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7ABX, GARDEN AHD HOUSEHOLD Hickory Nct Cake.?One pound of sugar, one-half pound of butter, foui eggs, one cup of milk, one teaspoonftil of soda and two of cream of tartar, the meats of two quarts of hickory nuts, flour to make as stiff as pound cake. Cocoanut oake is made in the Bamo way, allowing one large or two small nuts to this amount of butter. Milk Potatoes.?Take good, sound potatoes, cut them in slices (raw) and put the milk, according to the quantity Sou wish to make, in a pudding dish; aen after you have put the potatoes in the milk, put it in the oven for about twenty minutes; then take out and put potatoes, with the same milk, into a sauce-pan to boil until done; season b<* ? fore you put them to boil. Preserved Apples.?Weigh equal quantities of good brown sugar and of apples; peel, coreand mince theiu small; boll the sugar, allowing to every throe pounds a pint of water; skim it well, j and boil it pretty thick; then add the > apples, the grated peel of one or two I lemons, add two or three pieces of white ginger if you have it. Boil till tho i apples look clear and yellow. This pre- ' serve will keep for years. German Waffles.?One quart flour I half a teaspoonful salt, three tablespoon Ails sugar, two large tablesnoonfulB ! baking powder, two tablespoonfuls lard, i rind one lemon grated,one teaspoonful ci n namon extract, four eggs, and one pmt 1 of thin cream; sift toeetner flour, sugar, J salt and powder; rub in tho lard cold; add tho beaten eggs, lemon rind, extract j aDd' milk; mix into a smooth, rather thick batter; bake in a hot wafTle-iron : I serve with sugar flavored with lemon. I Grape Pickles. ? Select small1 bunches of ripe, lirm grapes and pack ' in the jars in which they arc to he kept. To a quart of vinegar add a'half-pound of | sugar, one-fourth of a pound of stick cinnamon, and an ounce of allspice, whole. Boil, and when cold, turn over the grapes. They will keep without sealing. Stone jars, holding a gallon | each, may be used for these pickles. A piece of white cotton cloth should be SDroad oror the cluster, and a plate placed on top. to keeps tlieni under the vinegar. Lemons.?For sick headache take a tumbler two-thirds full of finely crushed ice, tho juice of ono lemon and one tea ouptul of white sugar. This mixture eaten by degrees or all at once will allay tho feverish thirst and quiet the dis turbod qualmish stomach, as it is not sweet enough to bo nauseous. Sliced lemon is a very appetizing addition to cold roast veal, also to minced veal on toast. For a cough or a tickling in the throat, take the juice of two lemons, the beaten white of one egg. and enough powdered or fine granulated white sugar to make a thin paste. A teaspoonful of this mixture will allay the irritation and ouro a cough in its early stages. RlnU In Road-Ma klti ir. There is no class of the community that is more affected by tho condition of highways than farmers. Upon them arc transported whatever surplus products the farm affords, and upon them the farmer depends for his opportunities to nass from one neighborhood to another. Now, so far as the transportation of heavy loads is concerned, the amount that can be transported bears a direct proportion to the condition of the road bed and its declivity, both of which may be combined to greatly reduco t lie load, or either alone may bo the means of measuring the load that can easily pass along without serious hindrances. Aside from that claps of obstacles which may be proporly considered as insur mountable, in all cases roads should he improved in every possible direction and by all practical mean1. Other things being equal, the moro firm the roadbed tho better it is for travel, and also tho better lor conveying loads. But verv frequently the road pusses over such a variety of soils, oven in moderate distances, as to present a variable sur face. Wherever such cases occur they can be amended by artificial means? that is, if a portion should be sandy, by tho addition of a little dry or compact earth its condition will bo so changed as tions may also verv materially affect temporarily the surface of a travclod road, aside from those changes occa sioned by frost. Thus a clayey road whioh would bo rendered exceedingly muddy after a severe shower, would he very much improved by the use of sand and gravol. Where tho soil is inclined to moisture a partial system of under drainago will not only prevent mud at tho time of showors, but will also very muoh assist in maintaining a good con dition when the frost lis coming nut in tho spring, which otherwise would ren tier it impossible. As a gonoral rule, in 'the repair. Buy ing nothingof the construction of roads too little regard is paid to the material ^ ?npl(wed; it is entirely wrong to make uso of vogetablo matter that is subject to docay and ohango, for although when in a dry stato it may bo passable upon a road, when wet by means of rains and showors it occasions slough holes oj mud. It is better for tho road to have tho nods growing in the ditches con voyed to the farmyard and used for com posting, rathor than have tliom used in any repairs. When it can be obtained under ordinary circumstances, a gravelly loam will'makoa good avorage road beef, and will booomo so oompactqd as to form a comparatively hard and smooth travel ing path, and is tho material that should be usod. It is no uncommon tiling to see upon a muoh-traveled road at. some point a short distance that is oxtremely had under noarly all circumstances, and whioh remains tho same year after year for want of an application of a few common sense ideas in tho matter of re pa Ira.?ExcJiani/c. Nrinmh -iVfw nml Old TLo American (hi'li\x\tor describes an experiment made with ono acre of squash, one-half planted with seed one year old, and one-half with seed two yearn old. By July 1st the growth of the vinos seemed uniform on the entire field, those on that part oftiie field sown with old seed having gained upon the Others,which were larger from the start. Tho first squashes from this Held weiv gathered July 7, and at that time more linn double tho quantity wern picked from tho vines from new seed than were gathered from that portion sown with old seed, fsincothat date, however, the vines from the old seed have been gain ing, and al-e now yielding verv nearly as many squashes as tho new seed. So that thus far tho difference hot ween old and new fleod, in this Instance, seems to be that tho new seed is earlier In growth of vine and yield of fruit, and the old seed Is later, though coming on finally ns sat isfactorily in yield as the new s<vd. A Ham's llnRd In a Hlrnnire I'lnro. Quite ft curiosity wiw found a fow <l?ys ngf> near the camp of tlio workmen on the new toll-roan, near Yankee Fork, Nov. Tt. in a mountnln ram's head deep ly Ijfri bedded in ? pino tree and about nix feet from the ground Tho right horn in outside and curl# partly round tho tree, While tho front of the SKull and moat of the left horn Hoovered with the growth of wood Tho tree Is a thrifty pine, fifteen > Inohofl through. How that ram's head came thero will always remain a mys tery to scientists, hut men of the moun tains, who are familiar with the fighting propensities of the wild buck, can eaally explain It.. The ram whose head Is now i a part of the tree stood on tho upper sldo A ?f tho hill, while hlii enemy stood near II wh*t was then a pino sapling. When "" the present rello made a rush at ram No. ? 