one of the Inspectors of the
Prison, and I frequently talked with
him in a friendly, fatherly manner.
He was a man of few words, and his
hope seemed to have all died out; but
I soon saw that his feelings w ere touch
ed by kindness.
After his release, he immediately
went to work at bis trade, which was
that of a tanner, and conducted him
self in the most sober and exemplary
manner. Being remarkable for capa
bility, and the amount of w ork hecould
perform, he soon had plenty of employ
ment. He passed my house every day,
as he went to his work, and I often
spoke to him in a friendly aud cheer
ing manner.
Things were going on thus satisfac
torily, when I heard that constables
were out after Pattick, on account of a
robbery committed the night before. I
went straightway to the Mayor.and in
quired w hy orders had been given to
arrest Patrick McKeever..
"Because there has been a robbery
committed in his neighborhood," re
plied the Mayor.
"What proof Is there that he was
concerned in it?"
"None at all ; but he is an old con
vict; aud that is enough to condemn
him."
"It is not enough, by any means,"
replied I. "Thou hast no right to ar
rest a citizen without a shadow of proof
against him; and in this case I advise
thee, by all means, to proceed with
humane caution. This man has atoned
severely for the crime be did commit;
and since he wishes to reform, the fact
ought never to be mentioned against
him. He has been perfectly upright,
sober, industrious, ever since he came
out of prison. I think I know his state
of mind ; and I am willing to take the
responsibility of saying that I believe
bim guiltless in this matter.
The Mayor commended my benevo
lence, but was by no means convinced.
To all arguments he replied :
"He is an old convict ; and that Is
enough."
I watched for Patrick as he passed to
his daily labors, and told him that the
constables were after him for the rob
bery that had been committed. The
poor fellow hung his head, and the
light vanished from his countenance.
"Well," said he, with a deep sigh, "I
must make up my mind to spend the
rest of my days In prison."
I looked earnestly in his law, and
said, "Thou wert not concerned in this
robliery, wert thou ?"
"Xo, indeed, I was not. God be my
witness I want to lead an honest life,
and live in peace with all men. But
what good will that do me? Every
body will say, he has been in the State
Prison, and that's enough."
Ididnotajk him twice; for I felt
well assured that the poor man had
spoken the truth. I advised him to go
directly to the Mayor, deliver himself
up, and declare his innocence. This
advioe was received with despondency.
He had no faith in his fellow-men.
"I know what will come of it," says
he; "they will put me Into prison,
whether there Is any proof against me
or not, they will not let me out without
somebody will be security for me; and
nobody will be security for an old con
vlct." -
"Don't be discouraged," said 1. "Go
to the Mayor, and speak as I have ad
vised. If they talk of putting thee In
prison send for me. 1 will stand by
thee."
Patrick did accordingly. In the ab
sence of anything like a shadow of
proof, his being u "old convict" was
deemed sufficient reason for sending
him to jail.
I apjieared in his behalf. "I am
ready to aflirm," said I, "tltal 1 believe
this man is Innocent. It will be a very
serious Injury to him to be taken from
his business, until such time as this can
be proved; and moreover the effects
upon his mind may be most discourag
ing. I will be security for his appear
ance when called; and know Very well
that he will not think of giving me the
slip."
The gratitude of the poor fellow was
overwhelming. He sobbed until hi
strong frame shook.
The real culprits were soon discover
ed. Patrick, until the day of his death,
continued to lead a virtuous and useful
life.
Lead Tulaonlng from Tin Dlhea.
Attention has recently been called to
a new risk of chronic oisouiug by the
old enemy, lead. What we cal! "tin"
vessels that, I-, sheet iron coated w ith
tin are in daily use In every household
in the land. They are cheap, durable
and convenient. and have been consid
ered iierfectly safe for the thousand
culinary purposes to whit they are
devoted. They are safe if the tin plate
Is honestly made; but unfortunately
his is not always to be counted upon.
