The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, July 10, 1879, Image 1

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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., JULY 10, 1879. VOL. III.-NO. 69. CALLING THE ANGELS IN. t a, We mean to do it. Some day, some day, g We mean to slacken this fevered rus 01 That is wearing our very souls away. And grant to our goaded hearts a hush l3 - That is holy enough to let them bear The footsteps of angels drawing near. at We mean to do it. Oh, never doubt, When the burden of daytime droll is o'er,. li We'll sit and muse, while the stars come out, e As the patriarch sat at the open door r Of his tent, with a heavenward gazing eye, To watch for the angels passing by. ti We see them afar at high noontide, When fiercely the world's hot ilahinge beat; t Yet never have bidden'them turn aside, a And tarry awbile in converse sweet ; a N )r prayed them to hallow the cheer we spread, 0 To drink of our wine and break our broad. We promised our hearts that when the stress Of the life-work reaches the longed-for close, i When the weight that we groan with hinders a1 less, I We'll loosen our thoughts to such repose w As banishes care's disturbing din, And thon-we'll call the angels in. li The day that we dreamed of comes at length, lc When t red of every meoking quest, And broken in spirit and shorn of strength, 1I We drop, nleed, at the door of rest, ti And wait and watch as the day wanes on ; . , but the angels we mean to call are gone I V IC Behind the Scenes. r "Such a bargain, aunt Fanny I Lay a aside your work and express your admira lion. Half-a-dozen of these pretty linen h collars for one dollar. So nicely scolloped c and stitched ; just the thing for the morn- a iug, are they not ?" C "Exactly, Julia. They are a very de sirable addition to your bridal wardrobe. r< But I cannot but regret that they are not higher priced." c "Why, aunt Fanny I you astonish me. I c had no idea that you were one of those la- h dies who think nothing worth having tuin less it cost an extravagant price." p "And you are mueli in error if you think now, Julia. But in looking at your S cheap collars my sympathy is called forth a for the poor seamstress, whose weary fin- n gers performed the task which was to pro- % cure her a wretched subsistence." "0, it is all very true, aunt Fanny ; and hI I am sure I pity the poor as much as any p one but as long as this evil exists I may as to well reap the benefit of it. You know that a it is an ill wind that blows nobody. good." n Aunt Fanny shook her head gravely as w she replied : a "You speak lightly, Julia. May you s never have reason to know the suffering e which springs from this want of union of the interests of the employer and employed. IV But enough of this. Let us speak of your h approaching marriage. 'Tell mc; when the tn wedding is to take place, and all about it." e "In two short weeks. I am to he mar- al rled at my guardian's, of course. You g know lie does not quite approve of the mar- h riage ; or, at least, he would prefer that we II should wait until Henry is established in ko business ; but I have coaxed him into good ft humor. You know lie might as well sub- t mit with a good grace, for I shall be eigh- h teen on my wedding day, and my little w property comes into my own hands. 80 to we shall begin life in the style which we in tend to keep up. A handsome house, well fc furnished, and in a pleasant part of the city. ft You shake your head, but you will see that it will all end well. And now say-will' b you grant the earnest request of Henry and v myself, and make your, future home with ti us ? I shall need an adviser, and you shall n be my second mother." "My dear child I your kindness - brings at the tears to my eyes. But 1 cannot accept fe your invitation-at least, not at present. A few days ago I received an urgent request from an aged relative in England to conme J to her and be her companion and friend for the remainder of her life. She is wealthy, fa but lonely in her riches, and being nearly SI blind, is much dependent upon the kmnd- sj ness of those aromund her. At present therep are none but servants to adinister to her wants. She was the sister of my own dlear hi mother, and I feel it to be my duty to go to y her and do what I can for her comfort. I n sail in the next steamer." d "Beforeothe wedding I Why, aunt Fanny, h -yoni will not leave us so soon ?"h "My prayers will 1)e with you andl yours, o dlear Julia, hut It is necessary that I hasten my departure as much as possible. Do not a' forget your old friend, and In the midst of a your happiness sometimes remember the c works of advice which she has so often spoken." ' n With many tears the young maiden b)ade ? adieua to one who, though in reality no rela- a tive, had' long been a valued friend. Julia Howard had become an orphan in a arychildhood. Her father's dying chprge tl placed her under the care of one who in sg . any respects was wvorthiy of the trust, and sl had well performed the duty which de- k( yojved upon him At' seventeen sheo became attached to I-enry