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T-WELEDTION. WINNS13OIZ0 S. C., FEBRUARY 2(6, 18.VO.I-N.'.
The morning will soon be here,
For over the purple hill
The daylight Is chasing the night away,
With a foot that is noiseless and still,
Oh, the night was so long, so long *
As I sat by the window alone,
Watching the moon as it qlowly rose
Till above the trees it shono.
It looked as it hung in the sky
Like a poblet filled to the brim
With wine of an amber, golden hue;
lut now it is whito and dim,
As if it had all been quaffed
And only the glass remained.
With the faintest palest shimmering tinge
To show what it then contained,
And once, when it fullest soomed,
With the sparkling, glittering wine,
A single star, like a flock of foam
Of the precious juice of the vino,
Wont drifilng, 6rifting off,
As we sometime lose a day
That, when the goblet of life Is full,
silently floats away.
But now the daylight is here,
And the sad, vague thoughts of nil lit
Have died away, as the sunboams fall
Liko arrows of golden light.
Ah, 'tie quiet hours like those,
When we wistfully look above,
And see the works of the great, good God,
And think of his tonder love,
That help us to braver be,
And strengthen us on our way,
Till the beautiful night of life at last
Is merged in 'ternity's day.
My Husband's Love.
"Two letters for Mrs. Ayliner. There,
take then, Annie, and read them, while I
run over my correspondence."
And with a tender smile, my husband
he who only yesterday had borne ine from
the altar a loveless bride-passed over to
ine the letters he had just received from the
hands of the conclerge of the Parisian hotel
where we were staying on the first stage
of our- honeymoon trip.
It was the first time I had seen my mar
ried name boldly inscribed upon an envel
ope. and I think I only then fully re
alized that I was Philip Ayinier's wedded
wife, to have and to hold until death did
Was it this thought, or the sudden. sight
of a handwriting strangely familiar, which
caused ine to shudder and grow paie.
One of the letters was from miy mother.
I knew what sie would say before I opened
it-how she would tell me over again the
old story of the nobility of the man 1 had
married, and her joy that iy ship had rid
den into such safe anchorage.
The other-why was it thaf, as my fli'
gers touched it, my husband raised his eyes
to see the tell-tale flush their glance brought
to my cheek?
'Good news, my darling?" he questioned
"I have not had time to find oht, " I -an
swered curtly. "-I like to read my letters
A hurt look caine over Philip's face
but he said nothing, and a half ho.tr later
I was alone and had opened the letter from,
the manl I loved. - I
Yes, I was a wife-a bride, lit fact; but
my heart had never been glve into,..
ly huabbud's keeping.
I did not pause to think which of my
gods was the more worthy. I only knew
that Vane Marston's eyes nad burned, their
way into my sout-aud yet. I was another
How did it all happen? I could hardly
tell myself. 1 knew Vanhe oved me; he
had told me, but lie .never asked me to be
come his wife. And now I held his letter
in my hand, and the conitenlt, which during
these three quiet (lays had crep~t into
my heart, vanished In a maelstrom of an
guish. Thlus began the letter to me, an-1
other man's wife:
"My Darling-They tell mc you are
imrriedl. I canlnot, dare inot, believe it."
Thud It ran, a series of mlad reproachies
for iinconstancy andt faithlessness, unitil I
could iio longer read, andl with tihe sheet
crushed Il inlm hanld, fell bitterly sobbing,
across the bed.
I did not hear my husband enter tile
room, I was scarcely conscious that lie took
the letter from nmy hand,
"Look at me," lie said. "I thought you
were a pure innocent chlildi, whose heart
was an open page before. Who is tis man~f
that lie should write such wo~mds to:mny'
wife? Coward! Curl"
"IIe is. neither,'A Paiswered, stung to
action by the wordsa. "lIe is tile manli I
"'What, then, am I?"
"The man I hate," I answered reckless
ly, and buried my face on1ce more in the
When I raised it I was alone.
