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- .. 0 -E -B -..... .-- -1880. TVRI-WEEKLY EDITION.- WINNSBORO, S. Ob, AUGUST 14, -1880. VOL. IV.-NO. 98. HOPE'8 VICTORY. Dark elouds had spread across the sky As I roamed o'er the old loved ways, And through the trees the breezei.sighed, While sunbeams hid their golden rays. "Oh, all la'dark and sad arouna, And in my heart no light Is found; No more will brightness o'er me spread, For joy Is gone and hope in dead 1" E'en as I spoke the sun shone forth One hea enly smile from out the sky, TLat shed a beam within my breast, And f tom my heart sad thoughts did fy. "Oh, in the gloom that gathers round, Let trust within the heart be feund ; Then, when the sunbeams gild the lea, Sweet lope will gain a vietory I" The Mill-Hand. Gilbert Falconer sat in his library, sur rounded by all the appurtenanees of wealth -he was the wealthiest man in BrInsley but his attitude was listless, his brpws were drawn; a sharp struggle was going on be tween his heart and his pride. "What has come over me," he muttered. "I am as infatuated as any old fool think ing, worrying, fretting, and for what? A beggar maid with a pair of wnisome eyes a beggar low-born most likely. What am i thinking of," starting up vehemently, "I Gilbert Falconer, who could mate with the proudest in the country to have fallen so low I What would my proud mother sayI How haughty Beatrix. Lenox would sneer. i'll crush it out. I will. I'm no love sick boy." But some things are easier said than done, and this was one of them, as U. Fal coner found to his cost, though she was only an operator in one of the mills, a slen der, dark-eyed maiden who, though a beg gar maid, carried her small head, with the - grace and pride of a quenn. He could never forget the first time he saw her. Some orders had been disobeyed, but the consequences were scarcely serious enough to deserve the sharp rebuke the irate master gave; and upon an attempt at defence, Mr. Falconer laid his riding whip seveal times over the man's shoulders. "Go," he shouted, with an oath, "and never show your face in this yard again I" It was a hard sentence, for the man had a wife and children, and 'the master never broke his word or commuted a sentence. As Mr. Falconer turned away, still flush ed with anger, a slender figure passed.him, a pair of dark eyes gazed full into his eyes that were gositively blazing with anger; a rapid glance at the unfortunate culprit skulking out of the gate, then at him, showed which way her sympathy lay. "Do you know," she cried, suddenly pausing, "that that man has a wife and five children all dependent on what he earns here? Surely you did not mean what you said. The offense scarce deserved auch severe punishment." Mr. Falconer was fairly aghast at such unparalleled audacity. iever in his life had any one dared to call him to account for any of his actions. "I am not in the habit of consulting the opinion of my employes when I punish im pertinence," he said sharply. The small head went up Into the-air with a gesture that would have done credit to Miss Lenox. "No," she answered proudly; "but Mr. Falconer may have iomething to say about it when he learns what a destitute condi6 tion that man .s in." "I am Mr. Falconer,'' he answered. "I am master of this mill, and punish as I please." ' "You-Mr. Falconer?'' Anger, surprise and eontempt were pictured on her face as plainly as on a mirror. "Then I have no thing more to say." And with a slight in clination of thehead she passed on her way, Gilbert nothing vaguely that her dress was of the humblest make. Who was she? Such impertinence, bendin g his brows at the recollection that she had not asked his pardon at the first hasty word. "A mill-hand with that haughty style?i Blah," he crled,striding into lis office, "she is not worth noticing. She may be thank ful I do not send her away." For several days it happened that Mr. Falconor was in his office when the big bell sounded~release for all the tired souls and bodies in his employ, and he caught himself looking for a slender figure hi a worn dress; then, meetig her one morning coinig in the gate, was enraged at himself for hiav.ngs bowed, particularly as the dark eyes were immediately averted. HIe angrily asked the manager who she was. "Eteanor Elliot is the name she gave," *was the answer. "She eseems above her position, however, and she does her work very well." Mr. Falconor almost said I don't wislh her here any lomnger; thea 'something, an undefinable feeling, checked the words on lia lips; lie had to "dree his weird." After a while lie took to coiming to the mii every day, and occasionally walked through the long rooms full of busy men aud women, Once lie stopped at Eleanor Eliot's aide apd gravely dliseussed some fabric with thme manager, noticing absently the pretty eon tour of the small, bent head -and the alen der, well-kept fingers. An irresIstible desire seized hin to make her look up. Bending doiwn. lie stretched out hia hand and suddenly-how it hap. * pened no one could tell-ia hand was caught in the machinery. In an Instant all was confusion-is an instant the works were stopped, the wounded member ex tracted, but all- bruIsed. Eleanor's fingers bound the lacerated hand up in her own small handkerchief, the mester thanking her