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8. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1877. $2.00 per Annum, in “Artist little faint,” I said. “Here, ! upon a tree, listening to no bird-song P> ' Mi nt the biscuits. Stop away a bit.” I ran back, and made him take some refreshments; and, thus revived, ho rose and thanked me. “ What are you going to do?” I said, starting. “I’m going back to town, sir,” he said quietly, but with his lower lip trembling. “ I am not tit to undertake the task. I thank you, but it is too late. I am not well.” I looked at him as a business man, nud in that brief glance, as in a revela tion, I saw the struggles of a poor, proud man of genius, who could not battle with the world. I saw the man who had sold, bit by bit, everything lie owned in his struggle for daily bread; and as I looked at him I felt ashamed that I should be so rich, and fat, and well. “Mr. Grantley,” I said, taking his hand, “ I am a rough man, and spoiled by bullying people, and having my own way. i beg you pardon for what I have said and am going to say. You came down here, sir, to paint my little girl’s portrait, and you are going to paint it before you go back to town; and when you do go you are to have fifty guineas in your pocket. Hush ! not a word, sir. My old friend Eden told me that you were a gentleman and a man of honor. Tom E len is never de ceived. Now, sir, please come into the dining-room and have some lunch. Not a word, please. If good food won’t bring you round, you shall have the doctor ; for, as the police say,” I con tinued, laughing, “‘you’remy prison er’—but on parole. ” He tried to speak, but could not, and turned away. “ All right,” I said, “ ail rightand I patted him on the shoulder, and walk ed away to the window for a few minutes, before I turned back to find him more composed. x’luit afternoon we all three wei^t out day. insisted nd then pro as a *y and I uv. now, but with a far-off longing look in her eyes, that swept away the last sclflsh thought from my heart. I did not let her see me, but went straight up to Elden’s, learned what I wanted, and a short time after I was in a handsome studio in St. John’s Wood, staring at the finished picture of my child—painted, of course, from memory —framed, against the wall. As I stood there I heard the door open, and turning stood face to face with Grantley. Wc looked into each other’s eyes for a few moments without speaking, and then in a trembling, broken voice I said: “ Grantley, I’ve come as a beggar now. My poor darling—God forgive me ! I’ve broken her heart!” It was my turn to sit down and cry like a child, while my dear boy tried to comfort me—telling me, too, with pride how he hail worked and become famous, and in a few more months had meant to come down and ask my consent. But there, I’m mixing it up. Of course he told me that as we were rush ing along, having just had time to catch the express ; and on reaching the station there was n© conveyance, and we had to walk. The scoundrel would not wait, but ran on without me, and when I got there, panting and hot, 1 found my darling’s heart was mended with all of that be longing to the good man from whose arms she ran to hide her rosy blushes on my breast. I’m not the selfish old fellow that I was about Cobweb, for here in the old place, where they’ve let me stay with them, I pass my time with those two flossy-haired little tyrants, Cobweb the Second and the Spider, as we call little Frank. As for Cobweb the Second, aged two, she said to me this morning, with her tiny arms round my neck, and her soft clnrub-cheek against mine: “ Oh, gan’pa, dear, I do yove oo !” as I love her w.th all my selfish heart. \ . r,\ ittjlie \wur fair-haired girl of eight, who found it so hard to believe that her mother had been taken away never to return, only to live irvoiir memories. And then I thought of my other sor row—the future—and pictured with an agony I cannot describe the day when I should have to resign my claim to an other, and be left alone a desolate, broken old man. I am natilrally a very common, hard, and business-like old man, and terribly selfish. Cobweb had woven herself so round my heart, that in my peevish, irritable way, I was never happy when home from the city without she was waiting on me. A fortnight later and wo were settled down; and really, with all my London notions, I began to find the calm and re pose of the country delicious. Cobweb was delighted, and constantly dragging mo somewhere or another into the grounds of the pretty’old place, where she arranged garden seats in the snug gest, shadiest