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THE NATIONAL TBIBTJNE: WA&HIKGTOTZ, D. C., MLARCH 11, 1882.
J cull across thp rolling plain,
"O innuiitninijrom your sleep awake,
O ! unid rockn your slumber break,
Ilei-r timl jrivp back my -words ngiln I "
aiv! hark! Hip eeho doth rebound
;.i Ktveiits nnuie the soul of pound,
lii-jilyin;? to my laughing voice,
TImt- Inirorcth by n flock of sheep,
lr vhoM2 clamorous bleating strelki
Hit' tinkling of their hundred bells.
Ni - uipnthy with me, the steep
luhcs up the -wild pell-mell of sound.
Makes j.trgon human in rebound,
Compel uproar to flow along,
"SYhcrc curves the lake's green crescent coast,
The fishers flock with net and boat,
"With Mng and shout nshore, afloat:
Yt all the babble of their host
IMclt- into music in rebound.
Confusion into tuneful sound.
One heart of overflowing cheer
Behind we Is the murmurous sigh
And rustling of the forest trees,
"While loud or low as flows the breezo
Comes song of birds afar and nigh,
And, sheaved into the one rebound.
One note on Echo's lips is found,
As if f-om one poetic brain,
1 he strain.
And thus from all thp raco ascends
Earth's myriad sigh and song and prayer
Of hope, of anguish, praise, despair;
But gathered into one descends
Divine not Echo, not rebound
One answer from the blue above,
'Tis love. I
From the French.
WHAT COMES OF SWAPPING.
From the German of Fritz Renter, in Our Continent.
An old cloak is warmer than new-fashion-;d
clothes; one feels more comfortable in an
aonest old blue coat with a long tail than in
She silly things worn now-a-days nothing
b front and nothing behind ; and one walks
easier in old boots then new ones, especially
if one is troubled with corns; "and everybody
has corns in due time; some hurt here,
So I think to-day, now I am old; but
rrhen a boy of twelve I was always having
wniething new. If I got a new knife or new
!ow and arrow I carried them about mo two,
mree or four days, then left them laying
iround or lost or swapped them and had
lomething else new ; and from curiosity I
jqpn acquired a love of swapping, and from
this might easily have gone to something
worse if our Lord had not caused my old
ancle to give me two smart slaps at the right
Every bargain needs two people one clever
md one stupid. The business may be bad
for both; the clever.fcllow gradually becomes
i rascal, the stnpid one a beggar.
Well, I must with outkno wing ithave leaned
i little toward the latter side, for people
have always reckoned me among tho stupid
me:-, and when I look at the condition of
jiy property I can't exactly contradict them.
i ;i:y ftiend Landlord Gollenreidcr in Trep
an .ly."?, ' let it be as they like," I got tlie.
:.., ami since in my native city this was
-Ai ti.Lr right I probably deserved them.
.; ,i ilio jeasou I got them is as follows:
i i'.M a wonderfully handsome buck rab
. - .'i. !U'P with a white face, and my best
:r , .. Fritz Kitsch, wanted it. Fritz Kitsch
:i 1 1 wr.rc always swapping and I had re
vjvcitl all sorts of fine things from him, only
.1 w.i.s a pity that I didn't exactly know what
"id do with them. Well, this time he wanted
toive me in exchange for my rabbit eight
ihwsmen, three blown eggsandhalf of apair
'SI' snuffers. I was also to have one of the
,,?ups of his Aunt Eumpler's terrier when it
Hail mips, which, however, as I afterwards
learned by experience, wouldn't have been
f likely to happen, as it was a male dog.
, Well', everything was all right except the
'balf of the.pair of snuffers. I cbttldn't get
',)$ through my head and asked, "Fritz,
irliai am I to do wh this old half thing ? "
' -Why," said he, "I found it when'l went
pH the wood-yard yesterday; you can
turcly find the other half fhere and then
' Kill it for eight groschen."