Lawrence, a young man of good si family and unblemished chiaracter. t oir guardian heartily a pproved the con- si neotlos, but, na Julia stated to aunt Fanny, .prefebited that the young oouple should wait u1 until Henry was established in business, but ti this pi'udent advice was not followed, a i(enry's prospects were good-Julia had b *a fewthiousands. Why not begin the world at one? . '8o on the very day, when by a pecullar p~ coiciene,the bridegroom was twenty o and the bride eighteen they stood at dellghtful, and thq future bore the rainb,ow n 1 Arpd ere the dark clouds of ad- n va. ered around themn, but ala Io the id i~ r and the bright sunlight fA dad ay mt scarcely one beam found its y Wa~ptho~ onq hppy hearts. wo4iIpaa Q~rtli'train of misfortunes I whieh Im 19a Inth rgdaced the' young $ c6~19~m1t.to(rtw ohu1(dien, to absolute y '~~su,uuuce in' their style of iving, fal-' ture irbu~osong and severe illness, wero zi' e1foo~tre o?to thef sh ~fl~tq~ , Juia as .i11 h jiot4 be fgtno eon. ientioned some lays ago ?" she suddenly 3ked, as her husband rose from their fru nl meal, one cold morning in the early p'art F winter. "None at all," was the -reply. "The resent clerk has decided to remain. But ven my present situation is better than r)t.hing. Three hundred will keep us from arving." "It were better to die, Henry, than to ve in this way. Life has lost all its Imrms for me, and I would gladly be at st."' "But our children, Julia. Think of iem and keep up your courage a little mnger. The day may yet dawn upon us." "Never, never. My own folly has brought i1s upon me. My guardian warned me ainst marrying one not well established In te world, but I slighted his advice. Thank od, he is not here to see .how bitterly I wve lived to repent my rashness." "And do you really regret it, Julia ? We ay regret the imprudence in our former ;yle of living, and we may sorrow for the ilafortunes which have come upon us, but ,e need not repent ui uur marriage." "Was not that the cause of It all ?" was eo bitter reply. Deeply grieved, the husband turned and ft. the house. The day was a sad one-and when an rmr or two before the v,tall time for his re urn, Henry was borii :nto the house by vo men, and the unhappy little fa:mi1' ,ere told that an accidental fall upon the e had resulted in a broken leg, the last rop seemed to have been added to the al Lady brimming cup. From the night of agony which followed, tllla was a different, and in some respects, better woman. Hitherto there had been a lingering feel ig of pride which bad prevented her from ming forward at her husband's side to ruggle against the misfortunes which had nme upon them. She had shrank back de >aring and powerless. Now she was mused into energy. Something must be done, and with the )naciousness of what devolved upon her, ine an earnest prayer for strength-a look ig upward which was not her wont. Nothing presented itself to her mind but lain sewing, and this she was well aware 'ould afford them but a miserable pittance. Lill It would be better than nothing, an ?plication was at once made to a kind Lighbor, and through her 4ifluence work as speedily obtained. Often when her employers would urge or to abate a few pennies on the usual rice, and assure her that it was for her in rest to work cheap, she would sigh deeply she remembered her own feelings In for er days, and the truth of aunt Fanny's 'or(ds forced itself upon her mind. The ifferings proceeding from the want of tm mn of the interests of the employer and the nployed were now her own. And where was aunt Fanny during this ipse of years? Faithfully and unwearledly id she performed the duties which she had iken upon herself. That task was now i(led. That aged relative, to whose wants te had so long ministered, had at length me home. Once morq aunt Fanny's art turned to her native land. Friends of er earlier years rose before her, and she nged to meet them again face to face. The w necessary arrangements were soon ade, and ere many weeks had passed she id once more crossed the broad ocean, and as welcomed with kindly greetings by any whom she had known and loved. One of her first -inquiries was for Julia, ir it was very long since she had heard om her. News of the failure of Mr. Lawrence in asiness had reached her, and rumors of arlous undefined misfortunes had from me to thne came to her knowlege, but At one word of direct information. The other of Julia had been'a very dear friend, id aunt Fanny felt a yearning tenderness r her child. So she sought out and called at 1her home. That day had been a discouraging one for alia, even more so than usual. A little exertion had brought on Henry's iver again, and the physician who was immoned to attend him had spokeni in rong terms of the absolute necessity for erfect rest and freedom from excitement. H-ow was this possible when hour after sur lie must lie upon his back and see his Ife toiling beyond her strength for their aintenance ? And then It was sometimes flcult to procure work, and Julia abso ~tely trembled as she thought of the suffer ge they must undergo should this means support