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lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j %n gitbtptnbettf Jfamilo ^tttosppcr: Jirr ijje promotion of t|t political, Social, ^gricnltnral aab Commercial Interests of % ?ontj>. TERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 26. YOEKYILLE, S. Q., THUBSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 188Q. 1STO. 39. ^elected fofttjr. LIKE HIS FATHER. I bear his mother's chiding voice. "How came your trousers torn ? And black as ink, sir, is that shirt You put on clean this morn. "Your feet are wet, too, I declare ; You're muddy to your knees; It is too bad ; you only care Your mother, sir, to tease. "And those nice shoes, your Sunday best, That but three times you've worn, All scratched and scraped and all run down, The heel of one is gone. "Your hair is twisted in a snarl, And just look at that band ! It looks as though 't.were never washed? How dare you say 'tis tanned ? "You've been a fishing, sir, I guess? What! been to see the match? You'll have a fit of sickness, sir; A pretty cold you'll catch." And then she talks for half an hour, And only stops to say, "Your father'll hear of this to-night; I wonder what he'll say ?" Mv friends, in complimentary way, Declare to me they see A close resemblance?very marked? Between the boy and me. But nothing that they see in him, In either form or face, Bespeak my son as do his pranks? In these my own I trace. And why should I at tattered clothes Or dirty ones repine? In him I'live my youth again? God bless the boy ! he's mine! Wt Itotfi Seller. A TERRIBLE ALTERNATIVE. "You seem to be very much struck by that picture," said ray old friend, the Colonel (for, as I don't mean to betray family secrets, I shall speak of him as the "Colonel" only), at whose cosy nook in Buckinghamshire I had quartered myself for a few days. The picture he alluded to certainly had attracted an unusual amount of my attention, considering that, as a rule, I am strangely deficient in artistic taste. ' "Well, yes," I answered, my eye returning to rest on that particular object which had attracted it many times before; "regarding it as a picture I should say it is by no means the best of your cftllection, but, regarding it as a portrait, there is something about it that 'fetches' me It is not that the face is either handsome or intellectual, but there is a strange, weird something about it [ which the artist seems to have caught fresh * n _ l!_! r 1 . J ft. irora tne living met; uuu iruueicuru uj mc ; Eu canvas, and which all his alter art had failed V to paint out." The picture which gave rise to these ob servatious was that of a man, certainly not past middle age, dressed in the fashion of the earlier period of the reign of George III. The face and figure, as regarded mere form and feature, were commonplace enough ; there was nothing sufficiently remarkable in the portruit to attract more than a passing observation ; indeed, on looking at it, you felt it ought to represent a kindly, genial gentleman; but somehow it didu't. There seemed to be something behind it, working out through the painted eyes as though it or they had seen what they should not, and were haunted by some awful mystery that would not be hidden even in the grave. ; Turning my back upon it I shifted the con- | versation, and my friend seemed by no means I displeased to dismiss the subject. We had a I long, gossipy chat on many matters interest-1 iug to old friends who meet but seldom, and j with long lapses of time between. It was late j before we could make up our minds to sepa- i rate. At last, as I left the room, candlestick j in hand, I could not help, against my will, ' casting a furtive glauce at the portrait, aud hastily shut the door behind me. I was dead tired, for I had come off a long journey; but when I got to bed it was a long time before I ! could compose myself to sleep, and when I j did I was troubled in mv dreams. The nor trait had followed me up stairs, slipped into the room after me, and tried to get into the bed beside me; but, failing in that, went and leaned against the wall, and came out of the frame and climbed up to the top of my bed, hid in the curtain folds, and multiplied itself by thousands, till the whole atmosphere above and around me was filled with the oue weird, strange face. In the morning ray friend hoped I had slept well. I told him the sort of purgatory I had eudured, adding: "I am sure there is some grim secret connected with that picture. You may as well tell me what it is. If it is a family secret I k promise to keep it sacred." "Well," he answered, after a moment's reflection, "there is a painful story connected with it. The portrait is that of my grandfather?Dr. Mathias, let us call him. He was one of the physicians-in ordinary to George III., which position he occupied long before he had reached middle-ape. He was a cour- i Fteous, genial, kindly man, full of those social qualities which make a man a favorite of society. So much I have heard. NVhen I knew him things were different. In the year 1770, full of high spirits and pleasant | anticipations, he went on the Continent for I a month's holiday ; he came back at the end ! of it an altered man?his genial nature | clouded with an ineradicable gloom. He > gave up all practice, all society ; bought this j piace and settled here ; he received no visits,' paid none; he lived in his library among j his books, occasionally taking long, solitary rambles about the country. His nature did ] not degenerate into harshness, but a strange ; melancholy possessed him ; its cause was unknown, so was its cure. He turned his back upon the world, and, though he was no worldscorner, uothiug would induce him to enter it again. He was a widower, and his only son?ray father?was then a boy at Harrow, j You may imagine this was not a lively place ; for a high spirited young fellow to come home j to ; they saw little of each other. In due ; time ray father married, and I was born.? Years passed, and one wintry night, when I was about eighteen years old, we received a telegram summoning us here. We came, and were shown iuto the room where you slept last night. The old man with the stamp of death on his face, was propped up on pillows, where he had lain for hours, his