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