Pa
f-r
4
. - - - -
hi it i - II i
BY JOHN G. GIVEN
JIIS02LLAN20U
THE CTIIAITDZJD SHIP.
BY HA&El&r
"Will no one go off for her ? will no
oae go off for my child ?" .shrieked the
Tniser wringing his hands and running to
nd - fro in the crowd. But all turned
away. There was scarcely a soul present
who. at one time or another had nut buff
ered in the hands of tho hard-hearted
money lender.
"Oh J for the love of God you who are i
fathers think on me. My daughter will
perish will yoa not go off for her,
Townsend I'll give you any thing any
thing in reason.'.'
"Go off for her ! not I," said the man,
with a mocking laugh, shaking off the old
man, 44all your gold would not tempt me
out on that boiling sea. Besides am t I a
father, too, and think you I'll sacrifice my
life for another? No. no, old hulks, you
must take your gold to some oilier market."
"Oh ! she will die, she will die my
child for whom 1 have saved all. Peter
Jones you will go if I give you 3 thousand
dollars."
"Not for ten tnoasaiiJ," gruffly said the
person addressed, "a boat couldn't live in
the breakers a minute."
"1 will give ten thousand to any one,"
eagerly said the raiser ten thousand dol
lars. " I know you will go for ten thou
sand dollar, Simon,'.' and he seized one
of the spectators by the button of his
shaggy jacket, "Oh ! go, and the blessings
of a broken-hearted lather will go with
you."
"I can't think of it, for I'd never return
to enjoy your money. No, old man," he
said in a more feeling tone than the others
had used, "your daughter must die."
"MrsT die ! Uh ! no she shant cue
Take all I am worth, good sirs," he said,
lifting up his hands imploringly, "but re
store me my daughter, only only l nope
you'll pa re a little for us to live on, if it's
no more than a beggar enjoys."
. "It's no use, old man," said the last
peaker, "the whole would not tempt us
to put out to sea in a storm like this. It's
a hard lot you've got to bear, and I pity
your daughter, for she ww a sweet angel,
but the packet will go to pieces in half an
hour, and so you see there is no hope."
. The father heard the speaker in stony
silence. .Then he turned and looked out
at sea, where a lew minutes belore, me
outline of the stranded packet, might have
been seen through the approaching twi- i
light, almost buried in' the whirling foam
that howled over the bar on which she
lay; but the darkness had shut her in from
new; and the only knowledge of her po
sition was derived from the sound of her
minute guns booming solemnly across the
sea. The old man groaned, and sinking
down on a bolder, buried his face in his
hands and rocked his body to and fro, oc
casionally pausing to listen to the guns or
to gaze seaward, ard then resuming his
position, moaning continually. Five min
utes might have thus passed when a young
man burst through the crowd, and shaking
the old roan by the shoulder, said 'Mr.
Stelling, they..say your daughter is on
board the. packet- is it so ?"
"Yes, good youth, and you hare come
to rescue her," he exclaimed, starting up
with eager joy; but when he recognized
the speaker, he said in a tone of disap
pointment, "it's Harry Martin. Oh ! sure
ly. young man, you have not come here to
triumph over my distress."
"God forbid, was the fervent reply, "I
come to aid you, if indeed mortal man can
render aid in an extremity like this. Let
bygones be bygones. Only answer me
one question, for no time is to be lost
will you give me your daughter if I suc
ceed in rescuing her ?"
There was a-momentary pause, and the
muscles of the old nun's face worked
convulsively.' All pressed forward to hear
his answer," for the fury with which the
old miser had pursued his daughter's lov
er, and his declaration that he would soon
er see her dead than married to the young
m.arj were known to erery listener. -At
-
length he gasped
'
Only save
"Yes, yes, but go at or.ee
her and 6he shall be yours. - ,
The youth paused no longer, but dashed
through the crowd. In a minute his boat
was afloat, and accompanied by a solitary
individual for but one fisherman, and he
under great obligations to the young man,
jcould. be persuaded to risk his life with
.the lover he set forth. The boat rose
gallantly on the waves, shaking like a
.duck the spray from her sides, and for a
few, minutes was seen momentarily cutting
the outline of the gloomy sky as she at
tained the summit of the billow; then 6he
gradually. passed into the darkness and
waa. seen no more. ..
