-lKiS t 1 .1 X Hk . If ts ' jtAuri,. VOL. XV. NEW BLOOMFIELD, TUESDAY, BEPTEM13EK (5, 1881. NO. 30. THE TIMES. In ndepeudent Family Newspaper, 18 PUBUSHIDBTIBT TC1SDAT BT F. MORTIMER & 00. TERMS t INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. 1.30 Pr.lt VEAR, POSTAfiE FUEE. so cts. ion e months To .brlners reldlnR tn Tnts couhty, where wb have no postage to pav. ft dtscmiHt of 21 cents from th above terms will be made If payment Is made in advance. Advertising rates furnished upon applies tlon. Select Poetry. What Is a kiss t A herald fair That marsballeth the way to love ; A fleeting breath of balmy air Which o'er the Hp doth rove ; An evanescent touch that thrills The ardent lover's trembling frame, -A dew which on the heart distils And kindles Into flame. What Is a kiss f A lisping sound Of language all unknown before ; The accent of one rapture found, The whispered hope of more j The bending of the boy-god's bow, What time the string and arrow part ; The blissful signet to the vow That yleldeth up the heart. An Astonished Parson. A YOUNG woman, with a pleasing face, who rarely smiles, and seems to shun observation, and an old lady who comes out very little and always veiled. That was the description given to the Rev. Ci. cries Grosvenor of the new oc cupants of the little cottage which' lay -so close to his vicarage that he could see the Bnioke from the chimney over the tops of the trees that skirted his lawn. The Kev. Charles Grosvenor had been away from the scene of his labors at Chumleigh for a month. Chumleigh was country fled enough aud healthy enough, but he bad been ordered sea air, and had taken the trip, leaving his by no means extensive flock to the care of a temporary shepherd. The Rev. Charles Grosvenor was a young man, and Chumleigh was his first village. He was quite new enough to his work to take interest in it, and he was on intimate terms with all his par ishoners. Directly he heard of the new arrivals in the village, he, of course, determined to call upon them, but he thought he would just inquire what sort of people they were. The result was the above description a description vague enough in all conscience, and yet sufficient at once" to invest the heroines of it with a slight halo of romance. The Rev. Charles Grosvenor had not o long left college life to bury himself among the pumpkins but that he could duly appreciate the piquancy which a little mystery lends to our humdrum -existence. Knowing that the young lady shun-, ned observation, his curiosity was at -ctace aroused, and he looked forward to his first meeting with her with more than ordinary eagerness. As to the old lady well, he was a young bachelor remember, and however deeply old ladies may veil themselves, or how mysterious they may be, they cannot expect to command much attention when there is a younger lady la' the case. The curate called at Laburnam Cot tage the day after his return from the seaside. He found the Smiths very quiet and unassuming people. Mrs. Smith fid very little and sighed a good -deal, and Miss Smith, though a fluent and agreeable speaker, as he could judge t from the little she said, spoke only In answer to his questions, aud kept her eyes fixed on the ground the whole time that he waa talking to ber. " Something queer about these peo ple," said the Rev. Charles Grosvenor to himself. " I wonder what It is. I must draw them out." His notion of drawing them out was 'to engage their service In his parish work. The old lady sighed and con sented. The young one colored, cast down her eyes, and said that she was afraid she was not fit for such work. Not religions enough she meant. The Rev. Charles Grosvenor was much distressed to hear that Miss Smith was not religious. Here, at last, waB a task congenial to his soul. He was quite willing to convert farm laborers and to reform market gardeners, but when a demure-looking young lady, with an agreeable manner, offered her. self he could not refrain from looking forward to the prospect of higher und nobler work. He talked- seriously to Miss Smith, and Miss Smith listened seriously so seriously that the curate was taken by surprise. He was almost alarmed at the terrible earnestness with which the girl spoke of religious questions and asked, for spiritual consolation, and argued with him on the dread subject of the sinner's fate hereafter. The earnestness and the vehemence of the parlshouer, however, only increased hh interest in her. Now, when Miss Smith called herself a miserable sinner, the Rev. Charles Grosvenor thoroughly believed that she was one. He accepted her confession in the same sense that he would have ac cepted It from the patrou of hi9 living or his mother, or any of his lady par ishoners, and being enjoined to say so, a clergyman cannot, for the sake of being complimentary, refuse to believe a