eyes fixed on the door, watching for us. As we entered the room his filmy eyes brightened ; his eager, outstretched hands trembled as we touched them. With the damp death-dew on his brow, his voice quaking, and his whole soul shuddering as he lived over again those terrible moments of his life he told us the story, which I had better put together in my own words. It appears that during that momentous visit to the Continent he went to Naples. He was received by the best society, and was hospitably entertained in the most distinguished social and political circles, where he passed many pleasant hours discoursing and discussing intellectual and scientific subjects?chemistry, surgery, and once, among other things, the use and misuse of poisons cropped up in the course of conversation ; and some one present, a gentleman of some note and importance, asked what was the quickest and easiest death to die. The subject was freely debated. One evening he returned from one of those pleasant gatherings and in a reflective mood of mind sat for an hour looking over the moonJit city, and the beautiful world-famous bay. It was near midnight, when two strangers were shown in to him, who requested his iru ' mediate attendance in a case of great urgency. He represented that he was there on a visit of pleasure, not for professional purposes. They | were perfectly aware of that fact, they said ; still they urged him so strongly, that at last I they overcame his scruples, and he consented to go with them. A carriage was at the door; ! he got in first, they followed him, pulling down i the blinds, and the carriage rattled away. He did not like his position, and began to suspect that all was not right. They kept utter I silence. They seemed to drive a great distance, turnj ing and turning many times. Once he inI quired : "Had they far to go ?" and received the brief answer, "No." At last they drove into the court yard of a great house. The door opened as if by magic. There were no lights, he might as well have been blindfolded ; there would have been a total darkness but for the moonbeams, which struggled through the stained-glass window and fell in fantastic shadows at their feet as they ascended the wide stone stair-case. On reaching the first landing they threw open a door, and for * 1 * * L.. si.a a second ne vras almost ounueu uy we umio of light that streamed out upon him. The door closed behind him as he stepped into the room. He took in the whole aspect of the room at a glance; it was gorgeously furnished, and brilliantly illuminated with wax candles; at a table near the heavily curtained window a man of stern, commanding appearance, sat waiting. He raised his head as they entered, and, pointing to the far end of the room, exclaimed : "Your patient lies there, sir." My grandfather's eyes followed the direction of his finger and observed a woman stretched upon a couch. Where had he seen that face before? Slowly it dawned upon his memory. A few days back he had been to the theatre, and, glancing round, was struck by a beautiful, fair face, which, for the time, fascinated him; he thought it the loveliest there. He looked upon it again, now; but ohl how changed. The hands were clasped upon the breast as though in prayer; a dumb, white terror was written on the face ; and in the great, uplifted eyes there was a hopeless, despairing agony, sickening to behold. He inquired what was the matter?how she had been attacked, and seeing that she was gagged, he begged them to release her mouth, that she might answer his questions, adding: "I must know something of the symptoms before I can attempt a cure." "Your business here is to kill, not to cure, doctor," said one, in a strangely sad tone, which accorded ill with his stern, fearful phrase. "Your patient has spoken her last word in this world. She is doomed to die by a secret, though strictly just tribunal; but we would temper justice with mercy and spare her the shame of public disgrace. You can cause her to die easily and secretly; therefore we have brought you here." "If this li dy has committed auy crime so great as t" deserve death," he answered, full of compassion for the unfortunate, "she must meet her punishment from the hands of the public executioner, and not by mine." "By yours, and yours only," said one of his conductors, gravely. There is no time to waste in mere words. She knows that she has deserved death, and she knows that she must die." "God forbid!" exclaimed the physician, for a frozen terror was stealing over him. The ominous stillness, the grim aspects of the teriblc men, struck a chill to his heart, tie realized all the horror of his position. "A doctor never travels without his tools," resumed the stranger; and as he spoke he turned the lace frill back from the tender throat, and, pointing to it, added significantly : "Open the jugular vein ; it is* the easiest aud quickest way she ctfn die." My grandfather started back amazed and horror struck. These were the very words he had uttered during one of those pleasant gatherings at the house ot a Neapolitan, a few days back. "How dare you propose to me such a terrible crime!" he exclaimed. "I am an Englishman, and will not commit murder." "Pshaw 1" Your nation produces as many honorable criminals as any other. To your work, sir, arid quickly. If you have conconscious scruples, remember an enforced 1? .L. : 1?