8 the latter stepped to one sldo, and the old warrior's head coming In contact with tho young troe spilt It wide cnoutrh for one horn to enter, and he was left, dangling at tho mercy of his foe. The rest Is easily guessed. The survivor of tho fl#ht deliberately butted his unfor tunate adversary until there was not hing tho and horns fast fera, one of the id, will have tho g the ram's h<nd IllHtltll < l#. m mOHABCI W SEAL LIFE. ? ? " ?? Bow a Mu'i Wife WM Malta firmi Htm by Her ?r?U>r-?Ullfal?th? Brother tnd IiWiH?? ? W>ad?r?r'i Lift for TlUrty Tturt-HttttM IIU H*murl?d Wife and Hwrrlac Her At the boflpttal in the Soldiers1 Home there is an old soldier, a veteran of the war of 1813, now in his eighty-third year. His lrame is somewhat stooped with years, but otherwise indicates a vigor that promises to last for many years. He has a eheenul, intelligent fare, and his record at the Home Js of the best character. A?iow weeka agcTh* met with brutal treatment at the^ands of a rough fellow in West Dayton. Ho has not yet recovered from the injuries that wer? inflicted on him. The name of the old veteran is Ellas S. Jones, and his history is one of a kind often recorded in romance, and the counterpart of which the poet Tennyson has rendered immortal in the pathetic talc of Enoch Arden. The story of Elias .Tones' life is more dramatic and even more p.tinful than Enoch Arden's, though its end is happier. He was born in Vermont, and was only in his sixteenth year when the war of 1812 broke out. After peace had been concluded Jones removed to New York State, where he bought a small tract of land in Steuben county. Another per son was bargaining for the same piece of property, which was a section located in a very favorable position, and when he learned that Jones had obtained the property his anger was so extreme that on several occasions they had nearly come to personal encounters. Jones lived on his property, and some time after met, loved and courted a young lady who lived' in that section of the State. Her name was also Jones?Miss Alicia Jones. She was a handsome country girl of seventeen, and though her home was at some distance from Ellas', young women, and pretty young women, were a scarce article at that time in the neighborhood, and his calls were frequent. One day he met the brother of the young lady, her only liv ing relative, and he recognized in him tlie enemy lie had made in the purchase of his land; a scene ensued, in which Eli as was ordered from the house, with a threat of being shot if he returned. This did not check the attachment be tween the youne people, and a few months later she left her brother's house and was married to Elias Jones. Her brother swore, however, that he would lw even with them both. This was in 1820. They had been married over a year, and had one child, a boy. When the father returned home one night, after several days'absence, he found his house burned down and his wife and child rone. A note was pinned to a tree near by from his wife's brother, stating this work had been done by him in revenge. He also added if Jones followed and tracked him he would shoothim on sight. E'ias could find no trace of his family, but he determined to recover them, and, as lie says, having ibeen shot at in tho war, he though he could risk it again for his wife and child. An opportunity of fered and ho disposed of his farm, and set out upon a clew that he had obtained. It proved right, and he found that his brother-in-law was living in tlieGeneseo vallev, in New York, ana the house he discovered setting back in tho woods. From the distance ho saw his wife in the doorway, and he was advancing to ward her when a rifle cracked and he fell over pierced with a ball. Ho in stantly recovered himself and looking in the direction of the smoke, saw the brother of his wife step from behind some brush with the discharged piece in his hand, and advance toward him. It was the work of an instant for Elias to hring his own piece to a level and lire, lie felt, as proved to be tho case, that the shot was fatal. Elias was a sure shot and his own injuries made him des perate. Ilardiy knowing what he did, Elias sprang to his feet, waved an adiou to his wife and child at the doorway and rushed away. I lis own wound proved to bo slight, though had the aim been tho least truer, it must have caused Elias' death. He pushed right on to Now York city, and thero engaged board a ship for a three years' cruise, sending a letter to "his wife before ho lefl. She remained a time at tho place after her brother's death, and another child was born to her, whom she named after its father. Then an old friend stopping at her house, she removed with him to Pennsylvania, whore she had other friends living. No further word was heard from her husband for several years, when one day the death of an American sailor, Elias S. .Jones, of Liverpool, was chronicled in a news paper, and she was subsequently mar ried to the friend who brought her to Pennsylvania, a man named Anthony Swope. with whom the lived twenty live years and became the mother of ten more children. In the meantime Jones returned from his cruise, but received no word from his wife, and started upon another voy age. None of his letters were answered, in Liverpool he fell from a mast, was severely Injured and was taken to a hos pital, which fact probably gave rise to the report of his death. Subsequently he learned that his wife had married again after he left hor, and Jones con tinued his seafaring life for thirty yenrs, when, getting Into the decline of life, lie determined to renouneo the sea. IIo drifted out to the place where he had Inst seen his own wife, and where the fatal tragedy had occurred. lie did not have any definite purpose except a yearning desire to learn something more respecting them. They had been for gotten at the sceno of the shooting, and the homicide itsolf was only rememoered as a distant lesrend. He was ablo to get soino clew which led him to Sandy Creek, Mercer county, the place she had r;ono to live in Pennsylvania. She had. lowover, gono still further West, and the old man lost all further trace. Chance led him to Conneaut. Ohio, and thero he heard the name of Bradford Jones mentioned. This was the name of his oldest son, and it proved to bo ho. lie was a blacksmith and lived in the town. Ellas recognized himself in the man as soon as he saw him, but it was hard to convlneo the son that his father was living, and the old man was turning away when his son invited him home to dine with him. Mis son's wife recog nized the resemblnnco between father and son at a glance, and the old man related the varied storv of his life. They told him his wife was still living, but when he complained that she had married another man. they informed liim Swope had died the year before. He ac companied his son to her home, some thirty miles distant. She was sitting in a corner near the tire, knitting, when they camo in, and recognized tier son but not him. Elias had not seen her since sho was a girl of less than twenty, but ho recognized in the old lady before j him many familiar lines and expressions. When he spoke she suddenly threw up her hands and cried : "The dead hns come to life," and fainted. When she revived the first words she Uttered were: "Elias, you can't blame me." He told her his story, and they returned together to Connecticut, where they were remarried in 1868. For more than twenty-five years they lived to gether. but thel ? means failing two years ago, lie camo to live at the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, in virtue of his service for the country in 1812. Tho fourth of last March Ins wlfo died, and (the old man went homo to attend her in her last dnys and to bury her.?Dayton (Ohio) Journal. rnro for NIoopiokki?os?. Wot half a towrl, *pi>ly it, to tho hack of tho nook, proving ft upward lownrd tho hano of tho brafn, and fimtcn tho dry half of tho towol ovor *o ai to prflvont tho too rapid oxhnlation. Tho oflToct l? prompt and charming, cooling tho brnln nnd Inducing oalmor, awootor sloop tlmn nny narcotic. Warm wator rimy l>c uned, though most persona will profor it cold. To thoso suffering IVo r ovor oxoltompnt of tho brain, whether tho rr tiulfc of brnin work or pressing anxiety, hl? aimplo remedy le im? enpeolnl boon. ? ? - J?kM from "Harp?r'( Drawer." f Here are a couple of yarns