be cut off.. Some kind neighbor had advised her to >nphy at a collar manufactory near by, here many women and young girls found Instant employment. She had done so with success, and at the oment that her old1 friend entered she was zing mournfully upon a dozen collars hich she had taken upon trial. They ero nicely stitched by a sewing machine, id she had engaged to bind themi and make ree button holes in each for the small im of one cent apiece. "A starving price," ie murmured to herself, and then seemed at in a sad reverie, from which she was oused by the soft voice of aunt Fanny. Julia looked up in surprise, but in an in ant her wonder was titrned into joy, and vining her arms around aunt Fanny's neok 10 sobbed like a little child. Composure was at length restored, and len there was so muoh to toll and to be >ld that the good lady took oit her bonnet nid said she should make herself quite at ime, and pass the evening with them. "You cannot be at home hero," said ulla, "because it is not nrotty enodgh for But to this aunt Fanny answered : "Home is wherever we find those we ive. It matters little In what place we nd 4hem.' So this Is my home for tihe reniig, anid now, Julia, as your husband ee atteniton, just give me your work ad I will sew' ter. you. My thimble is in ypocket as usual. You see I retain my dhabits." - "Yout are siithisanet iJaun anny,"~ as the reply. - "5'lere Is iny work-to bind thiae collars. me'you remember our conversatfort tho day at I purcha.sed those cheap collars' Ever'y ord of it is fresh in my mInid I p er ioughitles tl eA--bt 0aunt Fanny, ave rio* had jee beind thio s'oene. "Youj hauve, fnde, mpy poor child ; ow to your hualiand, .and wheon lie Is corn rtably arranged we will site together by is bedside and have a quiet ?1ai.7' 'lTo atnts of year8 i's soon 1talksa; rer an~ ere aunt-Fanny rose to, bid ttion aclih sbO said:. yeIj o deYour tormfneruCItm i~and soodine #4 inIte of yout ftimiy." 'UO tiant Muand eablai Ju.ia1 "'trt have no longer a home to offer you. This is the hardest trial of all." "Listen, my child. I am becoming in firm, and shall soon need the care which I have bestowed upon others. There are none who seem nearer to me than yourself. My means are ample, for my generous relative has added largely to my little fortune. We will look for a suitable dwelling, and you will be to me as affectionate children." Tears were her only answer, but these were sufllicient to speak the feelings of the heart. In after years neither party had cause to regret this arrangement. Closer Intimacy only served to endear them still more to one another. In the midst of her happiness Julia forgot not the use of ailliction, and would often feelingly refer to her peep behind the scenes. The Charmers of iindoostan. Many of these Iindoo jugglers who live in the silence of the pagodas perform feats far surpassing the prest:digitations of Rob ert IHoudin, and there are somany others who produce the most curious phenomena in magnetism and catalepsy upon the fine ob jects that camne across their way, that I have often wondered whether the brahmins with their occult science have not made great discoveries in the questions which have recently been agitated in Europe. On one occasion while I and others were in a cafe with Sir Maswell, he ordered his dobochy to initroduce the charmer. In a few moments a lean Iindoo, almost naked, with an ascetic face and bronzed color, en tered. Around his neck, arms, legs and body, were coiled serpents of different sizes. And saluting us, he said : "God be with you, I am Cibb Chonder, son of Chinh-Gontnualp-Mlfave." "We desire to see what you can (o," said our host. "I obey the orders of Siva. who sent me here," replied the fakir, squatting down upon one of the marble slabs. The serpents raised their heads and hissed, but without showing any anger. 'i'hen taking a small pipe, attached to a wick in his hair, he produced scarcely audible sounds imitating the tailspeca, a bird that feeds upon bruised cocoanuts. Here tht serpents uncoiled themselves, and one after another glided to the floor. As soon as they touched the ground they raised about one-third of their bodies, and began to keep time to their master's music.- Suddenly the fakir dropped his instrument and made sev eral passes with his hands over the serpents, of whom there were about ten, all of the most deadly cobra species of India. his eye assumed a strange expression. We felt. an undefinable uneasiness, and sought to turn away our gaze from him. At. this moment a shoera, whose business was to hand fire in a small brazier for lighting yielded to his influence, lay down and fell asleep. Five minutes passed thus, and we felt that if the manipulations were to con tinue a few seconds more we should all fall asleep. Chondor then rose and making two more passes over the shocra, said to it: "Give the commander some fire." The - young servant rose, and, without tottering, came and offered lire to its inns ter. le was pinched and pulled about, till there was no doubt of his being actually asleep. Nor would he move from Sir Mas well's side