- .. 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