. . For' more than an' hour the .crowd rc-r
mained on the beach, almost incredulous
cf the lovcrS puccpm. and lingering in the
"WE GO WHERE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES POINT THE WAV ; WHEN tjBEr CEASE TO LEADj WE .CeW TO
faint hope that he might return with his
precious freight. That he had the good
wishes of all was evident from the eager
ness with which they strained their eyes
into the gloom to see if he was returning,
and from the audible prayers for his suc
cess which were breathed by more than
one cf the women. Apart from the gen
eral crowd stood the fisherman whom the
miser had last appealed to, surrounded by
a few kindred spirits who were discussing
with him the chances of il;e young man's
return.
"It was madness to attempt it," said the
fisherman, "but when
I lound he would
go I insisted that he should make his con
ditions wan the old man oelore tie ven
tured, for, you see, if his daughter was
ouce restored to the ursurcr's arms, migh
ty little gratitude would he have for her
preserver, and Harry would stand as poor
a coance as ever. Delween us, l believe
she thought as much of the young man as
he did of her; and if her father sent her
away, and I more than suspect, to drive
Harry Martin from her thoughts, her
present danger looks something like the
retribution ot a higher power zs punish
ment for his eonduct. But hark, was not
that a hallo ?"
Every eye was turned seaward, in
which direction the fisherman had indica
ted that he heard the hail; but nothing
could be seen but the white foam of the
breakers in the foreground, and the lower
ing clouds behind forming a choatic mass
of darkness." Nor was any sound save
that of the roaring tempest borne to the
ear.
"Hark,' at length said one, "there it is
again.
Every one. listened, and now a hallo
was heard faintly from the thick gloom
seaward. One of the fisherman shouted,
and a reply was distinctly caught in the
lull of the tempest. A few moments of
breathless suspense followed, during which
every eye was strained to tne utmost.
"There it i3 there it is," at length
cried one, "see just rising on yonder
wave
t"
"I see it," shouted one.
IIere they come, huzza ! a miracle,
a miracle ah! how gallantly she breasts
the surge," were the exclamations that
followed from the crowd.
All rushed to the edge of the surf. But
now the fear arose that the boat would be
swamped in the breakers, and many a
heart trembled as she arose and fell fright
fully on the surge, showers of spray fly
in- over, and the water continually pour-
jng into her sides. The crowd watched
her struggles with silent awe..
A few minutes removed all doubt, and
saw the hardy ciew and their lovely
freight safely landed on the beach. The
miser had started from his teat at the first
intimation of the approaching boat, and
stood trembling gazing at her as she buff
eted the waves, and no sooner did the
touch the ground than he rushed into the
retiring surf, and clasping his daughter
frantically, hung around her so that the
fisherman were forced to carry both to
gether to the dry land. There they would
have separated the two for a moment, but
Avhen they spoke to the old man they
found he was lifeless. The emotion of the
last two hours had been too much for his
enfeebled frame, and lie had died in the
revulsion from despair to joy.
The good folks of that seaboard village
can yet tell you how after the accustomed
period of mourning had passed, the mi
ser's daughter gave her hand to Harry
Martin, who received with her a fortune,
whose extent even the most sanguine con
fessed to be beyond their expectations.
But this was the least part of the treasure
brought him by his wife; and in her vir
tues he had ample recompense for the
long years of opposition on the part of
her parent.
A Good Daujli'tT
There arc ministers of lave more con
spicuous than she, but none in which a
gentler, lovelier spirit dwells, and none
to which the heart's warm requitals
more jovfully respond s'ae is the steady
light of her father's house. Her idea is
t tit .1 .?. f ' I
indiSSOiuDly connectea w.t;i ia -u oi ms
happy fireside. She is his mornmgsun-
lif'ht and evening star. 1 he grace, viva
city, and tenderness of her sex, have
their places in the mighty sway which she
holds over his spirit. The lessons of re
corded wisdom which she reads with her
eyes, ccme to" his mind with a new
charm-as blended with the beloved melo
dy of her voice. He scarcely knows
weariness, for her song makes him forget
it, or gloom, which is proof against the
young brightness bf her smiles. She is
the pride and ornament of his hospitality,
the gentle nurse cf his .sickness, and the
constant agent of those nameless, num
berless little acts of kindness, one chiefly
cares to have rendered, because they are
unpretending, but 'expensive proofs of
love.
EBENSBURG, THURSDAY,
BY FREDERIKA BREMER.