sjmts for my especial be hoof. There was a wilderness of wood ad joining the garden, which the former possessor had left in a state of nature, saving that he had the footpaths and j tracks widened in their old winding ! ways, carefully turfed, and dotted with | chair here and there. One day I found Cobweb leaning on a dead bough which crossed an opening in the wood, where all seemed of a delicate -twilight green. She was listening in tently to the song of a bird overhead, i and as I stopped short gazing at the picture before me, I said to myself with a sigh— “All that’s bright must fade! My I darling I wish I had your likeness as you stand. Time flies,” I muttered, “ and the winter comes at last, with bare trees to the woods—gray hairs and wrinkles to the old.” A day or two later I was in the city, where I always went twice a week—for I could not give up business, it was part of my life—when an old friend dropped in,'and in the course of conversation he said— “By the way. Burrows, why don’t you have your portrait painted ?” “ Bah ! stuff! What for ?” I said. “ Well,” said my old friend, laughing, “ I don’t know, only that it would give a poor artist I know a job; and, poor feUowfLe wants it badly enough.” “ Bah ! I’m handsome enough with out being painted,” I said gruffly. Then as a thought Airshed through my mind—for T saw again the picture in the wood with Cobweb leaning on the branch —“ Stop a minute. Can he paint well ?” “Gloriously.” “ And is terribly hard up?” “ Horribly, poor fellow.” “How’s that?” “ Hon’t know. He’s poor and proud, and the world has dealt very hardly with him. It isn’t so smooth with every one, Jack, as it is with us.” “True, T©m, old fellow.” I said. h fen ling country 'accomplished 'every object he 5hder how he learned found time to paint as handsome young fellow. But I remem- bered Tom Elden’s words—“ He is a gentleman and a man of honor’”—and, casting away my suspicious thoughts, I entered into the subject at once. “ I’d half forgotten it,” I said. “She’ll make a good picture, eh ?” “Admirable, sir. That position struck me at once as I entered.” “I’ll show yon a better one than that, my boy,” I chuckled. “ But I’m a business man ; what’s your figure—the price, eh ?” He hesitated, and his hand trembled as he said : “ Would—fifteen guineas be too much ?” “ Fifteen I” 1 said. “ I should take great pains with it—it will be a long task,” he said, eagerly; and there was trouble in the wrinkles of his forehead. “ But if you think it too much—” “ I think it is an absurd price, sir,” I said, testily, for Eldeu had said he was very poor. “ Why, Mr. Eldeu gave four hundred for a bit of a scrap of canvas—” “ By a very clever artist, sir,” he said, with a grave smile. “Look here,” I said, “Mr.—Mr.— Grantley. You make a good picture of it and I’ll give you titty guineas.” He flushed, and looked pained. “ Less than half would pay me well, sir,” he said. “Tut, tut! stuff, man! Eldeu told me you were very poor and hard up. You always will be if yon are not more of a man of business.” “ Sir !” he exclaimed, rising and look ing at me angrily, “ I came here expect ing the treatment—” He stopped short, saua into a chair, covered his face with his hands and sob bed like a child. “ My dear sir—I—really—I—I didn’t mean—” I stammered, perspiring at every pore, for the position was most painful. “No, no,” he said, hastily. “I beg your pardon. But— but,” he continued, striving manfully to master his emotion, * I h ave been very ill, sir, and I am weak. I have been unfortunate—almost starving at times. I have not broken bread since yesterday morning— I could not without selling my colors. I—I am much obliged—forgive me—let mo go back to town. Oh,my Gcal ! has it come to this?” He sank back, half fainting, but started as I roared out: “Go away!” for Cobweb was coming into the room. “ Thank yon,” he said, taking my hand as he saw what Iliad done. “It was kind of you.” “My dear fellow,” I said, “this is terrible;” and I mopped my face. “ There, sit still—back directly. I ran out to find Cobweb in the hall. “ Oh, you dear, good father!” she cried, with tears in her eyes. “ What a kind surprise! But is anything wrong ?” pic- I say it was a happy time for the first j three weeks, and then there were ! clouds. Cobweb was changed. 