till ordered to do so by the fakir. We then examined the cobras. Para lyzed by magnetic influence, they lay at full length upon the ground. On taking them up we found them as stiff as sticks. They were in a state of complete catalepsy. They fakir awakened them and they re turned and coiled themselves round his body. On asking if he could make us feel his in fluence, he made a few passes over our Legs. and instantly we lost the use of them ; we could not leave our seats. He then released uts as easily as he had paralyzed us. Chibb Chiandor closed his seance by experimenting upon inanimate objects. By miere p)asses with his hands In the direction of the object to be acted upan, and, without leaving his seat, lhe paled and extinguished lights in the farthest parts of the room, moved the furni ture, Including divaSnA upon which we sat, opened and closed doors. Catching sight of a Hindoo who was drawing water from a well in the garden, he made a pass in his direction, and the rope suddenly stopped in its descent,' resisting all the efforts of the astonished gardoiner. With another pass the rope again d 'scended. "Do you employ the same means in act ing upon Inanimate objects that you do up on livIng things ?" I asked. "I have only one m~eans," lie replied. "What is It ?" "Thme will. Man, who is the result of all Intellectual and material forces, nust om mante over all. The Brahmuins know nioth ing beside this."' A Desperate Situation. Two young French half-breeds, one named Pierre Laverdure, and another whose name was not asertained, were out on a hunting and trapping expedition in the vicinity of Milk river during March Iast, One night, whuile camped a little to the southi of the boumdary line, they were aroused by the apparent - howling of the wolves in osoe proximity to their tent. Being pretty.well used to such msic, they did not pay any particular attention to it, until a poouliarity in the sound gave them the impression that the noise proceeded from Indians instead of wolves. They started up and ran outsIde the tent and were immediately met by a fusllade from different points. Laverdure was struck by two shots, one passing through the upper part of both thighs, and one through both legs, fortunately without breaking any bones. He dropped, and called out to the Sioux that they wore half-breeds and not Indians. Thle Sioux replied that they knew very well what they were, and were going to kill them. Laverdure's comrade mean whIlu-hadinade irns. and -o asways and the wounded man was left b)imnself with a gang of redskins around hijf However, he determined to sell his Ii to thme best ad vantago, and reaching or lisa ateen shooter, he crawled to viole in the glmud and awaited events, au1fd as an Indian made his appetaranceehe shot hinm. Tlie Siouz flnding It tq hbt for.thena, decamped, and the poor keijow' lay tIlt the. followin day, when his~ eo zte returned with ass tanie. They foun&tree Sioux dead, and the. trih pf a fourth badly wounded, and the -whole ,ngbod off, IaveVdure has quite; te4 iqredfroJm his wounds and the lemsoni ~bered Sieng feur t siey ha% ed ob ttilo prepeh hale. '2Wf ihhem fter their awry The Mysterious Situdow. A curious thing happened in thi year 1059, at Crossen, in 3iesIa, of al apothecary's servant. The chic magistrate of - that town at that tin was the Princess Elizabeth Charlutte a )ersont famous in her generatior.. I1 the spring of the year, one C""ristophe Monigh, a natiye of Serbest, a town be longing to the Princess of Anhalt, ser vant to anl apothecary, died and wa burled with the usual ceremonies of thi Lutheran church. A few days afte his decease, a shape exactly like his i face, clothes, stature, miein, etc., ap peared in the apothecary's shop, wher he would set himself down, and wall sonietitmes, and takc the boxes, pots anti glasses o11 the shelves, and set then again in their places, anid sometime try and examine the goodness of tin medicines, weigh them in a pair o scales, pound the drugs with a might noise in a mortar-nay serve the peo ple that came with their bills to tin shop, take their money, mid lay it it safb t the counter in a word, do al things that a journeymai in such casci used to do. He looked very ghastl3 upon those that had been his fellow, servants, who were afraid to say any, thing to him, and his master beinj sick at that time of the gout, he wai often very troublesome to him, woulc take the bills that were brought hin: out of his hand, snatch away the can die sometimes, and put it behind th( stove. At last he took a cloak tha hung in the shop, put it on and walkec abroad; but minding nobody in tin streets, went along, entered into somc of the citizens' houses, and thrust him self into company, especially of sucl as he had formerly known, yet salutet nobody, nor spoke to any one but to i mald-servant, whom he met hard by the church-yard, and desired to g< home t.o Piis nister's house, and dig i a ground chamber, where she woult find inestiniable treasure ; but the malt amazed at the sight of him, swooned whereupon lie 'lifted her up, but lef such a mark upon her flesh