There was once a poor and plain little
girl dwelling in a little room in Stockholm,
the capital of Sweden. She was a poor
little girl indeed then; she was neglected,
and would have been unhappy, deprived
of the kindness and care so ueces3arv to a
child, if it had not been for a peculiar gift.
The little girl had a fine voice, and iu her
loneliness, in trouble or in sorrow, she
consoled herself by singing. , In fact she
sung to ali she did; at her work, at her
play, running or resting, she always sang.
The woman who had her in care went
out to -work during the day, and used to
lock in the little girl, who had nothing to
enliven her solitude but the company of a
cat. The little girl played with her cat
and sang. Once she sat by the open win
dow and stroked her cat and sang, when
a lady passed by. She heard a voice, and
looked up and saw the little singer. She
asked the child several question, went
away, came back several
lowed by an old music
name was Crelius. He
days after, fol-
master, whose
tried the little
girl's musical ear and voice, and was as
tonished. He took her to the director of
the Royal Opera at Stockholm, then a
Count Pune, whose truly generous and
kind heart was concealed by a rough
speech and morbid temper. Crelius intro
duced his little pupil to the Count, and
asked him to engage her as "elve" for the
Opera. "You ask a foolish thing !" said
the Count gruffly, looking disdainfully
down on the poor little girl. "What shell
we do with that ugly thing? See what
feet she has ! And then her face ! She
will never be presentable. No, we can
not take her ! Away with her !"
The music master insisted almost in
dignantly. "Well," exclaimed he at last,
"if you will not take her, poor as I am, I
will take her myself, and have her educa
ted for the scene; then such an ear as she
has for music will not be found in the
whole world."
The count relented. The little girl was
at last admitted into the school for elves
the opera, and with some difficulty a sim
ple gown of black bombasin was procured
for her. The care of her musical educa
tion was left to an able master, Mr. Albert
Berg, director of the song school of the
opera.
Some years later, at a comedy given by
the elves of the theatre, several persons
were struck by the spirit and life with
which a young clve acted the part of the
beggar gill in the play. Lovers of genial
nature were charmed, pedants almost
frightened. It was our poor little girl
I who had made her first appearance, now
i about fourteen years of age, frolicksome
and full of lun as a child.
A few years still ater, a young debu
tante was to sing for the first time before
the public in Weber's Frieschutz. At the
rehearsal preceding the representation of
the evening, she sang in a manner, which
made the members of the orchestra at
once, as by common accord, lay down
their instruments to clap their hands in
rapturous applause. It was our poor,
plain little girl here again, who had now
grown up and was to appear before the
public, in the role of Agatha. I saw her
at the evening representation. She was
then in the prime of youth, fresh, bright
and serene, as a morning in May, perfect
in form her hands and arms peeuliary
graceful and lovely in her whole appear
ance through the expression of her coun
tenance and the noble simplicity and
calmness of her manners in fact she was
charming. We saw not an actress, but
a young girl full of natural geniality and
grace. She seemed to move, speak and
sing, without effort or art. All was nature
and harmonyr. Her song was distinguished
especially by its purity, and the power of
soul which seemed to swell her tones
Her "mezzo voice" was delightful. In
the night scene where Agatha, feeing her
lover come, breathes out her joy in :i
rapturous song, our young singer, on
turning from the window, at the back of
the theatre to the spectators again, was
pale for joy: And that pale joyousness
she sang with a burst of overflowing love
and life that called forth not the mirth but
the tears of the auditors.
From that time she was the declared
favorite of the Swedish public, whose
musical taste and knowledge are said to
be surpassed nowhere. And year after
year she continued so, though after a time
her'voiee being overstrained lost somethinr
of its freshness, and the public being sati
ated, no more crowded the house when
she was singing. Still, at that time, she
could be heard singing and playing more
delightful than ever in Panatnia (in Zaub
erflote) or in Anna Boleria, though - the
opera was almost deserted'. "-(It was then
late in the spring, and the beautiful weath
er called the people out to nature's play.)
OCTOBER 3; 1850.
She evidendy sang for the pleasure of the
song- " -,
Uy, that time she went .to take lessons
of5arcia in Paris, and so gave the finish
ing ouch to her musical education. There
shelaequired that warble in which she is
saidjlto be' equalled by no singer,' and
whi. could be compared, only .to the
sos- and warbling lark, if thejajkhad
a soul.
And then the young girl went abroad
and sang on foreign shores and to foreign
people. She charmed Denmark and
charmed Germany; she charmed England.
