r Sift axva,va4o, (f i . it .. $ a, sa Slffiv) ..... Sr. A? B. F. SCHWEIER, TEE OOISTITUTIOI THE ITSIOI AID TEB ETFOKOEKEIT OF THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. I VOL. XXXIX. MIFFLINTOWN. JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. APRIL 29, 1SS5. NO. IS. ' ' ... , ,11 It seemeth sucb m little way to bio Across to Uiat strange country, the Be- yond; And yet not strange for It has grown to be Ttie borne of those of whom I am so fund They make it seem familiar and moat dear' Aj.urneyiu(c friends bring distant couul tries uear. So cl jse it lies that, when my sight is clear I think I see the gleaming strand; ' I know 1 feel that those who've gone from here Come near enough to touch my hand. 1 often think, but fur our veiled eyes. We abnuM rind heaven 'round about us lie. 1 cmiot make it swu a day to dread W hen from this dear earth f shall jour key oui Tu that siill darer country of the dead. And join the lust onus, so long dreamed illKIUt. I iuve this world ; yet shall I love to go AlJ airei the frit-uds who wait for uia, I kuow. 1 Lever sbuM about a bier and see Ihe seal of death set on some well-loved tare, Hut that I think, "One more to welcome me Whrn 1 shall cross the intervening space Hetwecu this land and that one over there cu.e uiure to make tLe strange Beyond seem tair." Autl o for me there is no sting to death, A nil .-u the grave bus lost its victory ; It l but crossing, with abate I breath. And while, set face, a little strip of sea, 'iutiijd the luved ones waiting ou the shore, Mrc beAiititul, more precious than before. I'LAll.NU AT CROSS PURPOSES. 11KK STORY. I was a governess when I first met biui. and he was the new curate. I was uot very happy, for I had charge of four tiresome girls just getting into those most objectionable ages eleven to six teen; a:id I was only twenty myself Sometimes 1 felt as if I could not cope with them; and I was obliged to be stern, prim, and old-maidish to try to keep up their respect. When the sun shone and the flowers bloomed. 1 longed to sing and dance in the fulness of youth and health; for I was only a girl after alL 1 dare say I ought to have liked teach ing; but 1 did not. I hated it; and I was miserable. Those four girls tor mented we; they were not lovable, and 1 yearned after the little ones in the nursery. My employers were kind, I think; but a governess is rarely very happy; and 1 was young and lonely an orphan aud alone in the world. I had no relative save an uncle in Australia who souttunies wrote to me mid occa sionally sent me a five-pound note. Mr. I'onsonby was our Hector an old clergyman of the humdrum style, and the greater share of whose work fell to the hands of neophytes, who came and went iu succession. We that is, I and my eldest pupil Caroline used to teach in the Sunday school. Mrs. Thomson liked her girls to be useful; aud, as Car oline was only sixteen, she wished me to help her to teach by taking part of her class. 1 w as vexed at this, for did I not leach all the week? And yet I grew to like the woik. The solemn-faced, inno cent little rustics were a weekly relief, in their very simplicity and awe-struck respect for "teacher," from the airs and graces of the young ladies in the school room. On the Sunday that I saw Mr. Clith eroe first I was teaching my small schol ars, when tte door opened and the Iiec tor came in. He never minded me, and I continued trying to impress some fact on the blue-eyed innocent who stood de murely before me, and who, as I firmly believed, was counting the bright but tons on my jacket instead of listening. Suddenly 1 raised my eyes and saw a strange face. It was quiet, grave, and intellectual. I stopped and hesitated. The stranger, seeing that he had put me nut, moved aside; aud at that moment Mr. I'onsonby came up to him. "I must introduce the teachers to ou," he said. "Mr. Clitheroe, this is Miss Hodgson, who has the first class." A few words were interchanged; then thev came to us. "This is Miss Caroline Thomson of the Grange," said the Hector, "who is so kiud as to help us; aud this this is hum th Miss Miss " 'Morley." 1 said quietly, to help him out of his difficulty. -Oh, yes, Miss Morley!" he said. A forma! bow then followed.aud they pas--d on. After this I saw Mr. Clitheroe very often; he became the greatest comfort to me, though he did not know it. His sermons went to my heart. Gradually ui v life grew more tolerable tome. Poor foolish little thing! 1 began to look for ward to Sunday, to cherish his words and looks, to UiUik, 1 am afraid, more of ttie preacher than of the message he deli v red. In nearly a year I had hardly spoken to him a down times; out 1 onen fancied that his eyes rested kindly and inquiringlv on me. Then came our school-treat; and, as Mr. Thomson was the Squire, aud gave the feast in his grounds, we had to meet a good deal over Uie arrangements. 1 remember how carefully 1 dressed on that bright day. It was only a plain muslin gown that 1 wore; but, with a blue ribbon Iu my hair, and a nosegay in my dress, i could see that I looked nice.. The day went on; Mr. Clitheroe never came near me never spoke to me. He had talked and laughed, played with the children, joined iu the games and helped with the refreshments; but he took no heed of me. who was doing all this also. My hopes though what I had hoped 1 knew Lot drooped, and I thought it was go ing to be a blank day. Mr. Clitheroe took not the slightest notice of me; and after tea I felt too lonely to play. Tha children, fortified by tea, were no longer suy aud in need of help; and I wandered away into the park. 1 felt sad, and the tears came into my eyes. Ue might have si)ken a word to me, I thought. Presently a tall figure appeared be side me, acd a vcice that thrilled me said "Tued, Miss Morley? You have worked too hard." W hat a glorious talk we had ! He drew all my simple story out of me, and 1 told hini ail my "disagreeables" and troubles. He was so kiud; he cheered me, he made me look on the sunny side, aud he spoke of himself also. In fact, is we sat there chatting, I forgot that I was a governess forgot that I was on earth; till some one called