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VOL. XII.
NEW BLOOMFIELD, IJL., TTJESDlY, NOVEMBER 12, 1878.
NO. 46.
THE TIMES.
An Independent Family Newspaper,
IB PUBLISHED BVERT TUESDAY BT
F. MORTIMER & CO.
0
SUBSCRIPTION P1UCB.
(WITHIN THE COUNTY.)
One Year 1 2
Six Months 75
(OUT OF THE COUNTY.)
One Year. (Postage Included) II fO
Hlx Months, (Postage Included) 85
Invariably in Advance I
9 Advertising rates furnished upon appli
cation. geledt Poeti'y.
TIME TO ME.
Time to me the truth hath taught,
'TIs a truth that's worth revealing,
More offend, from want of thought,
Than from any want of feeling.
If advice we would convey,
There's a timt we should convey it ;
If we've but a word to say,
There's a time In which to say it !
Many a beauteous flower decays,
Though we tend it e'er so much j
Something secret on it preys,
Which no human aid can touch !
So, in many a loving breast,
Dies some canker-grief concealed,
That, If touched, is more oppressed,
Left onto iteelf is healed.
Oft, unknowingly, the tongue
Touches on a chord so aching,
That a word of accent wrong
Fains the heart almost to breaking.
Many a tear of wounded pride,
Many a fault of human blinduess,
Had been smoothed, or turn'd aside.
By a quiet voice of kindness !
Time to me this truth hath taught,
'TIs a truth that's worth revealing ;
More offend from want of thought,
Than from any want of feeling.
A Discouraged Young Man.
MARK and Jane are to be married la
a week. Dropping into the Tay
lor sitting-room one evening, Mark
found Aunt Mary assisting Jane about
some of ber elaborate aad mysterious
bridal preparations. Aunt Mary was
always considerate and sympathetic in
her words and ways, and Mark liked
her. He sat down beside her in un
wonted silence and with " a clouded
brow.
Jane looked at him furtively from be
hind the clouds of white lace and mus
lin in her lap, as he mechanically pok
ed over the multitudinous trifles in her
dainty work-basket, making as vague
and unsatisfactory answers to her nu
merous questions as if he were guessing
conundrums. After ten minutes had
been spent in this rather stupid way
Aunt Mary asked, suddenly :
" Well, Mark, what is It V"
The young started and looked up at
her with a smile, as bright as if a heavy
fog had been lifted off his mental hori
zon, as he said :
"I declare, Aunt Mary, I didn't mean
to speak of it, but I am as nervous as a
girl over over next Thursday; not
the ceremony itself, mind you ; I shall
really enjoy the display in the church
but I refer to all the life that is to fol
low." "The fact is, Aunt," replied Mark,
hesitatingly. " I have just come from
Cousin Henry's. As I was passing the
gate on my way here, I heard the wood
shed door open, and Susan voice cull
out :
"Supper's ready.'
" The pleasing visage of a neat dining-room,
a cosy tea-table, and two
happy, contented young souls enjoying
the nicely cooked, tastefully served sup
per rose up before me and I could not
resist the impulse to turn back and take
a look at them. I ran in unceremoni
ously, as is my wont, announcing my
self, as I opened the sitting-room door,
by a hearty 4 Good evening.' There
waB no fire in fhe room, but plenty of
dust and disorder.
" ' Come right in here,' shouted out
Henry ,and I followed bis voice through
the dining-room, unwarmed except by
the far-awuy warmth of the kitchen fire.
A large basket of rough, unfolded and
unironed clothes was turned bottom up
ward on the extension table, an Im
mense clothes-horse filled half the room
and every chair was loaded with coats,
hats, cloaks and shawls.
"' We Just use the dining-room as a
sort of gangway' in the winter," said
Henry, and den up here, except when
we have company. If anybody runs In
upon us they must take us as they find
us.'
" This was not an over-cordial wel
come, but I went along into the kitchen
where Henry was seating himself at the
tea table, which, if you will believe,
Aunt Mary, was their little hanging
cooking-table covered with a strip of oil
cloth. A few old pieces of crockery were
scattered upon it without regard to
order.
" The little bit of a kitchen was un
tidy, the stove dirty and rusty. There
were memories of Saturday's baking in
the shape and appearance of flour,dough
and grease, on the floor, table and door
latches, and a salt codfish, with a cot
ton Btring tied around its tail, was hang
ing on the knob of the closet door. Su
san's hair was rough and frowzv, and
her gown was torn and soiled. Dear
me, who could have have imagined that
such a state of things was to follow their
great and expensive wedding What a
picture of loveliness the bride was!