_ ? Sll) lies oil uie cuuscieuce , iuj mau tuimuu to your soul. No more words," he added, peremptorily?"not one ; this is the time for action." "I refuse to obey your cruel command. Let me go." The man who had been writiug, and until now had taken no part whatever in the scene that was passing round him, rose up and joined the group. Laying his hand lightly on my grandfather's shoulder, he said : "There is no escape for you, doctor ; and every moment you hesitate you prolong that woman's pain. She must die ; and you can dispatch her with painless speed. "What if I refused ? You cannot force me to commit so foul a murder." He pointed to two swarthy figures (either soldiers or liveried servants of some noble family, my grandfather could not tell which) who had been standing motionless by the couch, and answered: "Then those faithful fellows will dispatch you and afterward her; they are not professional, and their work will be clumsily done. If the operation be not performed upon your patient before the clock strikes, you know your fate; if you are obdurate, remember you throw away your own life without saving hers. She is doomed; and no power on earth can save her." ' It was vain to speak or expostulate with those fiends in human form. He felt they were as stern and inexorable as fate. It was as cruel, as horrible and cowardly. Five men assembled to witness the professional murder of a young and beautiful woman ! What had she done ? Whom had she offended ? Some secret machinery was at work, these men were mere instruments in the hauds of a higher power?they had owned as much ; they had no personal interest in the matter. They were there to carry out justice, they said?secretly, it was true, but the woman had been lawfully condemned, and the sentenced of law must be privately executed. The woman's eyes were fixed upon them (lirnnnkniit tVio nfthia r>nn vPrsat.irm. and traveled from one face to the other in hopeless agony ; not a word passed her ears, i and only the one despairing changeless ex! pression sat like a seal upon her face. She knew there was no escape for her?none. i There was only the cue question to be solved : ! Was she to die by the unwilling hand of a pitying stranger, or be killed cruelly by professional murderers V What a world of terror I must have been compressed in those few : moments of her life as she lay watching and waiting there? The clock began to chime the quarters ; it ! was about to strike. At a given signal the ; statue-like figure stepped forward and rapidI ly uncoiled a rope, with a noose already ; made; they were about to slip it over his I head and hang him to a beam which ran along the centre of the ceiling. The horror of facing a sudden and violent end seized him?his death would avail her nothing for ; whom he died for. His senses were in a whirl; he threw up his hands and sprang forward. "I'll do it!"' he exclaimed, and he fell on his knees beside her. "They will have your life; I cannot save you, child ; but I can shield you from their rough, cruel hands, and put you painlessly to rest. Forgive me, | for it is in mercy to you that I do this cruel ' deed. "The white hand went out to him and closed i over his a soft, forgiving clasp ; the agony j died out of the sweet eyes as they rested one i moment on his face; then with a low sigh J she closeW them and turned away her head. In another moment her young life was ebbing slowly away. He remained by her side, holding her hand in his, and watching uutil all was over. He would not for a second leave her with those stern men, lest a wounding word or rough touch might disturb her on her way from this world to the next. He was conducted from the place in the same way that he had entered it, and when his j conductors took leave of him they suggested ' that it would be well if he would leave Naples with as little delay as possible. This forced murder?for such it really was?lay upon his ! conscience to the end of his lite, ana nnea j it with one long remorse?a living nightmare?for that scene was always present in his mind. The change that had so long puzzled us, puzzled us no more. He could not carry his secret to the grave with him, so he gave it to our keeping. "It's a terrible story!" I exclaimed. "And, unlike most terrible stories, it is true," he answered. "Come for a breath of fresh air and sunshine, to blow this gloomy subject from our senses." THE JEWISH WEDDING. The Jewish wedding ceremony which took place in Columbia, last Thursday afternoon, was an occurrence of a kind which has been extremely rare in this city of late years; so rare, indeed, that many grown up people among the Gentile portion of our community have never witnessed anything of the kind. The ceremony took place at the residence of Mr. Charles Elias, on Sumter street. The bridegroom was Mr. Michael Kalisky and the bride was Miss Jeanette Morris. When we entered the room, they were standing side by side, under a canopy resting upon four upright posts, each of which was tastefully covered with evergreens and rare flowers. The top of the canopy was of crimson silk velvet, and four gentlemen supported the structure. Ou entering the house we had doffed our hat as usual, but were courteously informed by the hospitable gentleman who met us at the door, that it was the custom to keep it on on such occasions as this, and we acted accordingly. The room was full ot ladies and gentlemen, the latter with their hats ou, it being the traditional custom of the Hebrews to remain covered when addressing the Deity. The officiating minister, Rev. Henry Steele, had already gone through with a portion of the ceremony, in the original Hebrew language; he, however, translated it into English also. The part we witnessed was very solemn and impo-1 sing. The bride wns surrendered by Mrs. Elias and Mrs. H. A. Samuels, and bridegroom by Mr. M. Morris and Mr. H. H. Samuels. The form of the question and answer is as follows : "A. B., sou of , do you, at this moment, in the presence of these witnesses, of your own free will, fully declare that you will take the woman you hold by your hand as your lawful wife, to wed her according to the law and rule of your faith ? If so, please answer, I do." Then turning to the bride he says: "C. D., daughter of , do you, at this moment, in the presence of these respective witnesses, of your own free will, fully declare that you will take the man you hold by your hand as your lawful husband, to become united to him according, to the custom of your race ? If so, please answer, I do." Then the minister says : "In consideration of these intentions, you shall be lawfully united." After some reading from the Hebrew ritual, the minister takes from his pocket a riDg and hands it to the groom ; the latter places it upon the finger of the bride and repeats a sentence in Hebrew, which being translated is as follows: "Behold thou art wedded to me with this ring, according to the laws of Moses and Israel." The minister then reads the marriage contract in Hebrew, but on this occasion he also translated it into English. It is a legal document in a form prescribed by the Talmud and sets forth the pledges of honor, respect, protection, &c., to each