Yes, that I might easily do ; but I had
'tSfijen. looked and never fbund anything, so
he matter seemed doubtful. Then he said :
''Fritz" for my name was Fritz too "just
ibink, my rather is only a blacksmith and
four father is Burgomcister; why shouldn't
foft find'somethirig as well as I ? "
This was trne; so the bargain was con
cluded and we went away But as he
waiiceu out or tne garacn gate with my.-J
fabbit and I stood looking at my three blown
,jtggs and half pair of snuffers smack,
juufck I got the two slaps, and when I
'Jotfked 'around saw my mother's brother,
llnxe Matthies, who had been sitting be
hind the apple tree, and heard the whole
My Uncle Matthies was an old soldier and
had queer waya he alway struck first and
ihen told why. He had been in Hungary
'itid Poland, seen the world and knew a
.jreat many stories; but the worst of his
it,ries7wa8 that they always had a moral
R'hich I would gladly have had him omit,
for when he came to
it he always cave me
i liox an the ear to make
me remember it
, 'Vhen I had received the slaps my Uncle
iJIatthies sat down on tho bench under the
tpple tree and said, " Boy, do you know why
fbu had that memento?"
r " No, uncle," said I, " you haven't told any
'"ts That will come afterwards," he replied.
-You got the punishment for your bargaih-
hig, foiso faras I know your
') bring up no jockeys.
Now come here and
listen to the story.
"When 1 was stationed at Peterwardein
frith the Hungarian Uhlans we had a cap
21m in. the squadron, a man who had a little
lump between his shoulders and was always
wanting something new and as full of whims
ib a dmk:y is of gray hairs. If he fell into
t gutter he didn't rest untiWie tumbled into
i ditch too, and if he wore boots to-day
voiild breve shoes to-merrrow and slippers
he Jay after. Yet he had plenty of money
mil tho follies his foolish brain invented
lis purse rniule good, at least for a time.
" What then was more natural than that
)iir little misshapen captain shonM alwayB
lave a crowd of hungry comrades about him
vho stuck like bnrs, drained him like leeches,
ut laughed at him like rascals behind his
jack. Well, one of this brotherhood told
lim that the greatest pleasHje In the world
vastositin a glass coach drawn by four
torses trad ride up and down the high road.
Dur little captain remembered that he hadn't
Lone this, so it waa something new, and as
my friend Cobbler Samekow in Rostock
used to say, ' consequently ' the glass coach
and mares were procured and the greatest
pleasure in the worjd beganubut also came
to a speedy end ; for when our little whip
perstraw of a captain sat in the glass coach
and slid from one window to the other, like
the devil in a medicine ' bottle, the people
stood still and laughed as if they saw an ape.
"After three days it was an old story, but
luckily the colonel of the regiment married
a young wife and she had set her heart on
driving up and down the,highway in a glass
coach drawn by four horses. The colonel
had no objections except tho expense, and
for years had sung in the evdning'the beau
tiful song , 'Die Traktementen, die sind zu
klein!' but he had always considered di
rectly afterwards how he could best increase
his property, and three days before his wed
ding won from a Hungarian count a calash
with two horses, one of which was a regular
"So he went to my little captain and told
him how delightful it would be to turn
coachman and drive himself, and as the two
things needful to make a trade, a clever man
and a simpleton, met, the bargain was struck,
the colonel's wife got a glass coach and my
captain the calash and the screw.
" One fine morning when all Peterwardein
expected no harm, my littlo captain was sit
ting in his new calash driving himself, and
ran the pole through the window of the col
onel's lady's coach. This made a great stir,
and the colonel's adjutant came out and
asked if the devil was in hira.
' "'No,' said the captain, 'not in me, but tho
marcs.' Tbey talked it over and ovor till
the talking became bargaining, and the bar
gaining became a swap. The adjutant was
also one of the people who know how to
manage so that no harm comes up the ropo
to them when they kad dogs, and my littlo
captain got in exchange for his calash., and
pair of mares, a saddle horse, a gray, which
if it had been the sarnie in front as it was be
hind, would have left nothing to be desired.
"I knw -this gray thoroughly; it ha"d
been sent to"' Bukowipa tho year before to
mnke up" the number of horses wanted for
the cavalry ; and the littlo captain received
in exchange for 'his two horses one good-for-nothing
devil, for there wero ten furious
fiends and fire-eaters in this one gray, which
an with all four legs in the air at once, and
was of no use in God's world except tq,stand
in the stable, eat oats, and smash the groom's
"Well, my littlo captain got this very gray,
and tho next day mounted it .and rode
through the streets of Peterwardein into tho
'fields, and, the ten devils in the gray rode
with him, but remained asleep, and tho gray
danceel along, the road like Clerk Blocken's
old black mare. My captain was riding on
ward thinking of nothing in particular,
when a hunter came up with a dog, and my
little captain began to wonder where the,
hunter was going and where tiro dog was
going, and wh'at the dog was doing with the
,hunter and the hunter with the dog. While
he was thinking over these cirenmstances
,thc ten devils in the gray waked, rubbed
their eyes, and whish! my littlo captain
was lying in the ditch.