She was caressed and courted everywhere
even to adulation. At the courts of the
kings, at the houses of the great, and no-
ble, she was feasted as one of the grandees ( iuniture, and an old span of horses, ap
of nature and art. She was covered with parently emisrratLir. There was noth-
laurels and jewels. But friends wrote of
her, "In the midst of these splendors she
only thinks of her Sweden, and yearns
for her friends and her people."
One dusky October night, crowds of
people (the most part, by their dress,
seeming to belong to the upper classes of
society) thronged on the shore of the Bal
tic harbor at Stockholm. All looked tow
ards the sea. There was a rumor of ex
pectance and pleasure. Hours passed
awav and the crowds still gathered and
waited and looked out eagerly towards
the sea. At length a brilliant rocket rose
joyfully, lar out on the entrance of the
harbor and was greeted with a general
buzz on shore: "There she comes ! there
she is !" A large steamer now came thun- .
dering on, making its triumphant way thro' j
the flocks of ships and boats lying in the j
harbor, towards the shore of the "Skepps-
bro." Flashing rockets maiked its way
in the dark as it advanced. The crowd '
on the shore pressed forward as if to meet
it.
Now the leviathan of jhe waters was
heard thundering nearer, now it retreated,
now again pushed on, foaming and splash
ing; now it lay still. And there on the
front of the deck, was seen by the light
of the lamps and rockets, a pale, graceful
young woman, with eyes brillant with
tears, and lips radiant with smiles, wa
ving her handkerchief to her friends and
countrymen on the shore.
It was again our poor plain neglected
little girl of former days, who came back
in triumph -to her fatherland. But
more poor.no more plain, no more neg
lected. She had become rich; she had
become celebrated; and she had m her
slender person the rower to inspire snd
charm multitudes.
Some days later we read, in the papers
of Stockholm, an address to the pubiic,
written by the beloved singer, stating with
noble simplicity that, "as she once more
had the happiness to be in her native land,
she would be glad to sing again to her J;
f u"r
1
countrymen, und that the income
operas in which she was this season to
appear, would De uevotea to raise a tuna
for a school where elves for the theatre
would be educated in virtue and knowl
edge." The intelligence was received
as it deserved, and of course the opera
house was crowded every time the be
loved singer sang there. The first time
she again apperared iu the "Sotnnam
bula" (one of her favorite roles,) the pub
lic, after the curtain was dropped, called
her back with great enthusiasm, and
received her when she appeard. with a
roar of "hurrahs." In the midst of the
burst of applause, a clear, melodious
warbling was heard. The hurrahs were
hushed instantly. And we saw the love
ly s.nger standing with her f rms slightly
exteded, some what bowing forward.
graceful as a bird on its branch, warbling,
warbling as no bird ever did, from note
to note and on every one a clear, strong,
soaring . warble until she fell into the
retournelle of her last song, and again
sang that joyful and touching strain:
"No thought can conceive hsw I feel at iny
hecj-t."
She has now ""accomplished the good
j work to which her latest songs in Sweden
i i i j ... i i t. : '
i.att; ijCCJi utrvoieu, iwiu a :i " is ujmi w
leave her native land to sing to a far . re
mote people. She is expected this year
in the United States of America, and her
arrival is welcomed with a general feei
ing of joy. All have heard of her whose
history we have now, slightly shadowed
out: the expected guest; the the poor lit-
tie girl o tornier days, -tne ceieoratea
singer of now-a-days, the genial child of
nature and art is Jenxy Lind!
i-'Among other regulations stuck up!
in a school-house in Maine, are the fol-
owing:
No snapping apple seeds at the master.
No kissing girls in the entry.
No picking the master during holidays.
No . scholar allowed, to bring, sweet
meats to school without, sharing with the
master. ....
No giving the master the mitten by gals
at spcllin' school.
FOLLOW.