They might as well hire two or three
rooms in a fiat to ' den up' in as to own
that large and elegantly-furnished house
and not use it or to so misuse it.
" This scene rather discouraged me.
Were Jane and I to deterioate in that
way I think I would rather have every
thing to stop just where it is. I believe
it would save a world of trouble, and we
would go on looking at married life as
we would have made it, through rose
colored glasses ;" and Mark moved un
easily, got up nervously, and going
around the table, seated himself by
Jane's side and tenderly kissed the pret
ty, reproachful face she raised toward
him while Aunt Mary was considerate
ly looking another way.
"Perhaps Henry i9 not altogether
blameless in the premises," said Aunt
Mary, coming back to the table with a
red face after an energetic hunt for the
shears: "did he fix himself up for
tea V
" Oh, dear, no," replied Mark, " he
sat down and ate his bread and milk in
his shirtsleeves, collarless and cravat
less and with unbrushed hair and whis
kers. He would not have shown him
self to Susan in such a plight before his
marriage, I assure you."
Aunt Mary looked at the pretty Swiss
clock on the mantel, took out her gold
pencil, wrote a little note, and then said
to the young man :
" I wish, Mark, dear, you would car
ry this billet over to my nephew, Horace
Alden's, for me. They live in the east
tenement in the Rutherford Block, you
know, and on the strength of yourcous
inship that is to be, I want you to run
in without ceremony."
Mark came back in an hour with a ra
diant face. Removing his hat he made
Aunt Mary a low bow, saying :
"lam obliged to you,aunt; I would
not surrender the opportunity that may
be graciously given me of helping make
a home with Jane here for any earthly
consideration."
" Indeed," cried Aunt Mary in seem
ing surprise, " perhaps you will be good
enough to tell us what has changed your
mind so suddenly."
" Well, you see," said Mark, " I ran
up stairs and opened the door at the
top, as you told me, and such a charm
ing picture that I saw. A living room
neither parlor, dining-room nor kitch
en, but a happy combination of the
three made attractive and homelike by
perfect neatness, order and good taste.
Such a cordial welcome that I had, to
be sure. I was heartily ashamed of my
self when it came over me how well I
used to know both Horace and his
charming wife.aud that I had not called
on them before.
" I gave Julia your note, and she read
it with a little laugh and insisted that I
should take oft my overcoat and take
tea with them. The cosy round table,
with lta snow-white cloth and pretty
tea-service, looked so inviting I couldn't
resist the temptation. ' Horace doesn't
get out of the store till seven ; he Beea to
the closing up ; so we have our tea at
half past seven,' Mrs. Alden said.
Julia's dress was plain, but tasty and
neat, set off by a dainty white apron;
and her simple toilet was completed by
a geranium leaf and a verbena blossom
In her shining hair. Horace, in a hand
some dressing-gown and embroidered
slippers looked every inch a gentleman,
as he Is.
" The situation made us confidential,
and I asked Mrs. Aldeu how she man
aged to Bettle down into being such a
wonderful little housekeeper, and she
said:
" ' 1 used to be somewhat inclined to
be careless in my habltB, and I suppose
my friends had some misgivings as to
my. ability to keep house. Among my
wedding presents was one from a great
aunt of mine who was wonderfully skill
ful with her needle. It was this tea-pot
mat' and she held it up to my inspec
tion. It wi9 a scalloped circle of scar
let broadcloth, with a slipper run down
at the heel embroidered in it in black
worsted, with the words, "Never get
slipshod."
"This had been a constant reminder
to me," Julia went on. "Were I tempt
ed to neglect any trifling duty for the
first time, my eye would fall upon or
recall the words of Aunt Mlttle's motto,
and I would not only do what I had
thought of neglecting, but would do it a
little better, if possible. Horace, too,
has kept me from falling into slipshod
ways by his own habits of neatness.
He always touches up his toilet for my
sake before every meal, as punctiliously
as if we had company. Of course, when
he is so thoughtful to me I cannot be
less regardful of him. All these little
things take a few of the precious mo
ments of our fleeting lives, but we con
sider their observance our bounden and
Interchangeable duty. Since housekeep
ing is the principal business I have in
hand, I want to do my best in that voca
tion ; to be as conscientious and pains
taking in that as I would in teaching
music or any other accomplishment. I
enjoy my work, and it comes easy to
me. I take both pleasure and pride In
it, and I think the Becret of my success
in this humble sphere of mine has been
my keeping everything up from the
very first, and never allowing myself in
the smallest particular to fall into slip
shod ways."
