STx
YOL. IV. NO. 28
In the harden.
Still is the garden?still and sweet;
The flowers are dreaming at my feet:
Heart, who calleth me ?
Some Toioe that sighs for very bliss,
Some joy I fain would ran to kiss :
Heart, who calleth me ?
There is no soand of bird or bees,
No low wind stirring in the trees :
Heart, who calleth me ?
The chang'mg river, as it flows,
Scarce breaks the deeply lolled repose:
Heart, who calleth me ?
What wandering spirit sweetly sways
And roles my dreams, bot never says,
Heart, who calleth me ?
I blosh, I tremble to its spell,
I know it not; wilt thoo not tell,
Heart, who calleth me ?
Then, voioe, reveal thyself, I pray ;
Give fancy form, and fondly say,
44 Sweet, love calleth thee."
Ob, rose ! Oh, sea! Oh, sky above !
Echo these long-sooght tones of love:
44 Sweet, love calleth thee !"
WHO WAS THE COWARD ?
. " Ton lie!"
The speaker was Norman Webb, a
burly built, fashionably dressed young
man, who had come to college to spend
his father'8 money, and do as little work
and have its good a time as possible.
The words were addressed to Allen
Ward; the provocation being an expression
of opinion by the latter touching a
recent hazing affair planned and headed
by Norman Webb.
Allen's eyes flashed, and his handsome
face flushed, as with clenched fists
he made a step toward his insnlter.
Every fiber of him was at its utmost
tension, and every nerve tingled. It
would not have been well for Norman
Webb, big and strong as he was, had the
two encountered at that momeDt. liut,
as if suddenly recalling himself, Allen
stopped.
" I repeat my words," said Norman
Webb, insolently?"yon lie!?and
more?it is not the province of a beggar
to criticise the conduct of a gentleman
J"
A tinge of the flash which had left
Allen's face came back at these words,
but disappeared on the instant, and
turning from the crowd of students,
who had heard them, he walked calmly
away.
"The coward!" more than one ifiuttered.
Allen Ward had a widowed mother
and a sister dependent on him. At
school he had woia prize scholarship
which gave him his college tuition free;
and by teaching in vacations, and giving
lessons out of college hours, he was
managing to scrape along till he oould
enter toe profession he had set his heart
on.
The discipline of the institution was
strict. A blow was ground for expulsion.
To resent Norman Webb's insult
as he felt impelled to do at the moment,
he knew would lead to his prompt dismissal,
and he had not the means to
enter another college. He thought of
his mr ther and sister, and of the career
he had planned. He could not afford to
sacrifice all these to gratify a passing resentment.
But the effort his self-restraint
oost was little appreciated by
those who called him " coward."
To " give the lie," at that day in that
community, was regarded either as the
signal for a blow, or the precursor of a
summons to deadly combat. To take it
tamely was a thing not to be tolerated
among gentlemen. Personal difficulties
had become so common among the students
of the college, that the new president
had determined to use the severest
measures to repress them. Among his
rules was one that a blow, or other act
of violence, except in strictest self-defense.
should be punished by summary
expulsion.
But college law could not change public
sentiment; and it is not probable
that Allen Ward, with all his patienoe,
would have brooked so gross an insult
from sheer motives of obedienoe. Indeed,
could he have foreseen all?that
his former companions would shun him,
and even Mabel Gray would turn away
her head when they met?it may be
doubted if all restraints wouid not have
failed, and Norman Webb's insult been
met with quick resentment.
It was plain that everybody thought
Allen a ooward, Mabel Gray among the
rest, and this hurt him most. He and
she had long been friends ; and he had
secretly looked forward to a time when
he might declare to her a sentiment
more tender than that of friendship.
Now, she not only turned her back upon
him, but begun to tolerate the attentions
of Norman Webb, whom she had, before
slighted.
One night an alarm of fire was heard
in the village. Everybody ran in the
direction of a blazing light which shone
out against the sky.
"It's Mr. Gray's house!" shouted
those who first approached the scene.
A ViAo.rt.rAn din or sneetftnlA met the
sight of the crowd that quickly qpsembled.
The flames were blazing from
the roof and bursting from mos't o * the
windows. Old Mr. Gray, a helpless
invalid, who had escaped from one of
the lower apartments, stood wringing
his hands, and beseeching the spectators,
in piteous accents, to save bis daughter,
who, pale and terror stricken, leaned
from the window of an upper chamber,
whence a leap to the ground would be
certain death.
Men ran in seirch of Udders, but
foand none, and every moment made
the chance of rescue still more difficult.
" Mr. Webb ! JUr. Webb! will not you
save her ?" appealed the frantic father,
laying his trembling hand on Norman
Webb's arm.
"The attempt would be madness."
the latter answered; "the staircase is
wrapped in flames, and no one can
reach that chamber save at the peril of
his life."