Tin is comparatively cheap, but lead is
chenjier; and an alloy of the two metals
may be used in the place of the dearer
one, wit'i profit to the manufacturer.
though with serious detriment to the
user. The alloy is readily acted upon
by acid , and salts of lead are thus in
troduced into food. The Michigan
State Board of Health has lately been
Investigating this subject, having been
led to do so by a letter from a physician
who found that certain cases of what
had been taken for cholera were really
parabjsit ayitnni. which could be traced
to this kind of lead oisouing. Other
cases were brought to light in which
children had died of meningitis, tits
and paralytic affections, caused by milk
being kept in such vessels, the acid in
the fluid having dissolved the lead.
Malic, citric, and other fruit acids are
uf course quicker and more energetic
in their action omiii the pernicious
alloy. The danger is the greater, be
cause the lead salts are cuiuulatiee poi
sons. The effect of one or two small
doses may not be perceptible, but infin
itesimal doses.constantly repeated, w ill
in the end prove Injurious, if iiot fatal
Aualysisof a large number of speci
mens of tin-plate used in culinary arti
cles showed the presence of an alloy.
with lead iu almost every instance, aud
ofttjn In large quantities. It is safe to
assert that a large proportion of the
tinned wares in the market are unfit
for use on this account. That w e may
not lie accused ot exciting fears which
may be groundless, we will inform our
readers how they can settle the question
for themselves by a simple and easy
test. Put a drop of strong uitric acid
ou the susjiected "tin,' ar.d rub it over
a space as large as a dime. Warm it
very gently till It is dry, and then let
fall two drops of a solution of iodide of
potassium on the spot. If lead is pre
sent it will be show n by a bright yellow
color, Jue to the formation of iodide of
lead. It is stated by Ir. Keuzie, that
a peculiar kind of tin plate, the coating
of w hich is largely made up of lead, is
coming into general use for roofing,
eaves troughs and conductors; and it is
suggested that much of tliis lead will
eventually be dissolved and find its way
inlo household cisterns. Susceptible
persons may tie poisoned by washing
in the lead-charged water, aud all who
drink it, even after it is filtered, are in
danger of chronic lead poisoning.
There is also risk lu the use of glazed
earthen vessels, If as is often the case,
the glazing contains oxide of lea I.
A Practical Jnac
When the late Mr. Hawker, of Mor
weustow, wes a student, he was very
fond of practical jokes; and the follow
ing absurd hoax that he played on the
superstitious ieople of Bude is worth
relating. At full moon In the July of
about the year 1323 he rowed out to a
rock some distance from the shore.
plaited seaweed into a w ig, which he
threw over his head, so that It hung in
lank streamers half way down his back,
enveloped his legs In an oil-skin wrap,
and, otherwise naked, sat on a rock,
flashing the moonbeams about from a
hand mirror, and sang and screamed
till attention was arrested. Some peo
ple passing along the cliff heard and saw
him, and ran into Bude, saying that a
mermaid w ith fish's tail was sitting on
a rock combing and hair and singing.
A number of people lined the beach.
and listened awe struck to the singing
and disconsolate wailing of the mer
maid. Presently she dived off the rock
aud disappeared. The next night
crow ds of people assembled to look out
for the mermaid, and in due time she
reappeared, and sent the moon flashing
in their faces from her glass. Tele
scopes were brought to bear on her;
but she sang on unmoved, breidingher
tresses, and uttering remarkable sounds
unlike the singing of mortal throats
which have been practiced in do-re-mi.
This went on for several nights, the
crowds growing greater, people from
all the villages round, till Robert Haw
ker got very hoarse with his nightly
singing, and rather tired of sitting so
long in the cold. He therefore wound
up the performance one night with a
remarkable "God save the Queen,"
then plunged into the waves and the
mermaid never again visited the
"sounding shores of Bude."
The Seervt of Anake-Cbanulng.