him away, aud 1 did not speak to him again that day. , I came back to mundane things sharply encgb when stupid little Caroline came simpering up, and began to teas me about him, notwithstanding my sharp rebuke 1 saw more of Mr. Clitheroe after that, and he and I always seemed at k, 1 fancied so to .a"ve a kind of Jacit sympathy between us. I could no tollcer conceal the secret from myself hat I loved him, but scarce dared to ope my love was returned. One day a battar ...... , . . . : -v w.. oruugni to me in a strange nd yet strangely familiar, hand, bear ing only our village post-mark. M v heai t throbbed, my color came and weu'i the more so as I caught Caroline's eyes fixed on me with an expression of amusement re tnat I was betraying myself, and, with a mighty effort, I laid the letter race downward upon the table. "Go on, Caroline," I said; ' dou't 8top like that." And Schiller wits re sumed, though it was as much as I could do to translate him decently. The first free moment I had I otued the letter and read "Dear Miss Morley, Pardon me If I seem abrupt, but I love you, I adore you. You are beautiful as an angeL you are lovely as a rose. I only live for you. I cannot exist any longer without you; I love you as my own life. Give me hope; say 'Yes' that you feel some interest in me -that I may fly to your feet and there pour out my devotion. Dearest Miss Morley, write to me, an swer me; tell me you will be my bride. In longing suspense, " Yours for ever, "Arthur Clitheroe." I dropped the letter into my lap and buried my face in my hands. He loved me he wanted me to be his! Oh, bliss unspeakable oh, joy undeserved! Was it a dream? No; there lay that precious letter. Again and again I read it my first love letter. I was a little disappointed in the let ter, for all that it was too wild, too sentimental. I fancied he Would have written more soberly, more thought fully. I wished that he haul spoken in stead of written it was so formal to have to answer him. His proposal was uot quite so nice as some I had read of. And yet should I quarrel with my bliss, coine how it might? Oh, no! It was with a heart full to overflowing that I answered h.m. I did so at once, for ray pupils and I were going out and l nau a chance or posting it; moreover I felt that I could never send it to him by hand. So, without waiting to think, lest I should lose my courage, I wrote my answer. It was not an easy task. "Dear Mr. Clitheroe, I cannot tell you how your letter surprised me. 1 feel so flattered, so grateful to you for loving me. It seems incredible that you should ask me to be your wife. 1 feel I can only answer the truth, and that is that I love you, and have loved you fora long time. "Yours, "Makiox Morley." This did not seem at all the kind of note to send, so I wrote another and an other, all worse until, in desperation, I sealed and directed the first. I did not ailow myself to think further till I saw it safe In the post-office, aud then, for very shame, I would have gone in and asked for it back. I felt 1 had taken a plunge into unknown waters. My thoughts were in a state of chaos I was joyful, trembling, aud excited. I fear my four girls thought me very absent that afternoon. AV we went out. Caroline and Amy, the two elJe.t, lgged me to go a different way from that which I had chosen; but 1 said I must post a letter. "Let me rnn with It to the post, Miss Morley," said Caroline. "It will take me only a minute from the turnpike, and then we can still go by the high road. "Xo, I must post it myself, dear," I replied, hugging my letter tight. They pressed m to let them take it, those tiresome girls; aud, like a silly little thing, I turned as red as a peony, whereupon Carrie said "You look so red, Miss Morley! Per haps it Is a love-letter. I do believe it is!" she cried, as I stupidly got more and more crimson. "You must not be so forward; it Is very vulgar to talk about love-letters," I answered, according to my rule. "Is It vulgar to be in love then. Miss Morley?" she asked. "I never knew that. Do you hear, Amy? . It's vulgar to lie in love." "Well, not exactly vulgar, of course, Carrie," I extenuated; "but it's better that young girls like you and Amy should not talk of such things yet." "Miss Morley, I've often heard papa say that he was in love with mamma when he was quite a boy," said Amy. "Was he vulgar?" 'Of course not. Amy," I replied, "because because he married your mamma, and it was a suitable match in every way." "Oh. I see!" said Caroline. "But, supposing- siipixsiug just for instance, you know mat you were iu ioyc wnu Mr. Clitheroe that would be vulgar, would it notV" 'How often have I told you. Carrie, that it is very rude and vulgar to make nersonal remarks?" 1 saiu. "eu drop the subject, if you p ease." i aiMke with as much angry diguity as my confusion would admit. Tire some, forward children, I do believe their sharp eyes bad somehow seen the address on my letter! However, it was posted; and the rest of the day and night passed In a sort of trance. My upper most fueling was wonder as to what would coine next. I bad to enaure tormenting suspense all the next day. The post was my first trial" I longed to, yet darei not, look at the letters, and almost felt relieved that there was not one for me. Then every ring at the bell set my heart quivering. At last, in the afternoon, when I was speaking to Mrs. Thomson m the gar den, Mr. Clitheroe went past in the road. He only bowed; but she beck oned to him to come in. He did so; aud I grew red and pale, and the hand I held out to him trembled. He looked conscious too I saw that before I slipped away. Would he tell Mrs. Thomson, and would she send for me? But no summons came; and night closed upon my wonder and excitement. The next day brought my suspense to an end. It was Wednesday, our half holiday. The girls had gone out with their mother, and I was free for a few hnnra. I took mv book out Into the garden, but 1 could not read The click of the gate startled me. I leaned for ward to see who It was, and beheld Mr. Clitheroe. Oh, how my heart beat, aud how I trembled as he approached! "How do you do. Miss Morley?" he "I am