with lifting her, that it was to be seen for some time after. The maid having recoveret herself, went home, but fell dcsperateli sick upon it, and in eir iliness discov. ered what Mlonigh had said to her, am accordingly they digged in the place lie had named, but found nothing bul an old decayed pot,\with a hnnatitiea or bloodstone in it. u-T'he Princes: caused the body to' be digged up an burned with the olothios, etc., and thin mysterious shade was thus exorcised It was supposed that he had poisonec many people with his master's drugs. Heat and Light in the Sick toom. Each person in a room should be sup plied with 3000 cubic feet of air pot hour; and this should be done, wher possible, without creating a percepti ble draught, for the nervous irritatior induced by draughts is liable to' pro duce internal inflamations. The tem perature of the sick room should bi kept at a uniform height, the bes average being from sixty-five to seven. ty degrees Fahrenheit, except for in fants or very old people, who requir< a templerature from seventy-five t< eighty degrees Fahrenheit; and foi those it is especiatly important to guar< against changes, anid keep it as uiiiforn as6 possible. All cases of fever require a temtperature lower than the average as from fifty to sixty degrees Fahron heit, to assist in -redlucing the high teml perature of the body; but whelin the fever subsides, and there is much do bil ity remai ning, the temperatu rt should be raised somewhat above th( average. As a p)atient can bear greater degree of 00o(1 when in bed that when.out of it, e lescents 'fron severe disease, to cially, shoub have the temperature of their room: higher than that maintained during ti height of thei attack. Diseises of the air passages, as croup aid diphtheria require a high temperature (eighty t< eighty-five degrees Fiuhrenhelit) and moist atmosphere. Thle best rnethoi for heating the sick room is by the open grate fire. The room should no be darkened by blinds, except wher< there is disease of the eyes,with photo phoble, or wvhen the patient is vera restless and cannot sleep then stronj light must be excluded. Othierwise the6 sun-light mutst be allowed to onto: and act chemically by decomposing thi noxious gases, -and thus purify the air Of course it is not advisible to placn tihe patient under a stronig uncomfort able glare of sunlight, hor- in summie to allow the sunt's rays to shine into th< i'oom sand raise the teraperature tot high, Artifieial light has no utsein ea'dct1 but does harm by burning ip ox ygen. . Foohish. To thinkd the more a man ieAts the fatte and stronger h'e will becomeu v To believe that the more huour childrei study the faster they will learn. To conclude that if exercise is good, th more violent. it -is, the more go6d is done. To ima*lno that eoer houir staken froll slep 8 a hurgained. -~' To t on thme p resumption that the small eat room in. the house las? large ewieugh t slep in. T,o argue, tha$ whiatever remedy .cause olie ti'feelifhtnediately'betterf(Iu?6o, Ic the systergl wtithout regatd tola ti161-i of feet.. To eat withoQi An ~pj*t 6to c6eft i ii dw 4'Aptfttheflssi Wide uttbt i elA The Boy who was not Kkinapped. 'This is all about a boy. Several days ago ian item appeared in the State Pess to the ' effect that in Westport a youth named Jackson had been kidnapped. Ile was last seen talking on the road to two strange men in a buggy. Search was made for him, but without avail. lowever, lie was not kid r napped. Master Jackson lived with two - aunts in West port, where he went to school. Ils parents live in Philadelphia. When school closed he was promised the vacation with his parents, but for some reason the promise was not fultilled. So Master Jack son started off on his own hook. The fam ily have friends in Washington. Knowing Washington to be somewhere near P1hiladel phia, and Congress having adjourned, he determined to visit the Capital, and then suddenly surprised the family in Philadel phia. lie had no money, but he had an iron bolt, safely secured in his pocket. This he was going to sell and with the proceeds take the cars for Washington. Fearing that he would create susp i(i by attempting to dispose of his property iII Westport, he walked to Norwalk, a distance of four or live miles. On reaching Norwalk he had solved a much better plan for raising funds tihan disposing of the bolt. lie would catch fish and sell them: IIe might run short of money where there was no fish to catch, and then the bolt would come handy. But he had no fish-hook. lie had a line, how ever, and also a bit of brass chain. In Nor walk he met a boy and succeeded in dis posing of the chain to him for a nennv. With the penny he bought-a hook, and at tached it to the line, and went to the water. He had heard that flesh frozen was safely carried to Europe, where it found a good market, but having no ice-chest he con cluded to just catch enough fish for the local market. Ile fished three hours in the I broiling sui, and caught but. one fish about three inche., in length. This discouraged him. It was ge'ting toward night, and lie was very