With a piercing shriek Mabel fell back
faintiDg from the window.
Norman Webb made a movement as if
to enter the door, but recoiled at the
sight of the fiery path before him, and
stood aghast and helpless. His burly
form was brushed aside like a feather
^NDAj
>
>
by on? who shot past, and darted up
the blazing stairway with the speed of
on arrow.
The daring act filled the crowd with
amazement, which had not time to abate
before tJie intrepid stranger reappeareu
on the burning steps, now crumbling
under his fcet, bearing in his arms the .
insensible form of Mabel Gray, carefully
wrapped from head to foot. His
hat pulled over his face", partly shielded
it from the sheet of flame through which, i
amid encouraging shouts, he once more
forced his way, and a wild cry of exul- ,
tation rose when Mabel was safely
placed in her father's arms. Then came *
three times three of the wildest cheers
for Allen Ward, when the stranger raised {
his hat and revealed his seared and blis- j
tered face.
" Who is the coward now ?" he exclaimed,
as he sunk exhausted to the ]
ground.
No one ever called him that name !
again; and Mabel, we are sure, never
thought his face less handsome for the i
scars it bore on her account.?Ledger.
======^=^======== i
The Bad Boy. j
" This said boy," began Bijah, as he j
led out a youth of thirteen, "did, to
wit, viz.; Throw a stone and smash a :
pane of glass on Howard street, all of
which he says he will never do again." J
"Smashing glass, eh?" queried the J
court. "Well, the law will have to
smash him, I'm afraid."
"I haven't got any dad!" whispered 1
rimVor/vl I ^
bliV pXXOUUUl} niuiu uio vuxu ^luvv/ivu
and his teeth knocked together.
"That's nothing to do with breaking
glass, my son. You have no more right
to throw stones and smash glass than a
boy with three or four fathers and a
sohoolhouse full of aunts and uncles."
"She slipped!" continued the lad, J
while a big tear gathered in his left eye.
" Why do you and other boys prowl c
8round the world throwing stones?" de- 8
manded his honor. "Why is it that a
boy can heave a club or throw a stone
when he 's so mortal tired that he can't
walk half a block to do an errand." <
"I was only throwing at a yaller t
bird," protested the prisoner, his light 1
eye also filling up. {
"That makes the offense ten times a
worse," shouted the court. " What do c
you wart to hurt a yaller bird, or red g
bird, or any other kind of bird for? 1
You ought to be tied up in a square c
package, labeled *A bad boy,' and a
placed on a shelf in the workhouse for e
six months." 1
"I can't go there?I have to take care 1
of a horse! was the boy's very solemn c
answer. f
Looking over the warrant again, his f
honor continued: i
" Boy, be careful! If you smash any t
more glass in this town you'Jl miss half c
a dozen- circuses and all the ferry boat i
excursions. You'll sigh for home when e
the sun rises, and you'll weep and a
lament when the sun goes down. Go i
home to your mother, and go and feed c
that horse, and for the next year you c
want to walk around Detroit as if there i
were egg3 under your feet." i
Bijah let the lad out by the private i
door, gave him a lot of orange peel to g
stay his stomach until he could get home \
to break fast, and patting him on the e
head remarked: t
"Don t heave any more stuns at the c
gentle yaller birds. Birds has rights, a
or the Lord would have made geeBe of g
tnem."? JJetroxt free rress. i
1
The Western Greaser.
The greaser is the most striking anomaly
one meets in his Western tour.
To look at him, says a writer, you must
conclude that he was evolved, like the
mule, by the exigencies of border life.
My theo ry of his genesis is simple. He
is a modification of the Indian. Civilization
has never been able to utilize the
redskin. A beneficent government has
offered him every induoexent to mingle
himself with, the Anglo-Saxon stock in a
proper American manner. It has provided
him with improved arms and asked
him to give up his warlike games and
till the soil. It sends him absolute alcohol
and missionaries, it pays him money
and lets him take his choice, and he remains
Indian to the last man of a vanquished
tribe, dying in the county jailj
drunk to his toe nails, but Indian still.
The greaser is Indian minus everything
that makes the Indian admirable. He
is a utilized barbarian. He drives an
army wagon with stolid fideMty. He
rides a mule with the stony indifference,
and much more of the grace, of an average
Washington statue. If you look
narrowly under his long, matted, black
hair into his little Mexican eyes, you
will not be able to detect his pedigree,
but you will see the dull, low cunning '
of the primitive man, the high carnivor- ]
ou8 jaw of the brute, and that vacuity of 1
mind which marks the abstnce of will 1
and the domination of an unconscious 1
nervous system. He is the same animal
that he was when the Santa Fe trail was 1
laid out: in 1822. With the ultimate ]
abandonment of the army wagon he will 1
probably disappear?at least from Colorado.