1 knew it but , too well. I could see it day by day. 1 Grantly was growing distant, too, and ; strange, and my suspicions grew hour ; by hour, till I was only kept from break- 1 ing out by the recollection of Tom j Elden’s words—“ He is a gentleman and a man of honor,” “Tom Eldeu never was wrong,” I j said one morning, as I sat alone, “ and : for a man like that, after my kindness, ; to take advantage of his position to win 1 that girl’s love from mo, would be the • act of the greatest scouu—” “ May I come in Mr. Burrows ?” said j the voice of the man of whom I was j thinking. •‘Yes, come in,” I said; and there we : stood looking in one another’s eyes, j “He’s come to speak to me,” I said, : and my heart grew vei'y cold, but I : concealed my feelings till he spoke, and | then I was astounded. “Mr. Burrows,”he said, “I’ve come to say good-bye.” , “Good-bye,” I said. “Yes, sir, good bye, I have wakened from a dream of happiness to a sense of misery of which I cannot speak. Let me be brief, sir, and tell you that 1 shall never forget your kindness.” “But you haven’t finished the j ture.” “ No, sir, and never shall, he said, bitterly. “ Mr. Burrows, I cannot stay. I—that is—I need not be ashamed to own it, I love your child with all my heart.” “ I knew it,” I said, bitterly. “And you think I have imposed on ; your kindness. No, sir, I have not, ; for I have never shown by word or j look ” *• No, you scoundrel,” 1 said to myself, “but she knows it all the same.” “And, sir, such a dream as mine could never be fulfilled—it is impossible.” “ Yes,” I said, in a cold, hard voice, “ it is impossible.” “ God bless you, sir ! good-bye.” “ You will not say good-bye to her?” I said, harshly. He shook his head, and as I stood there, hard, selfish and jealous of him, I saw him go down the path, and I breathed more freely, for he was gone. Gone, but there was a shadow on my home. Cobweb said not a word, and ex pressed no surprise, never even referring to the picture, but went about the house slowly, drooping day after day, month after month, till the summer came round again, and I knew that in my jealous sel fishness I was breaking her young heart. She never complained, and was as lov ing as ever ; but my little Cobweb was broken, and the tears spangled it like the dew whenever it was alone. It was as nearly as could be a year af ter, that I, feeling ten years older, went to seek her one afternoon, and found her as I expected in the little wood, standing dreamy and in her old position leaning The Squire’s Umbrella. “ Leu’ me yer umbrella a minit!” Such was the exclamation of Jones as he rushed jui>. the office of Squire Lick- shingle yesterday “Certainly, certainly!” said the squire, laying down his newspaper and taking a fresh chew of fine-cut, “glad to accommodate you,” and he opened a drawer in his desk and began rummag ing through his legal forms and blanks. Jones darted into the comer, seized the green gingham relic, and was pre- paring to fly with it. ‘ ‘ Stop, stop, stop 1” said the squire, raising his hand majestically ; “not too young man. Wait till I have made ' outlhene^Uy^ftpers.” Jones dropped the*'ffiil , rellu. On Ins i corn, of course. After puiapuig lui j lame foot up and down, and tying a hard knot in his countenance, and undoing it i again, he echoed: ‘ ‘The necessary papers !” “Yes,” said the squire sternly, “ the necessary papers,” and he continued his | search among the blanks. As Jones read the paper, his knees knocked together. It was a mortgage on his house and lot as security that he j would return the umbrella in good order | within fifteen minutes. He faltered : “ Wh-why, squire, I only want to bor- ! row your umbrella to run across the | street with. I’ll fetch it back in two i seconds. ” The squire shoved his spectacles up : over his bald spot until they formed two ; sky-lights in his intellectual roof, and 1 looking Jones full in the face, said : “You only want to run across the j street. You’ll return it in two sec onds. Young man, that’s what they all say. I have lived a long time. I have accumulated a fortune. Why ? For the I simple reason that I have not spent my substance in buying umbrellas. That umbrella which you hold in your hand is certainly not of uncommon beauty, nor is it of groat value. It is simply a gingham umbrella. A green one, at that. But it answers the purpose for which, etc. I have had it since I was a boy. Because no man, neither the son of man, has ever taken it beyond the range of my vision without signing over his estate that he would return it in good condition. It may not seem neigh borly, but it’s business. Here is the i mortgage ; there is the umbrella; with- | out beats the rain of heaven. You have your choice,” and the old man resumed his newspaper. Jones thought of his wife and babies and the pleasant home that was all his own. Then he looked at the rain that was pounding at the doors and windows, as if to get in out of the wet. A glance , at his new overcoat, and Jones was do- i cided. “I’ll risk it,” he said, and, stepping j to the desk with measured tread and slow, he clapped his name to the mort gage, and was off with the umbrella.