coueteously; then he drove away inm his fine carriage, ahd 'did not comle to the mlil for several days. .home timne after the mill operatives had a half-hioliday. Mr. Falconer-, riding slow ly through time woods near lis house, notic edtheo flutter of a woman's dIress, rode closer and saw tihe outline of a figure: then gallopinA to the stables, left hia hmbrao, and walked rapidly in the direction of the right dress. Nor was he mistakon. Under tihe shade of a wide-epreading tree, her liat off, her lap full of floWers, thie sunlight falling through the leaves :on her bonny brown hair, sat Eleanor Eliot, A smali boy, about two years old, lay with lisa head ini her lap, laughing amdd throwing lis legs about "pro. miscus, 'while she pelted him with bios somos. a"Oh l"' she ered,kissing him "yotd dear, good little man, what a comfort yqu are to The leaves rustled, and Mr. Faiconr ame into view. The girl put the child off i her lap, and rose to her feet. 1 "Don't let me disturb you," he said. t "Yon made a pretty picture in the sunlight, i you two. This is the first time I have seen < you since my accident. Let me thank you for your promptness that day. I have i your little handkerchief yet," with an in- I flection in his voleb that was new to Noa and that did not please her. - How could she guess that her winsome eyes and cold ness had piqued and interested the master as none of the willing advances of fair and wealthy neighbors had done? He was surfeited with flattery. Nora's coldness was a welcome stimulant-ay, more welcome than even lie knew him self. "You are perfectly welcome to anything I did," she replied, coldly. ,;Trhen there was a silence. "Who Is that child?" asked Mr. Falcon er, feeling rather snubbed, makingr a mo. tion to pat the little fellow's head; but lie shrank away, hiding his face in Nora's dress. "His name is Willie Marshall," answer ed Nora, quickly. "His father Is the man you horsewhipped and discharged some months ago, and since then he has never done a.day's work-can't get it to do. The whole family are living in one room, almost starving. Many a night this poor little creature has gone to bed hungry. Can you realize what it means to be hnngry ,starving 1-you, who have so much, who has never known what or the semblance of -want? Oh, Mr. Falconer, where God gives so much he surely will require much I You will have to answer for a great deal one of these days. Your men, with their wives and children, are living in hovels that you would not let your dogs occupy. Those hovels are yours; they are paying you rent for them. The ventilation is wretched. the drainage is simple murderous. Some day a fever will, must come, and many souls will be hurried into eternity, and you will have to answer for them all. Oh, surely, rich men's hearts are like nether mill-stones I" Hor face was flushed,, her eyes were shining with unshed tears; she looked love ly. Mr. Falconer drew closer. "Tell me what to do,' lie said, simply, trying to keep down a great rush of feel. ing. "What shall I do for Marshall? How can I help him? Tell me." "Repair the injustice you did I" cried Nora, eagerly,drawing a little back. 'Give him employment, at once, before the brave mother's heart is broken, and the poor little children entirely forget the taste of decent food. Pray do it, Mr. Falconer; you owe it to them.' Gilbert came siviftly close to her, his hands outstretched, his eyes bright, a feel ing stronger than himself-a feeling lie did not stop to anaylyze-urging him on. "I will, Nora,' be cried eagerly-"I will without fall to-morrow. Now ask me some thing m6re, my darling. I would do much more than that for you." He caught her hand tight in his. In an instant Nora wrested them away. "How dare you " she cried, In a blaze of anger. "How dare you touch me? Go away I Oh, you are a bad hnan. I hate you." "Don't be so unkind to me, Nora," he pleaded, unabashed. "Indeed, I am in 'earnest. I do love you. If you would only listen to me-if you would only love me a little." "Don't insult me any further,"she cried, stamping her foot. "Love you? Why I hate you! hate you I hate you I There-" "Hate me, do you ?" Gilbert's face was drawn and white. In an instant his arms were round her, crushing the slender figure close, while he laid a warm passionate kiss on her lips. Then as he let her go, "Now," he said hoarsely, ."forget me if you can, hate me if you dare. Wherever you go, through your whole life, you shall never forget me; that kiss shall lie on your lips and make you love me." Nora was deadly pale. "You are right," she said, slowly, with an effort, and oh, the utter scorn and con tempt in that voice. "I shall never forget you as the most unprincipled, dishonorable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and I perfectly loath myself because you have touched me. I hope~ I may never see you again;" and catching up the whimper ing, frightened child, walked rapidly away. True to her word, Eleanor did not meet Mr. Falconer again, as she left Brinsiey by the afternoon train, going as quietly as she had come, no one knowing her destina tion. And before the day was over the master received a telegram calling him to Inter laken, where his mother lay very ill, so Thursday's mail train bore him away; but befpre lie left Marshall had been reinstated