"Here, my son," said my uncle Matthies,
"here." I thought his confounded moral was
coming and ducked. "No," said he, "not
yet, the story isn't finished; here my son
originates the saying : MHicn do mountain and
valley meet? To which the answer is: When
a Pucklichter falls into a ditch.
"The confounded gray then ran round the
race course till it reached the spot where the
captain lay, when it kicked, plunged, neigh
ed, and snorted," while the ten devils in it
had its'tail straight out in the air.
"My little captain gathered his bones to
gether out of the ditch as well as he conld,
spit fire and flame, snatched the hunter's
gnu from his shoulder and shouted 'Wait,
you scoundrel, wo haven't done with each
other yet, as tho turkey cock said to th6
earthworm wrrthing in its bill,' and wanted
'to shqpt tho gray.
"But the hunter caught his arm and
begged him to spare the horse ; it was a
senseless animal and meant no harm. When
my little captain swore ho couldn't bear the
sight of it,the hunter swore that he needn't;
he would tak6 the beast himself and give
his hnnting-dog for it, and at last succeeded
in soothing him.
"So this bargain was struck. But the
I dog was not the end of the swapping ; there
was more to come.
"My little captain knew as much about
hunting as a cow does of Sunday, but for
the sake-,if the brown dog he became a
jjreat Nimrod, ran about in a pair of hnge
top boots, shot himself with both barrels
through the brim of his hat before the eyes
of the whole squadron, and then went partridge-shooting
as if nothing had happened.
"WellJ I was then quartermaster and
acted as a mother to the whole squadron,
kept tlie key of the strong-box and could
accommodate the officers by making ad
vances, so they often took me with them
when they went out hunting, and I was
tired enough of running about, for I got
nothing but weary legs.
" Well, my little captain and I went to
gether, nnd I was cjever enough to keep
three steps behind, for I thought, 'Your
calves and what is over them are not his
hat-brim.' My littlo captain called his dog,
whistled, patted, stroked, and flogged him,
pulled his ears, made him seek and,carry,
and went through so many performances
with him that evdn a dog with an angel's
patience would have losfe its wjijg. Ponto
at last became so giddy that he ran when
he ought to have pointed and pointed when
he ought to have run, and the captain fired
and missed, blamed Ponto and wanted to
kill the dog. I pitied the creature and said :
"'The dog is young, captain, it hasn't
been trained enough yet; let me have it,
and I'll give you this pipe -bowl. See,
there's the famous city of Criwitz in Meck-
Jenberg painted on it; this on the left is the
church-tower, and these little lumps on the
right are the vineyards.'
" He had a large collection of pipe-bowls
' that) I knew and on some were Yienna
and Ofea a,nd Trieste, but he hadn't one with
Criwitz, solt was something new to him anU
he made the exchange.
"Then we went home,he smoking his
new ipe. As we entered the Peterwardein
gate, I felt so tickled, that I said : " Captain,
do you know what you're really smoking?'
"He looked dt me in a -puzzled way; and
answered : 'A pipe.'
"'No,' said I, 'a glass coach with four
horses,' and showed him what ho had made
"He took the glass coach and four, the
calaih with two horses, the gray with the
ten devils, the young dog, and the pipe
with the city of Criwitz and all her vine
yards, and smashed the whole on a stone,
saying: 'Then I'll get rid of the trumpery.'
"So ho lived on until he hadn't even a
trifle to smash on a stone, and all his trou
bles came from his love of new things and
So saying, my mother's brother, Uncle
Matthies rose, and when I ducked again on
account of the moral, said: '
"I'll let you off this time, but look
carefully at the broken trash you've taken
for your beautiful rabbit, and as for aunt
Rumpler's terrier's puppy, mark the old
proverb : ' What comes after, the wolf bites."
With these words he went out of the gate.
I stood there, looking at my treasures,
perceived I had been a great simpleton, and J
from that hour never swapped anything!
again; but the love of "something new"
lingered a long time a long, long time.
Many follies, many hardships have come
from that egg. Well, I believe I've done;
with them; now new boots pinch me, aneW(
coat squeezes me, and new faces annoy'me.