other; also the sum of money provided as dower, and the obligation of payment by the groom and its acceptance by the bride. On a little table just in front of the couple and under the canopy, were two lighted candles, a wine glass and some other articles which we do not remember. At this stage of the proceedings the minister filled the glass with wine which he caused the bride aud groom to sip and then sipped it himself. The book was then transferred to two elderly relatives of the party who intoned sentences in Hebrew which we were informed were a blessing upon the newly married pair. The minister then delivered an address to the couple on the new relation they had assumed to each other. It was exceedingly appropriate, instructive, and we only regret that we have not room to give it entire. At the conclusion of these remarks he placed an empty wineglass on the floor at the feet of the gioom, who crushed it into innumerable fragments with his heel. Then the minister, offering his hand, said: "We now offer you our hearty congratulations. May prosperity attend you through life; be you never separated a3 these fragments before you can never again become united; may you never find cause to regret the important step you have this evening so willingly taken, and may you never forget this holy and eventful moment. The parties are now of lihertv tn thp wishes of t.hfiir rela ----- -j ?~ -- ----- - ? tives and frieuds for their future welfare." Then followed kisses and handshaking and congratulations for a few moments, after which refreshments were served in the same room. A few moments later the whole company went into another room and sat down to dinner. And such a dinner as it was ! Profusion and variety are scarcely the words to describe it. Every delicacy that can be obtained in this market was there except such I as were forbidden by the Jewish law. The I meats had all been killed according to their I rites, which will not permit anything defective | or unclean to come on the tables of the Isreal! itc. And the dinner was served with the solicit! ous and delicate hospitality which character| izes the children of Abraham in their own j homes. We had almost forgotten to mention an | interesting fact connected with the canopy j used on this occasiou. It was first made and : used about the year 1838, and since then it 1 has done service for not less than fifty cou| pies.? Columbia Register. j Bridesmaids.?Next to being a bride herI self every young lady likes to be a bridesmaid. Wedlock is thought by a large proportion of the blooming sex to be contagious; and, much to the credit of their courage, fair : spinsters are not at all afraid of catching it. ! Perhaps the theory that the affection is comj municated by contact is correct. Certainly ! we have known one marriage to lead to 1 another, and sometimes to such a series of "happy events" as to tavor the belief that matrimony runs like the cholera. Is there any book entitled "Rules for Bridesmaids" in secret circulation among young ladies? It seems as if there must be; for all the bridesmaids act precisely alike. So far as official | conduct is concerned, when you have seen I one bridesmaid you have seen the whole fasI cinating tribe. Their leading duty seems to | be to treat the bride as a "victim led with ' garlands to sacrifice." They consider it ne! cessary to exhort her to "cheer up." It is as' sumed, by a poetic fiction, that she goes in a I state of trepidation to the altar, and, upon the : whole would rather not. Her fair assistants I provide themselves with pungent essences, j lest she should faint at the "trying moment," which between you and us, she has no more idea of doing than she has of dying. It is true she sometimes tells them that she "feels as if she should sink into the earth," and they respond, "poor, dear soul," and apply the smelling-bottle; but she goes through her nuptial martyrdom with great fortitude, nevertheless. In nine cases out of ten the bride ** nof ro fori" f Kon f A?anrilo gruuiu IS II1UIC IIUOHUIAU nuuu mivs v. and lovely creature at his side; but nobody thinks of pitying hira, poor, fellow ! All sympathy, compassion, interest, is concentrated upon the bride, and if one of the groomsmen does recommend him to take a glass of wine ; before the ceremony to steady his nerves, the advice is given superciliously?as who should say, "What a spoony yo* are, old fellow." RESULTS OlT A DREAM. Among the Scotch-Irish settlers in Washington county, in 1812, was a family named Blymire, who occupied a comfortable farm aud house. Rachel, the daughter, was engaged to a young farmer in the neighborhood. On a Saturday evening in July, having finished her week's work, she dressed herself tidily and started to visit her married sister, who lived on a farm about five miles distant, intending to return on Monday morning. She tied up her Sunday gown and tiat in a checkered handkerchief, aud carried her shoes and stockings in her other hand, intending to walk in bare feet, and put them on,when she came in sight of her destination, after the canny Scotch fashion. She left home about seven o'clock, in order to have the cool of the evening for her walk. The road to the farm was lonely and unfrequented. The girl did not return home on Monday, but no alarm was felt; as the family thought her sister would probably wish to detain her a few days, and it was not until the latter part of the week that it was found she had nobeen at her sister's. The country was scoured, but in vain ; the alarm spread and excited a degree of terror in the peaceable dot mestic community which would seem inexplicable to city people, to whom the newspaper had brought a budget of crime every morning since their childhood. To children raised in those lonely hamlets, and hill farms, murder was a far off, unreal horror ; usually all they knew of it was frpm the doings of Cain and Abel, set off with hideous wood cuts in the family Bible. The girl had left home on Saturday night at seven o'clock. That night, long before ten o'clock (farmers going to bed with the chickens), a woman living in Green county, about forty miles from the Blymire farm, awoke her husband in great terror, declaring she had just seen a murder done, and went on to describe a place she had never seen