- Early Bars cf Silas Wright; ;
A friend, who was an old acquaintance
of the late Hon. Silas Wright, related to
us an anecJottr of that distinguished man,
which" be received from his own lips, and
as we have never seen- it in print,- (al
though it may have been.) we give it to
our readers. -
t Mj.JVrighl UZi his. home, at an early
age to seek his fo'tunT,7iavThgby way"
of earthly possessions, a fine horse, sad
dle and bridle, a pair of saddle bags, a small
stock of clothing and live hundred dollars
in mcney, which wa3 in bills and was de
posited in his saddle bags, lie tojk a
westward course, and in travelling one
day. he overtook a man with a wagon and
ing particularly attractive at first view in
the person or his eqjjippae, bat upon
closer inspection, Mr. Wright discovered
the daughter of the emigrant, a most
beautiful young 1 1 Jy, evidently refined j
ana intelligent I Ley journeyed onward
toward Geneva, chatting cosily together
when, suddenly the old gentleman recol
lected that fie wished to get his money
changed at the Geueva bank, and to ena
ble him to reach that place before the
close of bank hours he proposed that
young vV right should take a seat beside j
the
beautiful daughter; and allow him to I
int W.'s horse and hasten funvard.
mount
Ardent, and half smitten by the charms
of the young lady, Silas gladly accepted
the proposition and leaped from his horse,
allowing the old man to make off with all
his earthly possessions, money iuclusive,
without a second thought,
,'Rapidiy the hours of Thahba went
by," while these two young and gifted
beings pursued their course (quite leisuily
it may bo surrniseuj towards tuetr jour
ney's desination. On arriving at Geueva,
.Mr. W. drove to the principal tavern,
left tte lady, but then far the first time.a
shade of anxiety crossed his mind for the
safelly of his fine horse and money. He
went to all of the other public houses, but
could hear cf no such a man as he des
ciibed, he beat up to the qualers of the
cashiers of the bank, and learned to his
additional concern, that such a man had
called at the bank, and endeavored to get
some money changed, which be had de.
clined doing as the notes were counter'
Our future statesman then came to
the conclusion that he had made a crook
ed start in life. About fifty dollars worth
of old furniture, a dilapidated wagon and
a span cf worn out horses, for a new
wardrobe fine horse, and five hundred
dollar! Ay, then there was the pretty
daughter but her he could not keep as
personal property, without her consent,
and without money he hardly wanted a
wile, lie was at nis wits ena. ana naa
i Just concluded to make the best of a bad
I hnrcrnin. when thf nlrl mm maila his ao
bargain, when the old man made his ap
pearance, with horse and money all safe.
It turned out that the money which the
cashier had thought to be countrfeit, was
not so, and the mistake had given the
old man the trouble to jro some distance
to find an acquaintance who might vouch
for his respectability in case of trouble,
and this occasioned his mysterious ab
sence. In the sequel the beautiful daugh
ter became afterwards the wife of the
future statesman. Detroit Advertiser.
"Stnnd from Ihxder" m the TVord!
Doubtful Hanks. Under the head of
"Doubtful Banks," "Thompson's Bank
V . . . .
note Reporter has the following remarks:
, sli discretliteJ by tb-Won Banks, but
nrrt .moi, p-tir htf narties IO
are redeemed in the city by parties in-
terested in the Bank, at i per cent d;s -
cout. We do not think the Bank will
l.niii !'.au!:I 5n ; n t c f to t, ii Wic
opif.ion, wind up.
w , ... J J
The Cashier of the Mineral Bank of
Maryland w rite us that his all right. So
did the Cashier of the Havre de Grace
Bank wr;tc us that his bank was al! right
a month before it failed. The truth as,'
the outsiders use these Cashiers as cloaks
to cover their rascality, and the cashier
knows nothing of the day nor the hour
when the bank is to bn-ak.
The owner of the Sal'sbury Bank, in
this city, is trying to sustain it. We don't
believe he can do it. . ..
A correspondot asks why we omit the
pa"nner'and .Mechahics' Bank cf New.
Brunswick, New Jersey, in
doubtful tanks. We're no
our list of
reason; , we
only forgot it
so iu it goes.
Moniimciil lo Fulton on lhc B;ta!vs of ihs Ohio
The little village of Troy, ; Ind.v claims
the honor of being chosen ns the site" of
the projected monument to Fultox. The
claim seems, to be well supported. A
circular used by the Trojaus, which we
have before us says:
"We believe,' then, that curs is the best
location: because for elevation, proximity
to the river, and beauty of surrounding
scenerv,' it standi ant-qualled. This above
VOL. 52.
all others in the West, is lha spot mosc
"identified with the carreer; and hallowed
by the- associations of thiv great mari.'
