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Tlie Cry of the Maiden Shareholders.
The Edenburjrh Scotsman publishes the fol
lowing "Crv of the Maiden Shareholders" in
the broken Glascow bank:
Pity as, God! There are five of us here,
With threescore years on the youngesthead
Jive of us Bittinir in sorrow and fear
Well for our widowed one the is dead
Day and night sitting, we've not laid ahead
Down on a pillow this week now and more
Trembling has beized on us, shrinking and
To hear tin bell ring, or be seen out of door.
Pity Tia, Sod' "-viien our father died
His mind was at aet, for he left us shares
And a roof o'er our heads, too and side by
Happy and loving, faced life's cares.
Then vr wcie young, and now feeble and old,
But we nt\er wrong any, aj far as we
And we tritcTto do right with oar -silver ana
And the poor had their portion, the chuich
bu its due
Pity us, pity, God!
Pity us, God i We would work if wu could,
But suppler fingers must stitch and hem
And who would eive us ur raoisel of food,
Though y-a t,pun and knitted all day for
WJ never knew woik, but to keep ourselves
\nd nev.r knew want, but our wants are
-AnJ there's tread in the house yet, if we could
Hut the sickness of sorrow is mixed with it
Pity us, pity, O God!
Pity U3, God' Mu-t our little ttinp ^o?
Aileven our mother's things cherished
Must we leave the old homethe one home
that we 1 now?
But not foi the poor house0 surelv not
Could they not wait awhile? Wc will not
ket them long
We could live on so little, too, cheerful and
But to lca\ the old house, where old memor
For the poor-house! O rather the peace of
the gi avt'
Pily u*, pit}, O God'
Pltv us, God' As for the,a who have wiought
All this sa )um so widi and deep,
0 how (ould they do it, and know it not?
How could tiny know it, and think or sleep'
But wi would not one of u^, change this day
Our lot for tin for oui hands are clean
And the krupt soul has a darker way
Then the way of the honest poor ever hath
Pity us, pitj.O God.
TIBBY AND TOSEY.
.Kitty had been to the charity ball, and
tne thanty ball was very fashionable
there w?s no doubt about that. Kitty
had eaten a late supper, returned home,
gone to bed and to bleep thtre was no
toutt of that fohe lecollected distmctlv
throwing one shoe under the bed and
the other into a ct.rnei, saying "C4ood
night" to her own figure in the looking
glass, twisting the "figure of a butterfly
till her miners ached before sLe discov
er! that it was not the gas stopper, and
then laughing sleepily at all her mis
takes. Mic even remembered the fiist
dream of her sleep, which was something
about c. aniy di uiond?, chioken-palad,
lancer", and ice cieam waltzes.
No there was no doubt that she had
gone through all this yet thtre she was,
staring in at the windows of the great
ball room, fi^d the ball was just com
mencing. Could fhe have gone to sleep
on the window sill in srmo mysterious
manner. No she was outside, and
standing in the air, with somebody
lioldmg on to her hand!
"Oh, dMi, thought Kitty, mournfully,
mntt have- drank some wine somehow
How stiange it is! I wonder how I
came heic! But wnat a cold iiand holds
mine it's not papa's, lor it makes me
shiver. He must bt, horrid. I won't
look at him. So!"
There did not seem to be much need of
the resolve, however, for the person who
held her hctnd did not move nor seem
to care whether she saw him or not, but
quietly looked in with her. So, at last,
like most girls, Kitty's curiosity got the
better of her, and she cautiously glanced
out of the coiners of her eyes.
Beside her she saw an old man. His
beard and hair weie long and white, and
dropped about his neekT and shoulders,
like falling tnow. Upon his head was
lightly placed a crawn, as of frost work,
so delicate was its texture. Robes, long
and dark, an*! cold to look at, fell in
broad folds (mm hi shoulders, and were
held to his waibt oy a girdle of twink
ling stais He w&s gazing in at the biil
liant assemblage with a sad, mtlancholy
look upon his lace.
Kitty look' at his robes.
'How very old-fashioned'" she
thought 'Vnd aed, very aged."
"Yes." muienured the" olci man ''old,
Kitty started. He read her thoughts,
evidently. he was sony now she hatl
thought it, he looked so sad.
"Who aie you?" asked Kitty timidly
"and "wny have \ou biought me hereS"
"I am the Cold Night," said the old
man, slowly turning his eyes toward her.
His eyes were sharp and piercing, yet
full of kiudness. "And I have bionzht
you here that you might see how great
your charity is, for 1 heard this was a
"Yes," said Kitty neivously.
"I am a friend ot the poor," continued
the Cold Night "and I love to see cnar
ity." He looked naqk into the ball-ioom
as he spoke. "Yuu see all your friends
"Yes," said Kitty, brightening up, and
gazing inside with something ot a proud
look. "There's Plotry Call light befoie
the window now. She his those beaut
lul soliraiie diamonds in her ears. Oh,
dear, bow bright they look. I wish I had
"But you had the handsomest dress,"
said the Cold Nigh, sadly.
"Ob, yeV exclaimed Kitty, quickly.
**It was ot the richest silk, and cost sever
al hundred dollais. Papa was so kind."
"And WHS it bought for charity asked
the Cold Night.