Iii India the favorite snake for exhi
bition is the cobra, partly because of its
more striking appearance, and partly
because its. deadly character being so
well known, any trilling w ith it ap
pears to the uniiiitated public the more
wonderful. Xor. indeed,, do the per
formances of the Hindoo snake-charmer
lose, ou better acquaintance, all their
marvelousness, tor courage of a high
order, arising partly from the confi
dence acquire! by long practice. Is ma
nifested iu seizing and bagging the
dreadful ophidian. In most cases the
charmer renders the reptiles harmless
by drawing out their poison fangs, and
the exhibition becomes then merely one
which exhibits t tie? snake's highly
trained condition. Ou the other hand,
it often happens that the basket con
tains the rerhable deatlnlealer, ami a
cobra w ith his fangs undrawn is nearly
always forthcoming if the temptation
in money be sufliciently strong. But
in the handling of the creature when
once exposed there is no hesitation, for
hesitation means death, and in the
swift seizure and sudden release there
is daring of an exceptional kind. The
cobra strikes, w hen it has really made
up its mind to strike, with ligbtuing
rapidity, and to dodge successfully re
quires considerable agility. The snake
charmers, however, when put on their
mettle w ill grasp the erect cobra with
impunity, owing solely to the superior
speed of the movemeuts, for by a feint
they provoke the reptile to strike, and
before it can recover its atittude seize it
below the jaw. in the same way the
ichneomon or mongoose secures in con
tests with venomous snakes a compara
tive immunity.. It was for a long time
an article of faith with writers of popu
lar works en natural history thai this
animal enjoyed a complete immunity,
but scientific experiment has corrected
this fallacy. A mongoose and cobra
Confined together fought freely, and
though the latter seemed to the eye to
strike his antagonist reeatedly, the
mongoose, ou being examined after it
bad killed the snake, was found to be
untouched. Another cobra was then
brought on to the scene, and, beinc
made to close its funics on the mou
goose's leg, the animal confessed its
susceptibility to the poison by dying in
about four minutes. It was, therefore,
by its superior activity alone that in a
fair fight with the reptile it had es
caped unhurt, and to the same cause
the snake-charmer ows the immunity
that attends his exhibition. But, as in
the case of the mongoose, the snake-
charmer, w hen actually biiteu, dies as
rapidly as any other creature, in spite
of all the powers of his charms, roots
and snake-stone. The Hindoo spectator
refuses to lclieve this, and enjoys,
therefore, by hi credulity, a pleasuie
denied to more intelligent audiences.
for if we could only accept as truth the
charmer's statement that he has reallv
been bitten and the red drops ou the
bitten sjMit w ere actually blood exuding
from the fatal puncture, and could thru
believe that the root he smelt, the stone
he applied to the wound and the charms
Ue uttered were veritably counteract
ing the magic of the cobra's poison,
the Sn-ctacle would be of surpassing
interest, since it would be a miracle, j
Change in Male Costume.
Reversing the ttlescope of existance
and looking se venty years buck upon
the objects as they theu presented them
selves, 1 perceive in a diminished size,
a large number of the male sex In Eng
land attired after a maimer very dis
tant from that which forms their out
ward adornment at the present day.
Costume among the lords of the creation
has net undergone as many mutations
as that of the members of the adorable
feminine gender, but still theie ha
been sufficient change to show that man
is not exempt from caprice, and there Is
yet room for improvement la the re
gion of common sense. Early in the
present century wigs had been discard
ed, but elderly gentlemen powdered
their bald heads and gathered the back
hair into a little queuer which, being
made fast by a piece of black ribbon,
gave the hirsute arrangement the form
of a pig tail, which designation it
generally bore. The cravat consisted
of ample folds of white muslin, the
ends falling over the bosom and ar
ranged like the form of a waterfall.
The cravat was loose about the neck
and projected beyond the chin. Tight
fiuing pants, tied above the ankle with
ribbons, or made fast with buckles,
formed the indoor style of the nether
garments, and the addition of short
black gaiters (a la Picwick) constituted
the walking attire. Corduroy knee
shorts and top boots were only worn by
men who kept horses or indulged in
fox hunting. Xo one walked in boots.