glad to be able to speak to youalone, for 1 have someti'ng to say "i &f 1Kb at his face. He looked flushed . nd agitated. He sat down and there w as Tminute of silence, which palmist insupportable to ne, Why did he not speak or take my hand? Oh, I could have sunk at his feet and hid den my blushing faccl Miss Morley," he continued, -I re ceived a letter from you yesterday." "Ves. ves," I said hurriedly. "It was a rtupid letter. I know: but jyours prised me so. I never dared believe you could love me," I summered, and hid air glowing face in my hands. - - When dul yon get the letter you an awered?" be ed ently. "Ihe dav betore yesterday,'" I an swered; and In my nervousness I die it ftom my pocket. He put out Ids baud and took it He read it through, aud then he took my hand. "M i ss Morley," ho said gravely and kindly, "believe me, you cannot know how highly I respect" and e -teem you, and how difficult I find it to tell you that I never wrote that letter at all " ' Never wrote it?" I echoed, stupe fied "No " he replied; "there is some mis take here, some cruet jest. I never penned it; it is not my writing, though a close imitation. Had I meant so to address you.I trust 1 should have treated so high and holy a theme in a more dig uitled manner. I couM not write to you like that. Miss Morley." "I thought, I felt " I muttered. "But you never wrote it you did not, you do not " Aud then the real nature of my mis erable situation flashed upon me. It was all a mistake; he did not love me! "I do not love you. Miss Morley, as that letter pays," be continued. "For give me; but I feel it is best aud wisest to be frank with you. I have never yet dreamt of marriage. I have no present means, and have been too busy with my profession to think as yet of any love. I bitterly deplore that some I fear wil ful mistake has exposed you to this unpleasantness." I listened as in a dream; my head was buried in my hands, and my very heart was faint. Oh, the shame, the humili ation, the misery of having let him so openly see my love, which now came back to me rejected! I longed to fly, to escape from my intolerable position- He had tried to take my hand; but I had waved him off. "Go away, go away!" was all I could say. 1 heard his steps die away; and then my tears came. For a long time I sat ou thus, crushed and stunned by this cruel blow. At last I rose to go in. The blissful hours of freedom were drawing to a close, and instinct taught me to hide my wound from others. 1 was startled to behold Mr. Clitheroe still in the garden, apparently examining some plants. He heard me move, and hur ried up to me before I could escai. ' I cannot let you go like this, Miss Morley," he said. "Will you forgive me for being the innocent cause or this cruel annoyance?" "Oh, yes!" I muttered "But I am so ashamed my letter " "Miss Morley," he said, "I respect you more than ever. Your letter and your words shall be forgotten by me; they shall be as though they had not been. Trust me. I have foi gotten al ready all that you would have me for get. I must hope to merit your good opinion of me by my discretion; and 1 shall only try to find out who couid have so insulted you. Have you any suspicion?" "No." I replied; "I have not thought about it Plea dos't try to find out Please let it alone, and let me go in now!" He raised his hat and said "Good bye." I was alone more alone than ever. My bright castles were shattered; and the letter that had been a mocking phantom to me he had never written it. nis STORY. I have been in at the death of many a fox, shot many an innocent bird and beast as a young man, aud have said many cruel words in my time, but I never felt such a barbarian aa that day. And yet it was not my fault. I wits obliged to do it Truth and honor de tnanded it Poor little Marion MorleyJ I had often noticed her sad face, and longed to be of use to her, and had even tried to make her think I would befriend her if she needed it I bad often preached at her the hard lesson, in whatsoever state she was, therewith to be content Bnt I bad never dreamed of love I had never tried to win her affection. As I told her, marriage lay very far in the dim future with me as far, iu fact, as the living that I hoped would ulti mately fall to my lot It never crossed my wildest fancy that she would have taken more than a frieudiy interest in me; therefore my utter astonishment can be imagined when I recoived her poor little innocent letter promising to be the wife I had not desired. How bard it was to tell her that I had never penned the letter she had received! I returned home humbled and grieved grieved to have wounded her sensi tive feelings, grieved that she should have given me her love unsought. I prayed that night that she might forget me. I felt very guilty; and yet I could find nothing of which to accuse myself. My chief feeling however was indigna tion against the person, whoever he or she might be, whose wicked jest had caused all this. I had my suspicions. Caroline Thomson was never a favorite of mine; I thought her a forward sly girl, precocious and assuming; aud I imagined her quite capable of playing such a trick. One day I met Miss Thompson walk ing in the village and joined her. Pur posely I led the conversation round to practical jokes. "I do not know anything more cow ardly than to play a practical joke," I said, "on a person whom circumstances place to a certain extent in one's power. A practical joke of any magnitude is insulting, cruel, stupid, and a disgrace to one person only the perpetrator." The girl's face got veiy red, and she tittered nervously. "Have you ever played such a joke?" I went on. "I am pretty sure you have and on Miss Morley; have you not?" I demanded sternly. "What do you mean?", she stam mered. "Please answer me straightforwardly, Tiss Thomson," I said, "or I must, as your clergyman, apply to your mother. You will know what I mean if your conscience accuses you. Did yoa not lately play a practical joke upm Miss Morley?" The girl burst into tears, and grad ually told me all how she and Amy had written the letter in fun and never meant any harm: bow, when she imag ined that Miss Morley