from Con necticut: Old Mr. E B wu a rery wealthy farmer. Hard-working, penuri ous and worldly, be had reached his ninety-sixth year, but still persisted in working bard every day. One of his neighbors, an excellent man, himself over ninety years old, met him ono day and said: "Well, Mr. B , we are getting to be pretty old men." "Not so very old?not so very old," said the farmer, gruffly. "But don't you think," persisted the other. " that we ought to bo considering about the next world, and what our lire will be tberoP We must very soon die, you know." " Don't know about that?don't know about that." retorted the farmer. " Very few men die at rnv a?c." Old Squire C was postmaster,store keeper and autocrat of his village. He was the wealthiest man in it. but had the reputation of being also the sharpest and hardest man in his dealings with the poor, yet a drunken loafer in the village onee outwitted him. This loafer ?an old sot, generally known !us " Sam " ?came one day to the store trundling a wheel barrow. The squire was seated on the front stoop of his store, and see ing him approach, called out: "Well, Sam, what are you after now?" "Why, Squire C ." drawled the old rascal, most obsequiously, "I want a barrel of your best wheat flour, and I want to nay cash for it, too." "Oho! ' said the squire, "that's it, is it? Well, George"?turning to his clerk ?" Boll out a barrel of that Genesee Hour, and 1ic,m Sam to put it On his wheelbarrow. This was soon done, and Sam very quietly began to wheel it away. The sciuire had not received his money, and he sprang up at once, and called: " Sam! Sam! you said you wanted to pay cash for* that flour. Where's your money?" " Wa'al, Squire C drawled Sam, so I do want to pay cash for it, but, you see, I can't "? trundling the wheel barrow off more and more rapidly with every word. Squire C was so astounded at the loafer's impudence that lie let the flour go Au American Drama. ACT ONE. Country Editor (to well-to-do mer chant)?" Wouldn't you liko to take my p:.per, Mr. Blank?" Merchant (with great cordiality)? "Of course I would I Have been in tending to subscribe for a logg time. Send it up, by all means." ACT TWO?THREE MONTHS I.ATER. EXTRACT, from leading editorial in the Weekly Btiffle?" We must urge upon our readers the necessity of prompt set tlement of their subscriptions, many of which are, largely in arrears. Please boar in mind that it costs us a large amount to print our paper. Country produce received at ruling market prices." t Merchant (alter reading leader)? | "There! I must call in and pay Bangs that $2. Perhaps he needs it. But thero can be no particular hurry. Two dol lars isn't much." ACT THREE?THREE MONTHS I.ATER. Devil from Bugle oftlee (presenting bill to merchant)?" Please, sir, Mr. Bangs wants to know if you won't pay this to-day, as he has got to raise Bome money to pay his hands." Merchant (somewhat nettled)?"Tell Bangs I'll call in; am pretty short to day. [Exit Devil.] Bangs needn't bo so'miglity sharp with his bills." ACT FOUR?THREE MONTHS LATER. Editor (with a sick and weary smile) ?" Good morning, Mr. Blank." Merchant (shortly)?" Morning." Editor (weakly)?" This little bill that?" Merchant (fiercely)?"IIow much is it?" Editor (softly)?"Only $2. I wouldn't trouble you if?" i Merchant (in a great rage)?"There's your $2. and I want you to stop the paper. I ain't in the habit of being dunned to death for a mean paltry sum as that. Now stop your miserable sheet ?and you hear me! The poor editor, with a careworn face, feebly staggers out the door. Having first gathered up the $2. N. B.?Plot taken from real Jifo, and is not fictional.?llocklaiul Courier. A Brave Ilabbit. The common opinion is that a rabbit is too timid to be aggressive. A writer in Forest <md Stream tells the story of a figh between n rabbit and a snake, which shows that, when a mother, the gentlo rabbit can be fierce and brave in defence of her offspring: During the morning, one of my chil dren came in with a very white face, and an account of a large white snake, just ?eon in the back yard. A few minutes later, a peculiar squeal ing or crying in the corner where the snake was reported attracted my atten tion, and running hastily in that direc tion, I was antonished to see the last h*?lf of a long chicken snake projecting from under a picket-fence, and a wild rabbit biting and stamping on it, apparently making a determined effort to hold on and prevent the snake from going en tirely under. A second later, and beforo my presenco seemed to be noticed i.y the combatants, the cause of tho rabbi t's efforts and of the peculiar noise wa inifested by tho ap pearanee on one sido of tho fence of tho snake's head with a tiny rabbit in its jaws. The litlle rabbit was hold by the hind quarters and was struggling and crying vigorously for tho liberty that a blow from my stick, administered to the back of (ho snake, secured to it. ' Tho little follow seemed uninjured, and ran off a rod or so, when tho mother rabbit, who had retreated a little at my near approach, joined it, and leading the way at a deliberate gait, took it to the woods near by. Tussle with a Mad Elephant. Among t lie elephants that swing around the circle with Forepaugh is one known as " Dick." This young mon ster got to sulking at Lancaster, N. II., the other night, and rrfWcd to trot along with the others. Young Adam Forepaugh, the old man Adam's son, rode up to Dick and gently tapped him with his riding whip. Dick lunged for the lad and un borstal him. Adam was stunned by the fall and lay but a few feet from the enraged beast, whose ter rible bellowing indicated that he was thoroughly aroused. It scented impos sible for any one to i'escue young Fore paugh. The keepers and trainers knew thai the least motion would hasten the boy's death, and so stood speeohlens and aghast. But old Belts, the monster ele phant of the herd, acting with wonder hilly human impulse, ran with a speed that seemed Incredible, considering he enormous bulk, and threw tho force of her four tons' weight against the side of the advancing and murderous Dick. The shock of tho colliding elephants was fearful, upsetting bad Dick and throw ing him on his side. Quick as a flash, Forepaugh's son was upon his feet. Old Hetts threw down her trunk at thcsignal, just a* she does In the performance, and lifted her master upon her head. Every time the recreant Dick arose he was met by olorht. thousand pounds of elephant flesh auainst his ribs, until lie laid down ami trumpeted signals of distress in ac knowledgmentjof defeat. ! The l/oxington (Ky.) /V(M says that the Mammoth Cave has been purchased by a party o* Eastern capitalists fot $200,000, nnd that they will rompletn I the railroad from Glasgow .function lo | thejcave and put the hotel and its sur j rounding* into the finest order. When someone with bad taste raised a laugh against Foote on account of his halt step, ho turned fiercely on Ids tor mentor and squelched him with the ourt quorj: " W fiv attack my weakest part ? over rldfculo vour lieadf1' MR THE SIBERIAN PRISON PENS. ? TTftl *-| th? MlBM Ot glbfri*-ri lum ?r* Wko R*t?1 IM U? lilckt of Bay. A 001 respondeat of ft Western paper, who not long since paid a visit to the mines in Siberia, furnishes ft graphic ac count of the miserable state or the polit ical and other prisoners confined in them. After a description of the trip to Tobolsk in comptmy^with a friend, yd r the difficulties encountered on the roadTT and also on arrival in obtaining the neo essary permission lrom the officer in charge of the Cossacks stationed there, the correspondent tells of his descent into a towering mountain through a shaft similar to the pit of a volcano. From within, fearful and distrusting odors saluted the nostrils of the visitors, and on entering, dirty water dripping frain the roof formed in rivulets, through which they walked. As they proceeded, the stench became still more unbeara