But a dictator arose of the name of
Brummel, who was one of the associ
ates of the Prince of Wales (afterwards
George the Fourth), aud as he had
neither the wit of Sheridan nor the
lyre of Moore to sustain the po.-ltion.
he affected a singularity of dress and
was permitted to Issue decrees, Illus
trated In his own person, from which
there was no appeal. "Beau Brum
mell" became the arbiter elejantiarvm of
society. Under bis auspices, Hessian
boots and tight buckskin inexpressibles
formed the out of-gear. Broad fluted
frills, surmounted by starched muslin
neckcloths, superceded the flowing cas
cade, and green swallow tailed coats
were de rianeur In the streets. Si very
precise was Brummell In the adjust
ment and tie of the cravat, that a friend
calling one day and meeting a woman
with a basketful of cravats on the stair.
case, was told by Brnmmell that they
were his "failures." The hat In the
Beau's time was slightly conical follow
ingthearchitectnral rule of surmounting
the (human) edifice with a pinacle. His
doctrine was, that a gentleman was
known by bis bat. "The bat," said he
"denotes the gentleman," But 1814 be
held as great a transformation in male
costume as was effected at the same
time In female attire. Hetman Piatoff,
who. went to England with Alexander,
the Emperor of Russia, was accompan
ied by a Cosseck of the Don, whose
I large baggy brown trousers became the
mode. Borrowing from the French, In
the matter of coats, the tail was pro
longed to the heels, and the two but
tons which now appear at the waist,
behind, were carried nearly to a level
with the shoulders. The Hessian boot
disappeared about this time, and the
"Wellington" aud "Blucher" came in
out of compliment to the heroes of the
wars with Xapoleoc. Pepper-and-salt
pants, rather open at the sides and but
toned or laced over tbo boot, give the
"go-by" to the "Cossacks" in 1813-16.
Brown frocks drove out the green coats
and aa silk was now obuinible from
the continent, black stocks and cravats
pushed aside the white neckcloth,
which was relegate! to the ball room
and dinner party. Gradually the black
tights were superceded, at evening par
lies, by white kerseymere knee-breeches
and silk stockings, very becoming if
a man bad a good leg, and terribly try
ing to a gentleman with "shrunk
shanks." Darkblue coats with gilt
buttons were the uniform atttlre of an
evening. The princes of the blood roy
al, from "George" downward, invaria
bly sported the blue coat, buttoned
across the breast, and what princes
wear, meaner men do not hesitate to
adopt. An article called after the Earl
who invented It, the Spencer, was worn
in wintertime. It was simply an over
coat or jacket, which terminated at the
waist, and was destitute of tails or tl ips
of any kind. Long gaiters reaching
from the instep to the knee, and often
called spatterdashes, were mu:h worn
before boots came Into vogue with pe
destrians. Tbe time which was re
quired to button them rendered them
objectionable to the infantry of the ar
my, as tbe enemy could be upon them
before the operation was completed,
and what the military ceased to coun
tenance, the civilians discarded. Male
garments, after this, underwent little or
nochange until William IV mounted the
throne In l&S). He had had so much
of the blue in his maratime, capacity,
tbat he inaugurated the black coat as
full dress, and the black frock as morn
ing attire, and that style of thing has
continued to the present hour. Prince
Albert countenanced tbe black coat and
trousers, and discarded the flowered
and velvet vejts, which between 1820
aid 18:t9, had enjoyed a long and unin
terrupted reign. Since then, English
men have steadily adhered to the som
bre hue, and Americans have adopted
It with the simple variation of the white
vest, which is rarely seen out of the
United States, excepting on tbe persons
of LonGon waiters, barbers and negro
minstrels.
Am Laqulnite story.
Iii the tribe of X'eggdeh there was a
hrse w hose fame spread far and near,
and a Bedouin of another tribe, bv
name Dahar, desired extremely to pos
sess it. .Having offered iu vain for it his
camels and his whole wealth, he hit, at
length. UKn the following device, by
whieli be hoped to gain the object of
his desire. He resolved to stain his
face with the juice of an herb, to clothe
hiuiself in rags, to tie his legs aud neck
together, so as to appear like a lame
beggar. Thus equipped be went to Xa
ber, the owner of the ho.se, who he
kuew was to pass that way. When he
saw Xaber approaching on his beauti
ful steed, he cried out in a weak voice:
"1 am a poor stranger; for three days
I have been unable to move from this
spot to seek for food. I am dying; help
me, and Heaven will reward you."