had answered it, she was too frightened to confess; how she was very sorry, and so on. "You have done an unmaidenly cruel action," I said "an action which, but for Miss Morley's good sense and lady like miud, might have caused great mis chief. I hope this will be a lesson to yon, and that in the future you will be more considerate of others' feelings " I now hoped that all trouble arising from the unfortunate letter would be ended; but it grieved me to see how Miss Morley drooped. She seemed al most afraid to look at me, though I strove hard to put her at her ease. Several ' months passed by, and I found myself taking more and more in terest in her, though we sirel ex changed words n . One day 1 was mich concerned to hear from Mrs. Ttiomson that she was leaving them. "Marion Morley leaving!" I ex claimed. "You surprise met Why is she going?" "I cannot discover," said Mrs. Thom son. ''She has no complaints to make. I have always been kind to her; but she says she must go; and she does seem to be falling into bad health here. It's a great pity; but I can't persuade her to remain. I could not help feeling that I was driving her away. The thought caused me pain, and I began to wish that I had never told her I bad not written that letter, but had accepted the love v hich now I began to prize. One thing I. de termined; she must not leave her situa tion. I could far easier find another curacy than she another home. If I went "at once, she would doubtless re main; all I need do was to speak to her and tell her, as if casually, that I was going. I watched for an opportunity. One afternoon I met her coming out of the church; she had been trying the onjan. I hurried to join her at tue gate. "How do you do. Miss Morley?" I said. "You have been practising, I see." "Yes," she replied. "It is a queer old organ, is it not?" I continued. "I wish the parish could alford a new one." "I suppose thev cannot," she said. "Good-bye, Mr. Clitheroe." "Are you not going home?" I asked. "No," ehe repliod; "I must go round by the village." "So must I; and we will go together," I said. "I want to tell you that I am going away." "Going away?"she repeated, -Why?" "To better myself.' as the people say," I replied smilingly. "I've only just made the arrangement in fact, it was only this morning that I told Mr. I'onsonby; and I mean to leave In leas than a month." "You will be missed here. Mr. Clith eroe," she said. "Do you think so?" I asked. "Ah, I fear very little! But it is pleasant to think one leaves a kindly memory be hind. Where are you going?" "I don't quite know," she replied. "Mrs. Thomson urges me to stay and not go at all." "I know she does, ' I said; "and I boje you will." "Perhaps I may," she replied; "but my plans are not settled yet" I saw I was right. Poor child, she hal no wish to go now I was leaving! We walked on for some time in silence. I could not part from her thus. At last I said suddenly "Miss Morley, I love you I canuot tell you how much! When I had to deny writing that letter, I did not; but since then you have crept into my in most soul. Have I any chance left?" "Mr. Clitheroe, I thank you," she an swered calmly; "but I must beg you to drop the subject" "Why?" I exclaimed. "Why?" she repeated. "Because you are saying all this from pity. You think I have been unhappy, and you aie sorry for me; but 1 P.m not unhappy, and I won't be pitied!" "Indeed you wrong me," I pleaded, but she was obdurate. I saw her once more before I left. I was lunching at the Thomsons'. I had a rose-bud in my hand, and presented It to her. "Is it not a lovely bud?" I asked. "Yes; it is a beauty," she said. "If you have not forgotten our con versation the other day," I pleaded, "will you wear this rose as a sign to me that you relent and will be mine?" She hesitated, and turned very pale. I watched her closely. She seemed in doubt. Could I have spoken to her again, I fancy I could have won my cause; but others came into the room. She took up the bud and placed it in a vase full of Cowers, and then left the apartment. I went avray, and soon after obtained another curacy. Sometimes 1 heard from the village. Marion Morley was still governess at the Thomsons'; and, as I did not like to inquire after her in particular, I heard nothing of her for many mouths. The great event I had been hoping for so long ainved about a year after 1 had left Stonehouse. A small living was presented to me. 'With every longed-for joy a thorn comes," I thought as I took up my bachelor quarters at Carstoues. It was a nice place. As 1 knew that much of the pleasantness of my life there depended upon the Squire, I nat ura!!y felt a great curiosity to see him, the more so when I heard his name was Morley. I could not help wondering whether he was a relative of Marion, He w;is from Australia, report said, and had only lately settled here and bought the estate. He was a widower, very rich, aud bad a niece, his heiress, living with him. I found him a frankensible, kindly man. "You and I are both strangers here," he said, when we met for the first time; "we must pull together. As a begin ning, suppose you come and dine with us. My niece and I will be delighted." "Thank you,," I said; "you are very kind." "Not at all," he said. "Say to-morrow at six. No ceremony just our selves." The morrow came, and I went up to the Hall. As I entered the drawing room, I was still wondering whether these Morleys were relatives of Marion, when, behold, she herseif stood before mv! My astonishment and delight nearly deprived me of speech. . "D.d you not know I was here, Mr. Clitheroe?" she said. "Directly my good uncle came home, lie sent for me, aud has ado ted me ai his owu child." 