— Oil City Derrick. Cattle Plains of Colorado. A correspondent of the Baltimore 'American writes : Running all night through an agricultural district, we ap proach towards morning those great plains stretching along the valley of the Arkansas river, formerly thought to be utterly worthless, but to-day feeding on their nourishing grasses numberless herds of the finest cattle in the country. In every direction trails cx-oss and re cross each other, some having been made by the thousands of buffalo who formerly crowded the valley, and oth ers by the cattle which come to drink of the waters of the Arkansas. From Dodge City to Pueblo the cattle are frequently seen, some herds numbering fifty or a hundred, while others moixnt up into the thousands. They are never herded, as we understand the term, but twice or three times a week the “ cow boys,” as the herders delight to call themselves, circle the range of their em ployer, this necessitating sometimes a ride of twenty miles, and see that the “ cows ” are not straying too far, or are not being molested in any way. Once every fall the “ round up ” occurs, when the calves are branded, the herd count ed, stray brands sorted out, and then all Hre turned out again. This cattle bus iness is growing to enormous propor tions, and offers a splendid field for those whose health does not admit of close confinement, being much less arduous and more remunerative than farming. At Lake Station we stop for breakfast. This is the wildest spot on the road, the hills in the immediate neighborhood abounding in deer and antelope, while not unfreqnently small herds of buffalo cross the track within sight of the hoxxse. Our host served his guests good slices of buffalo Inxmp for breakfast, his assertions to this effect being simply attested by two reeking hides and shaggy heads that were lying close at hand. A great many tourists sto} here during the season to enjoy the hunt, the landlord being quite a Nim- rod, and owning all the necessary “outfit”—dogs, guns and horses. The vegetation is almost entirely sage bushes, mesquite and spear grass, the two lat ter being the most fattening that are known for cattle, and possessing the ad vantage over other grasses that during the entire winter, though apparently dead, they are full of sustenance. As You Like It. There was one man on the Woodward avenue car the other rainy morning who felt as if the weather couldn’t be abused enough. “Don’t you hate such weather as this ?” he asked of a portly acquaintance opposite. “No, sir,” was the decided response; “ I don’t bother about the weather. If it’s fair, aiVvgJxt; if it’s foul, all ught.” “ But you can’t like SXidix a mdfiASgf as this ?” “It’s just as good for me as any other sort o’ morning,” was the calm reply. “And you like to see rain and mud and slush, do yoxx ?” “ Yes; I am perfectly satisfied.” The grumbler was out of patience, but he secured revenge sooner than he hoped for. In getting off the car the fat man slipped and sprawled at full length in the mud, to the intense delight of the other, who rushed to the platform and shouted: “ Don’t say a word—it’s one of your kind of mornings ! If it was one of mine you’d have fallen on a bed a£ nice, clean, soft, white, beautiful snow ! Stand up, till I look at you !” The fat man stood up. He was mud from boots to chin. He looked at him self and then at the car, and feebly said: “ I kin lick you and all the weather in the coxxntry with one hand tied behind —Detroit Free Prcxx. A Useful Delusion. In the month of May, 1814, it wan unexpectedly discovered that in a remote but populous part of the island of Java a road had been constructed leading to the top of the mountain Sunbeng, one of the highest in the island. An inquiry being set on foot, it was dis covered that the delusion which gave rise to the work had its origin in the province of Banyxxmas, in the territory of the Susunan ; that the infection spread to the territories of the sultan, whence it extended to that of the Euro pean power. On examination, a road was found constructed, twenty-two feet broad, and from fifty to sixty miles in extent, wonderfully smooth, and well made. One point which appears to have been considered necessary was, that the road shoxxld not cross rivers ; and it winded in a thoixsand ways, that this principle should not be infringed. Another point as