I did not ace iny hlusbanid until evening.
Then h~e entered myl room.
I hlad had time In all these hlours for re
pentance, and springing to meet hunii,
would have thlrownl myself In his armns,
with my prayer for forgivenees, but lie hald
me from him11 and spoke gravely andl stern
"I have been thinking since I left you,
Annie, whatwas best to do. If we sepa
rate now It will only give the world cause
for scandal. I want to propose that we live
togethler in the eyes of tile world, thiough I
premise never to enforce a husband's claim
uipon you. Will you accede to my pro
"No, no, Philip!" I cried. "I will be
your wife. .In time I wIll forget-In thne
I will iearn to love you. F'orgive mie, aC
cept me backi"
"To forgive is easier than to forget," lie
answered., "The gift yen offer is value
less-a flower without its flagrance, a bird
without its song. HeIateit help the husband
whose wife offers him duity, whien in her
heart ho thought was Written lovel"'
With these words 116- torned anid left
My husband faithfully kept hIs iWord. We
curtailed our wedding tour. It'seemed too.
bitter a mockery to go from place to, piee
both eryng this secret inl our breasts, anid
I was t1do det backt in London.
Iny &tions .were poured upon us5. In
drawI6 oi tiall roona, my'husband was ever
courteous and attentive; but as we drove to;
or from some entertainment each would
Vi o e ane In thlese months.
ceouirs I 169ed Iinitil, sbli4 of thi
hoeartlos kath' that, had so cruelly sepa
rated uk -The Apt doubt which efous
'dl my mind on tlih score, caMie one day as
I Bat at the head of my own table. We
1ad some few guests to dinner, when I
,aught these woris spoken by my husband:
"The mnanl who tells a woman that ho
oves her, yet does not ask her then and
hre to become his wife ofirs her an in
My cheeks dyed crimson. He knew
tiolhing, yet it wais 9s though he had laid
ny heart bare. Oh how glad I was to say
:ood night, and fly to my own room.
A fortnight later, I went to a ball given
n my honor. For the first, lime since my
garriage I wore my wedding dress. The
aicture the glass reflected was very fair.
.o I told my self, without a single p)ilse of
'anity, as I turned away from it and ran
Iown the stairs to meet my husband. Ilis
ace grew deathly white as lie saw me.
I know not why, but this caused me a
iuick pang of pain, as I sat alonle In a jIuiet
-orner of the gay scene, a lit tle lat er, watch
ng him as his eye searched the
Loom, perhaps looking for me, and I re
Ilized something of the innate nobility of the
1aan whose heart. I had so ruthlessly train
A voice aroused me--i voice whose hion- I
lyed accents had oftei fallen on my car
vitlh the same tenderness they now breath
l, though lie now spoke to another.
The window inl which I sat, concealed
to from view. I could see the false, hand
mome. face, with the girl's trustingly up.
"No," he was saying. ''and I never
"Whad not the beautiful Mrs. Aylmer?"
fhe questioned Jealously. "By the way she
a here to nighti"
No tremor was in Vane Marston's voice
ia he answered.
"Indeedi And if so, what then? To
le there is but one womnan in the room, in
he world. Mrs. Aylmer and I had an
lie, silly fllirtation which I thought it. best
o run away f rom a little while, and in my
blsence she married."
Then they passed out of sight amid hear..
And this is the man I had lovedl ForI
vhom I had forfeited my life and happi
ess; and not minie alone, but that of the
ioble heart I ha([ deceived and wronged
le heart I loved!
Yes, this was my secret. Too late I re
ilized the treasture I had thrown away.
I thought Philip shrank from me, as lie
ianided me into the carriage, a few houirs
Iow strangely white his face looked!
At last we reached home. I bade hinm
,oodnight at the door of his study, and
uirned to mount the stairs, when lie threw
t open and mtioined me to enter.
"'I will not detain you ht a moment,''
ic said, "I thought it right to tell you that
leave home to-morrow. If I staye(d here
onger I should kill you or myself."
m mad hope mingled with torture, thrill
d me at his words.