English Aquariums. i
The great aquarium, which was opened
at Brighton, England, three years ago,
is a low edifice, 715 feet long by 100
wide, of Italiau architecture, and cost 1
with its ground $750,000 in gold. The '
revenue from admissions and annual
subscriptions for 1875 amounted to more
than $106,000 in gold. i he next most
popular aquarium in England is the one
at the Crystal Palace, and another large
one is nearly finished adjoining the Parliament
buildings on the banks of the i
Thames in Westminster. Three acre3 i
of ground have been purchased at a cost
of $400,000, and the building will cost
$440,000. It will include a concert hall
and reading room beside the aquarial
department. Manchester has an aquarium
building 150 feot in length and
seventy-two feet in width, which contains
sixty-eight tanks, including the
deep sea, tidal and fresh water groups,
containing 300,000 gallons of water.
Here and at the Crystal Palace the sea
water is not constantly renewed as at
Brighten, but is kept pure by circulation,
and only as much distilled water is
added as is lost by evaporation. Indeed,
the water in both these aquariums
is said to be far cleaner and the fish to
be decidedly healthier than at Brighton.
POR'
RD A
BEAUFOET, S
THE NOTABLE BUILDINGS.
K Correnpoodent Tells Us what One Sees In
the Two Most Notable Buildings on the
Centcnnlnll CJronnds.
THE MAIN BUHjDING.
This building is the center of attraction,
and probably will be so long as the
Exhibition lasts. Here are grouped the
finest and most elegant articles displayad,
and all nations are here represented
cinder one roof. It is rich in decorations,
the nations and the individuals
rieing with each other in making their
exhibitions attractive. Great skill and
taste are displayed in the mere matter of
iecorations. Here Yankee cabinetmakers
lead the van. The goods in this
building are largely exhibited in oases
made for this special occasion, and in
these our exhibitors are ahead of the
whole world. Nothing in the way of
cabinet work can be more rich or more
tasteful than some of these. They are
unique in design and finish, and in
Riemselves are elegant specimens of
Fankee workmanship. These cases form
an attractive part of the display, differing
from each other widely in shape,
finish and color. In these are displayed
the richest and most valuable of the
American exhibits. The prinoipal publishing
houses are well and conspicuously
represented, being grouped in a sort
3f two-story nondescript kind of a structure,
which, if not describable, is at
least ornamental and contains much useful
material. Ohina, glass and terra
x>tta ware abound; the display in this
fiass of goods being superb. Here, also,
? i__ j ~t
ire carpecs, soic ana aeucuw ui material,
o#(d rich in color; shelf hardware,
jotl^ry, silk goods, safe locks, and, in
?horl, samples of almost everything new
md novel, or rich and elegant. It is impossible
as yet to describe the display
py sections and divisions, or by nations
>r individuals, for some of the sections
ire yet unoccupied.
MACHINERY HALL.
Humanity delights in motion?in life,
>r the semblance of life. What attraction
is a stuffed giraffe or the hide of a
lippopotamus, filled with straw, com- ,
pared to the living, breathing, kicking ,
md snorting animals, all alive ? In ma- ,
shinery in motion all persons take a ,
;reat interest, and to-day, in Machinery |
lall, the ladies were as interested and
inrions spectators as the most mechanic- ,
Ily inclined man who did dnty as their
sscort. And well they might be, for j
lere is exhibited the mechanism which ,
las conquered the world. Here is ma- i,
shinery the most ponderous and powerul,
the most complex and delicate? ;
rom the immense engine, which furlishes
the power to drive the tons upon ,
ons of other machinery, to the complisated
and delicate little machine for
naking the minutest portions of watch- ,
ss, and manipulated by a lady. Here i
T.: T- _ j i_
urtj jxuii wurjtLiug iiittuuiues, wwu wurK- |
ng machines, sewing machines, ma
shines great and machines small, of all ,
sharacters and descriptions, which the
ngenuity of men of all nations could ,
nvent, all working with a precision and
egulanty suggestive of hue an intelligence.
The points of greatest attraction ,
rere where the printing presses were ,
striking off the daily newspapers. A ;
>and scroll sawing machine attracted a
srowd all the time. It is manipulated by i
s very dexterous workman, who is a ,
jenius in his way, with a lively streak of <
mmor running through him. From ,
ittle square blocks of wood he sawed i
>ut the most intricate puzzles, made
>yeglasses, toy chairs, and a hundred
>ther trinkets, to the astonishment of
ill beholders. A loom at work weaving
mspenders was a novelty to many, as
ras the knitting machine, which was
engaged in knitting the body of an unlershirt
a mile long. At least it would
ye a mile long, if they didn't cut it up
n shirts of the regulation shortness, and
jossessing, in consequence, all the unjomfortableness
which regulation unlersliirts
habitually possess. A watch
company has machinery erected for the
complete manufacture of watches, and
t was pleasant to note that the mashines,
a dozen or more different kinds,
vere all worked by women. There are
ndications that there is to be a renewal
>f hostilities between the sewing ma- |
shine men; a lively competition has
jprung up among them in the matter of
lisplay, and I should judge that every .