peremptorily insisted upon was, that the straight course of the road should not be interrupted by any regard to private right; and, in consequence, trees and houses were overturned to make way for it. The population of whole districts, occasion ally to the amount of five and six thousand laborers, were employed on the road ; and among a people disin clined to active exertion, the laborious work was nearly completed in two months. Such was the effect of the temporary enthxxsiasm with which they were inspired. It appeared, in the sequel, that a bare report had set the whole work in motion. An old woman had dreamed, or pretended to have dreamed, that a divine personage was about to descend from heaven on the mountain Sunbeng. Piety suggested the propriety of constructing a road to facilitate his descent; and divine ven geance, it was rumox-ed, would pixrsxxe the sacrilegious person who refused to join in the meritorious labor. These reports quickly wrought on the fears and ignorance of the people, and they heartily joined in the enterprise. The old woman distributed slips of palm leaves to the laborers, with magic letters written upon them, which were charms to secure them agaixxst wounds and sick ness. When this strange affair was dis covered by the native authorities, orders were given to desist from the work, and the people returned without murmur to their wonted occupations. It seldom, however, happens in Java, that these wide-spread delusions terminate so hap pily as in this instance. Ages of United States Senators. which can be had al . ones, ; cents per paper. A Washington correspondent gives! Gale, the English longdistance pedes- thc ages of the United States Senators ; jias obtained such complete mas- in the order in which they were born, aa tery over his physical powera that he follows: Hamlin, 180 9; Morrill, 181Q> flle©ps occasionally while walking. Armstrong and Christiancy, 1812 ; Thxxr- Medical evidence has been taken on this man and Kirkwood, 1813 ; Anthony, point, and the fact is beyond a doubt. 1815 ; Dawes, Eaton Howe and K«rnan, The A nti-Horse-Thief Association has 1816; Saulsbury and Saunders, 181, ; 3G1 lodgeB and 8)000 memberB in Mis- Harris, Johnston and Barnum 1818 ; sonrij Iowa and IlliuoiB> It doe8 no t McDonald, 1819 ; ^ lee-Presiden xee - enoonra g e lynching,although that course er, 1820; Sharon and Withers, *! is permitted in places where the officers Peck and Dennis, 1822 ; Davis (\\ . a.), Q £ £j ie j aw Cftn not be relied on to prose- Hill and Grover, 1823 ; Matthews, Mor- j cu £ e thieves. gan, Oglesby, Rollins, Whyte and Burn side, 1824 ; Lamar, Maxey, Hereford, Booth and Chaffee, 1825 ; McMillan, Randolph, Ransom, Cameron (Wis.), 1826 ; Windom, Ferry, 1827 ; Edmunds, Bayard and Yoorhees, 1828 ; Conkling, Coke aild Allison, 1829 ; Blaine, Jones (Ncv.), Merrimon, Paddock, Patterson, Teller and Kellogg, 1830 ; Wadleigh, 1831; Gordon, Garland, Jones (Fla.), 1832 ; Ingalls, McPherson, Mitchell and Cameron (Pa.), 183-3 ; Cockerell, 1834 ; Spencer, 1836 ; Plumb, 1837 ; Conover, 1840 ; Prince, 1841 ; Dorsey, 1842. The ages of Wallace, Hoar and Butler are not given. The deceitfulness of appearances is nowhere better illustrated than by a comparison of the ages with the looks of Senators. Edmunds looks to be a hun dred years old—the oldest appearing man in the Senate—yet forty-two, or more | than half, of his associates are older | than he. Yoorhees, who is the same age; Ferry, who is one year older;; Booth, Hereford, and Chaffee, who are three years older, all look young enough to be Edmunds’ sons. Morrill, who is nearly twenty years older than Edmunds, looks twenty years younger as he sits beside him. ON A RECEST SAD EVENT. “I am dying, Darwin, dying !” Said old Pongo at the last. •‘ Yon are ill, eh, my gomlla V” Uttered Darwin, half aghast. ‘‘Yes, I’m ill, eh, your gorilla, I am dying—yes—I think,’' Groaned old Pongo, then departed Like a good old missing link. Sweden do-xs an enormous business in lucifer matches. The largest establish- ! ment is at Jonkoping. It was foxxnded in 1845, and in 1872 employed 250 men, 1 849 women, 105 boys and 141 girls, j About foxxr-fifths of the production, which steadily increases, are exported. The chemicals used mostly come from England. A little boy of Des Moines, Iowa, who writes to his “fren Jimmy” that he is ! going to run away from school and be an editor, thus closes his letter: “ Tel yer sister Katy I don’t hav nothin moar to do with that Jinks gurl, an I am troo to her. I wont get prowd and forgit her if I do be an edytur, nor yon neether Jimmy, if yore folks is pore and onery. Yores Truley, Johnny.” A little five-year old could not quit© understand why the stars did uoi shine one night when the rain was pour ing down in torrents. She stood at Hie eron ried. Of the Senators, Anthony, Wheeler, . Sharon, Burnside, Chaffee, Ferry, Cam- 1 window P°ndermg on the subject w th (Pa.) and McDonald are unmar- 118 much 8™^ as . 