The Bedouin kindly offered to take
him up on his horse and carry him
home : but the rogue replied :
"I cannot rise. I have no strength
left."
Xaber. touches) with pity, dismount
ed, led hi horse to the .'pot, and. with
great difficulty, set the seeming beggar
ou its back.
But no sooner did Dahar feel himself
in the saddle than he put spurs to the
horse and galloped off, calling out as
he did so:
"It is I, Dahar! I have got the horse
and am off w ith it."
Xalcr called after him to stop ami
listen. Certain of not being pursued,
he turned and halted at a short distance
from Xaber, who was armed with a
.jear. '
"Yon have taken my horse,' said the
latter. "Since Heaven has willed it,
I wish you joy of it; but i do conjure
you never tr. tell any one how you ob
tained it?"
"And why not?" asked Daher.
"Because," said the noble Arab,
'another man might be really ill, and
men woull fear to help him. You
would be the cause of many refusing
to perform an act of charity for fear
of being duped as I have been."
Struck with shame at these words,
Dahar was silent for a moment, then
springing from the horse, returned it
to the ow ner, embracing Mm. Xaber
made him accompany him to his tent,
where they spent a number of days to
gether, and became fast friends for
lite.
The Latest Uog- Story.
There is a dog at Taupo, Xew Zea
land, and also a young Ipig, ami these
two afford a curious example of animal
Instinct and confidence in the bona fide
of each other. These animals live at
the native pah on the opposite side of
Tapuacharura, and the dog discovered
some happy hunting grounds on the
other side, and informed the pig; being
only two mouths oi l, he informed the
dog that he could not swim across the
river, which at that spot debouches
from the lake. But that in time he
hoped to accompany his canine friend.
The dog settled the difficulty. He went
into the river, standing up to his neck
in the water, and crouched down; the
pig got on his back, clasping his neck
with his forelegs. The dog then swam
across, thus carrying his chum over.
Regularly " every morning the two
would in this way go across and forage
around Tapuacharuru, returning to
the pah at night ; and if the dog was
ready to go home before the pig, he
would wait till his friend came down
to be ferried over. Tbe truth of this
story Is vouched for by'several who
have watched the movent eat ot the
pair. - t '
Captors of Two More Dvvil-Flsh.
Ou tbe 2d ofDecerober last William
Bnlgell. a fisherman residing in a place
called Three Arms, Xewfoundland,
saw, after a heavy gale of wind, a huge
shapeless mass on the beach. It proved
to be "a big squid," as our fishermen
eall them, which had been cast up by
the waves, and it was dead when dis
covered. Unfortunately, Budgell did
not know the value of his discovery.
Had he preserved it perfect and put it
into strong briue and brought it to St.
John's he could have sold it for a large
sum probably $:;0 to $4iM). I have in
structions from an eminent English
zoologist to secure for him a good spic
imen, at almost any cost, and to de
spatch it to London iu alcohol. The
poor ti-hermau had some huugry dogs
at home, and here he thought he had
secured them a winter's diet. Accord
ingly he cut it up into small pieces, si,
as to traiisKrt it to his residence iu
Three Arms. My informant, a very in
telligent persou, who was ou a visit iu
that quarter Jou business, arrived at
Budgell's house soon aftei he had
brought it home in a mutilated state,
and carefully measured some portions
with his own hand. He found that the
body measured fifteen feet from the
beak to theend of the tail, which is five
feet longer than the Xew York pei
men. The circumference of the bodv
at its thickest part was twelve feet.