rind of sewing machinery ever invented
is here exhibited. At the south end of ;
the building there is an immense tank,
into which competing force pumps throw
water and suck it out again. As there
ire a great many of these, and as each
raises the water some twenty feet, forcing
it through pipes, from which it falls
back into tbe tank, we have quite a
number of artificial water falls. In this
building there are exhibited also a variety
of steam fire engines, bright in
polished brass or nickel plate; fire extinguishers,
railroad locomotives, ponderous
machines for rolling railroad
iron, giant marine engines, and every
class of machinery which makes anything.
Some of these machines seem to
know more than the average man, and
why shouldn't they, when the intelligence
of superior men has entered into
their construction ? Machinery hall will
require some little time to give it completeness,
but already it is far enough
advanced to assure the visitor that man,
at least, can fix no limit to the capacity
of intelligence.
How She Felt.
When told that she evinced perfect
self-possession when she made her first
appearance on the Stage in Boston as an
aotress, Anna Dickinson replied:
" Oh, yes, but I did not feel it. I had
nothing like stage fright, and my audience
did not trouble me. I am too well
used to them. But mv surroundings
were so strange, my clothesweresonew,
and I had such a sense of them; then
when I lecture I have everything my
own way, the platform is clear, and I
go where I will. But here it is different.
I would start on some quick impulse
and suddenly find a human opposing
my way, or I would become painfully
aware of a chair or table, and it
was such a shock to my enthusiasm, like
a cold water p* \ When I get accustomed
to other' presence and to the
stage accessories 1 shall be much rnoi o
free in action.
F RO'
lND <
I
. C., THURSDAY,
Devil 1 ancing in India.
It is an extremely difficult thing, says
a traveler, for a European to witness a
devil danee. A a a rnle. he must flro dis
gnised, and he mast be able to speak the
language like a native before he is likely
to be admitted without suspicion into
the charmed circle of fascinated devotees,
each eager to press near the possessed
priest to ask him questions about
the future while the divine afflatus is in
its full force upon him. Let me try
once more to bring the whole soene
vividly before the reader. Night, starry
and beautiful, with a broad low moon
seen through palms. A still, solemn
night, with few sounds to mar the
silence, save the deep, muffled boom of
breakers bursting on the coast full eight
miles distant. A lonely hut, a huge
solitary banyan tree, grim and gloomy.
All round spread interminable^ sands,
the only vegetation on whioh is composed
of lofty palmyran and a few stunted
thorn trees and wild figs. In the
midst of this wilderness rises, specter
like, that aged enormous tree, the banyan,
haunted by a most ruthless she
devil. Cholera is abroad in the land,
and the natives know it is she who has
sent them the dreaded pestilence. The
whole neighborhood wakes to the determination
that the malignant power must
be immediately propitiated in the most
solemn and effectual manner. The appointed
night arrives; out of village and
hamlet and hut pours the wild crowd of
men and women and children. In vain
the Brahmins tinkle their bells at the
neighboring temnle: the DeoDle know
O ? O x / A &
what they want, and the deity which
they mnst reverenco as supreme just
now. On flows the crowd to that gloomy
island in the star-lit waste?that weircf,
hoary baDyan. The circle is formed;
the Are is lit; the offerings are got
ready?goats and fowls, and rice and
pulse and sugar, and ghee and honey,
and white ohaplets of oleander blossoms
and jasmine buds. The tom-toms are
beaten more loudly and rapidly, the
hum of rustic converse is stilled, and a
deep hufth of awe-stricken expectancy
h61ds the motley assemblage. ^ Now the
low, rickety door of the hut is quickly
dashed open. The devil daneer staggers
out. Between the hut and the ebon
shadow of the sacred banyan lies a strip
of moonlit sand, and as he passes this
the devotees can plainly see their priest.
He is a tall, haggard, pensive man, with
deep sunken eyes and matted hair. His
forehead is smeared with asnes and
there are streaks of vermillion and
saffron over his face. He wears a high,
conical cap, white, with a red tassel. A
long white robe, or angi, shrouds him
from neck to ankle. On it are worked in
red silk representations of the goddesses
of smallpox, murder and cholera.
Bound his ankles are massive silver
bangles. In his light hand he holds a
staff or spear that jingles harshly every
time the ground is struck by it. The
same hand also holds a bow, . which,
when the strings are pulled or struck,
emits a dull, booming sound. In his
left hand the devil priest carries his
sacrificial knife, shaped like a sickle,
with quaint devioes engraved on its
blade. The dancer, with uncertain,
staggering motion, reels slowly into the
center of the crowd, and then seats
himself. The assembled people show
him the offerings they intend to present,
but he appears wholly unconscious. He
croons an Indian lay in a low, dreamy
voice, with dropped eyelids and head
gunken on his breast. He sways slowly
to and fro. from side to side. Look !