"Kilt me, if you will," I entreated, "but
to not leave ie."
'"henj sank upon my knees beside him,
ausing. not for breath, until 1 told the
vhole mjnserhbld story, even the last bitter
iumillation of Vaie Marston's words.
"But thdy did not even sting," I added.
"I had learned his unworthiness long before
-learned It in leariing what a noble man
vas. Philip, I ond asked you to forgive
no, and let. me. learn to love you-I ask
ou now to forg1fe me because I love you
Lnd because I cannot live without you."
And then Philip''arms stooped low and
Iro'w mo close-to his fast beating heart, and
hough he' spoke no word, I nestled there
Death-Ioti of 1879.
The death-roll in the United States for
879 embraces a number of conspicuous
iames. Th le death of Madame Bonaparte,
vhich occurred in Baltimor-e last spr-ing,
)ccaslonedh prob~ably more wide-spread in
crest andl comment than any other, except
miember of the same family, Prince Louis
Japoleoni, wvho was killed by the savages
a Zul uland. Among thte other distinguish
d Americans who (lied within theyear were
saleb Cushing, Glen. John A. lDix, ex-Gov.
Villiam Allen, William- Lloyd Gari-ison,
Glihiu Buri'itt, Conmnodores Guest, Thomp
ion ind Parker, Rear-Admhrals Parrott,
slodon, Boarman, Kitty and Reynol, andl
ions. Shields, Hooker,- Jeff. C. D~avis,
hood andl "Dick" Taylor, all of them fine
oldiers anti gallant men ; RI. H. Dana, the
venerable poet ; Hoenry C. Carey, the p)o
Itical economist-; W. M. Huht, the artist;'
Dharles Rchlter, the actot-; :Johni S. Glit
migs, of Baltimor&. Iour M]ishops died(
luring tihe year'-Hishop Foley, of the
Catholic Church.; Bishops Odenhleimer andl
Wliittlnghiam, of the Episcopal Chuich;
and Bishop Ames, of the Methodist Church.
Abroad, the obituary r-ecordl Is also crowvd
e(1 with conspienuous nitmes-among thonm
the Anmeer of AfghanIstan, Baron Roths
ohild, head of the great banking house of
tothschilds ; Cardinals Antonucci and
Guidi; Abdel-Kader, the famous Algerian
hief; Espartere, the Spanish politician;
Von Ilulow, the German statesman; Sir
owland Hili, the great postal reformer;
Vllemessant, the father of "piersonal" jour
nalim In France ; ChevalIer, the French
economist ; Bueckstone, the actor; Mi-s.
Charles Dlck~cns and H~epWorthi Dixon, the
A mng Stone.
'The largest stone quarried in 8,000i years
was used In the construction of the obelisk
to the memory of Major General Jolm Ellis
Wool, which hass just been exposed to pub
lie view In Troy, New York. General
Wool was ~a dist~inguiished soldlier of the
War of 1812, having been shot through
both'ihighs at the storming of Quenstown
and having covered himuelf with glory at
the battle of Plattsburght, .w years later.
Moreover, as second In commnand lie helped
TIaylor at Buena Vista, and, after a dozen
yc'ars of honorable servicoe. In the West
fought throughout the R~ebellon. General
Wool left $510, 000- for a mnfumerit to hi!
wife and himalxlf. The late WillIam Cullen
Bryant became Interested In the mionulnent
ahemeo, an~d before hits death wrote the In
spr~ptios , for it Thje stonen for thie 1m
mens6oshiaft, weihing 500,003 pounds was
utine~omVliglhven, op ltox~ sand,
~faib. It ~ri~iniotIon to Toy' dost aout
$7000',I~'d~fhiiItdolti~ & laced by
skllfuil engineerIng on a barge and towed
Shro kh tempestuous waves to the Hudson.