"Why no,' answered Kitty, in surprise.
**For me, ot couue."
"But the ball for charity?"
Kitty began to be bewildered by so
much catechising and she was much
relieved when he led her away.
They descendtd to the urand cntrauce,
where he pointed out two litt'e beggars,
a boy and a ^iri, who fid lied and sang-,
and "asked a penny ot the rich people de
fending- from the carriages.
"You pd,bsed them by to-night?"
"Yes,'' said Kitty, "but they are horrid
beggars." The Cold Night "was silent,
and Kitty was aft aid -h might have said
aometbing wrong-, so added: "And
common street fiddlers.'"
But the Cold Night iaid nothing.
They both watched the little duo,
Tosey aud Tibby, the Cold Night said,
and drew neater to hear what they would
say. People, rich with money and great
in charity, carefully passed them by, for
they were ragged baggais, and fiddled
and sang. It was cold, very cold and
Tosey played very, very slowly, while the
breath of Tibby's quivering plaint disap
peared dispaiiingly in the irosty air. The
wheels ot carriages seemed to creak in
sympatbv, as they crushed down in the
snow. Yes, it was cold indeed, yet they
fiddled and sang untiringly, while the
rich people alighted and passed up the
grand entrance, after glancing contempt
uously at the poor little duo, who fiddled
and sang as the brillant dresses disap
peared in the distant doorway but finally
stopped as the last carriage drove away.
"I suppose we looks too awful," said
Tosey, wettingly his lips and feeling
vacantly in the small pocket, -which. God
knows, had not seen so much as a dime
for many and many a day.
"Yes, said Tibby, "but I does feel so
hungry, and I sang so loud, and I tried
so liTd, and"
Tibby slightly sot bed and silently
used a small piece of her shawl to wipe
away a lar-e tear.
"Don'tcry," said Tosey, tremulously:
"let's move on, and perhaps we'll find a
litt tometliia'. Oh, if we only had a
Tosey took Tibby's hand and they start
ed to move away.
"Oh, Mr Cold Night,' exclaimed Kit
ty sorrowfully, "let me give them some
thing-poor little things!"
"But they are beggars," answered the
Kitty looked ashamed. She could feel
herself blush, even though she was cold
and shiveiiiiff The cold Night handed
her a silver piece.
'Yes" said hedro it, even, if it's
washed. See what they will do."
Kitty took it quickly and dropped it
before them. Right at Tibby's foot fell
the money, which she would have passed
upnoticed" -f Tosey had not exclaimed
"Oh, Tibby, there's a dime!" and pick
ed it up.
Tibby Gasped her hands in delight,
danced up and down and then lookei in
to his baud, to be sure that it was redly
there. It was surely.
"Won't we have a hot potato, though!''
"And a big roll, and some butter, and
some meat, and just a very little piece of
Tibby named each of them on the ends
of her fingers, but stopped when soe got
to her thumb, for the money was all gone
by that time, and the thumb w&s quite
"But how did it come there?" asked
"Could it have growed?" suggested
"No," said Tosey.
"Pell from the sky?"
"Guess not," sa^'d Tosey, dubiously.
"Or been flunged?"
"On, no, of course not!" Tosey an
They both looked hungrily at the piece
of money, and begau to count together
what lots of things they could buy and
their faces grew blight, indeed, as they
thought of it.
From the shades of the epposite side
of the entrance, a thin bundle of rags
slowly crept, and steadily shuffled up to
them. Out of the dirt and rags peered a
thin face and gli&tening eyes, and the
hands of the small bundle wearily rub
ned themselves togethe to try and stir
up the blood that was not there.
"This is a charity ball," said the thin
bundle. "The^e lolks dances for the poor."
The glistening eyes looked eagerly at
Tofeey and Tibbv, and frequently glanced
at the money in their hands. -'We is
poor, and they dances for us and me'
mother, who is sick abed, they dances to
give us the bread which we seldom has.''
"Tosey looked in surprise at the thin
bundle rubbing its hands.
"And does they dress in nice closes for
us, and ride in carriages, and give lots of
money, and all for us?"
The thin bundle rubbed faster and
"Yes, if there's any more than as pays
for the danoin' aud the dressin' and the
dancin' costs tea dollars apiece, and the
dressin' I duuno! It's all for us,if there's
"But they didn't give us any when I
sang," saia Tibby.
"Lars, no!" said the thin bundle "they
has folks -s hunts up poor folks when
they has time, and sews flannels when
they hasn't. Yes, they says they does
all this for u9, but" The bundle shook
its head as it it were doubtful, and con
"I stood over yonder thinkin' some
body uld give me somithim' but they
dl looked mad at me, and I went back
into the shadder and watched 'em. It
was a big sight, but I'm jest as hungry."
The hands stopped rubbing, and the eves
looked wet, as the bundle added "My
mother is wry, very sick. Oh, we's poor,
Tobey looked at his little sister as the
rags began to shuffle away.
"Tibby," says he, "does we feel so aw
Tibby hesitated. She looked at the sil
ver,and then at the Blowly retreating figure
and then she looked up into Tosey's
gentle, loving lace.
"N Tosey, I dunno as I does."
Tosey turned around, and running
after the departing figure, handed hei
the piece of money.