Ton can see his fiDgers twitch nervously.
His head begins to wag in a strange,
ancanny fashion. His sides heave and
quiver, and huge drops of perspiration
exude from his skin. The tom-toms are
beaten faster, the pipes and reeds wail
out more loudly/ There is a sudden
Fell, a stunning cry, an ear piercing
3hriek, a hideous, abominable gobble
gobble of hellish laughter, and the
devil dancer has sprung to his feet, with
eyes protruding, mouth foaming, chest
beaving, muscles quivering, and outstretched
arms swollen and straining as
if they were crucified. Now, ever and
anon, the quick, sharp words are jerked
out of the saliva choked mouth?" I am
God! I am the true God 1" Then all
around him, since he and no idol is regarded
as the present deity, reeks the
blood of sacrifice. The devotees crowd
round to offer oblations and to solicit
answers to their questions. " Shall I
die of cholera during this visitation ?"
asks a gray haired farmer of the neighborhood.
"Oh, God, bless this child,
and heal it," cries a poor mother from
the adjoining hamlet, as she holds forth
her diseased babe toward the gyrating
priest. Shrieks, vows, imprecations,
prayers and exclamations of thankful
praise rise up, all blended together in
one infernal hubbub. Above all rise the
ghastly guttural laughter of the devil
dancer, and his stentorian howls?" I
am God 1 I am the only true God!"
He cnts and hacks and hews himself, and
not very nnfrequently kills himself there
and then. His answer to the queries put
to him are generally incoherent. Sometimes
he is sullenly silent, and some
times, while the blood from his self-inflicted
wounds mingles freely with that
of his sacrifice, he is most benign, and
showers his divine favors of health and
prosperity all round him. Hours pass
by. The trembling crowd stand rooted
to the spot. Suddenly the dancer gives
a great bound in the air; when he descends
he is motionless. The fisndish
look has vanished from his eyes. His
demoniacal laughter is still. He speaks
to this and to that neighbor quietly and
reasonably. He lays aside his garb,
washes his face at the nearest rivulet and
walks soberly home, a modest, well
conducted man.
A Change.?A young lady, in a class
studying physiology, made answer to a
question put, that in seven years a human
body became quite changed, so
that not a particle which was in it at the
commencement of the period would remain
at the close of it. "Then, Miss
L.," said the young tutor, "in seven)
years you will cease to be MissL."
"Why, yes, sir, I suppose so," said she,
very modestly, looking at the floor.
The demeanor of Dom Pedro is so
modest that a few shoddy snobs desire
to ape the Brazilian, and to pall them
Brazilian apes would be unjust in this
one instance.
"ST-AJLj
OoMIV
JUNE 15, 1876.
Where is the American Sailor?
At a meeting of the New York board
of aldermen to discuss the question of
the East river bridge, a ship captain
stated that it would cost $150and require
- - 1 -1 - 5 f_ 1 A. 1 * i?
a wnoie aay s wors to sena aown ine
topgallant masts of his ship, so that she
could pass under the bridge. Vessel
captains agree in asserting that the services
of professional riggers would be
required in order to perform that intricate
feat, and allege that only on board
naval vessels would it be possible to find
crews that could manage so abstruse an
affair without external aid. Commenting
on the above the Times says: Various
persons have been in the habit of
daily remarking during the last twenty
years that the sailor is becoming extinct.
The remark has thus lost some
of its novelty, but that the sailor has
finally and totally vanished has been
made suddenly apparent by the evidence
given before the aldermen. Not only
do captains of clipper ships confess their
inability to perform a simple task which
every able seaman ought to thoroughly
understand, but they actually refer to
the superior seamanship of the navy as
an admitted and notorious fact. It is
enough to make "Bully Waterman"
turn in his grave, and to wring, oven
without the aid of a spiritual medium,
indignant protests from the ancient
" shell-backs " and wild "packetarians"
who sleep in the Potter's Field. When
the Young America made her first voyage
?was it twenty-two or twenty-three i
years ago ??there was, perhaps, a liberal
minded mariner in the forecastle
who would have admitted that& sporadic
"sailor-man" might occasionally be
?ann/^ in IUa notttt Unf fVta i.'loo fViaf fVlO
iUUUU 1U VUU UrtTJj UUU VULXJ 1UO0 VUMV vuv
, average crew of a California clipper or
a Black Ball " slanghter-house " was not
superior in practiced seamanship to the
entire United States navy would have
beau resented as a crazy insult. Yet
here come the captains of our surviving
merchant marine and unblushingly announce
that oniy in the navy can be
found sailors who can send down a topgallant
mast. There is now no room for
doubt as to the extinction of the sailor.