in lia old position, The next.news, received several weeks latter,was of Lady Helen Falconer's death, and of herson's intention to travel for some time. Nearly a year after Eleanor's prophecy was fuilled. A low fever, born of impure ventilation and vile sewerage, broke out In that part of the town where the mill operatives lived, and death gathered in his hayvest with retlentless force. Mr. Falconer returned from abroad, and with a rapidly organized committee went from house to houSe, from death bed to decath bed with fear of contglona, spurredi *on by an accusing conscience, the words: "Many souls will be hurried into eternity, aind you will have to answer for them,'' ringing in his ears. At last the current of the disease was turned,the fever abated and measures were Immediately set on foot for the improve ment of houses and dIrainage, when Mr. Falconer was sitruck down. For weeks his life lay in the balance, the whole burden of his delirium being: "And I must answer for t9tem." hut God was merciful, and slowly Gilbert drifted back to .life and its ;esponsibilities. Laying back in an easy chair, pale, but the hIgh road to recovery one day hie h :ard a name which sent the blood bound. i(,g to lisa heart-a name which he had not bt .en able to forget. Is aunt was talkIng to a lady friend at noother endl of the room, "Eleanor Eliot is one of the sWeetest, n\inlest girls I ever knew or heard of," 4dy Hlargravue was saying enthusiastically. "erfatther was a clergyman, and dying, lett herind a young brother almost desti tute. There was just enough money left, after evertliing was settled to finish the boy's education, and the dear, brave girl would net toll the young fellow how much it was, and has been working bard, very hard, I believe, though I don't know at what and ha does not yet knnw at what ud he does not yet know how badly of ds poor sister is. 13he is distantly relatec o the Hon. Mis. Audley, and she aske ae to look out for some position for thi lear girl." "I think I know a position that migh uit her, ' said the visitor, "my siste a looking for a governess for her two litth ;Irls, and of course, Miss Eliot being a Nell recommended, she might suit." "I'll give you the address." Then Gilbert waited impatiently, whil its aunt rung the bell and Parker was die ?atcd to find Mrs. Audley's letter; the1 here was a hunt for the ladyship's eye ghsse's. At last the welcomes fell on hl n his ear. Two days after, sadly against his aunt' idvice, Mr. Falconer started for lAndor 4oing strait to a small, shabby house in humble location. * "Miss Eliot," lie asked eagerly of th miserable looking female who opened tLi loor. "She's left, sure," was the answer, "si left yesterday morning; her money we done, and I dunno where she's gone." Gilbert turned away with a sick hearl and, dismissing the cab, he walked ain lessly along. By-and-by lie came to a largc dark old church bearing traces of Inig Jonea in its beautiful entrance. The dooi were open, morning service was just ovel L4lbert was tired and weak; a sudden in pulse, for which lie thanked God all h life long, caused him to enter. - In one of the pews still knelt a girl, ti face hidden in both hands. Until ever one had passed out she knelt there, the rising, came slowly down the aisle. Pale, worn, with a weary droop of thm proud little head that made Gilbert's hea ache, came Miss Eliot. Trembling with nervousness lie waite until she was opposite to him, and the said quickly: "Miss Eliot." Startled,. she looked up, saw him, an colored to the roots of her hair, the glanced at the door as if meditating fligh "Don't go," lie cried, putting out a thi hand. Don't go. Oh, listen to me. Fo give me my brutalvconduct on that day. have regretted it ever since. Say you fo give me." No answer. Her head was bent down. "Nora, can't you forgive me ?" lie plea( ed. "You were angry with me once f calling you by your name, but I can't hel It dear; if you could only look into i heart and see the love I have for you, th utter longing. For nearly a year I hav been tryiug to forget you, and to day love you better than ever. Nora, can you love me?" At the last sentence Nora looked u quickly. "Are you in earnest? Do you realki who I am ?" she said, with the old prou movement of her head. "An operator your mill-a beggar, without a home a friend, save my brother, God bless hin in the world-while you are a rich man I "Oh come to me," interrupted Gilber stretching out his arms. "If that is yot only objection, come to me quickly. M pure, noble dar.ing, I know all your sel sacrifice. I am not half worthy of yoi Come to ine-make me a better man, 1 good to my people. I know they will ble you when they learn how much they ov to you." Then in a low,cager tone he to) briefly of the fever, and of the entih change in the santitary arrangements i Brinsey, touching lightly on his illnes and passing over his bravery. "And yoi prophecy daunted me; all through my if ness it run in my ear, and I hungered for sight of your bonny face, for a touch ( your hand. Nora I" with a sharp ring < pain In his voice, "take back your bitt( words; tell me you do not hate me. Eve a crumb of bare liking I shall be thankfl for, and if you will bless me with yoi precious love I shall thank God for It. Y can make me a better man, a better lani lord, a true Christian. All these possibli ties lie in your handis." Nora's face was hidden in her hands she was sobbing. "Won't you answer me?" he pleade4 bending over Jier. "Only one little wom to put me out of supense. My darling, am weary for you. Come to my armse Lh are waiting for you." And she came wilth a sudden, awl movement, laying her tired head on Ii shoulder, while his glad arms gathered h close to his heart, and lie laid his lips< her forehead with a silent thanksgih for the blessed boon of this "miill-hand love. nMortgage. In the whole range of sacred and pr fane literature, perhaps there is nothh recordecd which has such staying properti as a good mortgage. 