"There," says he, "take it you need it
more than we doas
The bundle looked in surprise as she
took the piece, and tears fell down the
thin, pale face. But she only said:
"I'm very, veiv grateful," "and walked
The two little musicians watched the
figure as it disappeared in the darkness,
while the happy shuffle grew fainter and
Ah, here was charity, Godlike charity,
in the hearts ot the beings the rich de
spised aud thrust from their dosr!
As the Cold Night turned toward
Kitty he found her silently wiping her
"Do A on see what true charity is?"
asked he, in a sweet, sympathetic voice
"Yes, je3," murmured Kitty "I see, I
While they were talking, they had
slowly risen up, to the brilliant windows
Now look at the moctcery," said the
Cold N'ght, imewhat harshly.
It was the most brilliant hour of tha
ball. Light from myriads of jets, em
bedded iu massive chandeliers, j-parkled
with dazzL.ng mt^nsity, making: tbe
brightest day of gloomy night. People
decked with jewels and silks and laces
were gathered in merry groups, or joining
in pleasurable dance to the strains ot
sweet aud lively music. It was a beauti
ful sight indeed but somehow the people
looked heartless to Kitty, and the jewels
glittered spttelully, while tne rich' Silks
seemed to hiss and hiss as they rustled
along, as if ail were rebelling against
their lalse use.
"But one more act," said the Cold Night,
gently leading her down, down to the
opposite side of the street.
from a dark corner, with their arms
twined about each other's nocks, the two
little beggars watched the windows of the
brilliantly lighted hallaway up in the
sky it seemedwatched the gay figures
that frequently appeared in rich, dainty
dresses, and smiled to think it was all
for the poor and needy. V*
"They dances for us and for others,"
murmured Tibby, "for those as is in want
Maybe the beautiful ladies will find us
here to morrow, and give us some bread."
"Ye?," said Tosey "aud the poor little
girl as has the sick mother. P'haps
they'll find them, and help them, too."
The Cold Night waved his hand above
thena, and they both shivered, and said
how eold it -was. Tosey tried to play a
note on his violin, but the strings creaked
so dismally that he laid it aside. Then
they sang together the sweet little song
of charity which Tibby had sung to the
neb people and, as they sang, the Cold
Night spread his mantle slowly around
them until they were fast asleep.
"Oh, sir!" cried Kitty, "spare them,
and let them live."
"No," said Cold Night, "they are too
poor to live. They must die."
Kitty fell on her knees before him.
"Oh, sir!" she pleaded beseechingly,
"I am rich and will take care of them,
and relieve them from suffering.
But the Cold Night raised his hand
and pointed upward, saying:
"Too late, too late.'"
As he spoke he took the beggars in his
a ms and slowly rose up toward the stars,
leaving Kitty sobbing on the ground. As
she knelt there she hard, high in the
skie/, the song that the beggars sang, the
song of sweet charity, swelling to a
mighty chorus, as one would think to
celebiate a mighty deedmighty in the
s-ghl of heaven. Shi tried to raise her
head but could not, she seemed bound to
the earth by a great weight, as of gold,
while above the song grew fainter and
lamtpr, till at last it ceased, then she fell
into a deep swoon.
It was broad daylight when Kitty
awoke, and the sun was shining brightly
into her window. In the hall the maid
was humming a subdued song as she
went blithely about her work while with
out the white smoke of mcrning fires
siyns of stirring lifecurled upwards
from the chimney tops into the cool air
as if glad to meet the light of day.
"It was only a dream yet, oh, how
vivid thought Kitty, as she rubbed her
eyes again and again, surprised to see the
walls ot her own pretty room actually
"Only a dream, only a dream yet, how
foil ot truth!" cheerily rang the milk
man's bell as Kitty donned her morning
dress while, as she passed down the
broad staircase the great hall clock seem
ed to say:
'Only a dream, only a dream yet
there's a lesson, yet there's a lesson and
A year Jrum that time Kitty passed by
the same old clock but this time it said,
as it ticked, ticked away:
"Only a dream yet it's made her an
angelangel ot mercy to suffering need.
Htr name, so dear to us, is a name of
love among the poor. Ah, happy, happy
was the day when, to her eyes, a dream
revealed true charity.
A Camel's Suicide.
A valuable camel, working in an oil
mill in Africa, was seveiely beaten by the
driver. Perceiving that the camel h*td
easured up the injury, and was waiting
tor a favorably opportunity for revenge,
he kept a strict watch upon the animal
Time passed away. The camel, perceiv
ing that he was watched, was quiet and
obedient, and the driver began to think
that the beating was forgotten, when one
night, after the lapse of several months,
the man was sleeping on a raised plat
lorm in the mill, while, as is customary,
the camel was stabled in a corner. Hap
pening to wake, the driver observed, by
the bright moon-light, that, when all was
quiet, the animal looked cautiously
around, arose soltly, and, stealing toward
a spot where a bundle of clothes and
a burnouse, thrown carelessly on the
ground, resembled a sleeping figure, cast
itself with violencp upon them, rolling
with all its weight and tearing them most
viciously with his teeth. Satisfied that
its revenge was complete, the camel was
returning to its corner, when the driver
sat up and spoke. At the sound ot his
voic.i, and perceiving the mistake it had
made, the animal was so mortified at the
taiture and discovery of his scheme that
it dashed its head against the wall and
died on the spot.