He is absolutely and completely gone,
and it is a pity that Mr. Sterne is now
in a situation where he cannot " drop the
tear of sensibility" over the grave of
the last sailor man.
Trying Two Professions.
There was once a skillful doctor in
New Ycrk, says the Sun, who spent his
leisure hours in learning to paint pictures.
He became so expert as an artist
that his works attracted notioe, and his
name got into the newspapers. But his
patients begun to drop off soon after it
became known that he was a painter.
They seemed to lose confidence in the
medical skill of a practitioner who gave
his mind to pictures. In a year or two
his office was totally deserted by patients,
and he found himself high and '
dry as a doctor. Fortunately, he was !
by that period able to make his living at
his easel, for which he now had all his '
time; and when he died, not long ago, 1
he was one of the most celebrated and '
successful artists in the country. He !
used to say that nothing was so ruinous to
the practice of a physician as a repu- 1
tation in any line of activity outside of 1
his profession; and he always advised 1
his medical friends to take warning by j
his experienoe, and conceal from tneir '
patients any talents that did not strictly '
belong to their business. There is a
rumpus in one of the churches of New
"-.v. n-.i i 3
xora mat uuu iw un^ui m wo amoupu
of the clergyman to cany on two pro- j
fessions. Mr. Campbell had studied j
medicine as well as theology; he had
"Rev." before his namo, and "M. D."
after it. Some of his people found out _
that he not only preached seligion, but '
practiced " doctoring around," and that
he not only drew the salary of his pu1- 1
pit, but the fees of his patients. They !
begun to fly from his church; those who 1
remained fell into dissension, and some 1
time ago they reduced his salary to a |
merely nominal sum?which incidents
have brought his case before the courts :
of his denomination. He will have to
give up one of his two professions, as 1
the artist whom we have mentioned had 1
to do.
Karnes of Counties.
Of the 1,141 counties in the United 1
States, more are named after Washing- '
ton than any other President of the
United States, the number being twentynine.
The names of the other Presidents
represented by counties occur as
follows: Jefferson, twenty three; Jackson,
twenty-one ; Madison, nineteen ;
Monroe, eighteen; Lincoln, seventeen;
Grant and Polk, twelve each; Johnson,
eleven; Harrison, nine; Adams, eight;
Taylor, seven; VanBtiren, four; Pierce,
four; Buchanan, three; and Fillmore and
Tyler, two eacii. 111 many cases, cowever,
iu the above list counties were not
named after the Presidents, bat the selection
of a name was influenced by local
considerations. There are twenty-two
counties named after Franklin, twenty
after Colfax, seventeen after Marion,
two* after Fremont, three after Greeley,
one after Hendricks, eight after Benton
and Boone, nine after Cass, Marshall
and Putnam, fourteen after Carroll,
eleven after Douglas, and eighteen after
Montgomery. The names of almost all
of the Revolutionary heroes except Arnold
are represented in the list.
His Teaching.
A student who went to Agassiz at
; Penikese has published an account of
| his experience with this teacher. He expected
a lecture or a formal lesson, but
got nothing of the kind. The professor
gave him a fish, and told him to look at.
it. He looked a long time, reported
progress, and was told to keep on looking,
and so from time to time. He looked
till he got heartily tired of the flsh, but
was astonished when he found what a
number of things he had learned about
it that he had not dreamed of when he
began, and that books would never have
told him. Most of all, he learned how
to study the next object that should fall
under his eyes. The point of the lesson,
the central idea of the teaching of
Agassiz, was that the object of instruction
was to teach him to observe. What
was to be observed was a matter of inferior
importance. The humblest object,
with proper study, would yield a
rich reward in knowledge.
IERCI
$2.00 per 4
REPEATING A LEGEND.
The Story of the Baheo la the Wood Nearly
Verified In Boflulo.
One Sunday, says the Buffalo Express,
a little boy and girl, named Heitrich,
aged respectively seven and nine
years, left their home in the city to go
to Sabbath-school. The hours wore on
until late in the evening, and the children
failed to return home. The parents
grew alarmed and inaugurated a search
for them. They made every effort to
ascertain their whereabouts, but without
avail. .It was simply known that
they started homeward horn Sabbath
- - - - -J 11
school, but uo further trace 01 uiom
could be obtained. The night settled
down dark, and the agonized parents
became wild with grif f. The neighbors
were appealed to and did all in their
power to find some clew to the missing
ohildren, but in vain.
The little ones had mistaken the
streets leading to their home, and hand
in hand wandered out from the city.
Soon they passed the suburbs, and met
but few pedestrians. It began to grow
dismal and lonesome along the way.
Soon the sun went down, and the children,
footsore and weary, began to cry.