'A mortgrge can l depended upon to stick closer than brother. IL has a mission to perfor which never lets up. Day after day It right there, nor does the slightest tenden4 to slumber impair its vigor in the mgli Night and day, on the Sabbath, and holiday times, without one moment's th1i for rest or recreation, the biting offsprh of its existence-interest-goes on. Ti season may change, days run into week weeks into months, to be swallowed up~ the gray man of advancing years, but Li mortgage stands up in sleepless vigihanc with the interest a perennial stream, ceas lessly running on. Like a hugh nightma eating out the sleep of some restless slur boerr; the unpaid m6rtgage rears up l gaunt front In perpetual torment to tL miserable weight who is held within I pitiless clutch. It holds tihe poor victim the relentless grasp of a gIant; not ot hour of recreation; not a moment's eve ion of its hiide.ous presence. A genm savage of mollifying aspect while the int< est is paid; the very devid of hiopeic destruction when the payments fail. The harber's Pole. Every part of the barber's pole formei had especial significance. The gilt nob the top was once a brass basin, with notch in the side used to fit under the oh to facilitate the lathering and washing customers. The barbers were former surgeons; at'ieast all the' veneection w performed by thoem. The polo represee the staff held by two persons who we l4ed in the arm; and the two spiral ribbo painted around It were originally actul bandages-one for cording or binding t arm to cause the flow of blood, and ti other for dressing the puncture afterwa~rd The whole was significant of the barbel twin occupations-ohaving and bloo letting. N#Wstead Abbey. The present entrancei-hall of Newstead is part of the old crypt of the Monastery, and is now filled with stuffed animals and birds shot by Mr. Webb in various parts of the r world, for Mr. Webb appears to have licen ) a mighty hunter, in his earlier days. On the > floor we noticed two large Plocks of coal with dates written upon thet. It was ex plateed to me that these were samples of a the "black diamonds" which have been - found under Newstead during the last few years, luckily for the presentownerof the es - tate. Col. Wildinan, who b4ughlt it of By s ron,rulncd hims :over thepttpt r'y and was obliged to sell it for less tlan a tJilrd of a of what it had cost him. Ir. Webb will practically get the whole estate for nothing i and a handsome yearly revenue into the bargain, for he has already made enough D profit out of the coal beneath Newstead to e pay for the purchase of. It. A seam' four feet nine inches in depth has been found e on the estate, and it would take generations a to work it out. "If the wicked Lord" had t only hit upon the discovery-or the great t , oet h'mself for that matter I Either of theii would soon have made (he money , fly. At the top of the narrow stone stair o case on the left of the hall is Byron's old a bedroom, adjoirning his dressing-room, , with the furniture which he used left quite unchanged. There on the walls is the a portrait of his servant, Joe Murray, a bluff and hearty looking fellow smoking a long e pipe; there also is the pugiist Jackson, in I y a long-tall blue coat, and got up in "go-to n meeting" clothes, but looking in spite of them every inch a "bruiser." Byron's e bedstead, toilet service, shaving glass and I t other articles are where lie left them and close by is the '-ghost's room," where his d page slept. These rooms have been describ n ed time after time. The library is never shown to strangers, but we were kindly per mitted to see it. It is a long low room over d the cloisters of the abbey, and opens on tv a a balcony, from which there Is a beautiful look out over the green space within the n ruined chapel. Here the east window has a r- very noble appearance and Boatsw'n's grave I is also in sight, and many fine trees among them a grand cedar. This Is altogether a charming nook. From the library we went through various bedrooms, among others the one in which Edward III. is said to >r have slept while oi his way to the north, p "while yet the church was IRome's." We y remarked in this room a fine old carved bed a stead, withe the date of 1533 upon it. In e the day rooms now used by the family there I are the Byron relics, described by Irving it and others, together with some more recent additions, the most interesting of which is p perhaps the cap worn by Livingstone on his last journeys--old, weather-beaten, ;e mended with twine and telling in itself a d touching story of hardship and suffering. n The African attendants