before?a hilly country, with a wagon road running through it, aud a girl with a bundle tied with a checkered handkerchief, her shoes and white stockings in the other hand, and walking briskly down the grassy side of the road. She was met by a young man?the woman judged from their manner that the meeting was by ippointraent; they sat down, on a log and talked for some time. The man at last rose, stepped behind her, and, drawing a hatchet, struck her twice on the head. She fell back on the wet, rotten leaves, dead. Presently this young man was ioined by another, also young, who asked, "Is it done?" He nodded, and together they lifted the body aud carried it away out of her sight. After awhile they came back, found the bundle of Sunday finery, and the shoes and stockings, all of them stained with blood. There was a ruined old mill near the road; they went into it, lifted a plank in the flooring, put the bundle, shoes, etc., with the hatchet, underneath, and replaced the plank. They then separated and went through the woods in different directions. The farmer's wife told her dream to her husband that night; the next day (Sunday) going to a little country church, she remained during the intermission between the morning and afternoon services. The neighbors, who had come from a circuit of twenty miles to go to church, gathered, according to their homely habit, in the churchyard to eat their lunch and exchange the news. Our dreamer told her story again and again, for she was impressed by it as if it had been a reality. After the afternoon services the congregation separated, going to their widely scattered homes. There were thus many witnesses ready to certify to the fact that the woman had told the dream the morning after the murder was committed, at a distance of forty miles, where it was absolutely impossible that the news should have reached her. There were no telegraphs, we must remember, and no railways, in those days?not even mail carriers in those secluded districts. When the story of the girl's disappearance was told over the country at the end of the next week, the people to whom the dream had been repeated recalled it. Nowadays, the matter would only serve as good material for the reporters, but men of those days still believed that God took an over sight even of their dreams. Might not this be a hint from Him ? The Rev. Charles Wheeler, a Baptist clergyman of Washington, well known in Western Pensylvania and Virginia a generation ago, and Ephraira Blaine, Esq., a magistrate, father of the present Senator from Maine, and a popular man in his narrow circle, drove over to see the woman who had told the dream. Without stating their purpose, they took her and her husband ou pretense of business, to the Blymire farm. It was the first time in her life that she had left her own country, and she was greatly amused and interested. They drove over the whole of the road down which Rachel Blymire had gone. "Have you ever 6een this neighborhood beore ?" one of them asked. "Never," she replied. That ended the matter and they turned back, taking a little cross road to save time. Presently the woman started up in great agitation and exclaimed, "This is the place I dreamed of!" They assured her that Rachel Blymire had not been on that road at all. "I know nothing about her," said she, "but ; the girl I saw in my dream came along here; there is the path through which the man came, and beyond that turning you will find the log on which he killed her." They did find the log, and on it the stanis of blood. The woman, walking swiftly, led them to the old mill and to the board, under which laid the stained clothe9 and hatchet. The girl's body was found afterward, buried near a creek close by. Rachel's lover had already been j arrested on suspicion. It was hinted that he I had grown tired of the girl, and for many ! reasons had found her hard to shake oflf. The woman recognized him in a crowd of other men, and startled her companions still more by poiuting out another young man from the West, as his companion in her dreara9. The young man was tried in the town of Washington, for murder. The woman dreamer was brought into court, and an effort was actually made to put her on the witness stand ; but the men could not be hung on the evidence of a dream. Without it there was not enough proof for conviction, and the jury unwillingly we may be sure, allowed the prisoners to es cape. It was held as positive proof of his guilt that he immediately married the sister of the other accused man and removed to Ohio, then the wilderness of the West.?Lippincott's Magazine. A MEMORABLE DOCUMENT. The following is a copy of the most memorable judicial sentence which has ever been pronounced in the annals of the world? namely, that of death against the Saviour with the remarks which the journal Troit has collected, and the knowledge of which must be interesting to every Christian. Until now we are not aware that it has ever appeared in the German papers. It is word for word as follows: Sentence pronounced by Pontius Pilate, iutendant of the Lower Province of Galilee, that Jesus of Nazareth shall suffer death by the cross. In the seventeenth year of the reign of the Emperor Tiberius, and on the twenty-fourth day of the month of March, in the holy city of Jerusalem, during the puutificate of An nas uaiaphus. Pontius Pilate, the iotendant of the lower Galilee, sittiug to Judgment in the presidential seat of Prretor, sentenced Jesus of Nazareth to death on the cross, between robbers, as the numerous aud notorious testimonies of the people prove: 1. Jesus is a misleader. 2. He has excited the people to sedition. 3. He is an enemy to the laws. 4. He calls himself falsely the King of Israel. 5. He went into the temple followed by a multitude carrying palms in their hands. Orders from the first centurion, Quirrilus Cornelius to bring him to the place of execution : Forbid all persons, rich or poor, to prevent the execution of Jesus. The witnesses who have signed the execution of Jesus are: 1. Daniel Robani, Pharisee. 2. John Zorobebel. 3. Raphael Robani. 