I wish I was sitting under the old apple
tree again hearing the old stories, and my
Uncle Matthies could again give me a me
mento. I would heed it more now.
THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH,
The littlo town of Sempach, in Switzer
land, was once the scene of a heroic act of
From very early times the Dukes of
Austria had domains in Switzerland, and
were constantly striving to extend their
sovereignty in that country ; but the Swiss
wished to be free, and in the beginning of
tho fourteenth century three of the cantons
(Uri. Schwytz, and Unterwalden) formed a
league against the Austrian power. These
were called tho Forest Cantons, and were
each little republics in themselves. The
Swiss mountaineers were a brave and hardy
race, and though poor and ill-armed, they
gained a victory over tho Austrian troops at
Morgarten in 1315. After this, Lucerne and
other cantons joined the Confederation.
In 13S6 Leopold, Duke of Austria, who
was a bravo knight, marched against Sem
pach, on his way to Lucerne, which he hoped
to subdue. He had with him 1,400 foot
soldiers and 4,000 cavalry, the horsemen
being the flower of Austrian knighthood,
and arrayed in complete armor. To deceive
the Swiss the Duke sent a force, under tho
command of John do Bonstatten, towards
Zurich, as if ho meant -to attack that place,
and so the Forest Cantons dispatched some
1,400 men to its defense; but when they
discovered the real intention of their enemies,
1,300 of them directed their march to Sem
pach, and arriving on the Gth of July,
"posted themselves in the woods in the neigh
borhood ot tho town.
Early in tlie morning Leopold advanced
upon Sempach, thinking to find it defence
less. Tho knights rode up to tho walls and
taunted the burgomaster and tho citizens
assembled on them.
"This is for you," said one, holding up i
halter. ' ' S
''Send a breakfast to the reapers!" pried
another, pointing to the stragglers who were
laj'ing waste the fields.
"My masters of Lucerne and their allies
will bring it," replied tho burgomaster, as he
pointed to the woods.
Tho Austrians looked, and when they saw
the Swiss among tho trees they were taken
by surprise. Leopold held a council of war
to consider whether it would not be better
to postpone the attack until tho arrival of
the other forces. But tho proud nobles ex
claimed, " God has delivered these peasants
into our hands ; it would be shame to us,
armed as we arc, to wait for succors against
a half-naked rabble!"
Now tho old Baron de Hasenberg well
knew the powers of the Swiss, and said it
was foolish to despise tho enemy, as tho
fortune of war was uncertain.
"Thou art a hare in heart as well as in
name," said a young knight; adding, as ho
turned to the Duke,." This Very noon will
we deliver up to you this handful of rustics."
Applause followed his vain speech.
As tho woods were impracticable for
cavalry, and the horses were fatigued with
the march, the knights dismounted, and
placed them with tho foot in the rear. They
then formed themselves into a compact
phalanx ; and it is said that they hewed off
tholong-pointed toes of their sollerets, or foot
armor, that they might stand more firmly.
It was the custom of the Swifs to implore the
protection of tho Lord before battle; and
when the Austrians saw them fall on their
knees they exclaimed, "They are snpplicat-
ing pardon!" But they were mistaken, for
with loud shouts the Swiss quitted the woods
and rushed into tho plain. The greater part
of them had no defensive armor, but boards
fastened to their left arm by way of shields,
whilst a few wore coats of mail. Some were
armed with two-handed swords, or carried
halberds that had been wielded by their fore
fathers against tho Austrians of yore, and
others bore axes.
Sheathed from head to foot in polished
steel, even their faces being completely cov
ered by the quaint, beaked-shaped visors of
their bassinets, with shields closely locked
together, and tho sharp points of their long
lances projecting far in front, the kniglits
stood ready to receive tho attack of the de
Tho Swiss drew up in the form of a wedge,
and without a moment's hesitation rushed
on the formidable phalanx, and tho landam
man of Lucerne and six of their bravest men
met their death on the spear points; and
there stood the glittering wall of steel, and
not a single knight was wounded! Tho
Swiss paused, and almost despaired as they
saw tho flanks of the phalanx advancing into
.accrescent so as to enclose them. Then
Arnold de Winkelried, a gentleman of Unter
walden, burst from their ranks.
"Dear countrymen and comrades!" he
cried, " protect my wife and children, and I
will open a way into the line ? "
Throwing himself on the enemy, and
stretching his arms out wide and grasping as
many lances as he could, ho gathered them
in a sheaf into his bosom, dragging the
knights down with him as he fell.