young lady when she affirms that she is no exception to the rule. But as to attaching auy really serious import to the confession of Miss Smith, that never occurred to him for a moment. He soothed her, offered her such conso lation as he could, thought she was a most pious and interesting girl, and fell madly in love with her. -From the moment he made the dis covery his conduct to her altered. He tempted her to talk less about herself and to be more cheerful. He didn't want the girl he was in love with to be too persistently a miserable sinner. She was so charming and so nice that he felt she might very well keep that in the back-ground a little. A white tie and a clerical coat do not alter a man's nature ; and when a man falls madly in love with a woman, he likes to imagine her as near perfection as possible. ' Miss Smith's manner changed also. She discovered the parsou's secret before it was many days old. She was still pleased to see him, but she avoided all reference to her sins. Once be questioned her about her past life. For a moment she was deadly pale, then the color rushed to her cheeks and she stammered out a remark which turned the conversation. Miss Smith saw that the Rev. Charles Grosvenor was at her mercy. It was only a question of time wbenhe would make the avowal. Should she encour age him or discourage his secret, and stop it while there was yet time Y In her difficulty she laid her case be fore her mother, and asked for advice. The old lady was frightened out of her wits. She dare not think about such a thing, she said. Of course it would be the making of her if she could marry a clergyman ; but how could it be done Y He would have to kuow the history of her life, and then " And then he wouldn't have me," answered the girl, passionately. " Of course not, my dear," said Mrs. Smith ; "at least I should think not." Shall I tell him Y Shall I confess all the next time he comes Y" Again Mrs. Smith is frlghtenod. She does not like to hlnk what the resultof that confession will be. They've man aged at last to find a spot where they can live unknown. Why must all the miserable story be brought up again ? Miss Smith failing to get any practi cal advice from her mother, thinks the matter over quietly by herself, and by the time she sees her admirer again she has settled on her course of action. She meets him in the fields that led to the church. It was a bright summer morning, and they paused by a stile to look at the yellow and red of the far-stretching fields. The Rev. Charles Grosvenor com mences by talking about nature, and gradually comes down to talking about himself his alms and prospects In life. Little by little the conversation slides into the groove he wished and In live minutes his hand and fortuue have been laid at the feet of the lady listener. He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, he had meant to keep his secret a little longer, but it had slipped out accidentally among the poetry and domestic details, and he was very glad it was over. Miss Smith of course wa9 very much surprised. The dilute had caught ber hand as his accents grew more impas. passioned. She allowed hiut to retain it till he had finished tlieu drew it gently away. " Mr. Grosvenor," she iHid, quietly, " I will answer you fairly and frankly. Before you made ine bucIi an oHer you should have ascertained to whom you were speaking." ' " What do you mean '"' "You do not kuow who or what I am." " I know that you are un nngel." " Miss Smith's lip curled slightly, but her Voice trembled as she answered : " As you have gone so far it is only right you should know something about me. My name is not Smith. That is a false name !" " A false namel" the parson gasped. " Dear me 1 why do you want a false name Y" " Listen and I will Ull you. Did you ever hear of a terrible crime for which two men and two women were con demned to death V It was called a 'mys tery' at first. But when the facts came to light it was called a 'murder.' One man starved his wife to death, aud the other people helped him. He wanted to marry a younger woman, and the young er woman was one of the accused." "I remember the case," stammered the curate. "It was very awful ; but I don't Bee what you have got to do with it." The perspiration stood on his brow, and he began to mop it with his pocket handkerchief. He half expected to hear that Miss Smith was a relative of one of the criminals. " You remember," continued the girl, speaking rapidly now and without emo tion, "that all four were condemned to to death, but the young girl was at the last moment grauted a free pardon and allowed to return to the world and her Mends." " Yes," gasped the clergyman, " I re member; but what has all this business to do with you Y" " ThlB," answered the lady to whom he had just made an offer of marriage; " I was the girl that