ble, and the cold whs so great that it was felt even through their heavy cov ering. After a walk of about ten min utes, a light was seen ahead, and soon a large irou grating was readied, which being opened by the guard stationed there, the party passed into what was found to be the dormitory of the prison ers, lighted by only one poor oil lamp. This hole, into which tho rays of the sun or moon could never penetrate, was called an apartment, and in this dun geon the victims were obliged to remain after a hard day's work. The miasma rising from the half-rotted and soaking straw which formed the beds of the poor prisoners was deadening. Into the walls, from which dropped water, al coves had been hollowed ??t, into which five of tho convicts were placed, and er.eh chained to a bar of iron fast ened at the top of the cell. Thus were they obliged to pass the night, no bed clothing being allowed, and a bag of rotting straw their pillow. No cliair nor taole, no bench, no utensils of any k'vnd were to be seen, but in cruel mock ery the single light illumined an image of the Madonna in a gilt frame, as si?e looked flown on the scene of misery be fore her. leaving the dormitory and passing through a long corridor, an enormous cave was reached, in the center of which stood a table and three benches. Sev eral torches hung from the wall lent an uncertain light to the scene, which was dismal and gloomy beyond description. This was the mine itself, and the noise caused by the many pickaxes and ham mers used by those at work was deaf ening. Scattered about were hundreds of ragged creatures, with rough, long beards, fuces pale as death or of a sickly yellow hue, dragging heavy chains rat tling as they moved. These poor pris oners all looked unhealthy, and all worked in silence; none spoke or talked or whistled, as is the custom among frea workers. Mrvny were barefooted, and the rags which covered them dripped with water, although it was so cold that icicles hung from their beards. Tho work never ceased, for if a convict attempted to stop, the rough crus of the gunrds drove him to new exertion. Ono of tho prisoners was particularly notice able, \nd was asked his name, but dared not answer. The guide Informed the visitors that ho was tho Count Tarcn toft', a well-known conspirator, and waa known as No. 114. The poor fel low swung his pickaxe as the breath came wheezing from his chest, and looked exhausted and weary of life. The Bight was sickening, and as the party moved out tho remark was tuade that Sunday must be a welcome day for the toiling prisoners. The reply was that Sunday was unknown in tho mines; tho sentence was for unremitting work, and the only rest would be the grave, for none who entered the mine ever left it alive. Two days in the year were ex cepted, at Easter, and on the birthday of the "glorious Emperor;" tho re mainder or the time, twelve hours a day, was allotted to work. llo Suspected Everybody. Sonic said he was naturally suspicious. Tins may be partly true. ? But others say thai in early llfo some unlortunato atfairs had an unhnrpy efl'ect on his moods and tempers. If a felony was committed in his neighborhood, and there hung a mystery over tho question of the perpetrator, our hero looked wise, am! seemed to hint that he knew the man. In this way he once came to be seriously suspected of being an accessory after the fact. But he was wholly innocent. One day he was walking down the street and saw some mon talking and laughing. Occasionally they looked up the street. By the time ho reached the group his lace was very red. Ho looked vexed. He supposed their laughter was in some way at his expense." Fortu nately, he paused long enoxigh to find that they were making merry over tho sayings and doings ol a political meet ingottheir own party. One lent him a book, which had been read with care, and several passages were marked with a pencil, llo sup posed the owner of the book intendo I to hurt his feelings by calling special at tention to certain clauses, and yet it was a fact that tho owner did not know that there whs a pencil mark on any page. In fact, our friend often suspected some evil intention in tho kindest acts of his best friends. A strange minister once delineated in the, pulpit the charac ter of a litigious man. Our friend went home silent, if not surly, and com plained ol personalities in tho pulpit. IHs life was full of uneasiness without cause, except ns found in his undue sonsibilitv and suspiciousness. Things said in a general way ho, with a strange perversity, applied to himself. He trusted few, it any. He had an astonish ing facility for giving a bad turn to all that was said. His influence was not good. His children caught, his spirit. At school they often considered themselvesslighted. Thus family feuds were engendered. It would he slander to say that one could not speak to him. But his suspicions threw him into fits of jealousy. At times his countenance indicated malig nity. Ilis unhappy turn of thoughts had made him shy of his pastor, stifT to ward his family physician, and awk ward toward all. Even his wife was the worse of his evil surmisings. Of course, he was unhamiy- indeed, miserable. The signs of ins conscious wretchedness were Infalliblo. All this was quite unnecessary. Ho was his own tormentor. If heshould read this paper he would say, "Tho author ol that piece misunderstood me. Why will not peo ple mind their own business and let oth ers aloneP" He bus no enemy who does him as much disservice or inflicts on him as much pain as he brings on him self. If his nervous system were shat tered ono would make many excuses for him. "?it lie seems to have flno health, and certainly lie eats ns much as is good for him. Pari* and Franco. The Paris correspondent of tho load ing English journal emotes Prlnco HIs iimrck as saying: "'I here arc, really, as it, worn, two Francos?thft Franco of j Paris itnd I lie Franco ??f t he Provinces. The Franco of Paris is a vain, plca-sure secking, agreeable, extravagant Franco, which mnkos revolutions, uc^aros war ! at.d linu no idea of economizing. Every* | hody brings money to it, and it squanders i everything. Hut alongside it is the ' other Franco, the true France, that of j thn provinces, wl {eh labors hard, is I vobor and saves. The latter pay*for ail i the freaks end follies of the other. ' When the former makesarovoltitlon.it is the latter that suffers. When the form* r declares wnr, it is the latter that I lights, though the provincial Frenchman I dearly loves the soil, and there is no | greater sacrifice for hini than to lenve It for military sorvico. When I wns in Franco, I took a groat interest In the soldiers, and often talked with them. Their whole desire wns to (rot. through the service nnd return to the Holds. Tf the peasants wore listened to, France would never make war; and yet he flghtrf well when he floe* fight. Wlion ho is beaten ho is sorry; when ho wins he is ploaiwd; hut, victor or vanquished, what is clearest to him in that victory or defeat Mike bring the wnr to nn end and allow him to go homo again." A Doctor on UmM, Aloohol, said Dr. Lorgan, of Utica, in the oouroe of a lecture recently deliv ered, doe* not get into the circulation the ume way that food does; it passes from the stomach to the liver, from the liver to the heart, from the heart to the lungs, and back again to the heart, and thenoe through the circulation, which carries-it to_every part of the body. He explained how aloohol increases heat in the system. >" A small ?uanti*y, Bay about an ounce, will send throlotd to the capillaries on the surface, and there increases its heat; but if the quantity is increased, and continued, the capillaries are kept distended, lose their power of contraction, the blood becomes stagnant in them, and the result is u shivering cold. Hence tho temperate man can endure more cold than the intemperate man. His blood is in a healthier con dition and