Tlie Swiss dashed through tho gap into the
midst of the phalanx, and swinging their two
handed swords and axes,lsptead havoc among
the knights, who, crowded on one another,
were unable to use their long lances at
such close quarters. And the servants who
had charge of their horses, seeing tho battle
going against their masters, mounted, and
basely rode away ; and so deprived them of
their means of escaping, even had they wished
Haao means a umo In Gennaa,
it. But the knighta had no thought of flight,
though, in spite of their valor, they went
down before the impetuous onslaught of
their foes. The Duko quitted himself like a
true knight. Being urged by his attendants
not to expose himself to danger, he exclaim
ed" God forbid that I should try and save
my own life and leave you here to die ! I
will share your fate ; and in this my coun
try, and with my own people, I will conquer
or perish ! " And when, in the heat of tne
battle, they again entreated him to save him
self, he 'replied, "I would rather die honor
ably than live with dishonor." The bearer
of the Austrian standard was struck to the
ground, but it was instantly raised again by
Ulrich of Aarberg ; but he also fell, crying
out, "Help, Austria! help!" The Duke,
rushing towards him, took from his hand
the banner, now dyed in blood, and waved
it once more aloft. And the knights fought
around him with redoubled vigor, and most
of his companions were killed at his side.
Two thousand of the Austrians, one-third
of whom were knights, counts, or barons,
lost .their lives on that fatal day; whilst the
loss of the Swiss confederates was only two
hundred, among whom were their most dis
tinguished leaders. Spent with toil and
heat, the Swiss did not pursue the fugitives,
but falling on their knees on the battlefield,
offered up thanks to heaven for their victory.
An armistice being concluded on the follow
ing day, both sides buried their dead with all
reverence and honor.
And still, in each returning year, the Swiss
people assemble on the 9th of July, on the
spot where the great battle was fought that
insured the freedom of their native land.
The place of combat is marked by four stone
crosses; and from a pulpit erected in the
open air a priest delivers a thanksgiving
sermon. Another priest then reads aloud a
description of the battle, and recites the
names of the brave men who fell in the
cause of liberty.
And not only in the land he loved so well,
but in every country that admires heroism
and self-denial, the name of Arnold de Win
kelried will be had in honor, whenever the
deed he did in his death is told. Chattcriox.
THE EXTINGUISHED LIGHT,
It is the custom in Oriental families to
burn a lamp all through the night, usually
in every inhabited room. The poorest peo
ple would rather retrench a part of their food
than dispense with it. The lamps are very
simple, usually only a small, flat dish, with
oil in it and a bit of cloth for a wick.
The expression, "The candle of the wicked
shall be put out," is equivalent to predicting
the total destruction of the house. So, too,
when God promises to give David a light
away in Jerusalem, (1 Kings, vi : 3G),it is the
same as an assurance that his house should
never becoiuo desolate. The Christian life
demands exertion. It is represented as a
warfare, which is no holiday matter. Men
can't just drift into heaven. But how often
do the professed followers of Christ suffer
themselves to yield to the enticements of
sinful sloth, and take their ease when they
ought to bo at work. This is Often the case
when they know just the point at which
they should aim, just the fault that needs to
be corrected, just the duty that demands to
be done. Or if there is not entire inactivity,
how often is there but half-hearted, inter
mitting, listless effort.
A FREAK OF FORTUNE.
Samuel Duhobrct was a disciple of the
famous engraver, Albert Dnrcr, admitted
into the art-school out of charity. He was
employed in painting signs and the coarse
tapestry then used in Germany. As he was
about forty years of age, small, ugly, and
humpbacked, ho was the butt of ill jokes
among his fellow-pupils, and selected as a
special object of disliko by Madame Durcr,
who tormented tho scholars and domestics,
as well as tho master, by her Xantippical
temper. Poor Duhobrct had not a spice of
malico in his heart, and not only bore all his
trials with patience, eating without com
plaint the scanty crust given him for dinner,
while his companions fared better, but al
ways showed himself ready to assist and
serve those who scoffed at him. His indus
try was. indefatigable. He came to his
studies every morning at daybreak, and
worked till sunset. During three years he
plodded thus, and said nothing of tho paint
ings he had produced in his lonely chamber
by the light of his lamp, nis bodily ener
gies wasted under incessant toil. No one
cared enough for him to notice tho feverish
color in his wrinkled cheek, or the increas
ing meagreness of his misshappen frame. No
one observed that tho poor pittance set aside
for his mid-day meal remained untouched
for several days. The poor artist made his
appearance as usual, and as meekly bore tho
gibes of the students or the taunts of the
lady; working with the same untiring assid
uity, though his hands trembled and his
eyes wero often suffused with tears.