of Livingstone in ir his last illness were entertained at Newatead 1, by Mr. Webb and Mr. 8tanley with them. "|A tree planted by Livingstone is in the t, grounds and anothor by Stanley. The oak ir planted by Byron on one side of the lawn y is now a fine large tree, but is decidedly a r- disfigurement to the lawn, and no wonder . that both Colonel Wildman and Mr. Webb 0 have repeatedly talked of cutting it down. Is Lord Byron's dining-room was also the ,e old dining-room of the Abbots of Newstead, d and here we noticed two little Chippendale c sideboards and cellarets which belonged to it the poet and are still used. We observed , also a date on the drawing-room ceiling ir which no one seems to have mentioned I- "March 28, 1688." In the cloisters there a is a dark, underground, vault-like space in If which the dead of the monastery used to If be placed until the graves were ready to ir receive them. This was chosen by Byron n as an excellent place for a plunge-bath and 11 he went there every day. It is a spot from ir which most people would shrink back with u a kind of horror. The ghost of a monk i. was said to have been aeon from time to i- time pacing up and - down these cloisters, and his presence always foreboded evil to .. the Lord of Netead. This superstition has not entirely 'died out, altlhoughi the owners of houses like Newstead do not like d to talk about much thinigs. It is a fact, how I ever, that there are peop)le living who are it willing to testify that they have seen the spectral monk in the cloisters. ft Is n Whore la the ytabio Library. kg A man with weak eyes and green spec 'a tacles came wandering into the "ofRece the other day and wanted us to head a sub scription to build a monument over the grave of Brigham Young. WQ declined. We flatly refused, saying that Mr. Young's -family was big enough to provide him with enough monuments to reach from the grave ihalf way to Heaven. sa "So you wont put down a dollar?" asked athe weak-eyed man, esid "o a nickle, not a stingy, red cent." "What." he replied, in amazement, and t, here is the very place I expected to get the tlist headed, right here at 'the literary cen Stre of this busy metropoiis. You won't ggive a paltry dollar in irredcemablo fluctua .ting currency for a monument over the grave of the author of Night Thoughts, Swon't you? You'll eBut we assured him Brigham Young never wrote a line of Night Thoughts, andi that the author of that poem died more othan one hundred years ago. . "What," exclaimed the weak-eyed mani ts "Brigham Yonng didn't writo Night eThoughts?" s"Not a thought," we said; "he neverI n thought after dark; lie went to sleep." e "W ell what did he write?" the menu - ment cantrasser asked. al "Never wrote anything," we told him; r- "he didn't know how to write; signed his re as ceipts for money with an X, and preached all his sermons ofthiand, because he didn't no how to make notes. "Well, well, well," the agent said, "how this world is given to lying. What did Brigham Young do if he never wrote ly poetry, and couldn't write, and never at thought anything?" a "Married," we said, "married, Didn't in need to think to do that. The less he at thought the more lie married, and when ly he died he had so many wives and children as that his funeral looked like a foundling hos ts' pital and charity school picnic procea ro sion." is The man rose wearily and started for al the door, pausing to ask: me "Where is .the public library? I must me read up a little on the public men 'of our s. day. Mtrange, passing strange, that I "s should have got this -stranger named :I- Brigham, of whom I never heard before? so badily mixl upn with Edwin Youn. ' Pairin Invtinct of Birds. - Birds may be divided into three classes, iz., firstly those birds w1icli. having once mired, remain together for life; secondi >irds which pair annually; and thirdl, >rds which never pair, but are polygain ils. We will take firstly those birds which mair for life. Swallows are an excellent ype of this class, returning to their old iestiny itee for the same purpose as pre rigusly. The marlin returns to its old neat. 3ut to some this may appear licredible, Lnowing that these birds perform long ili Prations, an may get separated while up li them. Do these birds get finally sepa ated when in large companies they are earching T he air for food? or do rooks, tarlings, and jackdaws fall to remember he position of their nests? The same in tinct which informs the swallows when o leave the south, in like manner urges hem onward to their old nests, and again he same pair of birds will perform the ame duties of incubation. We know that he same nesting site will be yearly tenan ed by its former owners, provided they ie left unmolested. This must be by the ame pair of birds: for what ornithologist ins ever, in the course of his observations, Lcn swallows prying about into his barns aid out-buildinsl in search ot sonic old lest which will save then the labor of onstructing one thenselves The tline vould be so taken up in - this search that io brood would be reared. Young Uiirds >air most likely before their migration to is, and search out nesting sites upon their irrival in this country. Ravens, magpies, jackdaws, starlings, kouse sparrow8, several of the Falconidw aid Parido, have all been