He found only one of the short arms
perfect, which was sixteen feet iu
length, being five feet longer than a
similar arm of the Xew York specimen,
and he describes it as "thicker than a
man's thigh." The devil-fish has ten
arms, two of them called tentacles,
being usually about three or four times
the length of the other eight arms, but
quite slender iu coinparrison. Xow if
one of tbe stouter arms was sixteen
feet, the tentacles, would be forty-eight
feet, which quite exceeds the dimen
sions of any specimen previously found .
The tentacles of the Xew York speci
men were thirty feet in length, thiu
and tough as leather. The second
specimen whose capture I have to nar
n.te, was taken underjuore picturesque
circumstances, and greatly exceeded
the former in dimensions of body. Ou
the 2d day of X'ovember last Stephen
Sherring, a fisherman residing in Thim
ble Tickle, uot far from the localiu
where the other devil-fish was east
ashore was out in a boat with two
other men ; not far from the shore the)
obserevd some bulky object, ahd, sup
posing it might be part of a wreck,
they row ed toward it, and, to their hor
ror, found themselves close to a hugh
fish, having large glassy eyes, which
was making desperate efforts to dscaje,
and churning the water into foam by
the motion of its immense arms an. I
tail. It was aground aud the tide was
ebbing. From the funnel at the bat-k
of its head it was ejecting large vol
umes of water, this being its meth.id of
moving backward, the force of the
stream, by the reaction of the sui
rouuding medium, driving it in the re
quired direction. At times the waler
from the siphon was black as ink.
Finding the monster partially JUabled,
the fishermen plucked up courage and
ventured near enough to throw the
eraphel of their boat, the sharp flukes
of which, having barbed points, sunk
into the soft body. To the grapl-el
they had attached a stout rope which
they had carried ashore and tied to a
tree, so as to prevent the fish from
going o.il w ith the tide, ft was a hap-
py thought, for the devil-fish found
hiinelf effectually moored to the shore.
Hi struggles were terrific as he flung
his ten arms a'xut in dying agony. The
fishermen took sixkI care to keep a re
spectful di-tance frmn the long tenta
cles which ever and anon darted out
like great tongues from the cential
mass. At length it became exhausted
and as the water receded it expired.
The fishermen, alas ! knowing no bet
ter, proceeded to convert it into dog's
meat. It was a spledid specimen
the largest yet taken the body meas
uring twenty feet from the beak to th.
extremity ol the tail. It was thus ex
actly double the size of the Xew A ork
specimen, and five feet longer thin the
one taken by Binlgull. The circumfer
ence of the body is not stated, but one
of the arms measured thirty-feet. This
must have been a tentacle.
ftti.ol at 9.U
A man w ho can probably never be
induced to join any reform movement,
even if paid a liberal salary, yesterday
entered saloon on Michigaa street
and a-ke.l the price of a pint bottle of
whiskey which stood in the window.
Being answered that it was seventy
five cents he grow led :
"I'll never pay It. Boots and i-s,
shingles, poultry, square timber, horse
shoes and everythinir else have come
down, down in price, but you keep
whiskey at the same old figures."
He went away, but after a few min
utes returned and said :
"Throw in tw o big drinks and I'll
take the bottle."
The saloon-keeper refused; but after
the stranger returned the second time
he said :
"I can't reduce the price or throw iu
any extra, but I'll pour that pint iuto
a quart bottle, fill up wrth water, and
put in pepper enough to make tbe
whole burn the skin off your mouth."
"Begin to pour !" briefly replied the
man, as he produced his money, and
when he had drank the mixture and
got his breath, he said :
"I'm s-sati9fied at l-last or wouli be
If yo i could p-put a few carpet tacks
In the bottle!"
During the eleven months of th
year 1S78, Great Britain exported
to all countries articles of British and
Irish produce and manufacture amount
ing toJE178,143 3J5,or about ibW, 7 16,525,
and daring te same time imported pro
dncts and manufactures valued at XJi.
JS2,39J, or $1,6&4,911 S60. The exports
lor the same eleven months in 1877
tending November 30) reached iSi,
811.576, and the imports i;3til.043.0i-l
showing a decrease during the pact
year.
5 ,
ft
2