0ab J eo whou 10 I looked at the swxngmg lamp in the — cathedral of Pisa, and with equal suc- Tlie Rights of the Finder. cess, for all at once her countenance A curious case as to the lights of the i lighted up, and she said : ‘ Mother, I finder of lost property, whose owner is : know why the stars don ts line. God unknown, is reported from Rhode Is-j l ias pulled them all up sons tohllhe land. The plaintiff bought an old safe 1 wa l er come through the holes. me : The First Ulster. Donizetti, the composer, was xeally the first inventor of the ulster. One day, at Paris, he sent for his tailor to measure him for an overcoat. The tailor found him at the piano, surrendering himself to the rapture of composition. Never theless, he was persuaded to quit the beloved instrument, and deliver himself up to the man of tape aud chalk. The tailor made the first measurements, then, stooping, began to take the length of the garment. “ To the knee, sir ?” he said, timidly. “ Lower, lower,” said the composer, in a dreamy voice. The tailor brought the measure half way down the leg, and paused iuquir- iugly. “ Lower, lower.” The tailor reached the composer’s ankles. “ Lower, lower.” “ But, sir, you won’t be able to walk.” “ Walk ? Walk ? Who wants to walk ? Why, sir (with an ecstatic lifting of the arms), I never walk—I soar.” An Extraordinary Monstrosity. A paper published in Mexico contains an account of an extraordinary phe nomenon in human natxxre. The mother of this living curiosity is named Antonia Garcia, residing in Rosario, State of Smaloa. Her husband is Lorenzo Rod riquez, a M atiYe_of Chapuderos, District of Concordia, in the samff 6tAe>-. Abtiai- nine yeax-s ago Antonia gave birth to twins, boys, who still live. Two years afterwards she gave birth to three chil dren, all of whom had reached a natural state. About a year ago she gave birth to another, which promises to develop into a monstrosity. This boy child was born at Copula, aud as soon as the phe nomenon was known to exist the parents had good grounds to believe that it would be stolen, so they moved to Rosario, The child, according to the stoi’y of its progenitors, was born with out other defect than having an indenta tion on its skull in the shape of a cross. But in a little while the head commenced to grow enormously, and at the end of one year was from twelve to fourteen inches in diameter. The indentation, in another sense, may be said to resemble a hand-grenade, in the form of a cross, conuneucing at the forehead aud running back to the nuca or nape of the neck. The other part of the cx-oss extends from ear to ear. The indentations are from two to three inches in width and slightly covered with hair. In the night-time, by pxxtting a light across the head, the brains and other material can be plainly seen, as if a lighthouse were shining tipou them. The eyelids of this creature, instead of being above the eye, are below, aud almost encircle it, growing upward. The forehead has almost dis appeared on account of the deformity of the head. The whole body is extremely rickety, and the skin appears to stick to the dry bones. The monstrosity weighs a little over ten pounds, is healthy, and promises to live many years, and is beloved by its parents. Dr. Rio has offered to make a scientific study of the phenomenon, and the results of his investigation will be given to the public. aud offered to sell it to the defendant. The defendant woxxld not buy it, but agreed to take it and sell it if he coxxld, using it himselt in the meantime. While it was thus in his possession he found a roll of bank bills inside the lining. No one knew to whom they belonged. The defendent tlxerefore concluded to keep them.' The plaintiff, upon learning the discovex-y of the money, return of the safe jn According to the correspondence of the Washington Capital the wife of a New York banker appeared the other evening at a party as Capital. The dress was covered on the skirt, so as to make it appear one piece, with one hundred and five-hundred dollar bills. The waist and sleeves were $1,000 bonds sewed in, and her fingers and ears blazed with dexnaadnd. *ixre 1 diamonds. The tiara was said to have it was when ' been worth $80,000, and the total value as Wifely