ho more readily recovers from diseases, medical or surgical. lie said that one who is in the habit of drinking immoderately soon falls into ill health, sutlers from loss of appetite, sick stomach, furred tongue, offensive breath. His limbs become tremulous, his face dull and expressionless, his eyes red and watery?fishy ; tubercles appear upon the face, and his nose becomes brilliant, bottle-shaped. His stomach becomes covered with Inflamed patches, its lining becomes softened and thick-' ened, and filled with ropy mucus that forbids digestion and induces dyspepsia. His liver becomes diseased, first en larged, then reduced iu size, hardened and irregular in shape. Its surface is covered with elevations from one quarter to one-half of an inch in diam eter, resembling hobnails. Hence ii is called hobnail or drunkard's liver, from its resemblance to the soles of hobnail shoes. In time this condition obstructs circulation in the liver, leads to dropsy, enlargement of the spleen, constipation, dirty skin, yellow eyes, loathing tor solid food and a still stronger desire for stimulants. He may live one or two years, but once these conditions issue hi# da>;s are numbered. But it affects the brain as well as it does tho stomach and liver. For tho brain alcohol has a special affinity. It first causes congestion, then shrinkage, thickening of the membranes and a de posit of small crystals in the walls of the cells. It disturbs the circulation, brings on irritation and a consequent derangement, sleeplessness, restlessness, nervousness. He is affected with delu sions. He sees rats, mice, serpents, de mon*, and looks behind curtains, chairs, tables, beds, for imaginary foes. He becomes a raving maniac and an inmate of the lunatic asylum. A Danger that Besets Great Britain. Next to the action of rain and rivers comes the gnawing effect of coast waves. The waves thunder against the cliff, which mocks its seemingly impotent rage by dashing it backwaro in a cloud of fonrn and spray, but it returns again and again to the charge until persist ency wins the day. The sea coast of England, which has for centuries bwn fast yielding to tho attacks of the (?ev man ocean, furnished Sir C. Lyell witn the majority of his illustrations in the interesting chapters upon the action of tides and currents. That eminent geolo gist tells us how towns and villages marked by nam >in old maps now lie fathoms deep beneath the waves. In one case, which came under his notice, houses had within the memory of living mfn stood upon a cliff fifty feet high, but in less than half a century houses anid cliffs were all engulfed, and sea witer enough to float a frigate occupied thpir site. As many as twelve churches, e^h farther landward than tho la t. have been built in one parish, and all byt one havo been swallowed up by the 8ek. Churchyards havo consequently been destroyed in many places, the corpses and skeletons having been Wfcshcd out of their craves and floated avtay by the tide. Sir C. Lyell himself satv human remains protruding from thf cliff' at Keculvers, in Kent, in 1861. Arid ho humorously alludes to a scene depleted by Bewick, which, hg Bays, numerous points on the coast ml?ht havo suggested; the graveyard of a ruined abbey, undermined and almost isolated by the sea, with a broken tomb stone in tho foreground serving as a perch for the cormorants, and bearing tho inscription "To perpetuate the memory of " one whose very name is obliterated, and whose monument was ready to fall into the waves. And he aptly, though somewhat sarcastically, suggests that such a tombstone would have a fit tribute to the memory of "some pnilasophor" who had taught "the permanency of existing conti nents, the "era of repose," or " the im potence of modcr causes.?London /?<?? ffravia. Hearing Fralt. Twenty-five years ago we went to tlie wedding reception or ft charming and brilliant young woman from a New England State, mat married to a younif i physician in a Webtern city. She had conw from the best schools, and was the woman, of all others, who was looked at as a leader in the higher literary and artistic life of a prominent circle in the town. Seven yoarB ago we again met that woman, now a matron of forty five, in a Western university town, whore her husband had finally landed as aprofossor of science in the college. We saw that the farrtily wero living in quiet and simplo elegance on the small salary of a Western professor, with a house full of fino children, and no Borvant that wo j could discover. At tea we ventured the question. " What has been the result of your studies and experience in the last twenty years P I have seen no book, or maga zine article, or poem, over your nnme, nw wo expected." " I will show youniy ono book," she replied, leading the way to her kitchen. There sho < xhiblted a a most ingenious machino for washing the dishes of her table, which abolished the drudgery of this disagrceablo end of housekeeping, and enabled a child, with the help of two " lifts" from mother, to make a play of what would bo tho work of a servant. Now, of course, not every cultivated schoolgirl has the inventive faculty to do what this woman had accomplished. But think what sho lias done! She has made it possiblo for every mother in America to Bave an hour a day for study, or work, in tho upper sido or life. She has made itnot only a respectable, but | an artistlo employment to wash tabu' dishes. She has mado home duties and t housekeeping more attractive to all her daughters, and taken ono more step to- I warn the abolition of the drudtrery thai has so crushed out the lives of a thou- | sand g< nerations of women since the da*s of mother Kvo. We doubt if any book, ! even a new novel by George Kliot. or a 1 rcw plcturo, a new volco llko the warble of (iorster, or any splendid thing t l.at | may bo done by a woman in Am< rlca, i would go so deep, touch on higher | realms of life, or moro justly entitle that cultivated Christian lady to the reaped and admiration of the country.? England Journal qf Education. An Kyo on a Hpreo An Alleghany physician, who. in way, is a great, wag, tolls a story of a north side gentleman who for years hns suffered from periodical attacks of what in lnodleal parlance is known as superor bitnl neuralgia. Quinine proved of no effect, and tfio sufferer was almost crazed with pain. A kind-hearted .old lady living In the neighborhood of the patient nformed him that if ho would cut the affected nerve with a pair of scissors or :t knife It would glvo him no further trouble. It so happens that, tho super orbital nerve is the one which controls the action of the eyelid, and when a man is in liquor this nerve becomes para lyzed, and It is this that gives a drunken person such a comical expression about tho eyes. 'I'll? neuralgia patient, no sooner heard what lie supponod tho wel come news from the old lady than ho repaired to a oloset, and witli a jack knife parted in twain tho offending nervo. ami ho nows groots his friends with nis right eye as soboT as a Quaker in a quarterly meeting, and the left in?n highly Intoxicated co dition.?Pitt* btiryh (Pl?.) filler, ORGAH GRINDERS. toM? InUrMtlog Facta About ? PeoulUr Clui of People. There are from one hundred ani fifty to two hundred organ-grinders in the city of New York, all of whom, with probably half a douen exceptions, arc Italians. They form a peculiar and dis tinct class among the thousands who earn thfii*.4iYing ia -the streets of the great metropolis, J|nd the st&ry^ftf-their live?