They struggled on bravely through the
darkness, but straying off into the woods
they grew frightened and could go no
further. They huddled close together
at the foot of a tree, and in that cold
and cheerless place cried themselves to
sleep.
Monday morning dawned at last, and .
with the bright daylight to enoourage
them the children got up and resumed
their weary walk. They had not tasted
a morsel of food since Sunday noon, and
were both chilled and hungry. At last
they came out upon a little brook at
the edge of the woods, and sat down
to drink and rest Here they were
found by a farmer living near by, who
took them home and kindly cared for
them.
In the meantime the agonies of the
parents were such as we will not attempt
to describe. All Sunday night and all
day Monday passed away without any
tidings from the loet children. After
trying every possible means to obtain
* A?- ? ? ? - ' it A VTQQ
some iraoc'H ui ueiu, i>uo uutuwi
finally put in tlie hands of detectives,
two old and experienced polioe officers.
They traced the children from the Sabbath-school
far oat into the coantry,
and finally found them at the house of .
the farmer above mentioned, five miles
northeast of Lancaster. The children
had walked ever fifteen miles in all from
their home in Buffalo. They were taken
back to their parents, whose manifestations
of joy were something touching to
behold.
A Remarkable Den of Snakes.
The Appleton (Mo.) Democrat has
the following : We learn from Mr. A.
J. Hoffman, who lives in the north part
of the county, that recently, as one of
his hired men was going down a small
gulch, he came upon a perfeet nest of
squirming reptiles, the ground being
covered with little and big coils of black,
shining bodies that were basking.
Knowing the habits of these reptiles,
the man went back to the farm and reported
to Mr. Hoffman what he had
seen, when it was decided to wait until
evening, after the snakes had retired to
their hole, and endeavor to kill them off.
Just after sundown both men repaired
to the place, to find not a vestige or
tail of a snake to be seen, but wellbeaten
trails leading to a hole in the
ground about the size of a backet, which
went down slantingly under the earth.
The ground was beaten down as solid as
though it had been pounded with a mallet
or used as a croquet ground for a
whole season. Mr. Hoffman is somewhat
acquainted with the habits'of these
animals, so he stationed the hired man
at the mouth of the hole with an iron
bar, having a sharp hook on the end,
and begun hauling out the ugly "critters."
The first to respond to his thrust
was one which measured eight feet eight
inches in length, and was one of the
blacksnake species. After working for
an hour and a half or so, and having
drawn out 183 snakes, they quit for
the day. Next morning before the sun
was up, thev begun again and drew forth
247 more of the reptiles, when the mine
seemed to give out. The rock and soil
on top of the nest was then removed
and an excavation about the size of a
barrel was found. It is supposed that
this family of snakes had held possession
of the prairies for years, as many measnina
trt twpl Vfl fppf, in Ifttlffth.
and were as large round as a man's Teg.
Keeping a Secret.
The late Judge Dowling, of New
York, had the rare qualification of reticence,
and he was never known to betray
a secret, or let drop a hint of official
purposes. He had more confidence
placed in him by superiors and friends
than any man of Ins age in the city.
Merchants who were in doubt about their
clerks, but did not feel warranted in
charging them with dishonesty, almost
invariably went to Judge Dowling for
advice. A merchant prominent to-day
in New York owes his salvation to Judge
Dowling's kindness and sympathy. His
employer some fifteen years ago was led
to believe that he was in the habit of
gambling. He confided his suspicions
to Dowling, and told him that if he
found bis fears correct he should discharge
the young man at once. Dowling
went quietly at work, and in a few
days confronted the clerk at the supper
table of one of the fashionable faro
banks in the city. Meantime he had
informed himself as to the young man's
domestic surroundings, and knew that
his discharge from the merchant's employ
meant rain to him and destitution
to his widowed mother, wife and child.
Dowling managed an introduction, took
him aside, showed him the folly of looking
for fair treatment in a professional
gambling hell, told him of the peril that
awaited him if he persisted in his
coarse, and finally secured from the
conscience stricken youth a promise that
he would never enter the doors of a faro
bank again. That done, he successfully
managed the employer, and to-day the
clerk of fifteen years ago chants the
praises of the man who snatched him
from the very claws of the tiger, and the
edge of a precipice in which he would
soon have fallen.
'
AL.
*
.mil. Single Copy 5 Cents.
Secret Sorrow.
To hide a grief ^behind a smile,
To laugh when ev'ry nerve is wrong,
When ev'ry careless, merry word
Wounds deep as though an adder stung;
To sing a strain of heedless joy,
To carol like a happy bird,
When aches the soul with saddest pain,
With pain that every strain hath stirred;
To danoe along the path of life
As though 'twere strewn vrith flowers sweet,
When ev'ry step relentless thorns .
Pierce sore the weary, hertvy feet
We learn, we teach life's bitter leaven, *
God graift we may forget in heaven!