hungry. He went to the railway station and loitered about till night-fall, de termined, under thecoverof darkness; tose cure a ride on the cars. Twice lie got. seat ed on the platform of a car but the noise of of starting made him so nervous that he jumped off. Late in the evening he asked a man to tell him the way to Westport. lie was hungry and frightened, and unmanned generally. The stranger took him in for the night, and the next, morning directed him on the road home. Near noon he reached a point where he could look down upon the beautiful Village. It was a lovely scene. The bells were ringing, and the vil lagers were gathered in holiday costumes. They had been out all night scouring the woods, and all the morning -dragging the Naugatuck river. Now the hells were call ing them to a more thorough search. It was a beautiful sight. To the boy with the iron bolt In his pocket it must have been very affecting indeed. That Fly-Paper. Now is the season when the druggist hangs a doz(n sheets of sticky fly-paper in the windows to show the folly of investitg in mosquito-bars. The said sheets are cov cred with flies, dead and (lying, sometimes artistically arranged and so)metiies dropped on in a reckless though captivating manner. There is no sham about this paper. It will catch any fly who takes a sheet of It for a skating-park, and It will hold him long en - ough for you to run to the wood-pile and bring the axe and knock him in the head. . The only trouble is to work up the fly. le sometines knows his business, and you can't beat it into his noddle that a sheet of this )paper represents a cool and grassy valley in to which lie is privileged to meander in search ot lumps of white sugar. le will - sit on the edge of the 'window-sill-and won der and think, and kick out his legs in the sunishine, and if you think lie hits got so hard up that he mtust comle down to miolas ses anmd pulp, you keep right on trying. V'isionts of the thoustands of flies capturted at the drug store "since Monday noon" will rise upi before you, but only to matke you ,tmore dlown-hearted. If you spread out teni .sheets ont the chairs and table anid floor, you runa more chances of catchinig a fly than with one. Any arithmetic wvill tell you this. It, mtay be an hour or two before sonme reckless old reprobate of a fly will start out to see what you have beetn doin1g. Batck im a corner and dlon't breathe while lie is muak inlg for the table, He may light dlowni. Flies have thieir tire'd momteats the same as 1three-year old steers. Hie will slide to the east--then north by east-then southeast then wheel to the west and 1)0k around to see if anybody has a broom trainedl otn him. G)ive hun time. If the molasses is up to -hlis-gradle you will. catch hihn sooner or. latear. When he fialy slides up to Sthe paper you can bet you've got hin. Takinig hold of the tale with lis Ilegs lie will reacht his head out, nibble a little, smack lis lips, and then make a dive for the centre of the sheets, calculating to Sfly off with It to the knot-hole in the coiling. .If you have tacked'the sheet down you've g ot a fly. I~f you haven't away goes a cent. Yoiu may eatch a second fly before the sunn mer Is gone, butt if you are impatient and want to mak'e a show you muist ordler your dead flies by the box from New York, spread out your paper In a quiet p)lace, and put 'enm on with the muachinet usedl by all re spectable druggists. - Another Vetry Remtiarkablo Wotman. We were sitting upon a fence in thme coun try, talking about the depression of trade, Iwhen a pheasant swept past us a little dis tatnce above our heads. "That,". said Woodruff, p'inting to the *bird, "reminds me of Mrs. McGann." "I' don't understand you," I said. "You didn't know Mrs McGann 1" hie r asked. "No I Well, she lived over in our town,:and one day her husband, the great ' patent man, wl,o bad an inventive turn, got uip'what he called "'he McGanri Patent In a fiated Adjustment.'" "htwas.i nltdwt - hgso titat.it would distenmd the dress ) to Riay desiraible extent. 8 o the'first one lhe made he utsed: as an experiment upon Mrs. S McGanun. 8ihe placed it tinder -her dross r and stood ont in theo yardn.wil 500 nn i connpeted,the adjusatmentwitlhe gasspupe, b'means of.a flexible tube. Fort while it, I t1aeemed .to ,promnise -,-tbu'. dont 1 k6*Ylidtit , ~ On used lb i u of idde Mrs. MotfVIej 2 bli h r. Aashe' rose ~git f ind S etfuir ,ud dshe ha~d tWtl y r ''etOsant t# oden atpat h ,ij6tO .btd, atid to h1atrc*thIata%.I- p4 mixing the pudding, before she was above the snow-line I" ''Did shte come down again ?" "Well, I was going to tell you. You know she floated round in the tpper atinos phere for awhile, looking tit thunder storms, and the aurora borealis, and the 'zone belt, and so on, and probably having a pretty good time, although she was badly fright ened, and felt the want of her shawl and her eye-glasses. So she drifted about, you understandl, being shot at now and then by men who mistook her for a new variety of eagle, or something of that kind. She gratually descended after awhile, and she was alarmed, In