*a?d-work Baa a special interest. , Atfent^Tven-tenthsof^Uiem Hxein ^ott> I Baxter ancl Mulberry streets? while the j greater portions of the remainder are to be found in the Eighth Ward, especially _ on Thompson and Mercer streets. Aiiiohk themselves th?y are divided into i two classes, those that came |Or rather, that were sent) from Naples, and those that have lived at (Jenoa, Rome, Milan and other parts of Italy. The former are the lowest order of Italians, most of I ttiem having formerly been brigands and ex-convicts in their native lands, i from whence they were driven some few years ago by the order of Victor Emmanuel. The Neapolitans live on the block ir. Mulberry street,near the park,in I medium-sized, old-fashioned tenement | houses, in a state of wretchedness al- i most imposible to be described. Between five and six o'clock on sum- j mer and six and seven on winter morn- ? ings. the organ-grinders start forth on ! their musical mission. They go in all | directions?some traveling as far as i Harlem bridge in New York, and others ! going beyond Prospect park in Brook- ; lyn. Some go to New Jersey, :is far as towns j in Morris county, and even beyond, re- i turning the same day, late in the evening. Others go oft' during the summer on a tour through the country, not returning till the winter season. Those of this f class are occasionally found in Pennsy 1- ? vania or Massachusetts, and mention is I made of one who made a summer trip to England. They earn from sixty cents to ! $1.50 a day, never more than that these j times, though in former days $3 was the ' highest figure. They are very envious j of each other's success. If one more pru- j dent than the rest becomes rich and opens a store, they one and all shun him. ' "They try to break him," said a young ; Italian to me; "and if they tind they i cvn't break him, why, then they grad- j u vlly come around and patronize him." 1 Sunday attcrnoon is the only time you c.\n see the organ-grinders at the Hve I Points, unless you care to go there at i six o'clock in the morning or run the j risk of being robbed by lingering for their re',urn late in the evening. On i Sunday, if the day is line, you wil' find ! them standing in groups upon the street, | sharing the experiences of the week ? exchanging falsehoods would express it ; better, for they never give truthful ae- ! counts to each other. In the morning a ! few of them go to some Catholic church 1 in the lower part of the city, though, as I the sexton of one of these houses of wor- , ship remarked, they were of no account to get monov from. How it was as to ; religion he did not know. Later in the | attcrnoon and evening they may go out I visiting, thoso residing in the lower part ; of the city visiting their friendj in the Eighth ward, and rt'cc versa. They \ drink stale beer?the drainings of beer j kegs gathered up by another class of Italians early in the morning?at on* j cent a glass, and play cards "for the drinks" in the barrooms near their ? homes on Sunday afternoons. Their i children, if boys, work mostly at black- j ing boots. One man spoke with pride at ; having a son employed on a steamboat, i and another boasted of his hoy being 1 engaged at the Iloboken ferry. ( Hand-organs are generally made to 1 ' order, and cost, when now, from $85 to , $*200; the average price is $100. They j | play either eight or ten tunes. Second- | | hand organs can be had at from $30 to ' $70. The tunes are arranged '.iy means 1 i of pins on a cylinder, on the same prinei- j pie as that of the music-box. New tunes , can be put in at any time by pulling out the pins representing an old tune and i placing in new ones. A tune generally Lata K~r .1 t.lP. ' ' * J , lasts one year before the public tires of ' it. On the other hand, it has to he pretty well known before it can be made popular on the organ. "The Sweet By nnn-Bye" is the most popular tune at firosont in all parts of the country, while n the West many brgans have been set to Moody and Sankey airs.?Christian Union. Heroes in Journalism. Memphis presents 11 fresh example ol the faithfulness of the journalist. The city is literally dead, there is positively nothing doing in the way of business, yet the papers appear as regularly as j ever, ana it. lias, of course, never oe- j < urred to the editors to suspend puhli- ! cation, and, like the merchants of the i place, close their establishments. Cer- ! tainly they go on at a loss, for all the i sources of their profits are shut. The I newspaper is ever tite bust to succumb. j If its office burn down, it is out the next | morning with "a full account of ttie | conflagration." The fires which dc- i stroyed Chicago and Roston only ! scorched the newspapers, though their ! buildings were laid low. Ijie war ; record of the Memphis Avalanchc can not be forgotten?now it. carried its ! presses from point to point as the I'nion armies advanced, and printed its edition i everywhere and anywhere, but always i somewhere. The religion of the jour- i naiist is his trade. To him it is a sin to i fly from his desk at. the appearar.ee of j danger. Like the general at the head of ! his army, he would be forever disgraced i in his own eyes if the enemy, coming in j what shape it. might, did not find him j in command. The income of the Mem- | phis editor stops, but his expenses od not. He fights for others aim pays for tho privilege. lie urges courage. He U so little frightened by Yellow .Jack i that he takes him by the buttonhole and I laughs with him. He tells his fellow j citizens never t<> lose hope. He sifts i out the truth from the wild stories fly- I ing about, and kills despair by show- ! ing how tilings could lie a great deal j worse than they are. 1I? points i gleefully to the luture, and declares that Memphis must and will recover | her old-time prosperity. Imagine, it you can, Memphis in this hour of its j sore trial without its press. Think ot ' the ravages of the dead visitor, unre- i orded, with only the alarmed people i o tell one another who still lived; ! with the whole world silent, with no word of encouragement to reach the ' public ear.?l'hiUulclphia Times. The Irish Language. In a paper recently read before the ' Statistical Society, Mr. Ravenstcin states , that the ('?1 tic portion of the population of the Hritish Isles makes a total of nearly '2,'200,000 souls, of whom nearly' one lm'f are Welsh. Further, we &,ie told that in 1HM there were few Irbh counties in which the old language' had altogether died out ; the localities in | which Irish was then spoken makes a total area of nearly 10,000 square miles, with a population not far under l,.r?00, 000, of whom M M per cent, spoke Irish, while in IH7I the Irish area had sunk be low 0,000 s<|Uarc miles, with a popula tion under <500.000 of whom anout 03 per cent., or considerable less than 400. 000, spoke Irish only. Lastly, It appears that probably not, 5.000 persons t hrough out Ireland were then able to read an Irish book, and not a single Irish news paper was Iving published. This con | trusts Ftronifly with the Welsh, who print over thirty newspapers and period icals of variou" kinds, while the Welsh in America have several flourishing I newspaper-! end hold eisteddfods without I number in the country of their adoption. Wo have no statistics of the Celtic ele | ment. in North America, though it is | well known to be considerable, but. so far as concerns the Irish portion of it, there would be no great, error in suppos ing that the Irish language loses ground among the emigrant* much faster than among those |ef!, behind in Ireland. A rare and enormous orang-outang, a widower, is the most recent arrival at Paris. His wife died soon after they woi'o caught In Borneo, and all his af fection i? now concentrated on their Hon. Tho father i? described as the per* 8onlfloiv(lrm of melancholy. Thrill lug Incident la a BtoUaui'i Life. The New York Herald has * sketch of the life of Count Andrassy, one of the foremost European statesmen and un til recently the Austrian Prime Minister. We quote from the I/emld'a article: It was at Zemlin, Hungary, that Julius Andraaay was born. March 8, l?a3. He received a good Horary education and traveled extensively in connection with Ins father's industrial pursuits. But commerce ill suited his tastes, and early he tvbandoniHi it for. literature and poli