One morning ho was missing from the
scene of his labors, and though jokes were
passed about his disappearance no one
thought of going to his lodgings to see if ho
were ill or dead. He was indeed prostrated
by the low fever that had been lurking in
his veins and slowly sapping his strength.
He was half-delirious and muttered wild
and incoherent words, fancying his bed sur
rounded by mocking demons, taunting him
with his inability to call a priest to admin
ister tho words of comfort that might smooth
his passage to another world.
From exhausted slumbers he awoke faint
and with parched lips ; it was the fifth day
he had lain in his cell neglected. Feebly he
stretched out his hand toward the earthen
pitcher, and found that it contained not a
drop of water. Slowly and with difficulty
he arose; for he knew that he must pro-
.cure sustenance or die of want. He had not
a kreutzor. lie went to the other eud of tho
room, took up the picture he had painted
last, and resolved to carry it to a dealer, who
might give him for it enough to furnish him
necessaries for a week longer.
On his way he passed a house before which
there was a great crowd. There was to be a
sale, he learned, of many specimens of art col
lected during thirty years by an amateur. The
wearied Duhobret thought he might here
find a market for his picture. He worked
his way through the crowd, dragged himself
up tho steps, and found the auctioneer, a
busy little man, holding a handful of papers
and inclined to be rough with the lean, sal
low hunchback who so eagerly implored his
"What do you call your picture?" he
"It is a view of tho Abbey of Newbourg,
with the village ajad landscape," replied the
The auctioneer looked at him, hummed
contemptuously, and asked its price.
"Whatever you please; whatever itwiU
bring," was the anxious reply.
"Hem!" with an unfavorable criticism
" I can promise you no more than three
Poor Duhobret had spent the nights of
many months on that piece. But he was
starving, and the pittance offered would buy
him bread. He nodded to the auctioneer,
and retired to a corner.
After many paintings and engravings
had been sold, Duhobret's was exhibited.
"Who bids? Three thalers ! Who bids?"
was the cry. The poor artist held his
breath; no response was heard. Suppose
it should not find a purchaser! He dared
not look up; he thought everybody was
laughing at the folly of offering so worth
less a piece at public sale. " It is certainly
my best work," he murmured piteously to
himself. Ho ventured to glance at the
picture, as the auctioneer held it in a favor
able light. There was certainly a beauti
fill freshness in the rich foliage, a trans
parency in the water, a freedom and life in
the animals! The steeple, the trees, the
whole landscape, showed the genius of an
artist. Alas! he felt the last throb of an
artist's vanity. The dead silence continued,
and, turning away, he buried his face in
"Twenty -one thalers!" a faint voice
called out. The stupefied artist gave a
start of joy, and looked to see who had
uttered those blessed words. It was the
picture-dealer to whom he first meant to
"Fifty thalers!" cried the sonorous voice
of a tall man in black.
There was a moment's silence. "One
hundred thalers!" at length cried the
picture-dealer, evidently piqued and anx
ious. "Two hundred!"
"Four hundred!" , -,
" One thousand thalers ! V, - ' 1
Another, profound silence; and the erowd
pressed around the two : opponents, who
stood opposite to each other with flushed
and angry faces.
The 'tall stranger bid fifteen hundred
"Two thousand thalers!" thundered tho
picture-dealer, glancing around him tri
umphantly. "Ten thousand!" vociferated the tall
man, his face crimson with rage, and his
hands clinched convulsively.
The dealer gTew pale, his frame shook with
agitation. His voice was suffocated; but
after two or three efforts, he cried out:
" Twenty thousand ! "
His tall opponent bid forty thousand. The
. dealer hesitated. His adversary laughed a
low laugh of insolent triumph, and the crowd
gave a murmur of admiration. The picture
dealer felt his peace at stake, and called out
in sheer desperation :
The tall man hesitated;, the cxowfLwas
breathless. At length, tossing his arms in
defiance, he shouted :
"One hundred thousand!" adding an im
patient execration against his adversary.