Obedience. The late Chief Juct’ce Chase’s mother once bore her part in a little comedy which was almost Shakespeai'ian. With her husband she was visiting two of his brothers who were also married. The three gentlemen, sitting and talking to gether, made some playful wagers on the subject of the temper of their wives, and agreed to test them. So, walking into the room where the three ladies were sitting by the fireside making caps, wlxich at that time were very fashion able, the trial began. The first brother, after some slighting remarks concerning caps in general and his wife’s handiwork in particular, commanded her to throw it into the fire. Naturally the indignant lady paid small attention to the order. The next brother’s attempt met with similar success. But no sooner did the Mysterious Disappearance. A case of mystexnous disappearance comes from the southern seas. The account is given bya Chilian newapaper: About 150 miles from the Straits of Magellen, the Danish ship Lutterfield, J. O. Lxxgineex-s master, saw, during the night, a rock orislai'd apparently about one hundred feet high. He lay to till daylight, not finding any rock or island laid down in the char's. At 5:40 a. m. wtxat in the night appeared a large rock or island, had diminished to one-half of its former dimensic n 8. Captain Lugi- neers, with the mate and four hands went on shox-e. The island had the figure of a cone with an extension of 100 to 150 square yares ; the ground was so hot that the men could not remain on it, but returned immediately into the boat. No smoke was seen, but the sea around chief justice’s father command ! ;jp wifej was in a state of ebulition. At 8 a. m. taSTsland h*xd entirely to toss her went into mo i-capjnto ibfijfb o*”;. . Jje ca^^pf thesameday 1 the flan;. I Lutterfield sailed delivered. The defqAdant returned it, but without the banly bills; whereupon the plaintiff’ sued for their value as money found. The , snpr“me court held that the finder uao. entitled to retain the property as againsft the party who put the safe into hisi hands; and the* au thorities generally maintain the right of the ilH owner. of the notes and diamonds on her person^ was $260,000. Two pages carried her train, and watched lest the jewels and greenbacks should fall to the floor. At a fire in ihe convent at Limoges, France, on Nov. -19, 1838* it was sud denly discovered that one of the children of the girls’ school there hail Jot been- r, in this class of cases, rescued. She was in a distant room,and persons except the real l doxxbts were expressed of the ability to I save her. A young lady said : “I vill 1 i try,” and rushed between the flames on An Intci'esting Experiment. each side of the entrance. She was re- has generally been accepted as a ; 1 f t ’ but buaiiy .^red with ! the child in her arms, king Louis Philippe j sent her a gold medal, and a young ., . . ... ,. j captain in the army, who witnessed her an impermeable varnish, death would If ... m, . • ■ „ \ , . i i act, married her. The captain is now ensue in a very short time ; aud the ; ’ ., L t evidence upon which the belief is based It has generally been accepted as a scientific fact that if an animal such as man, is almost completely coated with is stated to bo some story about a boy who, the better to represent an angel in a religions ceremony, was completely covered with gold leaf. A German scientist has exploded the notion by an experiment upon two healthy men, who allowed their limbs to be covered with impermeable plasters, and the remainder of their bodies with several coats of flexible collodiou. At the end of a week no lleffects were experienced, and the president of the French republic, and the ladv is Mme. MacMahon. Undiscovered Mines. In almost every mining town aud camp of the “ Golden State,” says the Vir ginia City (Nev.) Enterprise, the old settlers tell of the places where streams, gulches and ravines were immensely rich placer gold up to a certain point, in when they suddenly ceased to pay. Somewhere in the neighborhood, doubt- pl'y-" 'logical results were/«7, except the j Iegg Ues the channel whence c«no the demonstration of the fact that the boy j go]( | found beIoW) but uo man has ever was not killed by the simple stoppage of j be6n able to hit upon 't—it is one of the the functions of the skin. It is re- , minM thftt have uever be eu found, markable, however, that animals treated in a similar manner to the men speedily die, unless the coating is removed. great IMoiigliing the Bed of the Ocean. During the past summer we wit nessed deep-sea ploughing in the harbor of Belfast, Maine. The