'I congratulate you most sincerely," , I said. "I was so surprised when I heard that the new Vicar was Mr. Clitheroe," she added. "Then Mr. Morley entered. "Ah, Mr. Clitheroe, how do you do?" he said. "I see you and Marion need no introduction. I remember now; she said she had seen you or beard of you somewhere." Somewhere yes, indeed! I felt al most sorry to see her. Marion M rley the governess I would have loved on and ou; Miss Morley of the Hall, an heiress, was very far above the reajh of a poor Rector. I could not help feel in? that this leap bad taken her away from me altogether; and . though I loved ber no less, I dared not renew my suit But at last as time weut on, I could bear it no longer, and determined on a last ap peal As I feared she would not hear me out, I determined to write to her; and, in order that there should be no mistake this time, I gave the note to her uncle. To this day I do not know how I spent the interval before I got the an swer. At last it came. "Though disappointed in you once. I am willing to try you again, and so I grant your request Come and see me to-morrow morning, that we may talk it over. "Marion Morley." It was a most welcome, though short and odd note. I could scarcely see now she had been disappointed in me. But the favorable answer was too delightful to be cavilled at In the morning I went over to the Hall, and Marion re ceived me very calmly. "How do you do, Mr. Clitheroe?" she said. "You have come about the tracts, I presume? They have just arrived; o we can divide them among the districts at once." "But, Miss Morley," I said, "first tell me in pity that you meant what you said yesterday in your note! You have relented? You love me?" . She b ushed, and seemed at a loss to know my meaning. "That little note gave me great joy," I said. "What little note?" she asked. 1 gave it to her. She got very red, and then burst out laughing. "I am indeed revenged," she said. "I wrote this but not to you." "Not to me?" I criel. "No," she replied; "it was to Annie Chauuings, the girl who is pupil-teacher and got into that scrape about the nee dlework. I wrote to promise ber that 1 would see if she could get back again. I also wTote a note to you about the trac s, and I must have put the letters into wrong covers." "But did not Mr. Morley deliver you a note from me yesterday?" I asked. "I gave It to him to make sure of no mistake." "No, I never received it," she re plied. "May I tell you what was iu it?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. I did so, and then asked "And now are you not sufficiently re venged for Ue first mistake in our cor respondeuce, Marion?" "0,uite," was the reply. We spent the next two hours in deli cious converge; aud now we are send ing our lives together, althongh we did make such a muddle of our love-letters. Valley ef Uetcn-llstchy. The grandeur of the approach to this wonderful valley it is impossible to de scribe. The formation of the rock and its fracture and cleavage are precisely similar to Yosemite, but it is much richer In color, nature having been more lavish with her mineral stains upon these walls. There is evidence also that a far greater number of small water-courses pour their tribute over the walls into the Tuolumne than over the Merced walls. Gradually, as we crept along our narrow trail, the rock liegan to assume a more broken charac ter, and we could not help thinking that the formation had an older look. (X'rtainly nature must have worked upon a more gigantic scale in the pro duction of this region than over to wards the watershed of the Merced, for the whole count ry had a convulsed and ragged aspect, wildernesses of rock suc ceeding each other. Among the number of trips underta ken in the Sierra, we all declared that none could approach this for wildness of character; in fact, for grandeur of impression, Iletch-Hetehy's approach is far in advance of Ycceinite. After descend i ng some two hours more we be came aware from previous descriptions that the famed vailey was shortly to come in sight Passing around a mo ras) that has been the tomb of tnauy adventurous cattle in their endeavor to reach the rich grasses that appear above its surface so treacherously green, we came to a wall of rounded grauite some ten feet high, up which a rude corduroy way was made, about four feet wide. Coaxing our inexperienced and unwil ling horses over this frail bridge we stood upon Surpuse point and i,uuu feet lielow lay the lower vailey of Hetch- Hetchv. Comparison was Impossible iu point of impression. Ibe nrst impression made by Yosemite is one of wonderful sublimity; Hetch-Hetchy's of supreme beauty. Occupying the same place rel atively in this valley was an hi Capitan, over which swung like a pendulum the gauzy folds of the beautiful Tu-ee-ula-la fall, swinging its graceful ribbon over a wall of 1,(X0 feet sheer to strike upon the debris slope in a shatter of foam and smoke and find its way to the bot tom, another 1,000 feet down, as best it could. Owing to the lateness of the seasou it was a wonder there was any water at all. but some providential sliower had filled up its bed and a very respectable allowing it made in poiut of size. Close to the npper right-hand corner of this 1 Capitan was a vivid space of brilliantly pale orange red. The re mainder of the rock is of the prevailing yellow, or buff white, of the granite re giou. The sltuiliarty of form and place of this rock mass to El Capitan of Yo. eiuite Is remarkable and in most of its extent this wall seemed absolutely vertical. " It is estimated at from 1,1)00 to 2,200 feet in height Two succeed ing points continue the valley around apparently to what is known as the ISell Tower, a sugar loaf shaped moun tain, which stands at the right-band side of this valley, in the place occupied in Yosemite by the Cathedral rocks and Bridal Veil fall. This grand mass of rock is estimated at 3,200 feet above the river. From this point the valley is completely shnt in and is the most beautiful spot of green mea dow, fenced or walled with rock, Uiat oue can conceive. Why He was Promoted, Tt is related of an ex-member of Con gress from the Went, who died last month, that in 18G3 he received a call ut Washington from a Captain in a volunteer regiment who wanted to ex pose some crooked things about a cer tain pork contract. The member re ceived him very coldly, and made light of his grave charge; bat hardly had the Captain returned to hit regiment wbeu he was promoted to Colonel and as signed to another. At the close of the war he happened to meet the Congress man, and In his gratitude he called ont: "That promotion came from yon, and I thank yon with all my heart!" "Oh, yon don't owe me anything." 