It ,i& feared quite often that the stone had
.neht.as It no dtnds,'s ty- ye festis
heIght, on the summit of gn omnuance,
maily he seen for many tniles around 'I'roy.
The Old Story.
During the march of Gen. Merritt's coi
mand from Milk River to White tive
agency, they came upon the scene of th
Mountain M(eadow Massacre, and the ro
mains of a white man, wheni as the stor
was told to a corresoident who was o
[ho ground, a conversation, of which th
rollowing is i report, occurred:
"What have we hero?" asked one sol
lier of a comrade.
.'It looks like the body of a man; and i
'It's i white m1an, too."
"To be sure it is, and terribly mangle<
mid mutilated. The red devils have got it
their work on some unfortunate fellow."
Investigation revealed the fact that tho
I)ody was that oi Isaac Goldstein, at
Israelite, and whose proper name wa
known to but. very few. Fortunately
iere was one soldier in the command t<
whom the old man 1111( confided the Secret
>f his heart, and among others his gren
seret, the history of his own life, which
hoigh containing material for a volume
miay be related here in a few words an<
without marring this narrative, indeed a
prol)erly a part of it. Old Isaac was be
Lween fifty andsi xty years old, but helooke
to be seventy. IHe was ever sad and 1un
0nnuunicative, seeming to bear about. hin
1 burden which, while it weighed hin
lown, he did not care to share withothers,
But becoming friendly with this soldier, s
private in G4en. Merritt's ranks, he gradu
illy confidcuA the story of his roinanthi
mrccr to him. In his early manhood Isaam
Joldstein had loved a fair daughter ol
Israel as lie loved not his own life. The3
ived in an Eastern city, and a few nionthi
promised to see them united as man an(
wife. This young lady had a brother whi
tad gone to California among the first wh<
were attracted to the gold coast. At firs
ie prospered, and was cheerful and hope
ni it his letters. At last lie lost his health
mud was low-spirited and despondent. H1i1
iister, whose name was Rebecca, d, .r
nined at once to go to her brother to com
ort, and, if possible, to cure him. Si
tad an opportunity and did join the unfor
,unate party in its overland trip which pe.
slied lit Mountain. Meadow at the liands o
he Mormons and Inlians combincd. Isaa<
xaited a long, long tinie for tidings of il
ove. At Inst the sad news of the muas
sacre came. He at once went West to in
iestigate the matter, and has here remaine<
mince. Ile was never convinced that hil
.tebecca had been killed, but believed lici
o have been made a captive by the Indians
Io determined to seek her out, and foi
nan1y, very many, long years lie had bee
learching'and searching in vain for her,
,oing from tribe to tribe, and gaining th
,onildence of the Indians that lie might tih
nore successfully prosecuto the search,
l'liat the Utes, now of Colorado, took iar
n the Mountain Meadow affair, is estali
ished ahnost beyond dispute. And thus
iccording to the story related by the sol
1ler over the remains of the long, gral
mearded old man as they lay on tne har
and stones of the bottom of Milk Rive
Danon, lie came to be trading with Douglas
indians. Tile few auditors who gathere<
%round the surviving friend of the old ma
Istened with interest and attention to thi
iarrative. It was received with a sigh b
il, and derision by none. A few monient
more and the remains of the old man wer
iddeii away ini a trench dug for the pur
pose, and covered with earth, and the fol
owing legeid appears on the siinple ston
rrave mark: Isaac Goldstein, killed b:
Indians, September 29, 1879.
N. Mooey Around.
Jacob Aihof had retired to the collar c
us grocery store on Greenwich avenue, N
YC., to bring up an extra supply of provhi
ons on Saturday night, and lie naturall;
ost his temper on his return when h
~aughit William Ahearn conming from be
jind the counter. lie laid violent hand
il the intruider, who, when handed over ti
he p~olice, was fornd to have appropriate
lie contents of a moniey-drawer-thirmty
ieven cents. William looked quite fuil o
'emiorse when lie was arraigned In the Jef
ersoni Market pollee court. Is hiono
bought it iindicated his state of feeling, fo
"It's a sadl thing to see a young man o
four age fall into evil. llaven't you
amily to look after you?''