bottom of the bay is covered with a tenacious, clayey deposit, into which the steam shovel penetrates with difficulty ; and to loosen it a huge Michigan plough was set at work under the water, drawn by steam power on the shore, using a wire rope to form connections. The water at high tide was about twenty feet deep when the plough was working. The man that held it was encased in the diver’s armor, and supplied with air by a flexible tube connecting with an air-pump on board of a vessel floating above. He came up at our request, and after removing his air-tight helmet and conversing a few moments, was again put in connection with the pump, and disappearing under water, went on with the ploughing. This to us was a novel proceeding, and so far as we can learn, it was the first experiment of the kind ever made.— Boston Journal of Chemistry. An American Girl and a French Count' A correspondent writing from London says that she has just made a discovery. A young, handsome American girl mar ried a French count, with nothing but his title, aud that probably fraudulent. After getting her money in his posses sion, he ran away with her maid, leaving her with only her jewels. Nothing j daunted, she went to work and started a laundry. She leased an old manor 1 house with two or three acres of ground, and with the aid of a few old friends she began her business. She has now eighty ; women employed, and is making money | rapidly. Every department of the house is complete, aud she does not now do any- j thingbnt keep her books. It is “stylish” now to be a patron of Madame S.’s j laundry, aud she will soon enlarge her ; house. The moral of the whole matter is, if you design marrying a French count serve an apprenticeship to the \ family laundress. The temperance folk of Yarmouth, N, 8., a few days ago, attended a sale at the custom-house -ought up all the liquor aud emptied it jl toe sewers, Ancient Dentistry. The practice of dentistry can hardly bo included in the modem arts ; for as early ns 590 B. C. gold was used for filling teeth, and gold wire was employed to hold artificial teeth in position, and ! does not seem then to have been a new art. A fragment of the tenth of the : Roman tables, 450 B. C., has reference to the burial of any gold with the dead except that around the teeth. Herodo tus declares the Egyptians had a knowl edge of the diseases of the teeth, aud their treatment 2,000 years B. O. In Martial, Oasselius is mentioned as either filling or extracting teeth ; but he spec ified that he would not polish false teeth with tooth powder. Lucian mentions an old maid that had but four teeth, and i they were fastened in with gold. These i facts cover a period of six hundred ’ years. mines that have uever i Sometimes en a flat or in a sag on the side of a hill or mountain, the | miner has unexpectedly fc quantities of bright q_uartz gold, or j fragments of quartz rich in gold. In S vain he searches for the lode from | which came the gold and the quartz ; it i remains one of the mines that have never ! been found. In places not only fragments but also great blocks aud bowlders of quartz filled with gold are found, and for a time diligent search is made for the place whence it came ; but one aftor *m- other the prospectors become discour aged, and finally the source of the gold is set down among the mines that have never been found. We might furnish a list of not a few such places as are spoken of above, but shall leave a particular account of them to be given by the man who shall, one of these daya, write the history of the mines that have never been found. Such a history would make quite a thick pamphlet, would include many in teresting and romantic stories ami wouhl prove an incentive to prospecting and mining in many now almost deserted camps, provided some pains were taken to get at the facts in all cases. In California there is, doubtless, to day more gold in mines that have never been found than remains in all those that are known and worked. The Transmission of Consumption. Recent experiments have demonstrated that when an animal with tuberculated lungs (consumption) is yoked to a healthy animal, and the two arc housed aud fed together, the latter before long exhibits symptoms of tuberculosis. Krebs asserts that tubercle virus is present in the milk of cows, even when slightly affected, and he has produced tubercle in auimals by giving them from those which were diseased) accidentally induced the disease in act by feeding it with the milk of a tn' oulous cow, x. THIS PAGE CONTAINS FLAWS AND OTHER DEFECTS WHICH MAY APPEAR ON THE FILM