Mark and Jane, now setting in their
beautiful, well-ordered home on the
Connecticut, only the other evening
spoke of the two lessons that December
evening brought them, and the lasting
impressions they wrought.
Parker's Plant.
Bill Parker, the expressman, has a
soul that loves the beautiful. He went
into the woods across the river a few
days ago to fill his soul with sweet com
mune with nature. He espied a plant
with large glossy leaves and a wealth of
foliage that attracted his artistic eye. So
he dug it up, and putting it into his
wagon, and put it in a tub in the door
yard of the Parker mansion. It grew
wonderfully, and was the admiration of
the neighborhood. Everybody wanted
to know what it was. Some pronounced
it a species of Japan lily, and others
thought it was a section of the great
American aloe. So Bill went down to
Shoaff and asked him to inspect it.
ShoafI knows all the plants like a book,
and he pronounced It the Symptocartus
Fietidus, which so delighted Bill that he
had it written on a card and tacked to
the side of the tub. When anyone call
ed and remarked, 'That's a beautiful
plant of yours, Mr. Parker, what do
you call it y" Bill would answer with a
glow of satisfied pride :
" Yes, ma'am, that's a smyp yes, a
slui carcass or some such a name,
durnedifthe name somehow but you
can read it for yourself right here on
this end of the tub."
Continued struggling with the word
made it more formidable to Bill, aud so
he went once more to Shoaff with,"Say,
Shoaff, can't you knock off a few letters
out of the name of that plant? It is
Dutch, I reckon, and them that's posted
may walk away with It easy enough,
but it gravels me. Can't you bile It down
somehow V"
" Yes," said Shoaff., " I can give you
the common name."
" That's it," said Bill, "give me the
common name."
" The common name," said Shoaff,
" is skunk's cabbage."
And Bill concluded to either dig up
his tub, or let it swim along under as
high-sounding a title as he could get.
MRS. COOLY'S EXPERIMENT.
COOLY has been suffering a great
deal, since the cool nights and
mornings have set in, with rheuma
tism, and his wife lias been badly fright
tened for fear it will end in consump
tion. Cooly could not be induced to try
any remedy for the trouble, and Mrs.
Cooly has been nearly worried to death
about it. She determined to try strategy.
She made up a dry mustard plaster, and
one night, while he was asleep, she
sewed it on to the inside of his under
shirt so that it would just about cover
the rheumatic place. Cooly dressed
himself in the morning, wholly unsus
picious of the plaster, and went down
stairs. At the breakfast table, while he
was talking to his wife, he suddenly
stopped, looked cross eyed, and a spasm
of pain passed over his face. Then he
took up the thread ot the conversation
again, and went on. He was in the
midst of an explanation of the political
situation in Ohio, when all at once he
ceased again, grew red in the face, and
exclaimed :
" I wonder what in the no, it can't
be anything wrong."
Mrs. Cooly asked what was the mat
ter, and Cooly said :
" Oh, it's that infernal old rheuma
tism again, come back awful. But I
never felt it exactly the same way be
fore; it kinder Btings me."
Mrs. Cooly Baid she was sorry.
Then Mr. Cooly began again, and
was just showing her how the ravages
of the potato bugs in the East, and the
grassphoppers In the West, affected the
political result when he suddenly drop
ped the subject and jumping up, he
said :
" Thunder and lightning, what'B that 1
Ouch! O, Moses! I feel's if I bad a
shovel full of hot coals inside my un
dershirt." "Must be that rheumatism getting
worse," Baid Mrs. Cooly, sympatheti
cally. " Oh, gracious, no. It's something
worse than rheumatism. Feels like
lire burning into my skin. Ouch 1
Ow-wow-wow. It's awful. I really
can't stand it another minute. I be
lieve its cholera, or something, and I'm
going to die.
" Do try to be calm, Mr. Cooly."
" Calm ! How can a man be calm
with a volcano boiling over under his
shirt. Q'way from here. Get out of
the way quick, while I go up stairs and
undress. Murder-r-r-r, but it hurts. Let
me get out quick." ,
Then he rushed up to the bedroom
and stripped off his clothing. His
chest was the color of a boiled lobster;
but he couldn't tell for the life of him
what was the matter. Then his eyes
rested on something white on his shirt.
He picked up the garment and ex
amined it. Ten minutes later he came
slowly down Btairs with a dry mustard
plaster in his hand, while his brow was
clothed with thunder.