lu'8- At the age ol twenty-four (1847) he wft&aUpady acknowledged as one of the best otntnrs in tho Hungarian landtag. At tho time when?the Austrian yoke becoming more and more intolerable? j tho rebellion of the Magyars broke out he wiis appointed a member of the Gov- | rerunent of National Defence. Hungary' soon needed, however, soldiers rather j than diplomats, and then Andrassy abandoned the pen for the sword. In'- I vi <ted with a military command he gal lantly fought the enemies of his coun- 1 try in several battles, and was one of the I last to retire before the Russian invaders After the battle of Kazolna, the Mag- ! yarn. completely routed by the over whelming forces ol Sehlica.wore fleeing I or their hves. Several ollieers. among whom were Andrassy. exhausted with a I long march, decided to halt for the night ! !it a deserted farmhouse which happened : to be on their route. The snow wits fall- I ing in thick, ho;ivy tlnkos. No sound i was heard but that of the violins and " cymbals ?' of he Bohemians who ! played their me.aneholy molodi s in the i i-amj) of the Honveds a little way ofl'. ' Little by little the iuu.de died away, ami every one had fallen asleep, when sud- I lienly a terrible noise of human voices 1 and the report of muskets awoke the fu gitive ofticers. Sonic of them took un their arms and immediately rushed for the door. Andrassy was still sleeping when two Bohemians and a few Honveds ! filtered the loom, crying. " Beware, be- i ware! the Croats are coining. We are | betrayed!" Andrassy started from his I coue.i and wanted t'? go and ioin his companions in the light. Readily recog- J nized by one of tho. two players, Ratno- ] ney by name, he was entreated not to venture to pass the threshold, as the t I roats in great numbers were within a few yards'distance. "Takeoft vour uni- I form, cried the Bohemian to the Count, I Cise you are lost. It is too late to go anywhere. ,Tano>h," added he. turning | to his fellow player. " help the Count to take ofl' his uniform." But Janosh. having gone to the window to explore ' whether there was any chance of escape j from that side, was struck in the breast I by a bullet and fell dead to the floor. I Rameney seemed to hesitate a minute, as 1 though grief would overcome him. But ! quickly controlling iiis emotion he hast- 1 ily divested the Count of his uniform, j ftI)d helped him to put on his overcoat. Irko?take this,else you are lost!" he was wildly tolling the Count; " have no fear on liiv account; they will do no harm to a poor Bohemian like myself." Before Andrassy had fullv recovered ' his wits Rameney had forced the violin i into the hands of his protege, and com- ' polled him to kneel bv the dead hotly of j Janosh. Rameney had also kneeled" by ! his dead friend and begun to play furious- j ly on the " cymbal " that he had taken I from the latter's hand, still crying to tho count. "Play, play, on the violin!" which Andrassy, in fact, tried to do Meanwhile a handful of Austrians ! rushed in and were momentarily aston- ' ished at the sight of the strange group. "What are you doing there!"* thun dered the Austrian oflicor. " We are playing a farewell air to our friend, v/hon you have killed, though he had harmed no one. We were on the road to Pesth when the Honveds arrested us and obliged us to play for them." "(Jet up, you wretch!" replied the officer, not without adding strength to his words by a kick, "and come with us. I Guard these two men as prisoners," lie subsequent ly added, t urning to a sergeant by his side. , -The real player and occasional mu sician were surrounded by the Croats and compelled to move. Tho party had hardly reached the door when the sol diers began to torment Count Andrassy by saying, " Huzd. ra cztgani,/" (play oh the violin). It was the count's good luck that the sharp music of muskets and guns begin ning anew diverted the attention ofliis escort from his barbarous playing. The vault of the sky soon echoed with the cry, " Elcjtn a Nani" (hurrah for the fatherland). They wore the Hungarian Hussars and the Zatiini regiment, who j had come to the rescue of the Honveds. Tho Croats took to flight, unmindful of their prisoners. On reaching the camp Count Andrassy handsomely rewarded tho Bohemian who had so generously saved his life, and heartily shaking hands with him, "Here." ho said, "you inust teach nio how to play on the violin, in order that Imay be able to make the Austrians dance. .Singular Facts About Elephant*. The extent to which tlie elephant can he trained is remarkable. A letter from I a lia, describing the habits of the huge beast, says: lie will lift the largest teak logs?and teak is among the heaviest, of woods?and arrange them in piles. He will push a log with his foot against the saw and carry the Hawed wood in his tusks or his trunk. In all these ma neuvtTH he is directed by the mahout, who sits on his neck and manages him with a goad, or, more generally, with the worn of mouth. Sometimes an ele phant is so wild and untamable as to be dangerous, and yet lie will serve bis masters. We saw one animal pushing logs about who bad killed four or five of i the workmen, lie was kept in order hy I a lad who carried a sharp spear, keep- j ing tlie spear always near the elephant's eye. The spear was little more than a moral inlluenec. If the elephant really wished to attack his keepers a spear would be of little use beyond a stall or two. The memory of these stabs, how ever, was as effective to the elephant as chains or thongs, and lie rolled his logs about in the most unconcerned manner. The manner in which the elephant kills his victim is to rush upon and trample him, or throw him in the air with the trunk and trample him when lie falls. The animal has immense power in his trunk and delicacy and precision in touch, as well us crushing strength. It, will pick up a banana or a wisp of grass as surely as a log. There is no efficient way ??f punishing I the elephant "Xcept by the aid of the) other elephants, A few days beloro we came to Rangoon one of the animals de murred to l?o 011 a boat. Two others were marched up, and, under the direc tion (if the mahout, they pounded the resisting animal with their trunks until, for bis life's sake, he was glad to embark. Klcphants learn t be ways of civilized labor. When the bell rings for dinner he will drop his log and march away. If he has lieen trained to rest on Sunday nn power can make him work 011 the seventh day. A Warm Reception. Douglass Hurts and Thomafl Sweeney, t wo young men living three miles west of I>anviVle, lib. being in that town, tilled their kegs full of whisky and started in a wagon for home. On their route they passed the house of Jacob Swindall, Jr., son of a well-to-do farmer. IvirK had previously had somO difficulty with young Swindall, and, after consultation with Sweeney, they concluded l o attack Mr. Swindall's bouse. They prepared themselves each with a wagon single-tree, and Karts commenced at the front, door, while Sweeney proceeded to the rear and be gun his attack. Mr. Swindall, to keep ois children from being hurt, put them j under the bed, and about, that time the i attacking party, having demolished all it.be windows, Karts Inirsted the front i door open and attempted to enter, when Swindall shot him in the breast, and he j died in a very few minutes. Word being ' sent to the city, an oftlcer proceeded to ! the scene aud arrested both Swindall I and Sweeney. The next, morning at the | coroner's iimuest, Swindall was dis ! charged, as it. was clearly proven lie I acteu in self-defence. Sweeney w:u? I committed to tho county jail for trial. The BuqtM. The Basques, ?ay? a New York paner, are in many respect* the moat peoullar people dwelling in civilisation, ofwhkh they really form no part, ior centuriee they have underwne very little change, bein* scarcely affected by revolutionii or prorreea. of any kind. They number about 800,000, 130,000 