allowed the mur dered woman's husband to love me I was the girl who was condemned to be banged by the neck aud then granted a free pardon ! I am" She stopped. The Rev. Charles Gros veuor had reeled back against the stile and closed his eyes. " Excuse me," he muttered, ''a little falntness, that'B all." I He pulled himself together, stammer ed a little, coughed, aud for a minute seemed at a loss what to say. She broke the silence first. " I have told you now the secret of my life. I am here with my mother, and here we wish to remain unknown, for gotten by the world. We are bound to live under an assumed name. We should be hooted and stoned If it were known who we really are. Will you keep my secret Y" "Certainly," stammered the curate; " and I trust " " That I shall keep yours. Rest as sured of that, Mr. Grosvenor. I will forget that anything has happened this morning beyond the ordinary inter change of courtesies between clergyman and parlshouer." She smiled, bowed and passed on, He walked back slowly to the church, muttering to himself, " What au escape who'd have thought it Y" The Rev. Charles Grosvenor is still the curate of Chumleigh, and Miss Smith aud her mother still live at La burnum Cottage. The parishoners however, noticed that the visits of the clergyman to the cottage are few and far between, and that when he calls he is geuerally accompanied by one or the other of his lady visitors. And old Dame Turvey, who knows everything about everybody, and is a great authority on village matters, as sures every one that she can't make It out at all, for at one time she was quite sure that the parson was sweet in that quarter, and she quite expected that Miss Smith would have presided at (he parsonage tea table. "Something must have happened very unexpected to break it ail off," concludes the worthy dame, for it was all altered in a minute." Dame Turvey is right for once. What happened was very unexpected, and it made such an impression on the Rev. Charles Grosvenor that he will remem ber it to the end of his life. Under the Water. GEORGE W. TOWNSEND, a well kuowu submarine diver, has been interviewed by a representative of the Boston JJerald. He said: "The first time a man goes down he is apt to be considerably scared on account ot the pressure. If a man is lowered too fast it will kill him. Divers are seldom or nev er killed by drowning, but by au une qualed amouut of pressure. A diver could cut a hole in the lower portion of his suit without dauger of beiug drown ed so long as he stood erect, for as long as the air is supplied by the air pump, the water cauuot reach his mouth. Iu deep water the pressure is usually very great, and a diver cau descend as deep as he can stund the pressure. You see we are iu a vacuum. There is no pressure perceptible to us on the copper helmet about our heads. The pressure is all on the lower garments, aud, if it U too great, it drives all the blood in the body to the head and the result is death. I have seen men killed iu this way whose heads were fairly split open aud whose eyes were driven from the sockets. A more horrible death could not be imag ined, aud I aud almost all other divers have narrowly escaped it. When a di ver is ten feet down, the pressure to the square foot is 0250 pounds; and at 30 feet, 18,750 pounds ; and at 00 feet, 31,250 pounds ; at TO feet, 43,750 pounds ; at 00 feet, 50,230 pounds; at 110 feet, 09,700 pouuds;atl30 feet, 81,250 pounds; at 150 feet, which Is the greatest depth to which I have descended, 03,750 pounds; and at 100 feet, 100,000 pounds. Divers seldom descend over 100 feet, and rarely as deep as that. Under the water the ears feel stopped up, but sometimes we make ourselves understood by putting two helmets together and shouting, but then it doesn't sound louder than an ordiuary whl sper. A man who went down for the first time would be likely to signal to come up after feeling the pressure in the ears, which is very un pleasant until you are used to it." " How about the fish ; do they molest youY " Very seldom. You see we made it a rule not to disturb them. We know that tbey are In their element, and we are not in ours. As for sharks we don't care for them. They are cowardly, and easily frightened off. We are much more afraid of the baricotus, a surface fish, with teeth three inches long. Talk about fish, why, one can't have any conception of them until he'hasbeeu under the water and seen them all sizes and colors of the rainbow. The noise made by a school of fish souuds under the water like the rumbling of thunder. One of the greatest curiosities in this Hue was the Jew fish I encountered while diving in the Bay ofCumaua, on the coast of Venezeula. The fish are from six to fifteen feet In length, and have a large mouth, with small teeth. The Jew fish have a great deal of curios ity more than any woman