Going up to Mrs. Cooly, he shook the
plaster under her nose, and said in a
suppressed voice :
"Did you put that thing in my
clothes V"
" I did it for the best, Charles," she
said, " I thought "
"Oh, never mind what you thought,
you crooked-nosed, chuckle headed
idiot! Never mind what you thought
You've taken the bark clean off my
bosom, till I'm raw as a sirloin steak,
and I'll probably never be well again
as long as I live. That lets you out,
You play any more tricks on me, and
I'll hist you into the coal bin and keep
you there till you starve to death."
Then he slammed the door and went
out. Mrs. Cooly doesn't know to this
day exactly what effect the grass hop
pers, etc. , had on the fall elections.
Queen Victoria and the Welsh Tailor.
rjRINCESS VICTORIA, now Queen
JT of England, spent some of her
youthful days in Anglesey, where she
seemed to enjoy herself very much. She
occasionally wore the sugar loaf hat and
a ridiug habit, and went among the
descendants of the old Druids in Mona's
Isle. Thrs was before she took a fancy
to the brown heath and the tartan plaid,
and pibroch of Caledonia. In the neigh
borhood of the New Palace In Mona,
where Bhe and her maid, the Duchess of
Kent, were staying, was an old tailor
named John Jones, who was a local
preacher with the Wesleyans.
One Saturday afternoon the Princess
Victoria had the misfortune, while rid
ing, to tear her riding habit, and on her
return to the palace the local tailor was
sent for by the steward. John Jones
went and asked for " the Lord Chamber
lain," but was told there was no such
functionary at the palace. He, in con
sequence, returned home. On Sunday
morning another messenger came from
the palace requesting his immediate at
tendance. He sent in reply that he
could not go, that he was to preach that
morning at Gorsweu, and in the even
ing at Traethcoch, and away he went.
On the following morning another
message came from the palace and he
this time obeyed.
On appearing before the house steward
that functionary appeared much dis
pleased with our old friend, and asked
him angrily why he had not come when
sent for the day before.
" I was preaching at Gorsweu Chapel
In the morning," replied John Jones,
and at Traetcoch in the evening."
"Chapel, Indeed!" said the officer.
" Preaching, Indeed! Did you not know
that her Royal Highness Princess Vic
toria bad sent for you to do some work
for her V"
" Yes, sir," replied John, "but I do
not work on the Sabbath."
The officer simply said, "Not work,
indeed!"
" No, sir," replied John courageously;
" I have never worked on Sunday, and
never shall."
" What," said the officer, " you refuse
to do a small job for the future Queen of
Great Britain '"'
" Well," said John, " I'm but a poor
tailor of Llanfair, but I also expect to
be a king some day in the next world,
and it is better for me to lose the favor
of a princess of this world than to for
feit my crown in the world to come."
The officer laughed, and gave to John
the riding habit to mend. When the
task was finished, the officer informed
John that the Princess and DutcbesB
were much pleased with the manner he
had done the work, and especially with
his conduct, and expressed themselves
willing to assist hira when necessary.
An Ingenious Jewel Trick.
For six years past a pair of adroit
scoundrels have been working the "Em
press' jewels" trick in Spain with great
success. They would write to a mer
chant in Paris that after the revolution
of 1870 the Empress Eugenie intrusted
one of them with one million six hun
dred thousand dollars worth of jewels to
be carried to Madrid, which he had
burled in the Bols de Boulogne. He
was in prison for debt, and could not get
back to France, and to make matters
worse, a rapacious landlord had seized
his trunk in which was the map on
which the spot where the treasure was
burled was marked with a red cross. In
this cruel dilemma he applied to the
French merchant, whom he had heard
spoken of as a model of prudence and
probity, to help him by sending the ra
pacious landlord 500 francs, and so get
ting possession of the trunk. The
French merchant would then dig up the
jewels and notes for there were three
hundred thousand dollars in bank bills
in the burled box and send them to the
prisoner, retaining the money he had
advanced, and whatever sum he desired
as recompense for his good action. A
great many honest merchants sent on
their five hundred francs, and in due
course received advices from the Madrid
office of the Mesaajerias entra Eepana y
Francia that a trunk had been deposited
there, which would be forwarded on pay
ment of express charges. The honest
merchant sent on the money, and that
was the last of it. Sometimes instead of
being a French officer, it was an aide-decamp
of Queen Isabella, arrested for
plotting for the restoration of King
Amadeus, who knew where the Queen's
jewels were; sometimes it was one of
Don Carlos' aides, sometimes a Turkish
pasha. At last, however, the swindlers
were run to earth, and now the Parisian
authorities have advertised for evidence
against them, which Is forthcoming in
such abundance as to show that the
swindle has been very widely workod
and very generally succesful.