"Oh, yes, lots of 'cem," said the prisoner
"Aiid did you have amployiment?"
"Oh, yes, lots o' that, too."
"And you had prospects-hoped to ris
In the world, I warrant?"
"Ys,,l did kinder think I'd git al-nj
"And now you've lost character, pros
pects, everytinmg, and all for thirty-sevel
Tlhme justice said this quite dolefully an<
Lhe prisoner hastened to relieve his regret
"'It wasn't lmy fault," lie said.
"It wasni't, ehi?"
"No, sir-ce. How was I to know ther
Wvasn't ilo money around. I eleaned 01
ivory cent I found."
A Kingly Challe~nge.
History affords two or three examples<
ehallelges to the duello having been intel
changed by hot-headed monarchs, eager
fight out the State quarrels in person.]
has, however, been reserved for Bjorr
sterne-Bjornson, the celebrated Swedia
dIramatic author, to furnish amazed societ
with a precedent for tihe defiance to miorti
celnhit of a reglg soverign by one of hi
own subjects, Ki rgOscar II, of Sweder
is a hitorary man of' somie note in lis nativ
counitry. lie writes ballads and sonneti
tid ' 'ntributes elaborate criticisms of p
eticar and dramatic works to a well-know
bi-nmonthily review, published In his capita
It appears that, a short time ago, he cut u
one of Bjornson's plays somoewhat ruthlesi
ly in this p~erlodlcal, whereupon the infur
atedi poet wrote to him Iln good set term
dlemaniding a publIc apology for the um
wai-rantable onslaught commnitted upon ti
offspring of his genius by the royal criti
or personal satisfaction upon the field i
honor, King Oscar, entering a strong o1
jection to either alternative, handed ov
Bjernson's letter to the State prosecuto
who straightway entered an action for trne
son against the writer in the Stockhbh
Criminal Court. This prosaic method
dealing with his cartel caused Bornson
quit Sweden in so promdt atn seciet
manner that his most intimate friends we
unaware of his departure until they recelvt
letters front hdm, written at Vienna, infor
lag the'i~ tha for urgent private reasons I
had resolved to take tap hisa abode inm tI
Austrian capital. It seems impohable th
he will return to,3wcden for the present.
L i inAn Ivilh .tele-chusell.
aLanding at Queenstown, I was soon on
r my way to Killarney. While waiting for
3a delayed train at Mallow, I observed the
typical steeple-elmaser, corduroys, breeches,
r leggings, all complete, with a servant in
eharge of portmanteau and sporting para
lphernalia. To be brief, 1 found him and my
self sole occupants of a comparmnent in the
train for Killarney, and soon after starting
I was politely asked if I bad any objections;
to his changing his clothes. As a st1ranger
to the "custois," I, of course, requested
hhn to do so, with a secret uneasy feeling
either as to his sanity or a breach of local
e t1hilqette on my part in not following his
example. I held on, however, for further
light. Discovering, as he removed his
shirt, CO)ious blood stains and great difll
culty in the movement of his arms, I, of
course, gave him my assistanice and exam
ined him for dislocations ind broken bones,
and learned that lie had jut'driven in some
ten miles after recovering from an insensi
bility of several hours, the 'effects of a fail
in a steeple-chase. lie earnestly explained
that his horse was young and new to the
business. lie would not have cared for
the fall, however; but that the two succeed
ing horses came on top of him. And then
lie "went dreaming. "
"But do you know this is an evening
dress you are donning ?"
'Sure you would not have mue appear
this evening at the Tralee ball in anything
"Ball ! You mican a surgeon's oflice."
"Bother the doctors, when for a partner
I have the prettiest girl in Kerry for that
"And where will you be to-morrow, stiff
and laid ill) ?"
"To morrow! Sure onough have you a
"All right ; I can dance until four in the
morning and still take the train for Cork."