known to re urn to their nests of the previous season. l'he robin and the wren return to their old ites (but not to the old nests) for several -cars. From these instances it may be in erred that all birds which return to their >ld nests or nesting sites for the same pur >ose every year pair for life. In the second place, those birds which >air annually. The birds which form this livision are the most numerous of any. We lave inany instances of this class; as a ,ood type, we will take the willow warb or. NW hen these birds first arrive in this :ountry they are never in pairs. But ob erve then a few weeks later; they have ill found mates, and are employed in do nestle duties. It is the nature of these )irds t3 build fresh nests every season Lnd never in the same position or locall ,y. When once these birds have left thier tests, and the young can forage for them ielves, all connection between the two )irds ceases; the nests are abandoned, iever to be returned to, and the birds roani tbout searcing for food, very often soll .ary, until the tine of migration arrives. several of the tlirushes are for the most >art solitary in their habits, except in the >reeding season, while others roam about ,u flocks, very often the males or fe males being predominant, but, as spring arrives, separating into pairs for incuba tion, after which the same routine is again repeated. Tle chfinch is the saine-in Iocks during the winter, tile sexes not at ,ll social; but as the breeding season ap. proaclies they are again seen lin pairs for the propagation of their species. The pigeons, partridges. snipes, plovers, and rails all pair annually. In the same man aer the buntings, larks, many of the tin. hes, warblers all pair in their due season. All these birds' nests, after once serving their purpose, are abandoned forever. Wfill the frail little white-throat use yon ibode again? or the sand-piper return to lhe cavity which once contained her eggs? 'hese birds pair annually, and of course mlect each successive year a fresh situation ror the birth-place of their young. In the third place, we will take that ,lass of birds which never pair, or are poly. amons. It is only in one division of our present classincatioi that we can- trace haose of polygamous habits-in the first setion of the Gallinaccous bIrds. In all )irdls which airos polygamous the female ilone is intrusted wvith all care of eggs or young, and shte, through a wise provision f nature, is made equal to the emergency. ri'e mialO shows little or no affection for irds in the Blritt,Kh Mueum. Some sensible alterations have lately been madle ini the bird collections of the British Museum. Hitherto the stuffed birds have all been set up oin plain wooden stands, and a more monotonous or unsug gestive method can hardly be conceived, It is, however, an economical plan, and as Buch lie8 recommended itself to nearly all our pub~lic collections alike; but the inno vation introdiuced at the British Museum is well worth general adlCption, if only for typ)ical sp)ecies of echcl family of the bird( world. To give instances, a bush of furze all ablaze with the golden blossoms has taken the place of the bare wvooden perch on which the liiinets used to stand, and in the bush is the egg-filled r,est of the little songsters. Rtiver weeds, rushes and the marsh mairigold form the iiew setting of the moor liens' nursery, the birds standing at the cdlge of the imitation water into which --an old crony of the moor liens', no doubt --a kingfisher is also gazing from an over banging branch. The pheasant looks out rroii a pleasant coveit of bracken and blue balls, with a primrose tuft and dead leases for a carpet and a brIar for canopy. Gulls ire seen by the side of their fledglings on the llcchen-coverett rocks they haunt.in the :listant Hebrides, and the skylark hovers on trembling wing over the nest with its trea sures, built on the)(round by ajtuift of grass, wIth the mother on the watch beside it l'ho crested greb)es make a striking group, with the male bI)rd flying down to his mate, who, with the chicks about her, stand by the sedge-grown pool; andl thme corerack era, young cin:1 01(1, look shyly but happily out upon the spectator from their poppied imbush in the ripening corn. All these ire a vast improvement upon the old collec tions, where the small birds stand 'eadly balanced and in evident discomfort upon glazed perches, and the largeie species are ill set up, "accordIng to pattern," as If they were being drilled or just being started, one leg forward, for a race. Chioride of Flatlinm. Dissolve the metal In hydrochloric acid, five parts, and nitric acid, three parts. A Florence flask Is convenient for this Dur pose. When all the metal is dissolved, tranfer the solution to a porcelain ovaporat ing dish, and apply heat until nearly the whole of the acid is expelled. Disadived in water or in either', chlorido of platinum is useful for imprf,Ing to - brass articles a steel-like annearance. The Pirate-Flshernan. The flsh-market of Havana is said to be he finest structure of the kind in the p world. It also interests the traveler by 0 ts romantic association with the story of farti, a reformed pirate and smuggler, r who built it and the "Tacon Theater." B During the administration of Tacon, from 1834 to 1888, smuggling