Tho crestfallen picture -dealer withdrew.
The tall victor bore away the prize. He
passed through the wondering people, went
out, and was going along the street, when
a decrepit, lame, humpbacked wretch, tot
tering along by the aid of a stick, presented
himself before hira. The stranger threw him
a piece of money, and waved his hand as if
dispensing with thanks.
"May it please your honor," persisted the
supposed beggar, "I am the painter of that
picture." He rubbed his eyes; for he had
hardly yet been able to persuade himself
that he had not been dreaming.
The tall man was Count Dunkelsbach, one
of the richest noblemen in Germany. He
stooped and questioned the artist. Being
convinced of the truth of his statement, he
took out his pocket-book, tore out a leaf, and
wrote on it a few lines.
"Take it, friend," he said. "It is the
check for your money. Good morning."
Duhobret invested his money and resolved
to live luxuriously for the rest of his life,
cultivating painting as a pastime. But,
though he had borne privation and toil,
prosperity was too much for him. Indiges
tion carried him off. His picture had long
an honored place in the cabinet of Count
Dunkelsbach, and the curious incident of its
purchase was often related. It afterward
passed into the possession of the King of
Bavaria. Catholic World.
Desire inspires hope, hope breeds expect
ancy, expectancy too often results only in
It is npt always safe to idly wait for an
opportunity; better make one rather tlan
delay the accomplishment of a laudable
purpose for want of it.
Some politicians are like fire-crackers.
They fizz, go off with a bang, and that is the
end of them. Others are like a bottle of
soda-water. The cork comes out with a
sharp report, but the contents, upon expos
ure, rapidly grow stale and fiat.
There are fashions in religion as well as in
dress. The cut, texture, and finish of a ser
mon are scrutinized as closely and critically
as are the garments worn by him who
preaches or those who listen.
Some men never succeed in life for want,
as they say, of a suitable opportunity. They
claim to possess tho requisite personal ele
ments of success, but insist that either time
or a certain condition of things outside of
themselves is essential to enable them to
win renown, fortune, or whatever else within
tho reach of a finite being they may have set
their hearts upon. In a majority of such
cases, however, it too often happens that the
time never serves and that events do not
come to pass as they should ; and so many
of those who thus linger in hope must con
tinue to wait until ambition dies or desire
perishes from inanition.
BY HABBIET PKESCOTT SPOFFOED.
A little hand, ft fair, soft hand,
Dimpled and sweet to kiss ;
No sculptor ever enrved'from stona
A lovlier hand than this.
A hand as idle nnd as white
As lilies on their stems;
Dazzling with rosy finger-tips,
Dazzling: with crusted gems.
Another hand a tired, old hand,
Written with many lines;
A faithful, weary hand, whereon
Tho pearl of great price shines I
For folded, as the winged fly
Sleeps in the chrysalis,
Within this little palm I see
That lovelier hand than lb! I
WHAT HOPE DID.
It stole on its pinions to the bed of dis
ease; the sufferer's frown became a smile
the emblem of peace and love.
It went to the house of mourning, and
from the lips of sorrow there came sweet
and cheerful songs.
It laid its hand upon the arm of the poor
man, which was stretched forth at the
command of unholy impulses, and saved him.
from disgrace and ruin.
It wells like a living thing in the bosom
of the mother, whose son tarried long after
the promised time of his coming, and saved
her from desolation and the "care that
It hovered about the head of the youth
who had become the Ishmael of society and
led. him on to works which even his enemies
It snatched the maiden from the jaws
of death, and went with an old man to
No hope, my good brother! Have it
keep it always with you. Wrestle with it
thatrit may not depart. It may repay your
pains. Life is hard enough at best, but hope
shall lead you over its mountains, and sus
tain you amid its billows. Part withaU
beside, but keep thy hope.
Decision is the rudder by means of which
a man shapes his course in life. With it he
may sometimes go wrong through errors in
judgment, but the chances of a successful
voyage are always in his favor. If, on the
contrary, he lacks decision, he is doomed to
drift helplessly along, subject to the buffet
ings of circumstances ; and it will be only
through the greatest good fortune and the
most favorable conjunction of events that he
reaches any safe harbor, much les3 the on
for which he originally started.
THINGS TO MAKE A NOTE OF.