Items of Interest'
A dollar does not go as far as it used
to, but it goes muoh quicker.
Economy don't consist in saving in*
discriminately, but in saving judiciously.
When parents yield up their daughters
in marriage they do it with miss
givings.
Under the new time table, the run by
rail between New Orleans and New York
is reduced to sixty-two hours.
Citizens of Halsey, Oregon, offer a
bonus of $4,000 to any one who will
erect a flour mill in the town.
Mrs. Mella Dodd, of Bowling Green,
Kv.. 116 years old. is going to the Gen
tennial to* see if she can keep her daughters?two
girls of eighty-three and
ninety-four?out of mischief.
A landlady in a Nachville boarding
house finds it necessary to post up the
following notice, which leaves a margin
for meditation: " Dont fool with the
girls while they are lighting the coal oil
lamps."
Daniel Fender concluded a letter,
asking Mary to be his, thus,: "And
should you say 'yes,' dear Mary, I will
ever and faithfully be your D. Fender."
Daniel thought that ^ras neat, and so
did Mary.
The girl who can put a square patch
on a pair of pantaloons may not be so
accomplished as one who can embroider
and work green worsted dogs on blue
ground, but she will be more useful at
the head of a large family.
Working women in France on an average
earn but little more than half the
wages earned by men. M. de Fovilie
writes that to place women on a footing
of equality with men thay ought to earn
at least two-thirds as much.
"John, what is the past of 6ee ?"
"Seen, sir." "No, it is saw." Uncollect
that" "Yes, sir. Then if a sea
fish swims by me, it becomes a saw fish
when it is past, and van't be seen."
"You may go home, John."
"When women make bread," said
Quia, moralizing over ail underdone "biscuit
at the breakfast table?" When
women make bread, a curious phenomenon
often results; you find a little dear
bringing forth a little dough."
A lady writer in the Philadelphia Item
perpetrates the following : Women
never truly command until they have
given their promise to obey; and they
are never in more danger of being made
?? 11?? ?! ?? man .m at thair
SUIVtX) UXttU WUC11 wac wuu tuv in mv.?
feet.
Fond mamma about to get into carriage
to small boy in the house aoor?
" Now, Freddie, are you not going to
kiss me ?" Freddie?"I hayen't time to
come down, mamma. (To footman)-rJohn,
you kiss mamma for me." (Tableau.)
The Royal National Lifeboat Institution
of England has 354 boats, and has
saved 727 lives during the last year;
$16,500 have been granted as rewards for
saving life. The receipts during the
year were $199,175, and the expenses
$197,475.
When Marc Anthony threw himself
upon the " dear remains " of his loved
Caesar, in a Pittsburgh theater the other
evening, he struck the " corpse " fair in
the stomach, which had the effect of
doubling it up with a grunt, that rather
detracted from the solemnity of the occasion.
/
A young man in western Wisconsin,
who was about to be married the other
day, suddenly remembered that he
hadn't fed his horse, and the ceremony
had to wait until the horse had been
cared for. He explained that a good
hcrse couldn't be found every day,
while thirteen different girls wanted to
marry him.
There was a French singer with a tremendous
voice, who could not discover
what line in art he was best fitted for.
He went to Cherubini, who told him to
sing. He sang, and the foundation
trembled. "Well," he said, when he
had finished, " illustrious master, what
shall I become?" "An auctioneer,"
said Cherubini.
During the Mexican war one of the
generals came up to Captain Bragg and
said : " Captain, the crisis has arrived,
fire!" Whereupon Captain Bragg said
to his lieutenant: " You hear what the
general says?fire 1" The lieutenant
said : "But, captain, I dont see anything
to fire at I "Fire at the crisis!"
said Captain Bragg.
Dr. John L. Pkull, of St. Louis, re"
? IV _ J.n .?V?V.lo
cenuy lssnea txio luuuwiug icuunnuiu
certificate: "This is to certify that
Emma Cunning ham came to her death
by having in attendance on her dnring
her sickness of galloping consumption,
Dr. John Willard, and the said 'Dr.
John Willard galloped the said Emma
Cunningham into eternity at tho rate of
2:40 speed, and may the good Lord
have mercy on her poor soul."
Willie's Prayer.
A little four-year-old boy, Willie by
name, enjoyed the luxury of sleeping
with his nu&fer during a short illness.
After hi^Sntire recovery his mother
told him one night that he was to go
again to his own little room. He made
no objections, but after being undrossed
said to his mother: " Mother, I want to
say my prayers alone to-night. " But
why do you want to, Willie ?" " Because
I want to, mamma." Mother humored
him, end, standing OTtside the
door, heard Willie pray as follows: Oh,
God, make Willie sick; make him real
sick; make him wommit; but don't dead
him." How much that boy wanted ty
sleep with his mother.
V,