4. Capet. Jesus to be taken out of Jerusalem through the gates of Tournes. This sentence is engraved on a plate of brass, in the Hebrew language, and on its side are the following words: "A similar plate has been sent to each tribe." It was discovered in the year 1820, in the city of Aquilla, in the kingdom of Naples, by a search made for the Roman antiquites, and remained there until it was found by the commissioner of arts, in the French army of Italy. Up to the time of the campaign in Southern Italy it was preserved in the sacrisity of the Cartbusans, near Naples, where it was kept in a box of ebony. Since then the relic has been kept in the chapel at Caserta. The Carthusians obtained permission by their netition. that the Diece micrht be kept bv them, which was an acknowledgement of the sacrihces which they made for the French army. The French translation was made literally by the members of arts. Denon had a fac simile of the plate engraved, by Lord Howell, on the sale of bis cabinet, for 2,890 francs. There seems to be no historical doubt as to the authority of this. The reasons of the sentence correspond exactly with those in the gospel.? Translated from the Kolrivethe Zeitung. NATURAL HISTORY?THE BABY. What animal is this? This is a baby. He is now about three years old, and at the wickedest point of his career. What couutry does the baby mostly inhabit? He can be found in every inhabited country on the globe, the same as mosquitos and boils. Can they be tamed ? Yes, quite easy. After a little judicious discipline they cease to struggle and become subservient to the will of man. ^ 11 - - i - A uoes a Daoy eat grass r Yes, or anything else. They swallow pocket-knives, thimbles, buttons, spools, or any other object a little smaller than a tea-cup. If offered milk they seldom refuse it. Do they graze during the day, or only at night? They are always grazing, paying not the least heed to the hour. When not actually eating they generally give utterance to a peculiar cry. Strong men often jump out of bed at miduight in the coldest weather when hearing that cry. What meaning is attached to this cry ? Men of deepest thought have agreed that it signifies to wake up the neighborhood and have some fun. Of what benefit to mankind is a domesticated baby ? They are of no earthly account for the first few /ears, but by and by they can slide down hill on a cellar door and carry articles ont of the house and trade for a wooden sword, or lose them in the grass. Do you know of any instance where the baby has attacked the household and killed or injured any one ? Such instances have been related by such eminent naturalists as George Francis Train and Texas Jack, but we don't put much faith in them. However, if the baby was maliciously provoked, there's no knowing what it might do. Are they a healthy animal ? No; on the contrary, no druggist could make enough profit in a year to buy him a pair of Artie overshoes but for the presence of a baby in every household. There is hardly an hour in the day that the baby does not demand peppermint, paregoric, ipicac, or something else costing money. What machinery is made use of to compel the baby to take a dose of castor oil? There are several patent machines for the : purpose, but most people follow the rule of , knocking him senseless, and getting the dose into his mouth before he recovers. Is the bald-headed baby more domestic I than others. Not a bit. He kicks around after the < same fashion, and has even a worse time ; fighting flies and mosquitoes. What music do they seem to prefer. A base drum is their first choice, but they ! have a heavy leaning toward the sound of i the stove-handle knocking the nose of the pitcher with the emptyings in it. i This is all about the baby. Take another look at him, for next week we shall write about some other reptile.?Detroit Free Press, i An Odd Business.?There are all sorts of ways of making a living (aud some money) I in New York. One of the oddest was set i forth at some length the other day by a reporter. He had run across a place where or- 1 ders were taken to call people who want to rise early, but cannot depend on themselves j to wake up. The charge for this service is . ten cents a call, except when the order is for I daily calls, and then it is fifty cents a week. The calling is done by boys employed for the i purpose, aud the boy who goes to call a man must see to it that the man is wide awake be- ] fore he leaves. If Tom Brown wants to be ' up at six o'clock in the morning, an order left 1 at the office the night before will be attended < to as promptly for ten cents as if the fee was i five dollars, and if Tom does not get out of i bed at five, the boy who comes to yell at hipa 1 will know why. At the same office, they take orders for escorts for women who want to be out in the evening. The boy is notified to call at a certain place for a certain lady at a certain time. He does call at the time named, accompanies the lady home, and goes back to the office, where he may find another job of the same kind awaiting him. The boys like this better than running off at three or four in the morning to call some sleepy fellow out of bed, and, on the whole, it seems a pleasanter thing to do?if the woman isn't too old. A "FREE" PRESS. SOME OF ITS ADVANTAGES TERSELY STATED. The beautiful idea of getting something for nothing is nowhere more readily traceable than in a newspaper office. So much has been spoken, written and sung about a "free press," that people have come to uecept the term in a sense altogether too literal. If a man has a scheme of any kind germinating he just steps into the editorial room and details it with the remark: "I'm not quite ready to advertise yet, but a few words will help me along." He gets a few words and never gets ready to advertise. Two tickets admitting lady and gent to the "G. R. X. M. T.'s grand ball," are expected to produce a six-line local and a quarter of a column description of the ladies' toilets after the ball is over. Church fairs and the like are worse than balls. They never leave tickets but demand more space, because "it's a matter of news and a help to the cause." Should a boy saw off his finger, "Dr. C. 0. Plaster dressed the wound with great skill," would be a graceful way of stating it and besides it is "unprofessional" to advertise. The patent rat-trap man brings in one of his combinations of wire and moldy cheese bait, sticks it under the editor's nose and