"Cork !" said I; "yol had better at once
see a good doctor."
"Sure I haven't the cholera, neither the
yellow fever," said he, with a puzzled look.
"Besides, I will have two Ane horses at the
fair to-morrow and I must look after thema."
Hopeless of further expostulation, I asked
him to settle a curious question that had
by this time arisen in may mind. "Tell mc
how much killing an Irishman can stand."
"Faith, you can never tell. An Irishman
is very uncertain. Floor him to-day and
he is about again as usual to-morrow. For
myself I would not agree to take the whole
hu1nt atop Of me, but what's a horse more
I was still further settled when later a
friend joined him, who apologetically ex
plained that lie had only carried off three
prizes that day at an amateur athletic con
test, not being, as lie said, 'in good form."
Subsequently I learned that sure enough
may steepl]e-chaser, with his an in a sling,
was looking after his horses next day.
r Do not stare around the room.
Do not tease a dog or small child.
Do not fidget with your cane or hat.
Do not turn your back to one seated near
iDo not touch the piano unless Invited to
Do not handle ornaments or furniture in
Do not make a display of consulting your
Do not remove the gloves when making a
Do not continue the call when conversa
tion begins to lag.
Do not resume your seats after having
risen to go, unless for Important reasons.
' Do not introduce polties, religion or
weighty topics for conversation when
Do not prolong the call if the room is
Do uot tattle. Do not speak ill of your
neighbors. Do not carry gossip from one
fially to another.
Do not take a strange gentlemun with
you unless positively certamn that lia intro
duction woumld be received with favor.
Do not, If a gentleman, leave the hat in
r. the hall when making mcly a formal call.
.If the call Is extended into a visIt, it may
then be0 set aside.
Not Even a top.
An editor recenitly received a wood-~cut
of George Washington, and p)inned It to
the wall near lis oillce dloor. One (lay
while at work lis little girl came Into lia
room, and, spying the picture, started the
"'Who Is that a picture of. papa 2"
"Who/li was Washington?"
"Father of this country."
"Why was lie called father of his country,
"Because he fought for its independence,
and was a great andi good man.
"Is he alive now, papa 2"
"Whoa (lid lie die?"
"December 14, 1709."
"Who Is the father of this country now,
f "No one ; it's fatherless."
The little girl wvas silenit a few moments,
0 and then Inquired ;
t "Was lie the little boy who couldn't, toll
ii "The same."
Y "Well, thIs country will never have
ii another, will it, papa?"
la And the conversationi was concluided
4, with the emphatic remarK:
eJ "Not even a step-father.",
L. Fold thme arms and throw the bodly for.
p ward ; and since It Is forced over on the
I- ouitside edge mueh mioro than with uis, It
I- follows that the leg which Is not support
1, ing the body must be thrown ouit wide In
I- order to preserve thme balance. The Eng
.o lish prefer the upright body, hands close to
3, the side, and the pendant leg close to its
f fellow. In thme "run,, of the Dutch peasant
- the body is quite in front of the feet, the
ir hands are freely worked and the knees do
r, pendod on to a very ugly extent. But even
amn English fon skater holds Its body erect
n as at a dance and moves it missively 'to
>f and fro, not oblli (4. HIIs~wodk Is there
0 fore donie nla'lf ythe hips, whfehi is thie
a best aind most Elegant manner. Neither
re does tiW position,. when acquired, Inter
d fere'with speed in a "run,"- for we have
-seen the skaters of LincolnshV kehalf
me mile bursts at the' rate of thit ilosan
me hour ; and wIth long "runners" 'td fair
~t wind behind them, seventy milga a day
was not eensidered an extraordinary pie..
Tremnn011e14111 e rpnts.
III a migide4t apartment Ii Brooklyn liv(
two brothers, A. M. and Peter Carlsen.
They ire young men, and were born in Of.
odden, Norway, at the head of the West
Fjord. on the northwestern coast of Norway.