passing over the town, lest a man who shot at her, under the im pression that she was an ostrich, should perforate the adjustment, and bring her down in at Condition of collapse." "How did she got down ?" "I'm coming to that. You see she was being tossed about by the vaaious currents of air, but going rather cjuietly, when all at once a tornado or somethimg came along and sliammed her with frightful force against the Presbyterian church steeple----" "''ho Presbyterian church ?" "Yes, the Presbyterian steeple. And as she lilt it, you know, the point of the I weather-vane pierced the adjustment and let all the gas out. So there she hung sus pended. When the wind veered she would I swing round first in one direction, and then in another, her parasol pointing east or west, or north or south, just its the breeze hap pened to blow. It was genorally allowed that she made a very handsome we:' t her vane, for she was a good-looking woman ; and as for the sexton of the church, he was in favor of leaving her there its an orna ment." "But she got down, of course ?" "I was just going to tell you. She stayed there all night, while McGann rigged up a i balloon to go up after her, but the balloon I exploded about half waty up, leaving Mc Gann clinging to the tiles of the spire. ''he impre"sion seemed to be that the trustees word simply let the McGanns alone the whole family would eventually lie found roosting about on that church steeple." "But how did they get her down ?" "Why, I was just going to say that AIc I Gann had another adjustment at home. So 1 he sent a boy for it, had it inflated, tied a rope to it, and sent it up, so that it drifted< over to Mrs . McGann. She arranged It, I and then they hauled in on the rope, and, its she descended, McGann clasped her 1 waist with his arm, and t,hey cane down I with a rush." "Wits she hurt ?" "No ; but McGann was." "How ?" "Why, as soon as he touched ground she seized his hair, and shook hin round so he didn't know whether lie was in Peterbor ough or Peru. Then they went home, and she burned up all the patents in the house." "Is that a true story, Woodruff 1" "Sure thing I Come round with me, and I'll show you the very steeple she collapsed on1" "But, still, I have my doubte about it.." Gambet.tii in his Now EHome. While the Speaker of the Chamber was making an excursion to Italy and Switzer land, the Petit Bourbon was freshly' fitted f up by the official upholsterers. The green 1 brocade silk in the ante-rooms, the tone of which was crude and and out of fashion, has been replaced on setees and armchairs by stamped velvet of a maroon shade. The blue drawing room, near the Secreta ry's ofllce, in which the Duo de Moray used to receive ladies, has been restored, and is inl exactly the same state in which it was sixteen years ago. New carpets, manufac tured at Aubusson, have been laid down In time long suite of reception rooms ona tIhe ground floor, which are furnished in thme Louis Quartorze style in gilt furniture, tip holstered with crimisona Lyons brocade. The taste In which they are fitted up seems to me questionable. One roonm Is exactly the same as the other in tihe State apanrt meats, anid the workcs of art on whaich the eye might rest with pleasure wvere they lower down, are confined to small allegori cal p)aintings ini a modlern spirit. Ini the room nearest to the gallery where Do Mor ny kept his pilctuires and( other works of art, Gambletta usually receives visitors in the (lay time. Thme chairs are easier tihan it any other saloons, and thecre are dlesk tables, on which are piled? blue books, ma gaziines, newspaipers, and 'offilcial reports and drawers choked up with letters anA other doctumeats. 'When Parliament is sit tiaig, Gambetta Is carefully "'valeted" both at home and abroad. Wheni it Is In recess lie wears the shabby "hand me-down suit, of coarse blue cloth, peg tel) trousers and loose jacket, called a varcuase, In whichi I used to see hinm at the offce of the Repub lique Francealse, and a dark crimison smnok ing cap. This ,headpiece gives him a Turkish appearance. When thie-visitor is on Intimate terms, Gambetta tuirnetthe back I of a low padded chair in the Voltaire slyhe towvard him, andi placing haimself astride oat the seat, crosses his arms on thec back, leans hise chtin on his hands, and listens whmat thme I newcomer has to say. When lie wants to talk himself he starts tip and sticking his hiatgs in his trousers' pocket, walks about the room speaaklng voltubly all the time,. When lie is thus at case, his conversation is amuch more original and striking than when lie Is on his p's and q's and obliged to act< like an ordinary mortal, Deceptive Distances on the Plains. A story is told of two Englishmen who started from Denver, Cl.,for a walk to the mountains before breakfact, an appar ently easy task, as tihe mountains did not appear more than a mnile or two away. Af- I tcr walking for an hotur without seeming to have made any progress toward the desired goal, one of theii became discouraged and a concluded to return for his breakfast; a!