'Bat didn't yoa seenre my promotion" "Certainly.' "And shouldn't I be gratefuir "Not by a jugful 1 As Cap tain, detailed in the Quartermaster's department, yon were threatening to expose a mortage in my pork contract by which I made $50,000. I bad yoa promoted to get yoa oat of the way I No thanks, no thanks; good day!" The English drawing-room is almost always at the back of the houses aud looks out upon the garden, for it must be known that, however large the giounds, the house is built quite near the road and there is little or no front garden; and there is sure to be quite high wall at the front, so as to shut off the honse and grounds from the gaze and eyes of the commou herd. Many houses. indeed all through the provinces, have gates in these high walls with bells, and the servant comes from the house to the outside gate to answer the bell. The papering of the drawing-room is of somewhat lighter color than that of the other rooms. The furniture is also less massive, ami has just a tendency todeco- ration and art. The line is strictly drawn at water-color painting upon the walls, in no well-ordered English family does one ever see an oil painting ou the walls of the drawing-room. I have never been able to fully take in the reason for this custom, i conjecture, however, that the walls of the drawing-room being lighter and of more expensive paltering that it is deemed bail taste to cover them up with great pictures aud frames. Water-colors moreover are more in keeping with the lighter tone of the room. So it is; you never, under any circumstances, see oil paintings in the saloon of an English house. The bedroom furnishings are of a like heavy sort with the rest of the house. The brass bedstead has taken the place of the old "four poster." but the canopy is retained. The curtains are drawn for the night when the lied is opened. Day coverings ami "pillow shams" for the bed are things unknown iu Eng land. It is always deliriously clean, and with its cretonne or muslin hang ings looks neai aud tidy. In many houses the feather-bed is sillt the thing, aud is always t-sed upon tUl bedsteads in winter. It may be truthfully said that iu all' middle-class families of Euglaud the dining-room is the living room of the house. The family or such of them as remain at home sit in the dining-room the forenoon and utit 1 alter noon meal, whether that he luncheon or dinner. The dining-room is commonly a very large room and is furnished for com fort, having generally the most pleasant exposure to garden, sun and air. The kitchen is seldom near the dining-room and the panti ies are connected w ilh the kitchen; so that the dining-room is free of all the odor of cooking and from ail the necessary noise of the kitchen aud pantries. As all meats and hot dishes are brought to the dining-room closeiy covered, there is seldom any smell from the kitchen Moating about or lurking about the house. Were the color of the house less som ber and the furniture less cumbrous; were the rooms more on and less separated each from the other, the Eng lish bouse would be the center of the most perfect external comfort known to the domestic life of this world. As it is, the English house is the home of sweet love, of thoughtful civility, and of uuforgelting ami undying loyalty. Sacrificed sloilMrs. The revolting spectacle of a daughter domineering over her mother is a sadly frequent one. How often does on see a healthy young misscall upon her tired mother, as if she were a servant, to wait upon ber young ladyship, to bung in her deferred dinner, to take care of her room, to keep her clothes o;e.n and iu repair. When the daughter Ills grown up sel fish and domineering, It is, primarily, the mother's owu fault. The fond mother, especially if she has few of the good things of this world, is too likely to say: "I will sacrifice everything for my child. 1 will do without that she may be a lady. 1 will deny myself learn ing that she may be educated. 1 will stay out of society and wear old clothes that she may go out as well-dressod as her companions and enjoy herself." That is the first mi-i-step. Any mother who follows this plan will l tne slave of her daughter betore she is out of pin afores; and the daughter is sure to grow up selfish, exacting, silly and unreason able. By and by the mother looks for some reward. She doesn't ask for tine clothes and relief from drudgery she has got used to her hard lot, but she craves a little symimthy and commmen dation from the worship! daughter for whom she '-has done so much." Aye, so much that it has sixiiled the girl's naturally sweet and unselfish dis uosition. She niav feel uneasy once in a while, but she has n real sympathy ' with her toil-worn mother. She is ashamed of her mother's old-fashioned' clothes, though she takes as her riiftit all the new ones herself, and the ;esthi tic young lady is ini;.atieut and mortiik d because her mother cau't talk about anything but "common domestic sub jects, you know." This Is all wrong. The rrother should be the undisputed in i.-tress of the hone. As long as a daughter remains in her father's house, she is the natural and proper subordinate of the mother. Daughters brought up to understand this and shape theii actions accordingly, receive a discipline which best fits them to be, In their turn, mistresses of their own homes and judicious mothers. A mother is right in desiring the best wel fare of her child, but it is better for the child that the mother should maintain her own dignified position, aud that she should make the most of herself intel lectually and socially. So Orlads th TalTr 31 III. When the annual appmpritttion bill had been generated through the as sembly yesterday by Mr. filiated' masterly management that geutle man happened near Alijor Haggexty's desk. "General," said the Major, "I con gratulate yoa on petting yonr bill through. It I only had your genius ou tne ficor " "Nonsense, " aaid the General, "If I only bad yonr eloquence and your go&J taste Bother" replied the Major. "If I only bad yonr towering mastery of li