bein* citiwns of France, but the bulk and tue most dis tinctive of them occupying the Basque provinces in Spain?Biscay. Guipuisooa and A lava. There is no recordI of^their over having been subdued. Carthagini ans, Romans, Goths, Saracens, Freroh tuen, or Spaniards have neror oflaeed their marked traits, corrupted lueputui of their race, or even modi tied Jiuir time honored customs. They are of medium size, compact of frame, singularly vigor ous and agile. having lignt-gray cy^?? him k hair, and complexions darker than tin' Spaniards. Simple in manners ana character, they are proud and impotu ous. determined and fiery patriots, and merry, social and hospitable withal. The women aro comely and strong, eap able of. and oiten doing, masculine work, are notable for vivacity, suppleness and grace. and wear gay head-dresses over their variously braided and twisted locks. Both sexes are exceedingly fond of games, festivals, music and dancing. The national costume is a red jacket, long breeches, red sash, square-knotted cravat, hempen shoes and pointed cap. Their manners are patriarchal, and their habits also. While the sexes mingle without restraint, they are very moral, and marriage vows are religiously kept. Their soil is fertile, and the Basques aro so industrious that they produce good crops generally, notwithstanding their primitive agriculture. '1 hey are. tically, democrats, the condition of all hnin>c very nosirly cqiuil. ivs tlio nobility? whe ?ierived their origin mainly trom tlie Moors, are very lew. Thoy |*?.ve very few towns or villages, their habita tions being scattered over most of the heights of the three provinces, rolitl callv, they are divided into districts, each of which chooses an alcalde, who is both a civil and military ollicer, and a member of the Junta meeting annually in some one of the towns to deliberate upon public affairs. The alcaldes are always men of age and experience, and fathers of families. The Basques rights are protected by written constitutions (furros,) grantee! them by ancient Span ish kings. They are Roman Catholics; have (rreat reverence for priests and monks", and are inclined to superstition. They are supposed to bo the last remnant of the old Ibernians, and have ever pre served an exalted reputation for courage among their native mountains. They were the Cantabri of the Romans, who admired them for their sturdy defence ol liberty, and are alluded to by Horace as a people very hard to teach to bear the voke." Centuries later, thoy fell, in the renowned deities of Roncevalles. upon Charlemagne and his army when return ing to Franco, slew his bravest palladine, and compelled him to lly for his life. Kusealdunac is the name the Basques give themselves, and their country thoy call Euscaleria. They are prouder even tiian the Spaniards, and the mere fact of being born in their district secures tho privileges of universal nobility. An Ambulance Tor Accidents in New York. The following extract is from an arti cle entitled " Hospital Work in Now \ ,rk," published in the onening num ber of the Springfield (M iss.) monthly. (iond Company : Suddenly aloud-toned bell, audible throughout the building, strikes four, and the gates aro opened for a white ambulance, which a moment later is pulled up before the main en trance. "Surgical," a voice mutters half unconsciously behind us. and look ing around we see a patient. ''*our, strokes for surgical, three for medical, lie explains, and it is by the bell that the ward attendants are forewarned of the nature of ambulance cases. The ambulance is used in nearly all cases of street accidents, some cases of disease and many cases of violent ine briety. It can be summoned by tele graph from any police station, or from any alarm box of the fire department, by tapping tlio Morse key twenty times and sound in p; tho box number, It Is fa miliar in all localities and at all hours~ a covered wagon with a neatly uni formed -surgeon sitting behind. ~v.er sixteen hundred cases are attended by the ambulances of Bellovuo in a year, and two surgeons arc constantly cm ?nlov''d in the service, responding to call's day and night. The alarm is re ceived in the telegraph ofiice on the ttrst lloor of the hospital, and thence trans mitted simultaneously to the stableBand the room of the surgeons, where it is an nunciated by nine resonant strokes on a small gong. No matter how active the doctor is, the vehicle is usually at the door before he is at the bottom of tho stairs, and lie lias to spring for his soat behind as it rolls out of the hospital yard. It is constructed on a plan to ininimize pain in carrying a sufferer to ihe hospital for permanent treatment, and the surgeon lias with him instru ments and appliances for giving tempo rary alleviation, such as splinting and binding a fracture, or sewing up a wound. , When wo reach the yard a spring mat tress moving on castor wheels has been withdrawn from the bottom of the am bulance, and placed in a slanting posi tion between the tail-board and tlio ground. Under the patient, who is covered with blankets, and over the mattress, is a canvas stretcher with tubes along the sides, into which the at tendants Insert long poles, and the case" is thus carried to a cot or into tlio surgery without any necessary exertion or moving on his part. Tho ambulance surgeon is a brisk, business-like young man. and having transferred tho case to the house surgeon, who is now responPi bblo for it, and given a few particulars to the clerk, lie bounds up stairs to wait for another call Hysteria and Miraculous Cure*. Speaking of the case of a wnmiin it Iloboken, N. J., who claUtfs to linvo been mi itculously ?lived of paralysis of the lower limlmn'ii New York paper nay* it "points directly to the hypothesis that the case was one of those interesting in stances of hysterical palsy which delight the expert in nerrolls dise.'iscs but arc a vexation and a puzzle to the general practitioner- Hysterlahas been described as tlie dramatic artist of pathology, simu lating all the discascn in the calendar. Watson tells of a ease of gastric. hemor rhage, treated hy him in whicli the patient, vomited Incredible quantities! of blood daily, but did not emaciate. She recovered spontaneously. Sir Charles Hell was deceived by a mock ease ofhip jnint disease, and did not discover his mistake until, while he was deliveringsi clinical lecture to his pupils on I lie limb, the \01111" woman went ??IT in a hysteri cal lit and spoiled the point of bis dis course. Scores of young women, says an eminent medical authority, ire annu ally treated for disease of the spine, and confined for months and vears in a hori zontal posture, when nothing whatever ails them but hysteria, and the supposed spinal disease is pure licfion. Dr. Hright tells of a case of hysterical palsy of the lower limbs, exactly similar to that ol Mrs. !>avlr.? of Iloboken, which he at tended for nearly a year without benefit. The woman finally recovered spontane ously under the influence of a deep reli gious impression. The case of the poet Kouthey's mother is a classical one of the same kind. More interesting still are the cases of hysterical catalcpsy| and ecstasy, coupled with strange trances,in which the spirit-world is revealed, that, occasionally comes under the observation of medical men. A profound Impression was created among physicians in Brook lyn and New York c,ty. not long ago. by the wonderful story of a young girl sub ject to such tinncs in consequence of nervous shock and injury received when unite young. It is scarcely necessary to discuss at length the knotty question's of science raised ny such cases, but it tuny he observed in passing, in the Words ol mi eminent professor in the Uoyal Cob lege of Physicians and Surgeons, I>on I don. that, the alleged miracle invariably ! disappearsonclose investigation, leaving j bchlng a aad history of hysterlaor a very j unpleasant ieeord of imposture."