and piracy had i rown so bold in and about Cuba as to de- U y the Spanish Navy sent to suppress the mutlaws. Their leader was a man named I blarti, and for his person, dead or alive, 5 he Uovernor-Gendral offered a large re ward. One dark nig ht a man was watching a he sentinels pacing in front of ,the ov irnor's Palace, Havana. As they turned t heir backs and separated for a moment, the 2 nan sprang unobserved through the entrance le passed up the broad stairs, saluted in a in imperious style the guard there station- p d, and passed into the Governor-General's omn. The Governor, engaged in writing, j ooked up as the man coolly cast aside his e iloak, exclaiming: "Who enters unannounced ?" t "One who has information of the pi -, ates." "What of them ?" said Tacon, earnest "One moment-I must not sacrifice my elf." "You have naught to fear. Even if you I ic one of them, yop will be pardoned." a "Will you pardon and reward me if I eveal the lurking-places-of the pirates,and mt Marti into your hand " "I pledge you my word of honor." said 0 racon. "Your excellency, I am Marti." The cool scoundrel then entered into an rrangemnent with the Governor for the be rayal of all the smugglers and pirates. Un Icr his guidance, the Spanish vessels sailed o the outlaws' hiding-places, and captured hose who were not slain, e When Marti returned to Havana, be was ffered the pardon, which he accepted, and noicy, which he declined. In lieu of the oward, lie asked the monopoly of selling Ish in Havana. 'It was granted, and lie rected a magnificent stone market. When ke became master of enormous wealth, he milt a theatre and named it after the Gov irnor-General who had pardoned the scoun Irel. MatrinontI Advice. Marry .in your own religion. Never both be angry at once. Never taunt with a past mistake. Let a kiss be the prelude of a rebuke. Let self-abnegation be the habit of both. Never allow a request to be repeated. "I forgot" is never an acceptable ex :use. A good wife is the greatest earthly bles ling. If you must criticise, let it be done loy- c .n1gly. i Makd a marriage a matter of moral Judg- 3 nent. Marry in a family which you have long t cnown. Never make a remark at the expense of < be other. Give your warmest sympathies for each >ther's trials. Never talk at one another, either alone t )r in company. 1 If one is angry, let the other part the lips 3 nily for a kiss. Neglect the whole world beside rather I ,han one another. Let each strive to yield oftenest to the ( Nishes of the other. t The very felicity Is in thte mutual culti ration of usefulness. e Never speak loud to another unless the 1 iouse is on fire. Marry ifito differdAt blood and temper. C iment from your own. Always leave home with loving words, or they may be the last. A Boy Agalu:. Somcthnes an old man becomes a boy igain, though too smart to drop into his Iecondi childhood. An illutration of this pleasant tendency was given, not many inonths since, by an old man, with several illions. lie was in the habit of prowling around 'j the office of the insurance -company inii which ho was $ director. One morning as ho was thus investigating, lie happened to ::ome across the dinner pail of the omele- e boy. ils curlosity led him to take off the i cover. A slice of home-made bread, two loughinuts and a piece of apple-pie tempted the imilhionaire's appetite. lIe became a < boy again, and the dinner-pail seemed the ne lhe had carried sixty years ago. Just then the office-boy came in and sur prised tihe old man eating the pie-lie had a Inishied the b)road and doughnuts.] "That's my dinner you're catingi cx- I hdiimed the boy, indignantly. "Yes, sonny, I suspect it may be;but il's i first-rate one, for all that. i've not eat'en io good a one for sixty years." "There," he added, as he finished the i pie, "take that and go out and buy your melf a dinner, but you won't get as good a K mne," and lie handed the boy a five dollar lill. For days after, the old man kept refer -ing to the first-class dinner ho had eaten rrom the boy's pail.( He Wasn't Mean. Mr.10.iJ aa Hitchcock was a Connecticut lonstable, whose character was under icrutiny. Deacon Solomon Rising was mnquired of about him. "Deacon Solomon Rising," ::aid the iuestioner, "Do you think Mr. Hitchcock .s a dishonest man?" (Very promply,) "Oh, no, sir; not by any means." "Well, do you think he is a mean man?" "Well, with regard to that," said the Deacon, a little more deliberately, "I may may that I don't really think he is a mean man ; l've sometimes thought ho was what you might call a keerfui maip-a prudent man so to speak." "What do you mean by a prudent man?" "Wqll,. I mean this: that one tihte he had an executio'n for. $4 aghinst the old Widow Witter back here, and he wvent uti to her house and levied on a flock of ducks, and ho chased them ducks, one at a time, round the house pooty much all day, and every time he catched a duck he'd set right down and wring its neck, and charg6 mile. age; an' his ddileage 'mbunted to more: than the debt. Nothin' meaa about it,sas I I know of, but I always thought after that,1 Mr. Hitehcock was a very prudent man." I NEWS IN BRIEF. -Senator Bruce, of Mississippi. is a rosperous planter and is worth $200, D0. --The orange trees in Florida are ot growing as rapidly as usual this