explains how they catch 'em every time the spring works. "It's something of interest to the community, and if you put in apiece save me a dozen papers," which he quietly walks off with as though he had bestowed a favor in allowing editorial eyes to gaze on such a marvel of intricity. In invitation "to come down and write up our establishment," is a great deal more common than a two-square "ad" from the same firm. Newspapers must be filled up with something or other, you know. The lawyer, with strong prejudices against advertising, is fond of seeing his cases reported in full in the newspapers, with occasional reference to bis exceedingly able manner of conducting the same. It is cheaper than advertising. In fact everybody, from a to izzard, who has an axe to grind, asks the newspapers to turn the crank, and forgets to say thank you, but will kindly take a copy of the paper as part pay for furnishing news. The press being "free," all hands seem bound to get aboard and ride it to death. This is why newspapers are so rich that they can afford to pay double price for white paper, and never ask Congress to aid them by removing the duty on wood pulp.?New Haven Register. SPOILING WOMEN'S NAMES. Many, if not a majority, of the names of 800 or 900 girls from the public schools examined for admission to the Normal college, give us the impression that they belong to mere household pets rather than to young wuuitju wuu arc appiuacuuig uiatuiuj^ auu who are eDgaged in serious work. These girls apparently prefer the nicknames by which they are known in the family circle and to 'intimate friends, and therefore take pains to adopt them in their signatures. In so doing the public school girls are not exceptional among our young women, for it is quite the fashion nowadays for them to grow so enamored of their nursery appellations that they cling to them as their fixed and proper names. They may even be offended when they are addressed by their correct names, which they imagine less pretty than these pet diminutives; and some grave, grown up women will put Hattie or Gussie, Mamie or Sallie on their cards as if they were in pinafores still. The fashion is American ; but our patriotism cannot make us grow fond of it. The nicknames which appear in so large a share of these public school girl's signatures would do very well for pets at a dog show. When they are used to express the affectionate regard of near friends and relatives, they also may be pretty and appropriate, but they look very silly in a formal signature, and surely do not benefit the dignity of womanhood. We fine, for instance among these 800 names, scores of Minnies or Mamies and only here and there a Mary, a much more euphonious and dignified name. Jane is transformed usually into Jennie, Caroline into Carrie, Ellen into Ella, Elizabeth into Lizzie and Bessie, Katherine into Katie, Martha into Mattie, Margaret into Maggie, Anne and Anna into Annies, and Harriet into Hattie. Such absurd names as these appear quite frequently: Chattie, Lidie, Millie, Tillie, Kittie, Rosie, Nettie, Bibbie, Aggie and Margie. The great aim seems to be to manufacture a name which ends in ie, and in accomplishing it the finest appellations for women we have, names renowned in poetry or history, and of a sweet and melodious sound are chopped up into childish diminutives. They convey an idea of pettiness, and do not belong to girls of dignity and character?girls like these who are going to the Normal college, so many of whom will have their living to earn. And yet these girls think it is pretty to he known by such pet names, and so discard, as ugly and old-fashioned, the names by which they are christened. What would they think to see a college register which gave the young men's names as Jimmie, Billie, Bobbie, Tommie, Charlie, Sammie and JL/ivniu i This fashion is extending among women, and girls are even named with nicknames only, as if they were always to be nothing more than nursery pets. And yet this is a period when women are contending for higher consideration as rational beings, and when the range of their occupations outside of the domestic circle is constantly widening and growing in importance.?New York Sun. He Wanted a Change.?There was a little shooting scrape at a little town in the interior of Texas not long ago, aud it was not long before a Galveston Nexos reporter was on the spot interviewing one of the principals. "So you are going to write it up," said the 3urvivor. "Yes, I want all the facts." "I don't care a cent what you say about the shooting, but I have one little favor to ask." The reporter said he would grant it cheer- i fully if he could. "Well," said the shootist, "I want you to put down that my grandfather was one of Lafitte's pirates, and the worst cut-throat of the gang." The reporter stared a little, but the shootist went on to say : "Please put in that one of my uncles was hung by the Vigilance Committee in San Francisco, and two more of them are making shoes in the penitentiary; that another one of them is practicir ,iaw in New York, and my only sister ran away from home with a clown of a circus; that as far as you can learn there is not a member of the family that has not done something disgraceful." "Why what do you want all that in the paper for ?" "Because I am sick of reading in the papers that every fellow who has a litlle shooting scrape belongs to one of the most respectable families in the country. Just put it down for once, that one of the parties to the unfornate affair belongs to a highly disreputable family. If you don't put it so you will wish you had. A RIGHTEOUS REBUKE. The following words, used by Judge Hubbard, of Iowa, recently, in passing sentence upon some liquor dealers in that State, seem a little harsh, coming from the bench of one our courts, but there is no man who can deny the truthfulness or. the righteousness of the; rebuke. He said: "While there are greater crimes known to the law, which are punishable with great severity, there are none which involve more of those qualities known as despicable meanness and audacity, than the selling of intoxicating liquors. There is something in the taking of bu man life or violence, so instantaneous that it shocks and terrifies the minds of all; and yet we look upon the man who