subject" "Do not speak of it, answered the General. "If 1 only had your learning and wide reading, yonr hapiy mode of express ion " "Indeed, inter i acted tiie Alaior, "il I was only able to eommaud men as yoa can, and prasp with your talent At this moment thren reporters Do. r at baud sunk bclples y in their seafn; Dr. Cartwright, who sits next to M j -r Haggerty, laid his head wearily on h:a desk; Mr. Livingston, who sits near. gave heart-rending sign, and tt e chamber became gradually deaerte 1. There are 7,102 women missionar ies and preachers La England. or an tne fruits with which we are blessed the peach la the most delicious and digestible. There is uothiug more palatable, wholesome and medicinal than good, rii peaches. They should be rip, but not over ripe and half rot ten; and of th's kiud they may make a part of either meal, jr be eaten bat ween meals; but it is better to make them part of the regular tubals. It is a mis taken Idea that no fr ilt should be eaten tt breakfast It would be far better it' our oeople would eat less bacou and grease at breakfast aud more fruit In the morning there i. an acrid state of the secretions, and nothing is so well calculated to correct this as cooling sub-acid fruits, such as peaches, apples. etc. Still, most of us have been taught mat eating iruit before breakfast is highly dangerous. How the idea or ig' mated I do not know, but it is certainly a great error, contrary to both reason aud facts. The apple is one of the best of fru ts. Bakei or stewed apples will generally agree with the most delicate stomach, and are an excellent medicine m many cases of sickness. Green or half ripe apples stewed and sweetened are pleasant to the tatte. cooling, nourishing and laxative, far superior in many cases to the abomina ble doses of salts and oil usually given in fever and other diseases liaw ap pies and dried apples stewed are better for constipation than some pills. Oran ges are very acceptable to most stom achs, having all the advantages of the acids alluded to; but the orange jinoe alone should be taken, rejecting the pulp. The same may be said of lem ons, pomegranates and all that clars. Lemonade is the best drink in fevers. and wheu thickened with sugar is bet ter thati syrup of squills aud other nauseauts in many cases of cough. Tomatoes act on the liver and bowels. and aie much more pleasant and safe than blue mass. The juice should t used alone, rejecting the skinsi The small-seeded fruits, such as blacklier- ries, tis, raspberries, currants, and strawberries, may be classed among the best foods aud medicines. The sugar in them is nutritious, the acid is cooling and puryfying, and the seeds are laxative, e would be much the gainers if we would look more to our orchards and gardens for our medicine aud leas to our drug stores. To cure fever or act on the kidneys no febrifuge or diuretic is superior to watermelwu. which may with very few exceptions be tt ken in sickness and health in almost unlimited quantities, not only without Injury, but with positive benefit But In using them the water, or juice should le taken, excluding the pulp; and the melon should be fresh and ripe, but uot jver-rlpe aud stale. TbsPupm Appsaraac. Leo XUI, lias aged very much during the last two years. His figure has bent under the load of his lespousibilities. But his face has lost nothing of its ex pressive and mobile vivacity, and al though uot handsome it will never tie forgotten by any one who has seen it even once. His transparent complex ion and emaciated features make him look like one of the Christs that were painted in the early days of the church aud of which a few Sieciuiens still re main in the catacomlm. lie Is a nervous man oue eminently Impressionable. A mere triile will of ten make him low sp rited and quite as insignificant a cause will render him all ritfht again. This is the reason of the indecision and the seeming contradic tions In Ins policy. It leads him to act suddenly on thi5 innpiration of the mo ment, so to speak and yet no one who has studied his face can doiil't his ener gy, or the unfailing tenacity of his will. That he is a man of action and tn'rn to govern heabnndantly proved at Perol.'se when be was archbishopof thatdiocess. When he was elected pope he was in such bad health that every body thought that his iontiticate would be a very short one, and some people say that it was this fact which induced certain members of the sacred college to vote for him. His health has never been better since he entered upon the life of the Vatican, and all hopes which may have been based on his feebleness must long since have been set aside. He is posted on all the men and things of the day, and has manuested much tact in reconciling the traditions and policy of the Holy See with those of the other governments of the world. Since his accession there has been a notable change n the sacred college. 1 he foreign element is now eo strong that It almost counterbalances the Ital- ian So far bis "creations" have given satisfaction. While the creation of cardinals is a matter which depvnd en tirely on bis own will, ther are certain archbishoprics the incumbents of which he cannot well avoid making cardinals. AgcsotCh Pores I m ns. Although it is knowu that such and such colon) and modes of decoration were not in use before certain dates, it would be to little purpose to speculate on the exact age of any particular spec imen of Chinese porcelain. It is safe to assert of any good piece that it is older than the present century. It may be held as certain that a rose-colored vase, or one into the decoration of which that color enters, can not have been made longer ago than 10IKI, while a piece decorated with I lue and white may be of the time of the Emperor King-te, who reigned for three years, from A. D. 1004 to 1007. If a jar should be painted with personages wearing the pig-tall, it is not more than 2-VJ years old, that apendage having been Introduced by the Tartar conquer ers; but If the personages represented wear louz robes, both men and women, and If tue males wear square back head gear, then it may be of very high an tiquity. The