I kuow of aud used to eye us while we were at work. We were a little afraid of them at first, but found they would not harm us. I suppose you have heard of the electric eel, which has the power to give a shock equal to a battery. When we were diving at the West Indies one of our divers received a shock from an electrlo eel, and for a time seemed almost paralyzed. Mules and other animals, when fording streams in thhr country, often receive a severe shock. "It depends how clear the water is, whether It is dusk or not. I have been down 20 fathoms where I could see to read the finest print, and I have been down 10 feet where you could not see your hand before you. It la not very pleasant exploring a wreck, especially where there are bodies, wheu you are iu utter darkness. We got used to those, and, while we can't say that we don't mind them, I can say that they don't deter us from going down. I am one of those who believe that drowning is an easy death, comparatively, because I have noticed that the face ot a drowned person looks as if he had gone to sleep, aud seldom denotes pain, but, when the eyes are wide open glassy in appearance, and the gas In the stomach makes the body stand bolt upright, It la rather trying to the nerves. Sometimes we find drowned persons with a death grip upon a piece of rigging or the side of a bunk, and it is very difficult to un loose their hold. Before we see a body or any object under water we always see its shadow first. In looking for a body not on a vessel's wreck, we sometimes find it by closely following the sedi ments in the water. In many places the bottom of the ocean Is beautiful, especially where the coral reefs are. Coral is like a forest of trees that has been cut down-. I have eeeu coral as large as the stump of any tree you ever saw, with enormous limbs running downward, the trunk and branches being of the pure white coral. I have encountered a reef after descend ing three fathoniB, and a bottom of the pure white sand after descending two fathoms more." Boys, Get a Plug Hat. An exchange says : " The plug hat ls virtually a sort of social guarantee for the preservation of peace and order. He who puts one on has given a hostage to the community for his good behavior. t The wearer of a plug hat must move with a certain Bedateness and propriety. He cannot run, or Jump, or romp, or get into a fight except at the peril of his head gear. All the hidden influences of the beaver are toward respectability. He who wears one is .obliged to keep the rest of his body in decent trim, that there may be no Incongruity between head and body. He is apt to become thoughtful through the necessity of watching the sky whenever he goes out. The chances are that he will buy an , umbrella, which is another guarantee for good behavior, and the care of a hat " and umbrella perpetual and exacting as it must ever be adds to the sweetness of his character.. The man who wears a plug hat naturally takes to the society of women, with all the elevated tendencies. He cannot go bunting or fishing with out abandoning his beloved hat, but in the moderate enjoyment of croquet and lawn tennis he may sport his beaver with impunity. In other words the constant use of a plug lint makes a man composed in manner, quiet aud gentle manly in conduct, and u companion of the ladies. The inevitable result is mar riage, prosperity and church member ship." A Doctor's Dilemma. A physician, being summoned to at. tend a miser's wife In her last illness, declined to continue his visits unless he had some legal guarantee for payment, as he knew by experience the slippery character of the husband where pecunla- . ry obligations were concerned. The miser there upon drew up a document, formally promising, after haggling over the amount, that he would pay to Dr. So-and So the sum of , " if he cures my wife." "Stop!" said the doctor. "I cannot undertake to do that. I will treat her to the best of my ability ; but she is very 111, and I fear she will not recover." So the sentence was altered to, " For attendance upon my wife, kill or cure," the paper signed and delivered over to the physician. His skill was unavailing, and the patient dies, but when the bill came in the widower qui etly repudiated the debt in toto. In valn.it was represented to bim that the doctor held his legal acknowledgment; so the latter sued him In perfect confi dence of gaining the day. The miser did not dispute the circumstances in Court, but requested to see the document, which he then read aloud with great de liberation. " And did you cure my wife, sir Y" he asked, glancing over his specta cles at the plaintiff, "No; that was impossible." "Did you kill herY" Verdict for the defendant. Doctor sold. fcZT Happiness la like , a sunbeam, which the least shadow Intercepts, while adversity is often as the rain of spring.