The eldur is a mechanic and Peter is a clerk.
The room in which they live gave evidenet
of the character of the inmates. On a latt
occasion the elder Carisen said to a reportei
i) the West Fjord and into the Ofodde:1
Fjord used to Come every year and they
comIC nlow, sea, serpeis. It wvai not more
than once in tenl years that they failed t(
come; sometimes one and sometimes two.
Tte people there say that they have known
hree to be there at one time, but this is
uncertain, for it was 'dillicult to say just
how inny were in the water at one time.
Certain it is that there was one serpeni that
canie i) about the 1st of April every fear,
and remained about four months-that is,
during the warmi weather. 'T'lh first indica
tion of the presence of the serpent was that
the fIsh of all ki nds-cod, Iad(ock, and
others--hegin to die, and floated to the
shore. Then the people said that the ser
pent had conie, and that lie had poisoned
"But did you ever see the serpent I"
"Yes, inideed. I satw it once very plain
ly. That I did not see it more thlin onc
was because our house was back some two
miles front the shore. Bit one night, about.
11 o'clock, I was with a party of friends
filshing. It was p5erfectly light, for the Sin1
does not go dlown Rat all in that season of
the year there, an( that night it was seem
ingly Just about a foot above the water in
the horizen, andl(] its red glare miade the
waters of the fjord red Suddenly we heard
to the northward a rushing noise like i
heavy wil(, and(], looking in that direction,
we saw something. Then we all stood up
on the seats of the boat to see better, and
soon we discerneI coming toward us the
serpent. Evidently lie was puriuing a flock
of Cider ducks that were flying directly in
front of him. They cannot fly high, and
the serpent seemet bent upon seizing them.
His helad and neck reared aloft some fifty
feet, and the noise wo heard was that naie
by the water as he rushed through it. III
front of him the water spurled uip as it (oes
before a large and fast steamer. The ducks
were flying straight toward us, and we
feared that we should be overwhelmed by
the serpent, when, seeing us, the (ncks
turtied sharply of1 to the westward, and flew
straight toward the Itn. - The serpent turn
ed:(, too, but, whether unable to faco the sunR
or not, or for some reasoni he dove forward
into the sa; fold afttr fold of his great
body appeared and went (own like great
links where the head first diappeared, and
the water was so agitated that our boat rock
ed violently upon thie water, whieh was but a
few moments before quite calm. That was
my best sight at the sea serpent, and what
I am telling you is very trile.''
"And how long did you tWink the serpent
The young man smiled. "Ah, there is
the difilculty. You will not believe ie,
but I could bring you plenty of men whc
would be quite willing tosiwear that lie was
at the least four English miles long. Othere
will say five or six miles long. I never
heard any one say that the smallest serpent
seen was less than 800 feet long. Of cour-se
there is the difliculty of telling how long an
aniial moving through the water is. There
iiay be two, chasing each other. There
may be more than two. . But I will tell
you this: One evening when the water
was very quiet, my brother Peter went. up
oi the mountain and looked (own upon the
fjord. The serpent lay perfectly motion
less on the surface of the water, and my
brother, judging from the (istances along
the shore relatively to the serpent, says lie
was at least flve miles long. It was a cur
ions fashion the serpents had of lyig mot
lonless upon the water for as nuch as three
days at a time, then sinking out of sight
and~ remaninintg unseen for days. I think this:
that, they came upi in'the fjord to fill them-.
selves wvith food, andh, bleing gorged, lay
torpidl as (10 lanid snakes for a long time. I
well remiembler 0one summer when the ser
p~ent lay arounRl an island iup necar thle head
of the fjord. The island was ablou~t two
milies in circolnferencee, andl the resort of
millions of sea fowl. Tlhe serplelnt lay comt
pletely around~ tils island(, and1( in 50ome
pilaces his wvhole thickness could be seen.