The Value of'Diamonds.
The question is often asked:--" Why
are diamonds so C03tly? Why are they
so highly prized?" This may be answer
ed somewhat iu the same way as when
we determine the reasons for the high
value placed on gold, yet gold is esteem
ed rather from lashion than from any
real beauty. Iu value depends however,
on its comparative scarcity, but above all
its durability. The diamond, the most
costly of all substances, has intrinsic
beauties of its own. It has a limpidity,
a brilliancy, a fire appertaining to itself,
but, above all, an absolutely indestruct
ibility tar surpassing that of any known
product, which gives the additional rea
son for its enhanced value The first
diamond taken from the bed of the Indian
torrent, cut centuries ago, has not lo an
atom of its weight, nor "has a spark of iti
brilliant fire been dimmed. Though ic
has passed througu millions of hands, it
shows no trace ot wear it nas been sub
jected to all temperatures and climates,
and its shining luster has never paled.
Tiiis indestructibility has, then, made it
inestimable as a standard of value. A
thousand years ago it had its price, and
a thousand years to come it mu remain
unchanged in torm and luster,
be an object of worth.
It is a little queer that some peo^'e
have the faculty of stirring the whole
world without feeling an emotion them
selves. There was Caristire Nilsson, for
ms'ance ecstatic French critics went in
the wildest raptures over the "cold-eyed
maiden of the North," yet at tne same
time bemoaned her lack of feeling. Noth
ing moved her to the heart.unles? it was the
neai approach of a rival singer. Some of
the New York critics are now raving over
Modjeska. And yet it seems to be from
a long range. It is all dress and acrion,
-they cry out Well, "perhaps it is, and
perhaps it is not. Because Charlotte
Cushman, Mrs. Siddona ant? Sarah Bern
hardt and others of the emotional school
gave their hearts to the publictheir real
heartsit is no sign that those actresses
who do not parade their emotional ca
pacity upon the stage are not possessed ot
any. Those people who give expression
to all their feelings are apt to monopolize
the reputation of depth and capacity of
emotion, while the self-restramed pass for
cold aud unsympathetic
Opera and theatre bonnets of very
si all size, in the form of toques ot white,
ptan, and cream felt, are trimmed with
white and pale tinted ostrich plumes and
tips, a dash of color in the form of some
fancy mixed feathers of red and peacock
green and blue, or white grebe feathers,
and sometimes a h.eron'3 agrette, b*t no
flowers. Miss Muslin and Miltiades as Early
I doubt if a boy or a girl ever wWin
Such distress as Miss Muslin endured, and
The night before Christmas. "I tell you what
Said Miltiades in that assured way of his.
As they went up to bed. "We must get up
Before anyone el_e in tne -wnole house, this
And we'll just go around and make each one
And give a good loud 'Merry Christmas!'to
E'er they're really awake. So I give you fair
I shall knock at your door, Miss, by four in,
Then, except a "good-night," nothing furth
er was said,
And each was before many minutes in bed.
But Miltiades thought, as he shut up his eyes,
Of a very old saying that runs in this wise.
"IJ you want to wake up at a certain time, keep
Repeating the hour as you're falling asleep.
Aloud toi/nurself." And he thought he would
80 he kept saying "Four" (all the while lying
"Four o'clock! That's the time! FourFour
Till at length he fell asleep, saying it o'er.
Sometime later it was (although that seems
to state a
Supe-fiuous fact, for of course it was later),
Miltiades all at once woke up with a shock.
"Why'" criel he. starting up, "it must be
So he lumped oat of bedO, remarkably
And ran to the window to look at the sky.
A faint streak of light could be seen 111 the east.
Which, even while he stood there, quite plain
'Ho! ho! Merry Christmas!" he cried, "Mr.
I hope you may have lots of presents and fun!
Then he hurriedly dressed, and in two min
He was cautiously knocking at Miss Muslin's
But finding himself quite unable to wake her,
He w'as finally forced to go right and shake
"Come! wake up!" cried he. "Here it is foui
How long d'ye expect me to stand here and
"0, dear!" sighed Miss Muslin, awaking and
"Why, it don't seem to me that it can yet be
"Well, it lo!" cried her cousin. 'F yon have
You can go to the window, and take a look
When at length she was ready, Miss Muslm
And the two, without further delay, set about
Their purpose. It being as yet far from light,
They made their way rather by feeling than
To the end of the hall, when they gave a loud
At the door of the bedroom where John Henry
And Benjamin Fianklin were quietly sleeping.
"Wake up!" shouted they, "Merry Christmas!'
Alone to the room where Abiather Ann
Was slumbering likewise, they straightway
Such a dancing and howling and pounding and
That father (who chanced to be peacefully
In the next room to that) with one bound
reached the floor
And ran, in the greatest alarm, to the door,
To see what was the matter. "Merry Chiiotmas
Ring out in stentorian tones through the hall.