For in its cIos-j vicinity Robert Fu lien, at
and early day, selected a tract of land for
his future home." And atnhe foot cf this
hill, more than thirty years ego, .he end
his brother established a wtod yard. How
must his soirit have chafed when he-fur- -
uiiueu tutfi io aoaiiR?r j.maces . us crB
tion of his own transcendent genius! Yet
here. (Lis claims forgot:Mi by his coun
try.) he and his brother , labored. Hera
his brother died; anJ here his monument
would cast its shadow ofi that bro.hcr'a
grave. The remark wh'c'i treachery
drew Tom the warm heart cf a devoted,
follower of Cesar's rival a cffid- ap
plies with double force to Fukon. . 'IU
whose inemzty deaeres' a sUtue." hu
scarce a stone to marl: his grave. Hstt.
then, let monumental shaft be rrfsrai, on
the hill he laved sa well."
Binnnrk. A Rojal Wedding.
Tha marriage of the King of Denmark
with the Countess Banner, the ci devarti
court milliner, has given great offence at
Copenhagen. The solemnity was per
formed in, the Palace Chapel, and two
Countesses were commanded loatlend
the Countess Von Ahlefeld (the lady cf
the Chief Clerk of the Closet) and tha
Countess Knulh. The youthful. bride was
youthful.
led to the altar by Baron Lwetzan, Mar
shal of the Royal Household. The cero
mony was performed in the preeftce"of
the Court, who were a'.tired in court dres
ses. After the marriaga ;here was a grand
dinner at the Palace. The llereditar
Prince Ferdinand led the Countess Dan
ner to table.. 2nd the King the Countess
Von Ahlefeld. A few days afier the King
and Countess Von Danuer paid an unex
pected visit to. his step-mother, the Queen
Caroline Amelia- i The Queen- Dowager,
the widow of Frederick VI. forbade the
visit that the King and Countess intended
to pay her.. The ladies Who attend court,
and who are highly indignant at this mar
riage, are under apprehensions lest they
should receive commands to wait upon ih
Countess Von Danner. This apprehen
sion is the greater because it is known
that the lady in question has declared that
nothing will give her more satisfaction
than to see the ladies upon whom sh
waited as their dressmaker now corns and
pay their court to her , ; ' i
From the Germcnloxon TtUgrapJi. "
: Preserving Frnit.
Mr. Editor: Fruit of almost every
description may be preserved simply by
packing it in Kiln-dried bran. Sand is
frequently used for the same'purpose, but
it is a ponderous article, and on several
accounts far less eligible than bran.' Dr.
UnderhiU, of the New York Farmers
Club, stated, come years since, that a
friend of his obtained a quantity of ground
cork in which grapes had been imported.
He dried it tlioroughly in a kiln, and
packed some grapes in it, which kept
sound and good till the following Juiy.
; He also remarked that he h3d succeeded
in preserving grapes in Kisn-urieu wiieii
bran, and that in preserving r-11 fruits,
they should be kept as cool as possible,
without incurring danger from frost. The
temperature, therefore, ought never to be
below 32 degrees, nor above 35 degrees.
Mr. Hall, at one of the meetings of this
"club," remarked that the Spaniards ex
I . .1 ll . C .U
port more grapes inau an me rc.-st ui luc
world, and that they preserve , them by
packing in kiln dried oak saw-d.ist, and
hermetically sealing the ve?e!s in which
they are deposits. oau weosier. oi
- t - r
1 lexicon anu spelling oook memory, was
j accustomed to preserve his app.es, m
; sand. Plaster of Paris is also had re-
course to by manv for the same purpose,
but it is ' no less objectionable ihan the
latter article, being heavy and cirlicult to
handle. I have known apples aiid pears
preserved in an excellent state till August
in the following manner. As soon the
weather becomes cool, pick the fruit care
fully troin the boughs by hand, placing
them; one . by me in a basket to prevent
bruising. Spread them for a week or two
in a cool place, and thn envelope each
apple closely in an envelope of paper.
Have a clean barrel, well lined with cot
ton batting or old newspapers, and pack
in the evejoped fruit as carefully as it can
ce placed; head, tho barrel carefully, and
set it awav in a cool place. In this way
fruit" w ill cencl-U' keep sound and pood.
: ' - - -r H.
ESA. facetious friend says that daaeing
women wear their dresses at half-mast, as
a memento of respect to'departed modesty.
Among the curiosities on "exhibition at
the Troy Museum: is a peck of potatoes
all cro3s-eyed. - . .. . .
The A star House. N. Y-han raised th
j price of oard to 1,0 a day.
r