Newspaper Page Text
EATON WEEKLY DEMOCRAT.
IN ALL ITS BRANCHES
NEATLY AND PROMPTLY EXECUTED
AT THIS OFFICE
On Reasonable Terms.
All ordr fcr jobwerk ordrertiln, when tent by
nwll, will raclre prompt attention u if parties
AdrertlSemSnt not nnd.r contract nut ba plainly
ninrntl tnaieu." - - 7 " .... j ui in wu-
While Snows Are Falling.
Th Spring timo came the taring Urn went.
With shimmering cloud and shiny weather,
The golden glory or Juno was spent. -
On hills and fields we roamed together.
We walked through amtumn's purplo haze.
The future's dream of bliss forestalling.
And shuddering, thought of Winter's days,
f rOisfltiws a-fallinK
for earth HJu alt . wondrous fair.
And heaven smiled down so blue above it.
Each wandering breath of balmy air
But made us learn anew to lore it.
What wondar. if with all o bright.
And wild birds through the woodland calling.
c signou to minK ot winter s night.
And when, at htst. the world was dressed
In' shining robes of ice-mail gleaming.
And calm white silence lulled to rest
The pale, dead flowers, beneath it dreaming.
Bendla, we woke to find made true
The hope our hearts had been forestalling.
And life grew fairer than we knew
While snows were falling.
Ah well ! the day of youth fly faat ;
Their suns grow dim, their blossoms wither.
And all the dreams that made our past
Fly fast and far, we know not whither;
But when we tread life's wintry elope.
We hear again their voices calling.
And Memory clasps the hand of Hope. 1
While anojea are CaJJinjr.
MANY CROSSES IN LIFE.
Jacqueline looked "at the little old
fashioned seal which bare .this inscrip
tion engraved upon it in white corne
lian : " Many crosses in-life.'' : It was a
true saying, engraved on many a heart
withal in Jacqueline's heart, too. She
turned it in her toil-worn fingers with a
sigh, thinking that perhaps some super
stition attached to its use ; that, had she
lost or put it away, life might have gone
otherwise with her; for poor Jacqueline
had known many crosses thwarted
youth, poverty, enforced idleness, and
blasted aTbpes. It seemed to her that
this little seal typified them all. She
remembered one who had brought it for
her birthday gift, who had kissed her
when he placed the chain about her
neck, and had said : " If you wear your
crosses as an ornament, love, they can
hardly bear heavily upon you."
But they had borne heavily upon her.
They had stolen the color from her
cheeks, the glow from her eyes, the
roundness from her limbs; they had
mingled silver with the brown satin of
her hair, and had written themselves in
wrinkles upon the white brow ; they
had bowed the stubborn will, and bent
the stiff neck, and broken the sobbing
He had said, too, that the crosses on
the seal made the effect of a crown in
outline, while she answered that they
loooked rather like a crown of stars.
But, for all that youthful fancy, few
stars had shone across her path, and her
crown was yet to come. And the giver
of the sacred gift had left her these
many years. She sometimes thought
she had done wrongly, as the wife of
another, to keep this little memento of
that dear past that all her trials had
arisen to upbraid her for the sin, to as
sure her that somewhere, under all the
pain and weariness and long suffering,
she still preserved one smouldering
spark for the lover she had forsaken in
But then, had she been a happy wife,
as other wives had been happy, giving
all and receiving much, that would have
made all the difference in the world. It
seemed now to her as if the girl who
waited at the boat to see her lover off,
to take her last look, to give him the
blessing of her beaming glance to lighten
the labor of his work -a-day who waited
there, ages ago was it? with blushing
cheek and wistful eyes, was some other
person than herself, Jacqueline ; some
one of whom she had read, some picture
she had seen, something dreamed, or
imagined, or heard in the strains of dis
tant music ; but surely nothing like it
had ever been experienced in her own
bleak existence. Love had entered her
heart, like sunlight through a prison
grating, only to move forward and leave
the darkness more terrible ; but, for all
that, t were better to 'have known the
sunshine than to have been born blind.
Mark had been as poor as herself
when he broughfher, that simple gift
only a clerk in the house of Call ifcDunn,
on a miserable stipend ; but, as the poet
sings, his hoard was little, but his heart
was great, and Jacqueline had believed
it ; for after all, after everything, she
had never been quite able to change her
creed. To be sure, she had seemed to
change, to doubt him ; but what of that?
She could control her own actions, force
her own inclinations, but her emotions
were subject to a higher and morv po
tent influence still. As if it were only
yesterday, she could remember when
Mr. Dunn suddenly appeared before her
one afternoon, in the doorway of her
humble home. She had not heard him
enter ; he had been regarding her, un
observed who could say how long ?
weighing her character in the balance
with his false weights, making rough
calculations of her pride and principle.
When she looked np and saw him there,
her needle snapped beneath her finger,
and brought the blood.
" This is a bad beginning,'' said he,
" Of what ?" she cried, in alarm. " Is
anything the matter with Mark ?'"
" Nothing that you can help, child,"
he answered, almost tenderly ; " and yet
perhaps you may if you will."
" If I will !" she repeated. " Is there
anything I would not do?" asking it
of herself rather than appealing to
Nothing?" be questioned. "Are you
Nothing. Tell me what you mean,
Mi'. Dunn ; you torture me. Is Mark
sick ? is he in trouble ?"
" Mark is in prison, Jacqueline."
"in prison I Mark ! mere, you are
; trying to frighten me."
" I am speaking the truth the dread
She sat now with her hands folded
upon her work, nil the color vanish
ing from her tinted cheek, never to
reappear again sore in a momentary
" Can nothing be done?" she gasped,
presently. " Of what is he accused ?"
"Of forging the signature of Call A
Dunn to a check."