- < terward lhe took a carrIage and went in< search of hals friend, whom lie found on the'1 bank of a small ditch, His friend inquired what hte intendedt to do.a Ho replied, to wade the ditoh. ils friend aid there w#s no neoeassty /for that, as it was less thart three feet aOross, and he could easily juhy1 it. "You can't toli 'anything. ebout, It i this otntry," responded, the other; 't may be three hmndred feet aeross for a t I khow."0 His morpting walk Poy extend abblit fte~en nilles bfor reached tha te thlls~ y FOOD FOR 'I'IHOUGHT. Silent witnesses were scarcely known in apostolic days. Let us adopt the motto, "We believe In perseverance. Sermons are addressed to men, pray 3r addresses to God. Beware of being a promising hearer mid nothing more. The wise and prudent conquer diii ulties by daring to attempt them. Innate rudeness, in spite of restrain, will betray itself by awkwardness. Every man is bound to tolerate an act 3f which he himself sets the example. Hide not the truth when you know it, nt clothe not the truth with falsehood. Gratitude is the music of the heart. vhen its chords are swept by kindiness. It is with life at with coffee; he who Irinks it pure must not drain it to the I regs. Tie rich are more envied by those who have little than by those who have iothing. It is the work of a philosopher to be hvery day subduing his passions and aying aside his prej udice. Have nothing to do with any man in a passion, for men are not like iron, to )e wrought upon when hot. A year of pleasure passes like a fleet ng breeze, but a moment of sorrow cems an age of pain Divine guidance is shown when our ,esel, tempest tossed, keeps steadily n Great things are not accomplished by tlie dreams, but by years of patient tudy. The way to eternal beatitude is open o him who without omission speaketh ruth. Be modest not by underrating your elf but by due appreciation of the nerits of others. A wise italian proverb says that 'there are those who despise pride w ith reater pride." Envy makes us see what will serve o accuse others and not perceive what nay justify. When the character of any one is Iiscussed, silence in the good-natu red a censure. llonor and fame from no condition Ise; act well your part, there all the aonor lies. Wickedness resides in every hesita ion about an act even though it be not )erpetrated. There is nothing lower than hypoe risy. 'To profess friendship and act nmitj isa sure proof of total depravity. After an event is irretrievable, noth ug is more foolish and absurd than the Iiscussion of what might have been lones. Happiness consists in occupation of nind. Small minds require to be oc mpled by affairs. Great minds can oe upy themselves. The best kind of revenge is that which is taken by him who is so gene ous that lie refuses to take any revenge it all. The men who always say a kind word or their neighbors and turn a deaf ear o scandal are not only very blessed )ut also very soaree. Sin always begins with pleasure and mnds with bitterness. It is like the colt rhich the little boy said was very taine n front and very wild behind. There are some people who think hat eternal vigilance is a fearful sum o pay for liberty when a sort of easy roing slavery can be had for half the rice. No man has come to true gi eatness vhio has niot felt in some degree that its life belongs to his race, and that vhat God gives him lie gives hiini for nan kind. Benjamin Franklin was not a prophet. mut no prop)het ever uttered a truer vord, when rightly balanced, than thuis: 'God helps those that help them elves." The way to honor a true man as lhe vould be honored, when deaf,h f)rces thers to enter upon lis labors, is to ontinue them as he would. have done ihd lie lived. -The very hieart and root of sin is an) ndependent and selfish spirit. We reot the idol self, andl not only wish thers to wovshiip it, but we worship) It mrselves.. Humor is a very important element ni every man's life. Neither man nor ilant thrives in the shade. It la nec assary, however, to see that it Is good iumior rather tItan bad. It is when our budding -hopos are iipp)ed beyond r ecovory by somne rough vind, that we are the moat dispos&d to icture to ourselves what diowe's they nMhit have borne if they had flourish d. Some men advertise their Mves and lie public are generally dIi appointed mecause the advertisement promises too nueh; others let their lives advertise hem aund the public always gets more han Is promised..' As men are most capable of distin.. guishing merit In women so the ladles. >ften form the truest judgment of uts. L'he two sexes seem plaeo as spies i:pon ach other, and are furnished with di-. erent abilities, adapted for muatual in pection. ~ A drop of Ink Ia a very smallathing, ret dropped into a tumbler of. ple'ar vater It blackceps the whole; snd so lie first oath, the first lie, the 'firat class, they seem -very trivial, but they eave a dark stain upon one's character. look out for the first stai. "There is no hnk" a d lt,'so. ehightiul uA t, riangpi4 0Jig f tynut, & rthi teaso!'te I no oniversmilona go ate6eble as tiaf te nan of IhtegrlWwho h0rs la~ nfinie usorrow.