eason. -In Ireland last year $7,500,000 less rere spent for drink than in the pre eding year. -Rice is becoming one of the most nportant grain crops planted In itthwest Georgia. -The Treasurer of Erie county, Pa., ays out annut%lly about $3000 for beep killed by dogs. -Out of 250 applicants for admission a Harvard at the June examination, 05 have been admitted. --The census of 4,alifornia indicates n indrease of 250,000 in the aggregate opulation of the State. -Prarle Wolf, an Indian chief, has ust died at the age of 119, from the Xcessive upe of tob acco. -General Hancock is a twin. His win brother, Hilary Hancock, is a Lwyer att Minneapolis, Minn. -Oak timber is now being shipped rom Somerset county, Pa., to Eng nd, to be used in ship building. --The municipality of Rome has laced a statue of Father 8ecohi, the stronomer, on the promenade of the "i1n0o. -The L ycoming Tannery, at Wil lansport, Pa., turns out 26,000 hides a ear, and uses in that time 12,000 tons f bark. -One hundred tons ot manganese vere mined, washed and shipped to ;ngland in one week, from Augusta 'ounty, Va. -The old Colonial church at Hall ax, N. C., is over a century old. In he church-yard there is d tomb stone rected in 1772. -The orange grove of Mrs. Harriet leeher Stowe, at Mandarin, on the t. Johns, Florida, yielded last year 2,000 to the acre. -Commissioner Le Due Is inspect ng the vicinity ot Columbia, S. C., vith a view to selecting a suItable place or cultivating tea. -There are 650 hands employed in he Erie Railway shops at Susque anna, Pa., whose monthly pay mounts to $35,000. -The total number of persons killed y the steam cars on the railroads in ennsylvania in 1879 was 553. and the Lumber injured 1581. -Over seven million bushels of grain f all kinds was shipped from the ight principal ports ot the West dur ag the week ending June 5th last. -The population of New Jersey is stimated at 1,200,000. In 1875, with stimates for a few places that faled to iake returns, it was 1,026,502, and in 870, 907,149. -Ohio now employs 12,248 men in he manufacture of agricultural imple ients alone. This State lettds every ther State in the Union, in this branch f manniaoture. -In New York city there are eighty ive Episcopal churches and chapels, lie number having doubled in twenty ye years, and 24,000 children In the "piscopal Sunday schools. -Thus far 46 delegates, the great aujority of Whom are ministers, have ecn appointed from the Presbyterian "hurch of Scotland to the Pan-Presby erlan Council at Philadelphia. -The Lutheran Uome for Deacon sees in Darmstadt has become an imi ortant sisterhood, having 108 deacon ases, novices, and probationers. Nine f its members are at work in the Ger ian Hospital, London. -The amount of lager and ale 'rewed in the United States in 1879 vas 10,000,000 barrels, of which New (ork produced one-third. The above mount is equal to 833,000 barrels a aonth, which is nearly 28,000 barrels day. -At a dinner given in Pont street, n London, the other day, the decora ions of the table andi dintng room con isted of real fruit trees in fuil bearing -peach es, nectari ncs, and cherries. 'ho guests could oat their desert from lie trees. --Queen Victoria is said to pride her elf exceedingly upon her beautiful ollection of miniatures, and she is aic ustomed to boast, with a laugh, that a this respect she has only one rival n Great Britain, and that is the Duke f Buccleuch. -Lady Anne Isabella Blunt, grand aughter of Lord Byron, and sister of laron Wentworthz hr.s just been con 'erted to Romnan Catholicism. Should tron Wentworth not marry the arony wvill pass to Lady Anne ini ease lie survives him. -In London 58,400 women are em aloyed as mniiliers and dressmakers, 0,376 as shirtmakers and seamstresses, 4,780 as taloressos, 10,724 as machini its, 5,272 as bookbinders, 4,699 as boot sakers, 4,360 as artilicial florists, 3,718 s box makers, 2.852 as upholsteresses. -Lord Anglesey's example of gen rouis behavior to his nearest relations Las been.followed by the young Duke f Portliand, who, immediately on com ng Into possession of his vast fortune, ettled ?100,000 on each of his half rothers and a jointure of?G6000a'year in his stepmother, Lady' Boisover. -During the fiscal year enidlng June :0, 1880, California has shipped about 80,000 tons of wheat (including flour) ml 34;000 of' other grain. As a larger rea has been devoted to cereals this ear,tand good crops are now assured, lie sufplus. for the coming year will oubtless be larger than last year's. -An'immense raft, cetisisting prin lipally of walnut logs, has reached New )rierns. There are 2500 walnut logs, ome of which are six feet in diameter, ich were out along tihe banks of the Yhite and St. Francis riverse in Ar tansas. The raft is 400 'feet lon g and 08 feet' wide. The walnnt logs being 00 heavy to flosht thiey are kept on the eyel of rho watoy by 500 cypress logs. --The ann)ual cost of each soldier in he English army;is $700. The soldiers f Austria-H1ungary cost $25p each a eafii. Those of Fra~nce and Germany 215 eatch. The Itialiai soldier costs a rifle less than $200, and the. liussian a ittle over $190. T1he maintenance of he Mouly coats ann.ually tooeaoh head of hie population, 64. Cd. in Italf ; 7,, 44. n Russia; 8s.6Cd.14m Germany; 12s, 44. n France, and 12a5 64 Qdroat Britan