Vermicelli Soup. Boil a shin of veal
in three quarts of water. Put in a turnip,
an onion, and one carrot, whole. Boil about
three hours. Add salt and a small teacup of
vermicelli, and boil for three-quarters of an
hour. Before adding vermicelli strain
through a colander. Keep adding water if
Apfle Mince Pie. Two pounds of ap
ples pared and chopped, three-fourths pound
of beef suet, one of currants, one-half raisins
seeded and chooped; one-half sultana rais
ins, one-quarter citron cut in shreds, one
tablespoonful cinnamon, one teaspoonful
cloves, one of mace, one tablespoonful all
spice, two pounds of brown sgar, half pint
best brandy, a glass of wine, two teaspoon
Ckeam or Pice Soup. Two quarts of
chicken stock (the water in which fowls
have been boiled will answer), one teacupful
of rice, a quart of cream or milk, a small
onion, a stalk of celery, salt and pepper to
taste. Wash the rice carefully, and add to
the chicken stock onions and celery. Cook
slowly two hours, put through a sieve, add
seasoning. The miBc or cream, which haa
been allowed to come just to a boil in a
separate saucepan, is to be added the last
thing. If milk is used add a teaspoon of
A Beef Pie. Cold roast beef, one onion,
one tomato, pepper and salt, one dozen
boiled potatoes. Cut the' cold beef in thin
slices, and put a layer on the bottom of your
dish. Shake in a little flour, pepper, and
salt, cut up and add a tomato (if in season)
or onion, finely chopped, then another layer
of beef and seasoning tiU your dish is full;
if you have any gravy put it in; have ready
a dozen potatoes, boiled and mashed, with
butter and salt, spread over the pie an inch
thick; bake twenty-five minutes or a little
CniCKEN" Pudding. Cut up the chicken
andstew until tender. Then take them
from the gravy, and spread on a flat dish to
cool, having first well seasoned them with
butter, pepper, and salt. Make a batter of
one quart of milk, three cups of flour, three
tablespoonfuls of melted butter, one -half
teaspoon of soda, one teaspoonful of cream
tartar, a little salt. Butter a pudding dish
and put a layer of the chicken at the bottom
and then a cupful of the batter over it.
Proceed till the dish is full. The batter
must form the crust. Bake an hour, and
serve the thickened gravy in a gravy boat.
Spiced Beef. Take the bones out of a
six pound salt flank of beef, and slit the
meat into a long thin piece; sprinkle with a
pinch of each of the following spices, mixed
together: Mace, nutmeg, ginger, pepper,
allspice, and a handful of chopped parsley'1
roll it up tightly, and place in a cloth closely
tied, put into a stewpan; add one small
onion, one carrot, a piece of celery, and a small
bunch of sweet herbs. Cover with cold
water, let boil and simmer gently five hours;
when cooked tie the cloth up tighter, and
press between two boards ; let it get cold.
This can either be served plain or glazed.
Cueraxt Jelly Sauce. A simple sauce
made of currant jelly melted with a little
water is very nice. A more elaborate way
is to take half a stick of cinnamon and six
cloves, and bruise them ; put into a stewpan
with one ounce of sugar and the peel of half
a lemon pared off very thin and free from
any portion of white pulp; moisten this
with one and a half sherry-glassfuls of port
wine, and set the whole to gently simmer or
heat on the stove for half an hour; then
strain it into a smaU stewpan containing
half a glassful of currant j elly. Just before
sending the sauce to the table set it on the
fire to boil, in order to melt the currant
jelly so that it may mix with the essence of
QUICKLY-MADE BEEF TEA.
Take any desired quantity of steak from
the round, as this has less fat and more juice
than any part; remove all the fat and divide
the meat into small pieces, cutting across
the grain; put the meat in a dry saucepan (A
and allow it to sweat for five minutes over
a slow fire, stirring occasionally to prevent
sticking. After sweating for five minutes
you will find the meat white in color and
surrounded by rich nourishing gravy, which
in cases of great exhaustion may be given
in this form. But ordinarily we next pour
over the meat its weight in cold water, al
lowing a pint of water to a pound of beef.
Stir until the water boils; it must not boil
again, but simmer gently for five or ten
minutes until the sauce is drawn out; then
strain carefully into a bowl, and if thera is a
particle of fat on the top, remove it with a )
piece of brown unsized paper. Bv this
method you may take off every grainof fat
without wasting any of the beef tea, as is
done when using a ladle or spoon. (Salt ao
cording to taste, bat always lightly.