Then the two cousins, hand in hand, down the
Darted quickly, to wake up their Grandfather
Who, with Grandmother, had a room on the
So they ran down and pounded away at the
"Bless me! What is the matter!" cried
From within. (The old gentleman had, by
Been lying awake for an hour or so,
Although, being quite deaf, he'd not heard
them till now).
Then, tne door bursting open, he inquired in
"Deary me! what is up!" "Ho! ho! You are,
Cried our hero. "Merry Christmas! Merry
Christmas! D'ye hear?
I told you that I'd be thefirstup this year!
If you're going to get up, you had better be
Is day, there's the sun shining in at this min-
"That!" said Grandfather Graythen he sud
Into laughter. "Ha! ha! Well, now, thaVs a
Ha' ha! That is the moon, sir, just rising,
That instead of being morning, as you two
It is not midnight yet!and I happen to know
That the nail-clock struck Un but ashort time
Whereupon, as this dreadful announcement
The two cousins turned, without saying one
And wentstraight backup-stairs, and got into
And in deep shame and sorrow enyeloped
And they slept the next morning so sound and
That they didn't wake up till the third or tourth
John Brownjohn, in Wide Awoka.
Mr. John Mu'r, the naturalist, has a
short paper in Scribn&r for December on
a The Douglass Squirrel of California,"
of which little is known in the Eist, in
which he relates the following unique ex
Thoqgh I cannot of course expect all
my readers to sympathize fully in my
admiration of the little animal, few I hope
will tnink this sketch of his life too long
I cannot begin to tell here how much he
has cheered my lonely wanderings during
all the years I have been pursuing my
studies in these glorious wilds or how
much unmistakable humanity I have
tound in him. Take this example:
One cairn, dreamy, Indian summer morn
ing, when the nuts were ripe, I was
camped in the upper pine-woods ot the
south fork of the San Joaquin, where the
squirrels seemed to be about as plentiful
as the ripe burrs. They were taking an
early breakfast before going 10 ,their reg
ular harvest work. While I was busy
with my own breakfast I heard the thud
ding fall of two or three heavy cones
from a yellow pine near me, and stole
noiselessly forward within about tweenty
feet of the bae of it to observe. In a
few moments down came the Douglass
I'he bieakfast-burrs he had cut off had
rolled on the gently sloping ground into
a clump ot ceanothus bushes, out he
seemed to know exactly where they
were, for he mad ttiem at onca, appar
ently without searching for them. They
were more than twic as heavy as himself,
but alter turning them into the right po
sition for getting a good hold with his
long sicivle- teeth he mamtged to drag
them up to the foot of the tree he had
cut them irom, moving backward. Then
seating himself comfortably, he held
them on end, bottom up, and demolishea
them with eafy rapidity. A good deal
of nibbling had to*be done betore he got
anything to eat, because the lower scales
are barren, but when ho had patiently
worked nis way up to the fertile ones he
founJ two sweet nuts at the base of each,
shaped like trimmed hams, aud purple
spotted like birds' egg. And notwith
standing these cones were dripping ith
soft balsam, and covered with prickles,
and so strosgly put together that a boy
would be puzzled to cut them open with
a jack-knife, he accomplishes his meal
with easy dignity and cleanliness, mak
ing less effort apparently than a man
would in eating soft cookery from a
Breakfast done, I thought I would
whistle a tune for him before he went to
work, curious to see how he would be af
fected by it He had not seen me all this
wbi!e tu the instant I began he darted
up the tree nearest to him, and came out
oa a small dead limb opposite me, and
composed himself to listen. I sang and
whistled more than a dozen tunes, and as
rne music changed his eyes sparkled, and
he turned his head quickly from side to
side, but made no other res-ponse. Other
squirrels, hearing tbe strange sounds,
came arojnd on all sides, chipmunks al
so, and birds One of the birds, a hand
some, speckle-breasted thrush, seemed
even more interested than the squirrels.
After listening for a while on end of the
lower dead sprays of a pine, he came
swooping forward within a few feet ot
my iace, wheie he remained fluttering in
the air for half a minute or so, susta ning
himself with whirring wing-beats, like a
humming-bird in front of a flower,
while I could look into his eyes
and see his innocent wonder.
By this time my performance must have
lasted near'y half an hour I sang or
whistled "Bonnie Doon," "Lass o' Gow-
rie." '-O'er the Water to Charlie," "Bon
nie vfoods o' Cragie Lee," etc, ail of
which seemed to be listenod to with
bright interest, my first Douglass sitting
patiently through'it all, with his telling
eyes fixed upon me until I ventured to
srive tue "Old Hundredth," when he
si-reamed his Indian name, Pilhllooeet,
turneo tail, and darted with ludicrous
haste up the tree out of sight, his voice
and actions in the case leaving a some
what profane impression, as he had said
"I'll be hanged if you get me to hear any
thing so solemn and unpmey." This
acted as a signal for the general disper
sal of the whole hairy tribe, though the
buds seemed willing to wait further de
velopments, music being natuially more
in their line.
Sliall we Know Our Friends
The whole human family, without ex
ception, has developed a strong desire to
krow something of the other life. Prom
the earliest period we trace a faith in the
continuance of existence, and, however
imperfect, there is a tendency in mankind
to design and believe in a hereafter, and
in one respect it is the same in all -name
ly, that the other life is made up of the
tiest thoughts of men. If men in lower
life described paradise,it would bs a state
of feasting and of beauty, it is the high
est they know, but as you rise the images
become elevated, and lastly, coming to
le teaching of the New Te&tament, men
don't believe there are cities paved with
gold nevertheless, men feel the power of
those images they effect rhem, though
they don't know why. Think of it liter
ally, one gate made of one pearl- don't
it produce a feeling of unworldlmess in
the other life?
The Christian methods select things
men consider best and group them to
gether and affect tbe heart and reason
ttirough the imagination. If you attempt
to answer the question that spring up.
you find little to answer. For instance,
every mother wants to know, '-Will I
know my baby in heaven?" Will friends
be what they are on earth, and then what
do they do there? Men dou't find time
enough here, what shall we do there? So
far as the Bible is concernad it looks like
praising Goda kind of celestial and
unanding singing school, and these ques
tions, though not impropei, we can't an
swer. Look further. The idea of heaven
is that it will be everything that is high
est and best but the impression ought
not to be produced tnat it will be done
in any particular manner. I see a per
son going out ot life full of divine traits,
all purity, and I think what will such a
one find in heaven? Nothing that de
files. They must meet the spirits of just
men made perfect
It you take away all falsehood, all sin
you get a very good idea of heaven. It
is enough for me to know that in the oth
er life every one is wiser the best things
become common. It does not follow
that the feelings will be the same in the
other life. There will be the mother
feeling. How? I don't know. Shall I
know my friend? Friendship is imper
ishable. It will be a thousand times bet
ter the feeling won't die out ic will be
laigcr, grander. You can' afford to let
the "how"' go. It is a thought that has
given great comfort to my mind. I, too,
stumbled over that thoughtshall I
know my father and mother? Shall
fiiendsl ips formed here be left? (I don't
believe I ever formed a triendship that
died out.) I am satisfied that the essen
tial qualities will not only exist, but oe
higher no matter ho v. It is enough to
know that you will be satisfied on every
point. Suppose you were distressed in
business, and a friend said, "Leave this
matter to me. I will attend to it." You
say how? No matter how. You know
I can and will do it, and that is enough.
Would you let him do it? And so in re
gard to the other life. I say He that
loved me so well as to give His life for
me will not deceive me. I shall be sat
Theie are other questions coming up,
such as, Do those gone to heaven think
ot us? Now, it will do us no haim to say,
Yes, they do. If thinking of it gives the
least bit of comfort, then think so. It
may be poetry, but it is blessed poe'ry
and harmless. It was part of the ancient
Christianity to believe that the gieat
Christians above held communion with
the ones below. Another question is,when
we die shall we go immediately to heaven,
or go to sleep, or take a round about
journey, or what is going to happen?
Some believe that wc shall lie in a state
of uacosciousuess until we are all aioused
to live in htaven. If a man think so, let
him but I say, not I. I believe that the
souls of Christians, when they die, enter
immediately into heaven
Do you ask me on. what ground I be
lieve this? I 9ay no positive ground but
tne whole tenor of the epistle* implies it,
in my opinion. I have one other tnought,
and that is the thought of the mode by
whicn we shall enter on our rest, and
whether we have aright to wish it one
wav or another. If I am sick, do I in
terfere with God's designs because I try
to get well? May I go on resisting things
I don't like and at last stop? It is my
privilege to desire a way it is my de&ire
to die suddenlyto die" working up to
the last minute. I don't like the idea
of wasting and wasting, and very likely
i shall, because I don't like it. I don't
wish to see myself conquered by the bat
tle of life. 1 doa't think I am wrong. I
prefer the instantaneous method but I
shall die as God pleases, and I can't help
The Night thpe Charit.y' Ball.-
Now isn't it perfectly horrid.
To-night of all nights. I declare,
My face should be swollen with toothache?
If I just were a man, how I'd swear!
I'd sro to the ball in a minute
I don't care a fig for the pain
But I can't th my face like a dumpling,
And I've tried lots of physic in vain.
Then my dress, too it's perfectly lo-vely*
I worried mamma for the lace
She vowed that pa couldn't afford it
And the flowers, I had such a chase
To find themazaleas'and hawthorn
Pale pink is my color, you know
And roaes ar^ getting quite common
Please hand me the chloroformoh!
Pa'U storm when thi' bill comes. I know it
T,fut that dress would have paid for it all,
If Id only been aole to -how it
To-night at the charity ball.
He says the whole thing is a nuisance
You know how men scold about cost:
The five dollars paid for mv ticket,
I suppose that is money just lost.
This year, my dearwould you believe it?
He offered to give Kate and me
Fifty dollars apiece tor the orphans,
If we'd both stay away. Well, you see,
He'd have made a srood thing by the bargain
That dress was two hundred and more.
So ridiculous!-just like a man, though
As if we went there for the poor!
Something: About Fat Men.
An enterprising reporter, in writing Mr.
Lambert's obituary, said nature had en
duied all the trespass she could admit
the poor man's corpulency had constant
ly increased until the clogged machinery
of hfe stood still, and this prodigv of a
mammoth was numbered with the dead.