" And ba did it ?" she asked. " You
believe it." '
Jf There is blasting proof, Jacque
line," sadly. " The money found in his
possession, the blanks at ' his hand, the
signature fac-sitiiiled over sheets of pa
per in his private desk. But these
proofs are all in my power ; they can be
used or not, at mv pleasure :" and
she felt his breath npn her cheek,
and met a pair of eyes full of signifi
cance. Then there can be nothing done ;"
and the hitter tear .sprang to her re
lief, and fell upon the hand extended
" Something can be done," he said.
" You can do it." . .
" lean love him still ; I can believe
1ft him in nft oTjroof. ;.2fcere is
Eaton Weekly Democrat.
F. T. FOSTER, Publisher.
VOL. IV. NO. 35.
Deyoted to the Interests
of the Democratic Party
EATON, OHIO, THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 1871
and the Collection of Local
and General News.
Two Dollars per annum, in Advance.
WHOLE NUMBER 210.
something greater than proof, that
neutralizes it and makes it superfluous
it is faith. I do not believe a word
of all this. Let me go to Mark; he needs
" Sit down, Jacqueline ; you cannot
go to him now. Kemerabei that other?
will believe, though you should doubt
his guilt. It is onlv when we have
personal interest in a thing that faith
outweighs proof. It is right for you to
trust him ; but win that save him f
" It will comfort him."
" But you can save him."
" I ! You are wasting words. And
" 1 will destroy it.
" Oh ! thank you, thank you. You
are our kind friends, after all. You be
lieve in his innocence. How 1 love you !
how Mark will love you ! You said that
it was I who could save him, when we
shall owe everything to you.
" It is you who can save him with
" Yes, oh yes. How kind, how gen
erous. lell memypart what 1 shall
Your part is soon told. You re
fused it once. Consent to become my
wife hear me out ! and I will destroy
every shred or this damning proot.
Mark will be proclaimed innocent and
be reinstated. In the eye of the world it
will all seem a mistake. He will appear
an honorable man, free from suspicion,
the world before nim where to choose.
Which is the greater love to save his
happiness or his honor 1"
Jacqueline answered him not a worn,
but rose in her wrath and left him
alone. She went to her room and then
put on her bonnet the poor little braid
which Mark had said became her so
well, which he was never to see her
wear again. She would go down to tne
ferry, and take the boat for the city,
and see Mark, and tell him that, how
ever the tide might set, she was with
him, believed in him. But when she
reached the ferry the boat had left.
Then she returned, and wrote to him a
long loving letter, reiterating her faith,
her firm assurance in his innocence.
And the next day but one she received
"You have believed in me long
enough, dear Jacqueline. Your protes
tations come to me as so many sharp
but well deserved rebukes. I am guil
ty. Look in the books of common law
and .see what the sentence of the forger
Wjll you let me wear away a miser
able youth in prison, when I might be
up and amending my ways when you
might deliver me ? Mr. Dunn has told
me of his suggestions to you. For your
own sake, as well as mine, pray, pray ac
cept his terms ; for though we part in
pain, life without love is better than
with disgrace. Mark Stretton."
Jacqueline put down the letter with a
twinge of agony. So cold, so selfish 1
Ready to accept her sacrifice ! Had it
been herself, she would have grown
gray in prison, starved on bread and
water, suffered on the rack, rather than
abandon her love. Even Mr. Dunn
stood out large and generous beside
him. That he bad done the deed in a
moment of dire temptation, she could
have forgiven him ; but that he should
the burden upon her shoulders
though she were ready to bear anything
him but that he should require it
her, that was the sting. Why not
leave him to his fate ? Did his welfare
any longer concern her ? The man who
could frame this letter must be radically
bad from the heart's core not the
bright ideal she had worshipped. Was
this her punishment for making an idol
for herself ? Had the brazen image fallen
and crushed her ? But just here there
came to mind the image of her lover as
she had last seen him : the large calm
eyes ; the firm, well-cut lips, that knew
not how to shape a he, you would have
said ; a man with sincerity in every look
whose presence made one forget nar
rowness and deceit as naturally as the
sunshine banishes darkness. And here
the flood-tide of Jacqueline's love set
covering the ugly wreck, and leaving
her alone with heavenly pity in her
throbbing human heart.
How the days dragged after that! No
more looking forwairf to a happy home,
a charmed future. As mistress of
Mr. Dunn's house she would have all
that' heart could wish nay, nothing
that her heart could wish, but all that
pride might demand ; she could roll in
carriage, and wear hne laces and
splendid jewels, and sweep the tufted
carpets with shimmering silks ; her bed
ridden lather should have the newly
patented reclining chair, and be wheeled
over velvet, lawns and through perfumed
gardens; there would be flowers in her
vases every day the year round in
great vases of costly Japanese workman
ship. She hated .herself for these
thoughts, that gave her no comfort, no
delight. She was well enough, happy
enough, in her cottage, with its wood
bine porch, and her window, wreathed
with prairie roses, in her hard work and
pleasant thoughts; she. needed nothing
from the store of another she needed
nobody but Mark.
What she answered when Mr. Dunn
came again to press his suit she could
never tell; she only knew that when he
went away Mark was free, and she was
bonds ; that nothing was left her but
she quaint engraved seal, which had
been the first to admonish her of "many
crosses in life."
When Jacqueline stood at the side of
Mr. Dunn, and the bishop married them
for better or worse, she was but a child
the ways of the world. She had
known poverty and care and sickness as
familiars ; but she had simply heard of
treachery and fraud as one hears of
ghouls and vampires. They were
things belonging to the Dark Ages,
when a barbarous baron could
serve up his rival's heart at a feast
his lady love. Wolves in sheeps'
clothes did not belong to civlized life.
So she became Mrs. Dunn ; but she soon
found that her crosses were not to end
here. She was no longer mistress of her
own movements or tastes. If she wished
for quiet, Mr. Dunn insisted upon so
ciety; it she would ride, he preterrea to
go afoot; if she would work, he demand
ed idleness; if she made a friendship
he forbade it; when she found pleasure
a guest, the invitation was never re
peated. These were little things, but
thev make up the sum of life. When
their first child was born, she would
have given it some silvery, sweet name,
that should seem to reflect a little of
her love; but ho chose to call it by some
harsh family name, and to put it out to
nurse. Jacqueline almost lived at the
nurse s house lor the hrst lew days;
then he said to her, " You may go there
twice a week, and no more ; I will not
have you faded or preoccupied for any
child." And then the sad mother, with
her poor forlorn heart, condescended to
her first underhand work, and stole out
her child at odd moments, when she
fancied it safe ; but he detected her, as
she might have been assured he would
and had the baby sent to town, leaving
Jacqueline ignorant ot its whereabouts
Une day it was brought home dead, iron
some infant disorder. She fancied that
it might have recovered had she been
near to cherish and care lor it. She
would have given worlds to have heard
about its last baby hours how it begun
to smile, to coo over its playthings. It
harrowed her to think that perhaps no
tenaer, longing eyes took its last dying
look, no gentle hand ministered to it
she wept to think that all had happened
precisely as it the child had been moth
After this affairs moved less snloothly
than be I ore ; there seemed a blight upon
tne nousenoia. mr. uunn olten came
home now out of temper; indeed, he
seemed to have used that attribute so
generously as to be always in the voca
tive; but now he sat late at table, drink
ing deeply, finding fault with the viands,
with the weather, the market with
Jacqueline, her voice, her words, her
manners relenting at nothing.
" Why did you marry me ?" she once
asked him, timidly enough. " I am sure
you did not love me."
I married you, madam," he replied,
" in order to make two miserable.
" I congratulate you on your success,"
she retorted. Crosses were her daily
portion now ; and if she did not always
bear them heroically, who can cast the
first stone ? She would have parted from
her tormentor long r.go, but what assu
ranee had she that the proof of Mark's
wrong-doing had been destroyed ? .Per
haps it was in his power to ruin Mark
yet. Should she faint by the way, and
make her sacrifice of none eflectr As
her husband's character developed, she
began to fear that circumstances had
been against Mark Stretton, to see how
easy it had been to hoedwink and mis
lead her unsuspecting mind. Whv had
she not insisted upon seeing Mark, and
hearing the case from his own lips?
Why, but because she was then innocent
and guileless, and this man had only
been able to teach her suspicion. But
nothing of this helped her now ; however
much she was growing to dispise this
man, she was now his wife, she bore his
name, she had promised to love and
obey him. If she had not kept that
promise altogether, was it her fault ? She
had begun well ; she had meant to
ignore the past; to be scrupulous in
her duties ; but one never begins well
without love. The grandest housekeep
ing results m chaos without that vital
element, and this case surely offered no
exception. Besides, in a material view,
things were becoming less opulent in
this household than before. The table
was not so bounteously spread, the
linen was looking thin, the carpets were
less tufted, and even the shimmering
silks of the mistress were wearing rusty.
The servant, whose chief task it had
been to attend the bedridden father,
had long since been dismissed. Jacque
line looked after him herself now, and
found a pleasure in returning to the du
ties of her old free life ; but it was only a
sort of make-believe, for if Mr. Dnnn
returned home and observed her at any
time in such attendance, he would
threaten to send the useless old fellow,
as he called him, to the hospital or the
alms-house. She had not so much
pocket-money now at her command as
would buy a plaster for the rheumatic
back, or a little fruit for the dainty pa
late. The house of Gall & Dunn had
failed some time ago, and the junior
partner was making a precarious living
by gambling, and otherwise swindling
the public. But Jacqueline knew noth
ing of this. She only knew that they
had left their fine house, and gone into
lodgings ; that sometimes there was
nothing in the larder for a whole day ;
that'her husband often let himself in
at midnight, sometimes stumbling up
stairs to his room, and sometimes over
taken by heavy sleep in the hall below.
And he was no saint next morning, box
ing and frightening children on the
slightest pretext; taunting his wife with
having squandered his patrimony ;
taunting her with wearing fine clothes
unpaid for; with the support of her beg
garly father ; with marrying him, George
Dunn, for his money.
You know better than that, George
Dunn," she once said, in reply.
" Why did you marry me, then :
Come, give me a reason. You married
me to get rid of me, perhaps ! Capital !
What a success ! Do you want to know
why I married you ?"
It doesn't signify now," she re
Zounds ! but it does signify, let me
tell you. I married you because I hated
Mark Stretton .'"
And so Jacqueline sat in her black
gown, and looked at the panorama ot
her past, counting the crosses on the
quaint carnelian seal. " Many crosses
in lite. " Did they end here .' Ah, no !
The bitterest, perhaps, but not all. A
widow, with four mouths to feed, and
as many backs to clothe, and as many
greedy minds to satisfy, was not likely
to have an easy time of it a widow
without friends, without money, with
out a vocation. J3he tried sewing, but it
hardly paid her rent; she entered a
mill, but the noise and heat took away
strength, and threw herupon a sick bed.
The tenement she had rented looked out
upon the rear of a beautiful garden,
the entrance to which was a whole
square distant, where the finer mansions
of the city were clustering upon an up
Jacqueline had been used to let her
gaze wander through this delightful
place as she sat at work. She had
watched the grapes cluster and bow the
trellises, the speckled pears redden to
the sun, the peaches hand like velvet
tassels on the overburdened trees, the
plums gather bloom and sweetness with
every hour. When the gale had played
roughly among the boughs, she had
looked at the windfalls of golden pip
pins, and thought what a repast they
would furnish for her hungry brood.
All their intoxicating odors, mingling
together like a bouquet of flowers, came
floating in at her open windows, till it
seemed as though the very spirit of the
fruitage had exhaled into the atmos
phere merely to make Jacqueline cove
tous and the children's mouths water
with longing. But now, as she laid upon
her sick-bed, the beauty of this fair
neighborhood returned to her like a
picture ; sometimes she dropped asleep
to find herself walking under those fra
grant boughs, with the dazzling blue
breaking through the netted limbs, and
the sunshine like a presence beside her.
On such occasions little Bert waked her
" Wus you seeing angels, mamma,
like the baby used to did? You smiled
all over your face just now." And since
her eyes are open to the fact that Bert
has her guard about his neck, and her
dear old engraved seal in his apron
pocket, he finds grace to ask further :
" Mamma, Bert will wear this putty seal
till yeu wakes up." But mamma is too
sleepy to do more than shake her head,
and Bert walks off in triumph, walks
down stairs and out into the street, and
stops to look between the pickets into
the fruit garden, where every blushing
peach ot them, every clustering grape,
every nodding plum, seems to
'Come, and let us drop into your
mouth,'' so temptingly that it is too
much for the little rogue, with mamma's
seal in his calico pocket, and a good
deal of hunger in his capacious stomach.
So, in an adventurous frame of mind,
he trots round the square and opens the
garden gate, which moves to the silver
chime of a bell, and causes a gentleman,
who is giving some orders to the gar
dener, to turn about and give Master
Bert the benefit of a pair of deep, un
smiling eyes shining out of a handsome
face, which has the effect of disconcert
ing the little intruder for the instant,
till the deep eyes melt somewhat as they
fall upon the rosy, perplexed face, the
rings of snarly gold hair.
"Good morning, little one," says the
gentleman, with his clear, tuneful voice,
that reminds Bert ot the wind blowing
through the trees. " What have you
got for me there in your pocket?" for
Bert is holding the seal with great care
in that nook, botn plump nanas en
gaged in the service.
"It's mine," says he, equivocally.
" Ah ! And what will you take for
it?" laughing. " Can't we strike a bar
" Take peaches !" returns Bert, sharp
at a bargain, as his father had been be
fore him ; " ripe peaches ; sound too.
See !" and he holds up the seal and lets
the sunlight winnowing down through
the leaves overhead, flash upon it and
light up the old engraving. The words
the gentleman is about to speak, the
laugh that is upon his lips, all dissolve
intb a profound sigh. Bert is beginning
fancy that he has done wrongly, that
the gentleman is going to tell mamma
how he was selling her pretty seal for
peaches, as he tries to read the grave
face before him growing graver every
moment, and wrinkled with strange ex
pression ; he lancies, too, that there is a
tear in the unsmiling eyes regarding the
precious seal ; and then the gentleman
sits down in a garden chair, and holds
the seal in bis white palm, and seems to
have forgotten Bert and the peaches and
the waiting gardener, and to have gone
long, long way off, quite out of the
sight and hearing of to-day. But by-and-by
he comes back again, and calls
Bert to his side, and asks gently, with
the sound of tears in his voice?
" Where did you find this, my child?"
Bert is sure now that he understands
about it, and is ready to drop with
" Mamma," he begins, " she went to
sleep with the headache, and let Bert
put it on, and didn't say nothing."
" Where did mamma get it 7
Bert knows nothing about that.
Mamma has worn it forever," he de
" Will you take me to see your mam-A
Heeling as though he had been over
eached, Bert consents, and together
they pass out of the gate and walk
round the square, and pass in at the
open tenement-house door, and up the
worn staircase up to Jacqueline s room,
where grandpa lies all day and counts
flies on the ceiling, and scolds the
children for amusement, and watches
clouds flit across the sky, within
ight of his window. But it is grandpa
who is asleep now, and mamma has
taggered up to make the porridge for
supper, and to look atter the children.
She opens the room door at the sound
steps, and naughty Bert rushes into
arms, crying, Lear mamma, cert s
real sorry ;" and then she grows faint
and white, for perhaps Bert has broken
window, and the funds are so very
The stranger, with his handsome, se
rious face and fine attire, pauses on the
threshold and looks about him. So
poor a home just at the foot of his own
garden, within a stone's throw of his
princely estate ; why had be not thought
about it ? Had his own sorrows blunted
him to those of his neighbors? Had
so pitied himself that there was no
gity left for others ? Had prosperity
linded him to adversity? Then his
eyes rested upon Jacqueline, in her
shabby gown, with her worn, tired face,
faded eyes ; what were those eyes
saying to him what had they said, over
and over again, years ago ?
" Jacqueline, is it you to whom the
seal belongs ?" he cries.
' Yes, Mark," she answers, sadly.
And why did you keep it, Jacque
line, when you had the heart to part
with so much that was precious ?"
" Because because 1 could not part
with it, Mark."
' And yet vou could torsake the giver
his trouble !"
" I did it for the best. They he lied
me, Mark ; he said if I would. I could
purchase your release by marrying him.
was his dnpe, and I have suffered for
But I deserved it for believing that
you could write the letter I received,
beseeching me to accept the terms of
Mr. Dunn, and save you. I was a fool
believe it. but I was young, Mark.
After hearing that you were accused I
could believe almost anything. I was
crazed with trouble. But it was all a
forgery on his part to ruin you. He
confessed to all on his dying bed the
forged check laid to your charge, the
letter to me. But the mischief was
done, Mark ; still I forgave him. I pro
mised to try and think as kindly as I
could of him. I have tried ; but it is
hard. ' When you see Mark Stretton,'
said, with his last breath, ' tell him I
forgive him the debt.' What debt was
" The debt of your love, Jacqueline.
He hated me because I won you be
cause you loved me. Tie can afford to
forgive me now."
"Yes," said Jacqueline; " but you
will give me back my seal."
' What ! do you prize it still!"
" I cannot do without it. I have
worn it all these years. It is like a dear
" Is it so precious to you ? And I
who love you so worthless ?"
"You? You love me?"
" Yes, Jacqueline, I love you."
" Then give me back my seal," she
said, with a charming smile irradiating
her worn features a smile beside which
that of youth is prosaic and cold. " If
did not love you, I should not care for
On his wedding morning Mark Stret
ton took the guard from Jacqueline's
neck, and unfastening the old engraved
seal, attached in its place a little sphere
of wrought gold.
" You hare worn ' many crosses in
life' long enough, dear love ; wear this
for the rest of the way, for my sake ;"
and the pretty charm, opening with a
spring, revealed a Cupid of gold-work,
his wings like gold vapor spread for
flight, bearing a heart-shaped shield of
pink topaz, on which was engraved,
But with the seal, do you think that
Jacqueline has cast away all her crosses?
Ah, no ; there are crosses in every
rgphere ; and though love may not al
ways be able to turn them aside with his
precious shield, yet Je t aime
lighten many a burden. Bazar.
"The Man Who Drinks."
nd, " the man who laughs." He is
generally the man who weeps, or for
Whom others must shed bitter tears. He
is, alas ! a member of no particular class
of society. You meet him everywhere,
from the lowest to the highest places
of this world, and always find him not
Only his own worst enemy, but the un
conscious enemy ol all who trust in
If, among a band of hard-working
mechanics, you find one who, on wages
deem sufficient for decent
clothes, tidy rooms and comfortable din
ners, is always out at elbows, always at
loggerheads with his landlord, and al
ways complaining of hard times, ten to
one he is the man who drinks.
it on tne Judges bench you meet a
man who deals unjustly, who judges
unrighteously, who is facetious in the
presence of misery and makes crime a
jest, and the sentence of some poor
wretch an excuse lor stupid puns and
vulgar witticisms, there, also, yau may
know the man who drinks in his own
snug little room perhaps, not openly,
but all the same, a drunkard.
If you see a woman worn and pale
and wretched from some unknown
cause, fear in her eye and anxiety in
her voice, youth gone too early, and her
daily duties more sad burdens, ten to
one her husband is the man who drinks
for whoever knew that man to keep his
vow. and love and cherish and protect
The beggar children in the gutters, ig
norant and vile and wretched beyond
description, are his offsprings. The jail
opens to let him in. The gallows some
times ends his life.
The man wfio drinks is not always an
idiot, as one might believe. The great
est statesmen have ceased to be great:
the best writers of the world dropped
their pens when they were most useful
and most brilliant splendid fellows,
whom men admired and woman loved
have fallen in their heyday because
rum. In one word, half, the world is
failure, its hopes all wrecked, its love
offering on a ruined shrine, its
schemes dead failures, its crimes legion,
prisons and its charnel-houses full,
because 3t the man who drinks.
Growth of Cereals.
laveral years ago, that grain, and espe
i.?" cially wheat, was injured by being
At the last meeting of the British As
sociation . Mr. F. G. Halle tt read a paper
the "Law of Development in Ce
rnak " His experience showed him
planted too closely. He found a wheat
plant would increase above the ground
proportion as its roots had room to
develop, and that the roots might be
hindered by being in contact with the
roots of another plant. Mr. Hallett
thus sums up the result of his extended
1. Every fully developed plant, wheth
er of wheat, oats, or barley, presents
ear superior in productive power to
of the rest on that plant.
2. Every such plant contains one grain
which, upon trial, proves more product
ive than any other.
3. The best grain in a given plant is
its best ear.
4. The superior vigor of .this grain is
transmissible in different degrees to its
5. By repeated careful selection the
superiority is accumulated.
6. The improvement which is first
raised gradually after a series of years
diminished in amount, and eventually
far arrested that, practically speak
ing, a limit to improvement in the de
sired quality is reached.
7. By still continuing to select, the
improvement is maintained, and practi
cally a fixed type is the result.
Putting it Round. The " smiting,"
which was in vogue long ago in the land,
(Egypt,) is a habit which does not appear
shocking to us, perhaps, as it must to
other foreigners. There is much more
of the hand among Anglo-Saxon
populations of the argument called a
blow" than on the Continent. But
Egypt, whoever can hit, cuff, or kick,
does it freely. Sir Anthony Abso
lute's mode of ruling a household, and
results, may be seen any day in the
There was a curious illustration of
this rule the other morning near Shep
herd's Hotel. Two men had a dispute
over a matter of sale, and from words
of them, the larger and stronger,
resorted to a sound boxing on the ears
his antagonist. The latter put his
hands to his face, looked round with
glaring eye at the crowd which had
been collected by the controversy, and,
singling out a laughing donkey-boy, ad
ministered to him a tremendous cuff on
side of the head. A few yards away
there sat a child of eight or nine years
age against the wall of a house, inno
cently sucking a piece of sugar-cane.
The donkey-boy at once charged him,
and kicked him in the ribs. The little
fellow looked up, uttered a cry of rage,
and seizing a large paving stone which
close at hand, flung it at the
donkey-boy? oh, certainly not! but
a poor street dog which lay asleep
close at hand. Russell's Diary in the
Mrs. Woodhull's Blandishments. A
lady writes to the Chicago Republican :
I " was present when Miss or Mrs.
Woodhull interviewed several members
the House, some of whom, to their
honor be it said, could not be mesmer
ized, and did not relish the apple ; but
last came Mr. Julian, of Indiana, who
proved an easy prey. The process was
perfect. She sat very close to him on
the sofa, put her face very near his, and
fastened upon him her magic orbs. She
laid the tips of her magnetic fingers
upon his hand and arm, as if to enforce
and make emphatic her arguments. He
soon looked dreamy, smiled as if gently
wafted on a sea of bliss, and one could
see the apple was tasting very sweet.
She talked on until he was completely
under her influence, bowing his head
and responding, while that sweet,
dreamy smile lit up his noble face, till
length she placed in his hands her
memorial, which he took, when they
gracefully rose to their feet, joined
hands while several adieus were spoken,
and the apple was swallowed. Mr.
Julian returned to his seat to ask and
obtain leave to have the memorial print
ed in the Congressional Globe"
Politeness in Children.
Little Alfred's mother had taken
pains to instruct her baby-boy in some
of the simple forms of politeness and
hospitality ; and, though not three
years old, he UBed to put his lesson in
One day a dear friend of his mother's
called, and he ran at once to bring a
chair for her, inviting her to sit by the
fire. Then he brought a footstool for her
feet, and asked her to let him take her
" I wish you would stay to dinner,"
he lisped, " and stay all day, and stay
Though it may not be necessary to
express yourself quite as strongly as
dear little Allie did, yet such a cordial
hospitality is always pleasant to the re
ceiver when it is felt to be sincere. Chil
dren cannot learn too early to welcome
the chance guest, and do what they can
ior nis comtort, even at the cost ot sell-
I know little girls that can wait on
visitor in their mother's absence with as
much propriety as young ladies ; can
answer questions put to them, clearly
and directly, and always politely ; and
it is a pleasure to be a guest where chil
dren thus behave.
If you are not trained as you should
be in these matters at home, it is
great pity ; but still you may learn much
trom well-behaved children of your ac
quaintance. Every lovely, kindly grace
is worth cultivating, and will add much
to your happiness and usefulness when
you are older. A rude, ill-mannered
person is shunned and disliked in every
circle, and unless the opposite habits
are formed in early life, they are seldom
lormeo at all. fre&hytenan
they are barbarians. There is no excep
tion among them to this condition of
barbarism. This is not to say that they
are not attractive ; for they have the vir
tues as well as the vices of a primitive
It is held by some naturalists that the
child is only a zoophyte, with a stomach.
and feelers radiating from it in search
of something to fill it. It is true that
a child is always hungry all over; but he
is also curious all over; and his curiosity
is excited about as early as his hunger.
He immediately begins to put out his
moral feelers into the unknown and
the infinite to discover what sort of an
existence this is into which he has come.
His imagination is quite as hungry as
his stomach. And again and again it is
stronger than his other appetites. You can
easily engage his imagination in a story
which will make him forget his dinner.
He is credulous and superstitious, and
open to all wonder. In this, he is exactly
like the savage races. Both gorge them
selves on the marvelous; and all the
unknown to them is marvelous.
I know the general impression is that
children must be governed through
their stomachs. I think they can be
controlled quite as well through their
curiosity; that being the more craving
and imperious of the two.
I have seen children tollow about a
person who told them stories, and inter
ested them with his charming talk, as
greedily as if his pockets had been full
of bon-bons. Charles Judley Warner.
Puzzle for the Boys.
for 15 cents, which is a half-cent apiece,
or two apples for one cent. He sells
the remaining 30 for 10 cents, which is
third of a cent apiece, or three apples
for one cent. Thus, we see that for 5
apples he gets 2 cents ; now, how many
cents does he get lor ou apples I 1 he
problem seems plain enough, and the
rule of three gives the immediate result
of 24. But on the other hand, if he
gets 15 cents for 30 apples, and 10 cents
or the remaining 30, it seems evident
that he gets 25 cents for the 60 apples.
It is said to be a poor rule that won't
work both ways, but this one seems
utterly to refuse to.
f he Pigeon Mails. The London
Times gives an interesting account of the
ingenious device by which the matter
of two whole pages of that journal was
transmitted from London to Paris. The
pages ot that paper which contained
communications to relatives were photo
graphed on thin and almost transparent
paper, about one inch and a half long
and one inch wide. By the naked eye,
there could be seen on these impres
sions only two legible woras, ine
Times," and six narrow brown bands,
representing the six columns of printed
matter, forming a page of the journal.
Under the microscope, however, the
brown spaces became legible, and every
line of the newspaper was found to have
been distinctly copied, and with the
greatest clearness. These minute pho
tographic copies were sent to Bordeaux
for transmission by carrier pigeon to
Paris. When the messages arrived in
Paris they were, by aid of a magic lan
tern, magnified to a large size and
thrown upon a screen. A staff of clerks
then immediately transcribed the mes
sages, which were sent to their ad
dresses. The Times suggests that the
success of this experiment gives rise to
hope that the new art of compressing
printed matter may be made useful for
the ordinary purposes of literary men.
Thus if a page of the Times can be com
pressed into the space of an ordinary
postage stamp, an octavo volume might
be made to cover a page of the Times,
and a library could be reduced to the
size of a prayer book. In this way,
persons with the aid of a microscope,
could with ease consult matter which
is now extended over many folio vol
umes. Sad Pictures of New York Life.
Two very sad pictures of city life are
made known this morning. The first is
that of a Cuban woman who, losing all
her money through unfortunate specu
lations and treacherous friends, found
herself and children on the brink of
starvation, and then, utterly despairing
of relief from her troubles, attempted
to commit suicide, and was only pre
vented by the opportune arrival of some
of the occupants of the house. The
second is that of an old hag dying from
want and cold in a filthy room in a Mul
berry street tenement house. She had
lived entirely by begging, and never
had been known to purchase anything
for her sustenance, and yet she was
found to be possessed of over $600. Op
posite as these two cases are in some re
spects, in others they are analogous, and
only go to show how much misery and
suffering and want there are in the me
tropolis. The tenement houses could
tell a sad story were their secrets to be
given to the public, and if there were
an Asmodeus to lift the roof of the
houses in the city as of old he did for
Don Cleofas in Madrid, a history of
privation and desti'ution would be
spread out in which the incidents are
dark and sorrowful. New York Express,
MARK TWAIN AGAIN.
He Decides to Spend His Life on a Railroad.
From the February Galaxy.
The man in the ticket office said :
" Have an accident insurance ticket
" No," I said, after studying the mat
ter over a little. " No, I believe not ;
I am going to be traveling by rail all
day. However, to-morrow I don't tra
vel. Give me one for to-morrow."'
The man looked puzzled. He said
" But it is for accident insurance, and
if you are going to travel by rail
" If I am going to travel by rail I
shan't need it. Lying at home in bed
;. f,i. th ;.. r am .f.,.;j f n
I had been looking into this matter.
Last year I traveled 20,000 miles, almost
entirely by rail ; the year before, I tra
veled over 25,000 miles, half by sea and
half by rail ; and in the year before that
traveled in the neighborhood of 10,000
miles, exclusively by rail. I suppose if
put in all the little odd journeys here
and there 1 may have traveled 6O,(JO0
miles during the three years 1 have
mentioned and never an accident.
For a good while I said to myself
every morning : " Now, I have escaped
so far, and the chances are just that
much increased that I shall catch it
this time. I will be shrewd, and buy
an accident ticket." And to a dead
moral certainty I drew a blank, and
went to bed that night without a Joint
started or a bone splintered. 1 got
tired ot that sort of daily bother, and
fell to buying accident tickets that were
good for a month. I said to myself,
A man can't buy thirty blanks in a
But I was mistaken. There was never
prize in the lot- I could read of rail
accidents every day ; the newspa
per atmosphere was foggy with them ;
but somehow they never came in my
way. 1 found I had spent a good d
money in the accident business and
had nothing to show for it. My suspi
cions were aroused, and I began to look
around for somebody who had won in
this lottery. I found plenty of people
who had invested, but not an individual
that had ever had an accident or made
cent. I stopped buying accident
tickets and went to ciphering. The
result was astounding. The peril lay,
not in traveling, but in staying at home.
I hunted up statistics, and
amazed to find that after all the glaring
newspaper headings concerning railroad
disasters, less than three hundred peo
ple had really lost their lives by those
disasters in the preceding twelve
months. The Erie road was set down
the most murderous in the list. It
had killed 46, or 26, I do not remember
exactly which, but I know the number
was double that of any other road. But
the fact straightway suggested itself
that the Erie was an immensely long
road, and did more business than any
other line in the country ; so the double
number of killed ceased to be matter of
By further figuring it appeared that
between New York and Rochester the
Erie ran eight passenger trains each
way every day, and carried a daily aver
age of six thousand persons. This is
about a million in six months the
population of New York city. Well,
the Erie kills from 13 to 23 persons out
its million in six months ; and in the
same time 13,000 of New York's million
in their beds 1 My flesh crept, my
hair stood on end. " This is appal
ling !" I said. " The danger isn't in
traveling by rail, but in trusting to those
deadly beds ; I will never sleep in a bed
1 had figured on considerably less
than one half of the length of the Frie
road. It was plain that the entire road
must transport at least 11,000 or 12,000
people every day. I here are many
short roads running out of Boston
that do fully half as much ; a great
many roads scattered about the Union
that do a prodigious business. There
fore to presume that an average of 2,500
passengers a day for each road in the
country would be about correct. There
846 railway lines in our country, and
846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000 of people
every day ; 650,000,000 of people a year.
without counting the nundays. 1 hey
that, too, there is no question about
; though where they get the raw ma
terial is clear beyond the jurisdiction of
mv arithmetic ; for I have hunted the
census through and through, and I find
that there are not that many people in
the United States by a matter of 610,
000,000 at the very least. They must
some of the same people again
San Francisco is one eighth as popu
lous as New York ; there are 60 deaths
week in the former and 500 a week in
latter if they have luck. That is
3,120 deaths a year in San Francisco,
and eight times as many in New York
about 25,000 or 26,000. The health
the two places is the same. So we
will let it stand as a fair presumption
that this will hold good all over the
country, and that consequently 25,000
out ot every million olpeople we have
must die every year. That amounts to
one-fortieth of our total population.
Out of this million 10,000 or 12,000 are
stabbed, shot, drowned, hanged, poi
soned, or meet a similarly violent death
some other popular way, such as per
ishing by kerosene lamp and hoop-skirt
conflagrations, getting buried in coal
mines, falling on housetops, breaking
through church or lecture room floors,
taking patent medicines, or committing
suicide in other forms. The Erie rain
road kills from 92 to 46 : the other 845
roads kill an average of one third of a
man each, and the rest of that million,
amounting in the aggregate to the ap
palling figure of 987,631 corpses, die
naturally in their beds !
You will excuse me from taking any
more chances on those beds. The rail
roads are good enough for me.
And my advice to all people is : Don't
stay at home any more than you can
help ; but when you have got to stay at
home a while, buy a package of these
insurance tickets and sit up nights.
You cannot be too cautious.
One can see now why I answered
that ticket agent in the manner record
ed at the top of this -ketch. I
The moral of this composition is that
thoughtless people grumble more than
fair about the railroad management of
the United States. When we consider
that every day and night in the year
full fourteen thousand railway trains of
various kinds go thundering over the
land, the marvel is not that they kill
three hundred human beings, but that
thev do not kill three hundred times
It is said that when diamonds are
used in cutting hot glass in a glass fac
tory, one will last for only one day, as
Burning a milky appearance ; but that,
if the glass bo cold, one will last three
months. Hot glass is cut, however,
more readily than cold.
Nearly half of the members
Thirty-fourth Congress are dead.