takes human life quite as surely, but by a slow, lingering process, if not without condemnation, at least v. ithout horror. You, who stand before the court for sentence, are in every moral .sense r urderers, and you are within the spirit, if not the letter, guilty of manslaughter; for the law says, who ever accelerates the death of a human being, unlawfully, is guilty of the crime. Your bloated victims upon the* witness stand, and who undoubtely committed peijury to screen you from the law, not only abundantly testifiy that you are accelerating death, but that you are inducing men to commit still greater crimes than your own. You still maintain the appearance of respectability; but how morally leprous and scrofulous you are inwardly, the ruin, poverty and idleness, which you are inflicting upon this community, declare as from the housetops. You are living in idleness and eating the bread of orphans, watered with widows' tears. You are stealthily killing your victims and murdering the peace and industry of the community, and thereby converting happy industrious homes into misery, thriftless poverty and rags. You are sowing the seeds of ignorance, and idleness and want, among the generations to come. Anxious wives and mothers watch and pray in tears, nightly, with desolate hearts for the coming home of your victims whom you are luring with the wiles and smiles of the devil into midnight debauchery. In fine, one can have no adequate conception of a cataract until he sees Niagara, nor of the terrible fury and grandeur of a storm in mid-ocean until he has witnessed one ; so no one can know the utter degradation and total depravity to which his species can be brought, until he looks upon the desolate ruin caused by your trade."? Observer. ? ? 4 THE LOSS OF A WIFE. In comparison with the lbss of a wife all other bereavements are trifling. The wife! She who fills so large a space in the domestic heaven?she wno is Dusiea, so unwearieuiy, for the precious ones around her?bitter, bitter is the tear that falls upon her cold clay ! You stand beside her coffin and think of the past. It seems an amber-colored pathway, where the sun shone upon beautiful flowers, or tbe stars hung glittering overhead. Fain would the soul linger there. No thorns are remembered above that sweet clay, save those your hand may unwillingly have planted'. Her noble tender heart lies open to your inmost sight You think of her now as all gentleness, all beauty, all purity. But she is dead! The dear head that laid upon your bo9om rests in tbt still darkness, upon a pillow of clay. The hands that have administered so untiringly, are folded, white and cold, beneath the gloomy portals. The heart whose every beat measured an eternity of love, lies under your feet The flowers she bent over with smiles, bend now above her with tears, shaking the dew from their petals, that the irprdurA arnnnd hfir mav he keDt ereen and beautiful. There is do white arm over jour shoulder; do speaking face to look up into the oye of Love; no trembling lips to murmur, '0, it is so sad.' There is so strange a hush in every room ! No light footstep passing around. No smile to greet you at nightfall. And the old clock ticks and strikes, and strikes and ticks?it was such music when she could bear it! Now it seems to knell only the hours through which we watched the shadows of death gathering upon her sweet face. And every day the clock repeats the old story. Many another tale it telleth, too?of joy past, of sorrows shared, of beautiful words and deeds that are registered above. You feel! 0, how often do you feel that the grave cannot keep her. The Unknown Arctic Regions.?Within the Polar circle there is an enormous area, comprising at least 2,000,000 square miles, of which we know simply nothing. We shall have presently to speak of the various speculations regarding the nature of this vast extent of the world's surface; it is enough for our immediate purpose to say that we do not know anything whatever about it. Whether it is land, water or ice; whether the climate is cold or warm ; whether there are inhabitants, animals, plants, or whether it is a howling wilderness?speculation has included almost every possibility, and almost every absurdity; but of knowledge such alone as intelligent men can be content with, we have absolutely none. To attain some such knowledge is the first object now proposed in Arctic exploration. It is considered unfitting and unseemly, in the present state of scientific progress, that; there should be this large area of our earth's surface still so utterly unknown. The examination of it is loudly called for; it it is a problem of universal interest, the solution of which appeals not to commercial profits, pecuniary advantages, increased facility for transport and communication, but simply, in the first instance, to those higher feelings and yearnings which, whatever our remote ancestry, now distinguish us from the brutes. We want to traverse this unknown space and see and know what it is.?Edinburgh Rs~ mew. ? Burning Glass Experiment.?If a piece of wood be placed in a decanter of water and ;;he focus of a large burning glass is thrown upon it, the wood will be completely charred, through the sides of the decanter through which the rays pass will not be cracked, nor in any way affected, nor the water perceptibly warmed. If the wood be taken out, and the rays be thrown on the water, neither the vessel nor its content will be in any way affected ; but if a piece of metal be put in the water it soon becomes too hot to be touched, and the water will presently boil. Though pure water alone, contained in a transparent vessel cannot be heated, yet, if by a little ink it be made a dark color, or the vessel itself be blackened, the effect speedily takes place. J6F* Nothing gives more mental and bodily vigor than sound rest when properly obtained. Sleep is our great replenishes and if we neglect to take it regularly in childhood, the result will be all the worse for us when we grow up. If we go to bed early, we ripen ; if we sit up late, we decay^ and sooner or later we contract a disease called insomnia, or sleeplessness, allowing it to become permanently fixed upon us, and then we begin to decay, even in youth. Late hours are shadows from the grave.