His coffin contained 112 superficial feet
of elm, and was 6 leet 4 inches long, 4
feet 4 inches wide and 2 feet 4 leches deep,
and the immense substance of his legs
necessitated its bting made in the form
of a square case. It was built upon two
axle-trees and four cog wheels and upon
these the ramaina of the great man weie
rolled into the grave ATregular descent
was made to the grave by cutting away
the earth lor some distance. Tae apart
ments which he had occupied were on
the ground floor, as he had been long in
capable of ascending a staircase. The
window and part of the wall of the room
in which he died had to be taken down
to make a passage for the coffin. Atother
great man was a grocer, named John
Bright, living at Maldon in Essex. He
ay have been said to have been born
great, ind he was of a family noted for
the great size and appetites of its mem
bers. Bright enjoyed good health,
married at the age of 22, and had five
children. He was a cheerful companion,
a kind husband, a tender father, a good
ir.aster and an honest man. He died in
bis thirtieth year at the Det weight of 61G
pounds. His coffin was three feet three
inches broad at ihe shoulders and more
than three feet deep. A way was cut
through the wall and staircase of his
house to let it down into the shop. It was
drawn to the churoh on a iow-wheeled
carnage by twelve men, and w3 let down
into the grave by an engine fixed upon
the church for that purpose. After his
death a wager was laid that fiva men,
each twenty-one years of apje, could be
buttoned in his waistcoat. It was tried,
and not only live men but seven men,
were inclosed in it without breaking a
stitch or straining a button. Navarro
has not quite reached the proporrions of
either ot these men, but ke is quite young
yet, and if he increases in the next ten
years as much as he has in the past ten,
he will go down to history as the fattest
man on record.
Death of Marquise de Montholou.
News has been received of the death
of the Marquise de Montholon. This
lady was a native of Washington and
died in France. She was the daughter
of General Charles Gratiot, TJ. S. A., a
native of St. Louis. General Gratiot was
Chief of Engineers, occupying the place
now held by Gen. Humphreys. His wife,
a charming lady, was a Miss Beelin, of
Philadelphia. General Gratiot had two
daughters. Victoria married the son of
the distinguished nobleman who accom
panied Napoleon Bonaparte into exile and
remained with him at St. Helena until
the royal captive died. As executor he
came into possession of all of the private
papers of the unfortunate Emperor
About twenty-five years ago he published
these papers in connection with bis his
tory of "The Captivity of Bonaparte at
St. Helena." Julia Gratiot married one of
the Caouteaus, ot St. Louis. General
Gratiot built tbe fortifications a' Fortress
Monroe, and the Rip Rips, He and hi3
family Occupied a bi^li po=it'on in "Wash
ington, and the daughters were great
bekes. It was durincr tbe Tyler Admin
istration, when Mr. Pontois was French
Minister, that the yr ung and handsome
Marquis de Montholon was First Secre
tary of Lgation. Tne announcement
of his engagement to Miss Victoria Grat
iot cieated a stir in fashionable circles
The wedding was a brilliant affair, and is
still remembered by those who were
present The Montholons were residing
in New York when our civil war broke
out. He wa3 French concul
Marquis was appointed French Minis
Pauperism and Extravagance.
The case, prima facie, is always against
a pauper. The accidents of life some
rimes ca3t a man or a women hish and
dry upon the sands cf helpless poverty
but usually pauperism comes through a
iack of the prudential viitue3. It is not
always that a pauper wastes his revenues
in|dnnk,or other immoralities but some
where in his career, forty-nine timc3 in
fifty, it will be found that he has been
extravagant that he has not exercised
self denial under temptation that he has
lived up to or beyond his means, or has
ventured upon risks that the lowest grade
of busines prudence would condemn.
Now who is to bear the pena'ty of these
sins and mistakes? How are they to be
prevented in tuture, it thos* -who commit
them, regardless of consequences, are to
ba coddled and taken care of by those
who have denied themselves and laid up
a little wealth?
Good, rugged, grand old Thomas Car
jyle! It is refreshing to read amid the
mawkish sentimentality of this latter day
such a healt'iy utterance a? this from his
sturdy pen: "Lst wastefulness, idleness,
improvidence take the fate which God
has appointed them, that their opposites
may also tave a chance for their faf.M
As it is, our philanthropists try 'to make
us believe that the special business of a
thrifty man is not in any way to enjoy
the fruit ot his prudence and enterprise,
but to shield the shiftless people around
him from the results of their own impu
dence aud improvidence.John 0, JSfilz
land Soribner for December.
HOUSE, FARM, GAEDEN.
Binding with Wlro.
From Ihe Pnirio Farmer.
There is a determined effort being
made by millers in the great nulling
states of the West to use every means in.
their power to have the use of wire done
away with in the oinding of grain. The
feeling against this means of binding has
been a growing one, and to our mind, the
evil, nndonbtedly a. very serions one to
millers, has been aggravated bv the want
of care among many threshers and farmers
in working threshing machies.
ThePratrte Farmer long ago called
attention to the disabilities that must re
sult to the grain and also the straw, when
tha wire was allowed to be passed
through the threesher with the sheaves,
and advised that the greatest care be used
in clearing the wire bands from the
sheaves before feeding to the machines.