Chinese, however, have at all times delighted in reproducing the best efforts of former periods, and have, as a matter of course, and with out dishonest Intent, copied marks, dates, handling and everything. Chi nese collectors have been in the habit of paying as much for a good copy as for an authenticated original. A Euro pean or American collector uilsI there fore be couteet to do as they do, and class a piece, not as having been made under sucb or sucb an emperor or dy nasty, though the inscription may state as much, but as being of such a style. Still, taken iu this way, a collection may be made a fairly complete and very interesting index to the history of the art and of the peculiar civilization of the Chluesw. The very oldest porcelains, it is like ly, were white,' either plain or orna mented with engravings in the paste, or with a relief obtained by pressing me paste into snnuar engravings in wood, Dak ta s debt is i.'."j-,0OO. Pans lias l,i)2G ballot dancers. D ikota has forty -eight women bank e'erks. Princess Beatrice is a victim of rheumatism. Chicago invested S4j.ot,000 In real estate m l&H. San Diego, Cal., exported l.lOS.OOO pounds of fish last year. Australia has four universities equal to Yale or Harvard. St. Paul Masons are about to erect a temple to cost 130,000. Sixty-four wemen engravers earn their livelihood in Eugla-id. Sugar is reiorted to be selling at two cents a pound in Cuba. Helena, M T., has acaif 10 months old that we'ghs .m pounds. Th! annual revenue of the British government is 210,110,000. Anthracite has been discovt-reu (a new find) near Gila ISemt, A. T. Cincinnati people are buying till old clocks, just to have them. Babbits damage Australia to the extent of HV0u,oo0 per year. Farm rents in England have de cliued six per cent, in five years. There are ti'i professional ljea-ities in London who don't work at all. There are 4"2 women editors in England and 1, A it photographers. American steam brakes are u.l by French and English railroaiis. Good butter is selling for 17 cents a pound iu Napa City, California. Every memlier of the Texas Laud Board is said to favor its abolition. One town in North Carolina shio- ped last ar l0'i,O:A),i)O cig.iiettes. -San Francisco has 1 ij ('hint-sri children ineligible to public s hoots. Not a solitary young uiau iu Oirle- thoipe, Ga., it is said, chews tobacco. Kit Carson's montiuiriit at S::nt.i Fe is to be unveiled on Decoration D.iy. Fanners near Fresno, Cal.. are marketing green corn and strawberries. In Baltimore recently. 100.000 cases of canned corn were sold in oue day. A Massachusetts phts-ciaii has iti- duced forty young m. n to si.ip smok ing. There are ueisons en-Mired in the PostoiUce Department iu Washing ton. There are 112,'.". English school teachers, nearly ail of whom are spins ters. Berlin exi eots a visit from Sittimr Bull and ten other Indians next sum mer. There were 3,2.1:1 tui-todlces estab lished last year, and l.t'cJl were discon tinued. A pearl has been found ou the western Australian coast valued at iJO.ono. A gentleman of Rockingham. X. C, has a pair of elks that he driws to a husgv. An astronomer iu Kendall, Or., as serts that the moo.; is a si:uii-trauspar-ent body. Buffalo's Music Hall, which was destroyed by tire a week or so ago, b to be rebuilt. The litier of the hop vine is substi tuted for rags by French p iiht manu facturers. Nearly f2,000.0oo worth of t.rint- hig ink is used iu tiie L'liited States every year. A reversible boot, which may bo worn iudifferent!y on eiih r fijt. has been patented. Ten thousand five hutvlr! wouieu fc.'nd English books and 2,:i'i2 assist Iu printing them. Th numlr of ix-stotlices robbed last year was 4'j7, whil"2 others were destioyed b' "re. There were !stnl.:sHers who died last year, w-h.ie ihe.e were IV" ''o were suspended. Winnipeg, Man., has '.il2 trading establishments, doing an annual busi nesss of $ 'a,0(.0,0JO. The number of fanners in State legislature is said to be decreasiug from year to year. The number of iMital notes issued last year was .1,tiS'..2.r7. amounting iu money to f7,-41l,'jy2.4-). A parrot, seventy-live years old. still spry and a great talker, istheprids. of Mauch Chui.k, Pa. The record for 1SS4 show losses In the United States and Canada to tin extent of 112,0H0,iH"j. By a small majority the Trustee of the British Museum hate decided iu favor of Sunday opening. There were 1, 1"iO,7i;s,4v ordinary jiostage stamps soid l.ust year, the value of which was 320,077,411. Lincoln County, Oa., will charge $1000 for liquor licenses on Ld after the 1st of next October. The people of Glenwood Springs, Col., have not sewi the suu for a mouc.li owing to the constant rains. The son of an English p? er, it Is stated. Is employed as a car-staiter at the Union Depot, in Pittsburg. There are'VI.l.'iS women nailmakers in England. The nails are nsed in fas tening horseshoes in place. The free delivery svstem is now iu operation in 15'J cities in the United States, employing 3.S00 carriers. Statistics are cited to show that there is one divorce for every sixteen marnagws in the State of Ohio. There are iu this country at pres ent, according to estimates, very nearly, it not luiiy, ;o,'j Fkaimg rinks. There are M.OoO.OOO school chil dren in the United States, 10, 000, Ooo of whom are enrolled in the public schools. The largest sum ever accumulated in one body is said to lie the $o00.t ..- 000 now in the United States Treasury. Just sixteen years ago the Interest on the national debt amounted 114.!, 000,000 a year. It is now $.V,noo,ooo- George O., a famous Maine horse. for which iVnH) was the price recently refused by the owner, died the ether day. A cent of 1S04, uncirculated aud perfectly bright in tts cotton packed box sold recently in New Yotk for J2W, it Is stated. The death'of his grandchild, which occurred a few days ago, so affected a male resident of Newport, K. I., as to cause his death. A Goshen (N. Y.) man, who died recently, bequeathed all his money to strangers, while his relatives he con- ' soled with the posscssiou of his shotgun. A , ( 1 i '! .1 J K- - vr-r
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers