THREE FRIENDS OF
BY HEJfEY WADSWOBTH LONGFELLOW.
When I remember those, friends or mine,
Who are nfTnn.irer here, the noble three,
Who hall sjy "fejvrer more than friends
And whose discooe yas lite a generous
wine. T Iflf I.-..
I most all remember th-divine . -
Something, that shone in them, and made
The archetrpal man, and what might be
The amplitude of Nature's first design,
In vain I stretch my hands to clasp their
himcis; f ,.
I cannofiiW them. Nothing now is left
But majestrc nipmory. They meanwhile
Wander together in Klysiun lands.
Pereham:e reniosrrbering: mp, who ara bereft
Of their dear presence, and, remembering,
In Attica iffy hirtkpUce should have been,
Or the Pimian Isles, or where the seas
Kncircle in their arms the Cyclades,
S wholly Greek wa thou in thy serene
And childlike joy of life, Philhelene !
Around thee would have swarmed the At
Homer had" been thy friend, or Socrates,
And Plato welcomed thee to his-demesne,
For the old legends breathed historic breath ;
Thou sawest J.'oseid.on, in the purple sea,
And the'lub et J iSoB'i fleece ef.uold !
O, what Imfl-rf thini to do with cruel Death,
Who wa sinj rvtiife, tK Death with thee,
That thou shouldt die before thou hadst
grown old 1
I stand again on the familiar shore,
And hear the wave-of the distracted sea '
Piteously calling and rnmerrt'nff thee;
And waiting restless at thy cottage door,
The rockstbe sea weed on the ocean floor,
The willows in the meadow, and the free
Wild wirhts -of the Atlantic welcome me ;
Then whyjshonldst thou be dead, and came
no jBore? ., i
Ah ! why sjijuldst thou be dead, when com
Are busjwith their trival affairs.
Having and holding? Why, when thou
Nature's mysterious manuscript, and then
Wast ready to reveal the truth it bears,
Why art thou silent? Why shouldst thou
Kiver, that steaU
jst with such silent pace
Around the Cj
fv ot tne Head, where lies
boreaiy name, and whom
A friend who !
Shall see no more in hi accustomed place.
jjnger ana loia mm itny sort embrace,
And say good (light, for nor the western
skies I -'
Are red with stmseL Ond gray mists arise
Like damps thfit gather on a dead man's
Good night! goad night! as we so oft have
said J "
Beneath this rf of at midnight, in days
That are no mre, ami shall no more return.
Thou hast but taken -hy lamp and gone to
bed ; j
I stay a little lJngerTrts one stays
To cover up tlje embers that still burn.
The doors are all wide", open ; at the gate
The blossomelilac$ counterfeit a blaze,
And seem to arra the air; judreamy haze
Hangs o'er theStrigkiton meadow like" a fate,
And o'er thfiijyuBrginwith sea tides elate,
The floouedCkades, as in the happier days,
Writes the las letter of his name, and sta'vs
His retlwn .-apneas -if compelled to wait.
I also 8(; bet they will come no more,
Those fries dVif fc"o t, whose presence sat
isfied I I i"l i - -
The thirst and hunger of my heart Ah me !
They have forgotten the pathway to mvdoor!
Something is gouej rom nature' since they
And summer is not summer, nor can be.
The path of duty isSheway to glory; .
He that walks It, enly thirsting .
For the rightf and tearns to deaden
Love of self, baforeWs journey closes
He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting
Into glossy purples, whicrj outreiden
All voluptuous garden roses. .
The path of dutv it the way (o glory;
He that ever following her commands,
On with toil of heart and knees and hands,
Thro' the long gorge to the far light has won
His path upward,ind prevailed,
8hall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled,
Are close anon the shining table lands.
To which our God Himself is moon and sun.
An Idylf -the Moselle.
It was evening in the ancient town of
Trier ; the Angohis was ringing down
from the great fortress like Doni ; the
little carts, And stalls hud vanished out
of the market-place pand the carved
paints, clustered on the fountain, smiled
benignly in the seating sun. Old .wo
men in strange head-dresses, beads and
liooks in rrand,' passed hi and out of St.
Gondolphus' curious gates ; young girls,
with long, fair, plaited hair, moved in
groups across the. open space; brilliant
uniforms hone tip on the balconies of
the liotaerlaus ; the shopkeepers m
the queer little peaked houses stood at
their doors, aiyt, amused themselves;
while the- awful blaek arches of the
Porta Nigra frowned more grimly than
ever in tha trldwincr Si cr lit- and the r?av
and quainiHittletrescoes at the street
corners seemed to blaze out with new
color at its touch. One particularly
high-peaked roof was suddenly covered
with a flock of white pigeons alighting
to rest, and at the same moment a face
appeared tn "JtiOe open window among
the Inrd.HJ? Iokedi tip and down the
streets, mid jjiwfts withdrawn again
The face l!onged wa young girl, anc
the room liifo'which she" withdrew wa
pleasant and neat, if a little bare. A
work-table at the window showed that
it was the httt" rf a soaiostreps ; a lit
tie shrine hung in a corner, with a tiny
lamp i)iiriiar: M few rude pictures doc
orated the walk. The girl was clothed
in a holiday dress of dark-green stun,
with white sleeves and apron, and wore
a scarlet flower in her breast. She had
a soft, sweet, innocent face, and her fair
hair hung behind' in two long -golden
braids from herneck to her knees.
As she .turned from the window, a
curly-haired boy burt into the room.
"l jmvo a milage Jr vnu. jjc-
cenz. I met lvarty' nikl ha told nie'f
tell you ho coulvl llot ei c you to-uight.
He is suddenly sent on business."
A look of disappointment clouded
the girl's face ; but after a few moments
of silence, she said :
" How good it is that they find him
so useful. But eosae, Max, you shal
not le disappointed of your excursion
You and I will go for our walk, and
will take yoai fr & ix.K'patourcottase.''
iax snaucheahie hat, wmcb na;iiH
flung off ihl idi.iguf, and locking the
door behind them, the sister am
brother descended many stairs, and took
their way through the street, and out
by the I'erta Nigra into tin? country.
MM T 1 1 tf 1-
ixok nere, ltvx, am you ever see
anything fafyorKmsiy Wuo jw the jL
selle tlus.evtiug.' COuld you bear to
live away from it? How glad I am that
our new- home will -lie near it. And
look, hotf fiiftgrfificent the red lights are
mine. I . c -list. i -u CT . :t. m
Herald and Mail-Supptement:
. V : i f ' t - v
upon the vine-Covered banks,' with the
crimson earth glowing between ! How
the tall dark poplars and the golden
acacias seem to thrill as they bask, in
this wonderful light ! If I had been a
man, Max, I should certainly nave
tried to be an artist. Karl laughs at
me when I say so; he does not care
for such things, and gets 'annoyed
when I talk about, them; and yet I
never saw half the beauty of things
till he loved me."
" How many people are out walking
to-night, Krescenz! , I never saw the
road so gay. Oh, there is that Gretch
cn kissing her hands to me, and I will
not look at her. Why? Because she
was so impertinent this morning, telling
me that Karl had left off loving you,
and was' going to marry Luise."
" It was a silly joke, Max. I hope
you did not get angry. What did you
" Something that ought to have
stopped her kissing her hands to me,"
"It was too foolish to be angry
about, little brother. Some one said it
to me, the other day, and I only laughed.
I knew so well it was because I sent
Karl a message to Luise the other eve
ning. But Gretchen ought not to have
said it to you, Max. When I get to my
new home I don't think I shall ask her
to come and see me. I do not want to
hate anybody, and " r
" I will do the hating for you, Kres
cenz, and I hate every one who says
Karl does not love you."
"Everyone? Don't give such a big
name to two people, Max. If Karl did
not love nie, should he not be the first
to know of it? -Ah, do you see our lit
tle house peeping above the acacias up
in the fields over there? How delight
ful it will be to live there, Max, - with
all the flowers growing in at one's win
dows. And Karl is providing this
home for me!,. Ah, little Max," this
looks rather like loving one, doesn't it?"
Max was silent, and kept his face
turned away, with a slight frown on the
"I wish I could suddenly grow big,
Krescenz," he said abruptly.
The sister laughed. " My dear, you
must wait," she said gaily. " By and
bye you shall copy your brother Karl,
and if you can manage to grow like
him you will do very well. In the
meantime, you are not quite so small
as you were, my boy, when I first took
you in my arms, and carried you about
our poor garret, trying to put you to
sleep. Mother had died the dayle
fore I was ten years old, and you: were
only born. I was a very little nurse,
wasn't I? But it seemed to me that
I Mas a hundred years old. How
proud I was of you, and how I loved
"And you worked
for me, didn't
. . . -.-. a -r 1
h. didn 1 1 : We were alone
the world, you and me. I paid a xor
old woman a very, very old woman,
who could not do anything eke a
penny a davfor taking care of you,' 'and
worked for its. two. I was a strong
ittle erirl. and as industrious as a bee.
People gave me work" to do ; it was very
hard untu 1 was about 14 and then l
learned to sewj and things began to be
better. At 16 I was able to rent a lit
tle room for myself, and so bring home
my little brother. Ah, Max, how
often we have been hungry together!
and yet you are a brave boy for your
age. 1 have pulled you through the
worst, and now God has taken us both
into happiness and safety. No more
scanty crusts for you. No more sit
ting up all night, sewing by candle,
for me. No more pinching at the
heart when rent day is coming
round. Who could , have . thought of
it that Karl, whoni every one admir
ed, shonld have sought but ,mel. I did
not accept him hatily Max, for I was
afraid he might change his mind;
afraid that he had not known what he
was saying, or that he did not know
perfectly how much people thought of
him. But he would perskt in loving
me, he would, indeed; and that is why
I laugh so much when the people toll
idle tales. 'If you only knew, my
srdod people,' I think, 'if -you "only
know how well I know.' And Max
you see I do not mind saying anything
to voii: must confess that the greatest
trouble I have had lately has been the
fear that so much . sitting up at night
was taking away my good looks. I look
so sickly sometimes when the morning
light comes in. 1 Stare me well in the
face, Max, and tell me if I am getting
" You are the prettiest and loveliest
girl in the town, sister Krescenz."
" But I am not rosy, like Gretchen,
nor are mv rvf so hicr and briht as
"No matter." poi-sL-iej Max. , "Noi.
one of" thorn can mile ths way von
After that I must say something
nice to you, Max. Sit down here on
the gra-s, and lot me tell you the kind
of a life we shall have over iuour little
houee yonder. We shall have four
rooms of our own, and there are vines
growing round all the windows. We
shall have a pretty garden, with bees
and lwwers, and a field with a cow in
it. I shall do my sewing sitting under
a tree, looking down on the Moselle.
You will go to work with Karl, and in
the evening you will both come home,
and we shall have supper' in the aar
den." " I wish we had some now, Kre-cen-."
, "I wish we had, my boy; and I think
i it is time "to go and look for some coffee
I nnd bread."
COLUMBIA, TENNESSEE, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1S75.
The sister and brother turned their
steps toward a pleasant summer-house
of . refreshments, built among trees,
upon the high overhanging bank of tha
river, where the people of Trier love to
drink coffee in the cool of the evening.
As the girl and child took their simple
meal in a nook of the projecting ter
race, the blue Moselle rushed under
their feet, and Trier lay bathed in
ruddy glory in the distance before their
eyes, with its strange contrasting out
lines softened into magnificent harmo
ny, and the fierce black Roman gates
making a frown on the very front of
the sunny landscape.
"How splendid it looks, the dear old
town?" cried Krescenz. " Do you know.
Max, I cannot understand why pewple
ever leave their homes to go out into
" I should like to go out and see the
world," said Max.
" You mustn't say so, Max. Noth
ing would ever induce me to leave
They were rambling among tlie trees
on the hillside, stopping now and then
to lean forward and take a fresh peep
at the beauty of the river and the ex
quisite glea.mg if the distance on either
side. ' :
"Oh, Kroscenz, Krescenz! I have
found a Dair of lovers."
" No! Have you, Max?" said Kres
cenz, with interest.
"Behind that large tree, in such a
pretty nook. Just peep around, and
you can see." . r
"Hide, then, while I peep so care
fully.": - ' -
' Max' retired while Krescenz leaned
forward with a smile of mischievous
delight, and peered from behind a
peveen of loaves, herelf unseen by the
objects of her iuterest. AVhen the boy
thought he had waited long enough he
came forth again and plucked her by
She turned to him slowly, and put
her finger on her lip.
"Krescenz ! Krescenz!" whispered
the child, "what makes your face so
dreadful ? Are they ghosts?"
j " Hush, Max ! I cannot see, take
me by the hand and get me into some
quiet place, where nobody will find as.'
"Oh, Krescenz, you are ill ! Are you
going to die?"
"No, 'dear, I shall not die. Fetch
me some water and tell nobody."
Max obeyed, and while the red
light paled on the Moselle, and purple
mingled with the crimson and olive of
its banks, the girl's white face lay on
the mos-v gazing blankly upward with
fixed e3es. The tears trickled over
Max's innocent cheeks as he nestled at
her side and kissed her lips, her hands,
and her hair.
- "Oh, Krescenz ; may I not call some
one to come and help you home?"
"No, dear, no," said the young girl,
starting up. "We are not going home
any more. We are going away some
where else, you and I together."
What, away from Trier?"
"Yes, I ani'timl of Trier."
I thought you said you would never
leave Tfief : and what will Karl say to
Oh,aMaxloh, Max !"
'.'Where shall we sleep to-night,
we keep walking on at this rate ?"
"We shall rest on the road, and to
morrow we. shall travel further. There
are other towns besides Trier, where
industrious people can get work to do."
"Oh, Krescenz! I sun afraid -you
have gone mad. Those people lehind
the trees must have been the wicked
spirits we read alxnit, and the)' have
"Do you know who they were, Max?
Karl and Lnise. Gretchen was right,
after all." '
' V'But -they did not say they were
going to lie married?" said the boy.
"Oh, don t groan, Krescenz, and 1 will
try and ask no more questions."
"Dear Max, there is nothing more
for me at Trier. That is why we are
going together out into the world."
l" Oh, that 1 could grow big and go
back? aridJcill him?"
" Hush! you must not talk such non
lease. You must takecareof me now,
as liave nobody else."
"That I will indeed ; but oh, Kres
cenz, my canary!"
,. Soinelody will take care of it, my
dear; We can get another."
: 'And your pretty little shrine ?"
8omebodv else will kneel at it. I
can pray to God anywhere you know."
Deepening shadows dropped on the
Moselle, and the two young figures hur
ried on through the purple twilight
away from frier.
To Tkix tile Age of Sheep. A
shppp'-Vfrort teeth th first year are
i eight in numWr. appearing nil of a size.
! Socond vo:;r the. two middle ones aro
shed out and are replaced by two much
larger than the others. Third year two
very small ones appear one on either
side of the eight. At the end of the
fourth year there are six large teeth.
Fifth year all the front teeth are large.
Sixth year all begin to show wear not
; RxGLtsH St ET PLddixg. One cup
molasses, one cup sweet milk, one cup
raisins chopped fine, one teaspoonful
soda, one-quarter of a teaspoonful each
of cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg, one
half teaspoonful of salt, four heaping
teacrupfuls of sifted flour. Stir all well
together and place in your pudding
boUer, which should not le more than
!Uf64hirds full, as room must lie left
for the : pudding to rise. Do not put
the pudding into the kettle nntil the
water is Ixiiling hot ; cook three hours.
There is, probably, no distinctive
difference in the general characteristics
of the farmers north and south. The
great olistaele to their success in either
case is a disposition to discredit the
ability of the soil to produce croje
when aided by the best efforts of the
farmer. The getting out of old ruts
is au exceedingly difficult operation.
The' ideas and practices of the grand
fathers are strongly adhered to, as bet
ter than any that young America can
suggest, or adopt ; and so, while at the
south, because at some time in the far
distant past, perhaps cotton was grown
to a considerable profit, therefore, it
mast be so to-day, notwithstanding the
evidence of painful individual experi
ence to the contrary; at the north, in
too many instances, there is still a dis
position to extend cultivation over too
great surfaces. There are many
thoughtful, earnest workers in both
sections of our country, who are labor
ing diligently to correct these evils, and
it is to be hoped with something of
It is a matter of surprise that cot
ton should be made, as it too often Is,
the'sole crop, after so much has been
written upon the subject, and when it
has been so clearly proven by unim
peachable testimony that the produc
tion of hay may be made a paying and
a permanent industry in the south.
But it is known that in all matters of
reform it is necessary that there lie
given, "line upon line, and precept upon
precept," in order to work effectual
That crop which sells for the most
money is not always the most profitable
crop to grow, for the reason that the
profit is regulated by the cost of pro
duction ; and so one crop that will sell
well may hare cost three-quarters of
the amount in its production, while
another that sells for only three-quarters
as much, cost only one-third of the
amount, thus giving a profit double
what it Is in the first case.
From this principle comes the strong
argument in advocacy of the growth of
hay at the south as well as in other sec
tions of country where it Is not grown.
It is a crop which when once started,
requires comparatively little outlay in
its cultivation and harvesting, and one
for which there is a constant demand,
usually at good prices. Now if a fail
ure in cotton occurs, all is gone. We
would not recommend the entire aban
donment of the cultivation of cotton,
any more than we would that of corn
or other important production ; but
the desire is if such a state exists
to correct the idea that cotton Is the
crop and the only crop that can lie cul
tivated at the "Sunny South" to any
advantage to the producer.
We regret that we have not a per
sonal acquaintance with soil, climate
and other conditions affecting the cul
tivation of crops at the smith, but be
lieve that from a careful reading of the
Bural Carolinian we have learned facts
sufficient to strengthen us in the faith,
that cotton is now the "all in all" at
the south, but is in fact, made an ob
stacle to a more successful and prosper
Experience has demonstrated that,
as a general rule, continuous cropping
with the same crop deteriorates the
soil to a greater or less degree ; there
may be exceptions in which, by means
of special painstaking, the soil main
tains its original fertility, or perhaps
The general rule Is illustrated in the
cultivation of tobacco in the Connecti
cut valley ; those who have tried it for
years are beginning to feel the injuri
ous effects resulting from it, and have
commenced growing corn and other
crops much more largely.
It Is said that a careful financier
would not trust all his deposits in one
bauk, but for self security would divide
them among many; therefore, when
the farmer depends upon returns from
the soil, why should he make his ven
ture in a single direction, or upon a sin
gle crop, when there are so many with
which he can do something, and if one
fails he will be but little injured.
Is it not a fact that very much of the
land south, from this very system of
continuous cropping with one crop, has
not only come to be what might he
termed "cotton sick" but is troubled
with a general agricultural sick
ness:, or prostration, which requires a
change, and some careful nursine and
change, in order to restore it to a good
healthy condition? It is so at the north;
all sorts of remedies are needed, and in
some cases, unless the remedies are ap
plied soon, there is but little hoiKJ of
Now if, ns vo hay no reason to doubt,
the statement of comparisons of other
crops with cotton are correct as given
so frequently; .Vhy cannot a greater
faith be established, and have a devel
opment by works.
In the first place, excess in the newer
portion of our country, in which is a
high degree of fertility, there must be
an application of f'ertifzing material in
order to secure a good crop; the contin
ued disobedience of this rule, as of all
laws of nature, brings its penalty; there
fore let there be no stinginess in that
direction; it is far letter to cultivate a
few acres, getting good crops than to
cultivate many acres, getting poor
crops, for in the first place the soil, be
sides producing, lilerally, is supposed
to le left in as good or letter condition
than originally; while in the second
case, the soil is growing jxiorer, the
owner is growinff jxjorer aud discour
aged, and is heard to exclaim; "farming
don't pa-," when the fault is wholly in
his own management, ,' V .:..'
Having properly manured the soil,
which requires some effort in the mak
ing and saving, let the amount of sur
face to be cultivated, lie properly divid
ed and appropriated to the- cultivation
of a good variety of crops, such as
would be reasonably remunerative.
These may consist of cotton, potatoes,
and other root crops, the grains and in
t urn grasses for hay. In this way a ro
tation of crops can be instituted which
will not only avoid the old system of
everlasting cotton cropping, but will,
by a husbanding of fertilizing elements,
be very much less exhaustive to the
soil. If any one doubts the truth of
this, let him for instance take three
pieces of an acre each, with duplicates,
and crop with corn, potatoes, and oats,
for three years. '
In both cases the pieces shall receive
annually the same amount of manure;
in one case the crops shall rotate so
that in the course there shall be three
crops of each kind ; in the other, the
crops shall be continued the three years
upon the same place, and they will find
that the continuous crops will gradually
deteriorate, both in quality and quantity
from the rotated crops. It must be ad
mitted that getting rich by farming
must of necessity lie very gradual, but
look the country through and compare
the average farmer with an average of
other kinds of business, or even of the
professions, and he will occupy ' no
The farmer should be as ready to
magnify his position and assert the dig
nity and profitableness of his calling as
loudly as those of other occupations,
and there would lie much less croaking
against one of the most honorable oc
cupations that man was ever engaged
in, viz.: that of cultivating the soil, and
producing those things necessary hfr
the maintenance of all created, bein gs
alike, arid withouf which our world
would soon be depopulated.? T ' .
Then enter upon the cultivation of
the soil with a determination to meet
with success, and may your .highest ex
pectations be more tlian realized.
William H. Yeomans,
In Kural Carolinian.
, - ' i
Bagging Polar Bears.
From the Letter of the N. Y. Herald Correspond
ent on board the Pandora.
Running south all next day before a
rattling northern breeze we arrived in
the entrance to Lancaster Sound on
the morning of the 20th and soon were
in sight of ice. Here we had another
bear hunt. Forty miles away from
any land we found an old she bear and
cubs swimming aliout as leisurely as
though water was their natural ele
ment. A boat was instantly lowered
and an exciting chase took place. A
fresh breeze was blowing at the time,
which caused a rough, chopped sea,
and the bears struck out to the wind
ward as though they instinctively knew
this would put the ftoat at a disadvan
tage. They apjjear to be very iuteDi
gent and affectionate animals. The
old bear swam a short distance ahead
of the young ones, but kept continually
turning aliout, as if to encourage them
nnd urge them on. It was pitiful to
see the poor be:ist.s swimming thus for
life, without a hope of escape, and the
more so as they appeared to - be tjuite
aware of fheii" danger arid niade the
most desperate efforts to get away. It
was all in vain. What chance had they
against four stout pair ot arms pulling
a ludit shell of a boat that - shot over
the water under the rapid . stroke of
the oars like an arrow? In a quarter of
an hour the boat had got up to within
three or four yards 'of them'; there
were two shots, and the old bear and
one of the cubs stopped swimming and
lay lifeless on the water. Captain
Young had shot one and Mr. l'irle
the other. But they determined to
capture the third, and with much dif
ficulty succeeded at lat in throwing a
running noose over his head.
He resisted with all his might, set
tinr? up a fierce howl and trymc to
capsize the boat, which he would very-
soon have succeeded in doing had he
but been able to get one paw over her
thwarts. Finding 't he 1oat too' swift
for him he tried to hold back. He
swam and struggled and dived, and tore
and bit at the rope, and half drowned
himself, howlniir savatrelv all the
time. They at last brought him along
side and fastened him up to the nettings,
rrivinEr him line to .swim alout, while
the bodies of the other two were drag-
c-od up over the side! He watched this
operation with strange, wild intelligent
eves, as though wondering; what his
mother meant !v sri"g in so quietly,
nnd. curiously enough, begin trying t
trot in too. ilv; ; only a b'diy heir
after nil. nn. ? loui! !r, tin l u Ins mo
ther wont in it must be all right. He
did not resist when hauled over in bis
turn, but scrambled up willingly, suai
ping viciously at cverylody, however,
when he got a chance, evidently much
friorhtoned. nevertheless, lie was
chained up to the side, but kept up a
terrible howling until the !ody of the
ntbpr pi lb still warm, was thrown to
him. He instantly sprang umii jt,
and legau. rooting "and smelling at t,
pushinsr it with his hose, uttering all the
while a plaintive moan, and occasion;
allybiting' it gently us1 though' frying
tn nwnken it. Then he lav down ln-side
it. with his head on the-body, and
watched us with his shrrp, inquiring.
intelligent eyes, in an imploring way,
ns tlm'mrh siskin's? ah what we iricant
by treating him in that cruel manner.
lie howled hideonsJy when -the bod
was taken awav. from him. but consoled
himself with' the skin of the old one,
Which was thrown to-iuui,-.ud upon
which he lay down and slept, l'oor
little fellow He: wasas frightened as a
child try th terrible and powerful be
ings around him, and found a dreary
kind of company in the skin of his
."Walter Savage Laiidor. . . '
James T. Fields writes : .It was at
a breakfast in Konyon's house that I
first met Walter Savage Laiidor. , As
I entered the room with Procter, Laii
dor was in the midst of an eloquent
harangue on the high art of portrait
ure. Procter had been lately sitting
to a daguerreotypist for a picture, and
Mrs. -Jameson, who was very fond of
the poet,' had arranged the camera for
tlmt occasion.-" Landorwas holding the
picture in his hand, declaring that it
had never been "surpassed as a specimen
of that particular art. The errand-
looking author of "Pericles of Aspa-
sia" was. standing in the middle of the
room when we entered, and his voice
sounded like an explosion of first-class
artillery. Seeing Procter enter, , he
immediately began to address hirn in
high-sounding Latin compliments.
Poor modest Procter pretended to stop
his ears that he might not listen to
Landor's eulogistic phrases. Kenyon
came to the rescue by declaring the
breakfast had been waiting for haTf an
hour. When rwe arrived at the table
Landor asked Procter to join him onJ
an expedition into Spain which lie was
then contemplating. "No," said Proc
ter, "for I. cannot even 'walk Spanish,'
and having never crossed the Channel,
I do not intend to legin now." "Never
crossed the Channel!" roared Landor;
"never saw Napoleon Bonaparte!" Ho
then !egan to tell us how the oung
Jprsican loojced.when he first saw him,
tsayingthat he had the olive complexion
and roundness ot face ot a Oreek girl:
that the Consul's voice was deep and
mehrflious, but untruthful in tone.
While ' we were eating breakfast he
went on to descrilie his Italian travels
in early youth, telliug us that he once
saw fhelley and Byron meet In the
doorway of a hotel in Pisa. Landor
had lived in Italy many years, for he
detested the climate of his nativecoun-
try, and used to say, "One could only
live comfortably in England who was
rich enough to have a solar system of
his own." Procter told me
that when Landor got into a passion
his rage was sometimes uncontrollable.
The fiery spirit knew his weakness, but
his anger quite overmastered him in
spite of himself. "Keep your temper,
Landor, somebody said to him one day
when he was raging. "That is just
what I don't wish . to keep," he cried;
"I wish. to le.rid of such an infamous,
ungovernable thing. I don't wish to
keep mv tenrner."" Whoever wishes to
get a good look at Landor will not seek
for it alone in John l orsters interest
ing liio of the old man, admirable as
it is, but Mill turn to JMkens J leak
House for side-da noes at the great au
thor. In that" vivid story Dickens has
made his friend Landor sit for the por
trait of Lawrence Boy thorn. The very
laugh that niade the whole house vi
brate, the roundness and fullness of
voice, the fury of siqierlatives, are all
given in Dickens' lest manner, and no
one who has ever seen Landor for halt
an hour could possibly mistake Boy
thorn for anybody else. Talking the
matter over once with Dickens, he said,
"Landor always took that representa
tion of himself in hearty good humor,
and seemed rather proud of the'picture."
"Takinxj Cold. Many of the colds
which jeople are said to catch com
mence at the, feet. To keep these
extremities warm, therefore, is to
effect an insurance against the almost
interminable list of disorders which
spring but af a "slight cold." First",
never lie tightly shod. loots or shoes
when they fit too closely press against
the foot and prevent the fxec circula
tion of the blood. When, on the
contrary, they fit with comparative
loosenesH, the blood gets fair play, ami
the spaces left lietween the leather and
the stockings are filled with a comforta
ble supply of warm air. The second
is. never sit in damp shoes. It is often.
imagined that unless they are positively
wet it is not necessary t change them.
This is a fallacy, for when the ieasf
dampness is aIsorled into the sole it is
attracted nearer the foot itself bv the
heat, and thus inspiration is danger
ously chocked. Any jktsoii may prove
this by trying the experiment ot. neg
lecting this rule. "The feet will -be
come cold and damp alter a few mo
ments, although on taking oil the shoe
sua warming them they win apjK-ar
qi'ilo dy. ' -
To Puivox .Si'umsu of Han
dles. All carpenters know how sooil
the butt ends of chisels split whe-n daily
exposed to the blows "of the mallet or
hammers. A. remedy suggested by a
Brooklyn man coi sist? simply in sawing
or cutting off the round end of the
handle, so as to make it fiat, and at
taching by a few small nails on the top
of it two round discs of leather, so that
the end Incomes similar to the heel of a
boot.' The two thicknesses of leather
will prevent all further splitting, and if
UThe course of-time they expand and
overlap the wood of the 'handle, they,
arq simply trimmed off all round. ' .
Don--Pedro, of Brazil, will bring
0,000 worth of diamonds when be
comes to visit this country. . 'He is
going to give them away to young men
who part their hair iniho centre. -
' r JUkAUKATflS Ul IPJK.1UU s
v --. - . - .
, Charley Ruskl says in hia opro- -.
ou thatsince the. flood the water tasted
so oT'sinners hlfTotlld not drink if,'.
Restaurant allowance. Customer"
' But I said boefstei.k and eggs."
Proprietor "This is leefsteak and ''
eggs." Customer " O, I see the egg,
but where is the steak ? " Proprietor '
" The steak is under the egg .' " "
An auctioneer, at a late sale of an
tiquities, put up a helmet with the fol-.
lowing candid oliservation : " This,
ladies and gentlemen, is the helmet of -Romulus,
the Roman founder, but ;
whether he was a brass or iron founder
I cannot tell."
"Was the crowd tumultuous? " in
quired one man of another, who bad
just come from a mass meeting. " To
multuous ?" replied the other. "Oh.
no, just aliout multuous enough to coin
fortably fill the hall."
If. you in lager find no bliss, and
loathe cigars no child to kiss no
wife to love no gal to hug don't
seek oblivion in the jug; and if you
haven't any sister, just ak some chap
to lend you his, to spark for a little.
while then " splice," and all the rest "
will come in nice. St. Jjmi Time.
At the next election in San Fran
cisco about four hundred Chinamen
will lieconie voters without naturaliza- .
tion through having immigrated when
under seventeen years of age. The
Chinese companies bring over these -persons
as alisolutely as slave master, .
and it is believed that their votes will
be in the market for sale to the highest
bidder. , - . '.
Till? rOET's I.AJiT SORlJ.--v
Like to th leaf .wfcic fh"eth rom e tree
(.tdd O, n-h only is asy f-iirthly life.
Lord, I am ready hen Thou c-allust me.
Lo! Thou rannt see my heart's most titter
Tin TUou aloue canxt know the load of niu
Which this my aching breast doth hold
Shorten the pains of death, shake olT, my
Give me thn eourajre of a trusting child."'
Father of Lore, I fuin would nee thee near.
In pity iudne each thought and act defild .
Merer, I cry f dear Lord, Thy will be done,
SiiTe me 1 prav, through Jesus Christ Thy
Son. ians Andersen. ;
A singular burial custom . has .
lately lieen followed in Ireland. It
appears that every member of the ;
King-Harman family is buried by
torchlight, and the funeral of Hon. L.
II. King-Harman has just taken place
in accordance, with the peculiar ctw-.
torn. The family mansion is three
miles from Boyle," and all the space"
was crowded from end to end. A .
long continuous line of carriages fol
lowed the hearse from the house, and
the thoasands of tenants and lalnirers
of the estate, wearing scarfs and hat- ,
bands and learing torches, took part
in the procession. The interment
took place in the family vault in Boyle
JIontoomeky Qcekn bus purchased
100 African ostriches, and is alxiut col- .
oninug them on his place near Hay
woods, a small town fifteen miles from
San Francisco. It is his intention to
raise ostriches solely for their plumage,".
each bird yielding over $200 worth of
feathers yearly. He has invested
$100,000 in the" enterprise.
We live in aland that is fratjrant with
In a world that is fair to behold,
With itx starry blue sky nnd iU preen ebftdy .
And its riches more precious than gold;
But the people are very peculiar indeed,
And oft to extremes they will run,
With appetites sharp and no bounds to (Juuir
They must have whole Inn; or none,
The whole hog or non-Th-
. Uole lion or 1101.
Th' st have the . hoj? or n--.--.
Funny I- ddents.
,Seaking of his western trip, Mr.
Barnum said, "I met with two inci- .'.
dents on my trip. While going to .
Kansas City I was busy' part of tho
time making some notes on a lecture,
and arranging the heads of the dis-
course. By and by a gentleman near . .
me asked nie if 1 was an editor. I . j
said no, but that I did a little literary
work sometimes. ' Are you from '
Chicago?' he a-ked. 'Tso,' I said,
"but 1 understand my name was m
the Chicago papers the other day. .
'What js your name?' asked the -
stranger. P. T. Barnum.' He waa
quite surprised, very glad to meet me '
and all that, and. we talked a gojxl -part
of the day. He was a well in-.-formed
and gentlemanly man. At -"
length I a-dvcd him his business. He V
said he hctured some, and preached, "
too. 'Where? I naked. 'In Chi..
capo,' -and what's your name?' 'David
.Swing.' Well, I was Liken aback, to -
think I had leen traveling nearly tw .
days with David Swing and didn't;
know" him. 'When I came back t
Chicago,' continued Mr. Barnum, 'L
lcetnred there, and as I started for the J
house one of the committee asked ma
m ..ill nt a hotel and L'et a Mr. Millet 1
who had lectured for them the week
Itefore and wanted to hear nie. I
1 l.l Mr Millet. A
gentleman came to me and said 1H
name was Miller and that he though
ho tho i-i'dit man. ("oiii'ini: bads
from the" lecture he said to me 'Mr. ,
Barnum, 1 have to thank you for aa
evening of great pleasure. I didn't.;.
u-c'J ( like you a bit, but since I.';
h'iY" koo-.VTi more f vou, I like yoa.-
WYJI. 1 didn't care lor k'g ".
n i i , . - - - -
the :nu;i got out. as we were iiuu5.
away I asked the gentleman how Una
man" sjK-llod his nan'io. Ho answered,
jn1' The old Harry,' I shouteU
'....,1 A,.n't menu to sav that was
L.....;n Afillfr tlie rxu-t?' "A bv I-
praise, mid I asked him what he did-'fc;
ibr a living. He said h:-. lectured &
little. 'On what?' I a.-kod. '(.ov-"'
crnmont,' he replied, ' I've frivMi ("rant
two or throe slaps.' After a little tak A
wouldn't have missed knowing that" for '
a thousand dollars.' - - " 'JSj?"
TiiE roET'rt finiioiai.wjiY. '
"'I sat ri'dit down and wrote to
t ii 4, 11: l.:... T .
Illlll.il f-nu in iv. b..., ... ..-,.
ftdt worse than a polecat, lagging his
pardon: tind - the like, - Jle -fc i I
answered me, but I can't read what he ,
ays, but-it's all right. Here, you -at
the depot just in time. Good hy
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