It is claimed, that not only does it
mingle with the straw, and so, eaten by
the stock causes serious trouble, but it
enters the bran after being further ground
by the stones, and is highly dangerous
when fed to stock. This is however an
ex parte claim. That wire in the wheat
is a Berious detriment to milling, so far
as the stones and the sifting bolts are
concerned, there is no doubt, yet we
think that a careful examination will
show that the wire is more apt to be rolled
or twisted, passing: between the
stones and cast out than his to be ground
fine. We think the action of the Minne
sota millers in their resolution that the
pnee of wheat be degraded 10 cents per
bushel under coresponding grade in pur
chase of any wheat containing wire, to be
obnoxious in the extreme.
The damage to the gi ain for millers'
use could never, under any ordinary
event, amount to anything like the price
stated, and a fair inference is that the
Minnesota millers have prescribed this
acute remedy with a view driving wire
binding machinery out of use. This they
never will do until the twine or other
binders may be made to work success
fully It may indeed act badly for the
millers of the State, by causing the best
grades of wheat to be carried out of the
State, for milling, for it is an undisputed
fact that millers are by no means unani
mous in their ideas as to wire bound
grain being a fatal objection. It is sim
ply bo3h thiB talk about the wire-binding
being destructive and daath-deahng. It
is all very well for the miileri associa
tion of any State to recommend the dis
continuance of wire b'nders That it is
detrimental to the milling interest there
is no doubt. It should be no more
difficult for milling engineers t invent
the means for taking the smill amount
of wire out of wheat left in the process
of ordinary cleaning than for inventors
to perfect the means of automatic bind
ing by wire.
At the late session of the Illinois Mill
ers' association, tne subject ot wire-bind
ers was brought up. The secretary stated
that he had been requested by the Mill
ers'association of Minnesota 'o bring the
question of wire-binders to the notice of
the association: that vast damage result
ed to mill machinery Irom grinning
wheat which had been bound with wire.
In response to this request he presented
the following resolution:
Revived, That we consider the use of wire
bindera as injurious to our null machinery.
and that weBtrongly reccOiMrafled a dnvon
tinnance of the wire binders in U\or of cord
or other binders that will work no injury Jto
The discussion which followed did not
seem to show that any especial amount
of terror was exhibted by Illinois millers
over the wire question. The subject was
discussed in a somewhat earnest manner.
Several members showed pieces of wire
taken from different machines, and said
they had found pieces of wire in the
wheat in tbe bins, in tbe chaff, aud in the
flour and bread, but they didn't seem in
clined to say they would degmde wire
bound wheat 10 cents per bushel. In
conversation with a gentleman largely in
terested in wheat raising near St. Louis,
he said that the millers about there made
no difference in the price of wheat on ac
count of its having been bound with wire.
The Wisconsin Millers' association,
which lately convened at Milwaukee,
seem not to have been oadly scared over
the wire question. They passed a resolu
tion in relation to Fyfe wheat which may
be of interest to the farmers of that state,
requesting all millers to fumish I at mere
with Fyfe wheat for se^d, that the quan
tity of hard wheat raised may be mcreased.
The gist ofJ the wholi matter lies in a
nut-shell. Where labor is as scarce dur
ing the harvest as it is in Minnesota and
other western states, the farmers will
bind with wire until some other economi
cal means is given them. No one State
controls the price ot wheat ia the
markets of tbe qountr or oi the worliT
Tf the great wheat fields of the West
shou'd be obliged to go back to the old
system of binding by hand, the crop
would rot in the fields and the West
would lose her supremacy as the wheat
granary of the world. There are a num
ber of leasible plans which might be sug
gested for ridding tne wheat of wire.
One is water and suosequent drying.
This would seem, cosidering the rela
tive price of wheac and high grade3 of
flour, as still possible to leave a tair mar
gin of profit to the miller. Certain mills
have for many years not ground wheat
until washed. We advise the millers,
rather than make thp oneious dis^
crimination of the Miune=$ota millers,
in regard to wire b^und wheat, to
use their invest ve faculties in discover
ing some means to free the wheat from
the wire, if it will bj cheaper than wear
ing their stones and oil ting cloths. It
will hardly du to start a scare to the effect
that wire-bound wheat is injurious to
I ealth of the individual using, the flour.
Particles of iron small enough to pass
through tne bolts will not injure the
stomach. There could in no case be
more than an infinitesimal quantity. In
fact, it might act as a good tonic.
In the meantime we would earnestly
advise every wheat grower, as we have
heretofore done, not to allow tbe wire to
pass through the thresher. It is not
difficult. The best cutteis in use will
hold and draw out the bands. All that
is needed is care aud attention to the
hands employed, by whoever is superin
tending the threshing
Nine women in Burlington banded
themselves together last week b? a sol
emn vow, never to speak of other women
at all, if they could not speak well of
them. All their tongues have grown so
rusty from disuse that thev have to lu
bricate them with machine-oil before
hey can swallow.Howke^e.
Mademoiselle ,meetmg one of
her old boarding-fcchool friends who has
just been married: "Well," i-ays she, "are
you happy? Do you get along well to
gether*" '"'Happy, yes without doubt, but
we squabble a great deal." "Already!
and about what?" -PJUI pretends always
that it is he who cares the most for jaxc,,
nnd I'm very sure that it's 11"