Nature has written a letter of I
upon some men's races wbicn is nonorea
almost wherever presented.. X
A Boston paper urges that the names
of the builders should always be given
in reports of fires as used by defeodw
There are 1,017 American claims
against Mexico now before the tlliari
can and Mexican Commission in Wash
ington. Many blast furnaces are putting out
their fires on account of inability to get
coal, owing to the suspension of labor at
. . uiici. it., lug aiuaiij m tiiiw
sionarv's watch, brought it ' back the
a n ...... ,i,:..f v : - j.
next day to be shown how to wind it up.
Seven up I Now that Olive Logan
has become the owner of a " brown-stone
frent," she may be counted High Lo-
A Western paper, describing the
speech of a young orator, says that " ha
broke the ice felicitously with his open
ing, and was almost immediately
drowned with applause."
Within the last month five hundred
colored persons have applied to the
American Colonization Society for aid to
go to Liberia. More negroes are now
attracted to the colony than ever before.
"Dad, have you been to. .the Mu
seum 7" said a ten-year-old boy. " No,
my son." "Well, go and mention my
name to the door keeper, and lie II
.... a 1 . i . ... 7.T. .
" Pat, who is this Nilsson we he
much spakhT about in the news jap
" lion t you know, Alike? Wb
that ould sea divil Nilsson, that
battle of the Nile, tubbe mire."
A Boston paper reports that Boston
gets much of its poultry from the far
West ; and a Nevada paper says that
Virginia City gets its chickens from the
The expenses of our wars with In
dians since the beginning of the century
amount to more than $4110,000,000,
while the amount of money spent in
attempts to educate them has only been
From careful experiments made by a
physician of Lyons, it has been asear
tained that the old remedy of warm
water is the best solvent of accumulated
wax in the ear, being superior to olive
oil, glycerine, ate.
Books which have been handled dur
ing recovery from scarlet fever should
be burned after they have served their
purpose for the patient. In the stages
of recovery such books frequently be
come charged with the germs of the
Something for the novelist and play
wrights. Your hero kills your heroine
by a poisoned postage-stamp, which he
sends her in a note requesting an an
swer, and gets the evidence of guilt
into his hands again by return mall.
Marcooraph Fens r-Under the name
"marcograph pens," an article has
lately been introduced into England for
marking boxes, hales, etc The arrange
ment consists of a number of different
marking points, placed side by side, ac
cording to the width of stroke required,
by means of which perfect letters of
large size can be produced with great
Geologically, the hardest and most
elevated rocks are the sites where the
least mortality from cancer is found.
Along the river courses which flood
their banks seasonally are to be found
the districts in which the highest mor
tality takes place; and thst those
whereon, from the nature of the rooks
forming the watershed, the floods are
much discolored by alluvium, and
where, -mm tne Haines of tne eountry.
the floods are retained and not easily
drained off, there we find the greatest
mortality from cancer among females.
A gentleman who has been studying
botany in the Sandwich Islands de
scribes the pursuit of the ' science there)
somewhat difficult and perilous. On
one of his trips he was obliged to de
scend a deep incline at an angle of
seventy degrees, by swinging from the
roots of one tree to the hrsnohes of an
other, and this with a gorge beneath
him two thousand feet deep, nut he
was rewarded by finding a magnificent
violet, with splendid snowy-white waxy
flowers, some of them nearly half an
inch in diameter, and exquisitely per
It must not be imagined that adul
terations are to be reckoned among the
erecocities of the nineteenth century,
ven so far back as the time of Henry
VII. of avaricious memory, there ap
pears to have been no end to the inge
nuity of our ancestors in inventing and
detecting these iniquities. Hare is an
enactment of his upholsterer's depart
ment : " None shall put to sale in fairs
markets any feather beds, bolsters or
pillows, except such as are stuffed with
one sort of stuff, vis., dry pulled feath
ers, and not with any unlawful corrupt
stuff." However, even the dread of
Km peon A Dudley, that monarch's very
sharp attorneys, doesn't seem to have
inspired the bedmakers with much awe,
not long after they were adulterating
with gravel, fen down, and thistle
Mutual Forbeabance. If we wish to
succeed in life we must learn to take
men as they are, and not as they ought
be; making them better it . we can,
but at the same time remembering their
infirmities. We have to deal, not with
the ideal man of dreaming poets, but
with the real men of every-day life,
men precisely like ourselves. This fact
common aims, ambitions and infirmi
ties ought to create constant sympathy
and forbearance. While every man has
his own burde n to bear, he may at the
same time in tome way help another to
bear his peculiar burden, and be him
self helped in turn. God has myste- .
riouslv linked all men together by this
enrioui fact of mutual dependence, and
this wonderful possibility of mutual
The Guanape Islands. The Panama
Star states that in removing the guano
from the northern island or Guanape,
curious objects have been discovered at
depth of forty feet. The moat inter
esting are rudely cut wooden idols, evi
dently the household gods of the an-
cient Peruvians, who must have inhabit
ed the islands before they were taken ;'
possession of by the birds, many hun
dred years ago. On the northern por
tion of the island, after removing the
guano, a passage way, leading down to
the sea, was laid open, together with a
cave, where were found fragments of
earthenware vases, two gold ear-rings,
and other articles. The vases were in
the shape of fruit, and had carvings
Cost or Railway A ft hunt. It is
some small satisfaction, says the London
Lancet, to know that railway companies
do not maim, mutilate and kill their
passengers gratuitously. During the
past year a total sum of 333, 7 15 was
expended by railway companies in the
United Kingdom as compensation for
personal injury, of whicn the Great
Northern paid 28,000 ; the Great West
ern, 20,000 ; the I .inn ash in- and York
shire, 19,380 ; the Midland, $24,98
the London and Northwewtrrn, 73,803;
and the 1ondon, Brighton fd Hnuth
Coast Railway, $47,457.
A critical student of the Scriptures
says the hairs of the need may be num-
bered, but the
heirs of Anneke Jaus
never can be.