I shiould juldge him to be nio less (lian twen
ty feet in diameter in the spot where I saw
him, for we took a boat, and~ iowed out over
him. My father saidl that lie shouki( mnake
a harpoon out of ani anchor, which lie could
ver-y well (10, for lie was a blacksmith, anid
try to captur-e the serpent ; but the author
ities, hearing of bils plant, forbade It, for
they asked w~hiat would lie (10 with himt af
ter lie had caught him, and~ wvas there not
danger thtat, beinig untable to dispose of the
greait body, it milght float in the water, and,
In decomfpostmg, poison1 the aIR' andi the wvat
or, arnd thus br-ing sickness and perhaps aR
p~estilencee to the people. Indeed, I have
heard In my tr-avels, for I wtas in the whale
fIsheries of the Nor-th Sea, that a serpent
onCciyinig so poisone~d the we'' r and~ the
air that the peoplle wer-e forced i , tow the(
bodly out to sea."
At this point In the wonderful narrative,
which was given in the most, Rmatter--of -fact
way and with evidlent sincerity, the youniger
brother,. Peter, enlteredl the room. H~e svai
a rosy-faced young fellow, with frank, bliu
eyes. ils brothler Iitroduced the visitot
ais a reporter seeking sea-serpenit lnformia
tion. "Oh, yes! li e exclaimed, "and I
have seen one mnynelf. Did you tell of the
titme I went en the mlounltain ? I saw hin
very plainly then, ant I think-indeed,1
am quite sure-that lie was a full Norweg
Ian mile In length, and a Norwegian mile ii
about seven English miles."
"How far is it from Fulton Ferry to Gov.
ernor's Islpnd?" asked the eldler brother.
"Well, the ser-pt nt would easily reach fr-on1
'one place to other. Nine or ten years ag
ther-e was an Investigation by the Govern.
mont, or somie authorities, about the ser
pent, to ascertain whether it was a mari
eater or Riot. The investigation was held a'
Stavanger, andi I well remember readinj
about it in the newspapers. There waw
muceh evidence from very many witnesses,
all of whom testified as to the length, and(
none of them conisider him as any less that1
two miles long. How do we judge?
will show you,' and seiztng a piece of papei
he drew a roughu map of the bay of whic11
he was speaking. "Here is the island
spoke of, and here :is another. They att
Aive' mies apart, and the serpent would
reach fromono to the other. It- is nbout
six miles across tfhe fjord hiere, but the ser:
pent alwrays lay lesigthways of the fjord, ulj
and down you ujpderstandl, .tnd'Iwbonlfc
lays thus iie often obstriteted travel. Aeros
here is a market town where peol.ge
from this side In beats, and I have 9ne1
them to be delayed three or four days by
the serpent as lie liy there on the water.
IllS body di(d not lie perfectly straight, but
in unl)dlalltions, so thatt portions were visiIleI
and other parts under the water. hei peo
ple dared not row over the hidden pairts,
fearing that the boat iight touch him and
then he would rise and overturn the boat.
I never heard of his attacking anyone, but
sometimes boats were Overturned by his
rising under them. Otherwise lie wis not
"About the last of August or the first of
September," coutinued the young Norweg
lan. "the serpent decided to go away. Then
turning, he would run out of the fjord at,
great speed. I do indeed believe that he
would go as fast as 100 miles an lhour. for
the sound of the wiater, as he rushed through
it, was like a great wind, and could be
heard for miles around. The water arose
in great waves on each Side of hill), s0 that
when lhe was bet ween you and a boat wit I
nmsts you could see the boat not at all for
the high water."
"Yes,'' sald Peter, "'the people all know
when tile Serpent goes out simply by the
noise. And on Sunday, when they come
to the church, from nine or ten miles around,
they say, 'Well, the serpent 1has8 gone out.
Did you hevar him?' And oil the mountainls
the Laps hear the noise, and the reindeer
too, and they think a stori is comilig, 1111d
look around to prepare themselves. This
I know (iite well, for I have been there."
'I'he textile fabrics suitable for embroid
cry are not very numerous, and, ,riti at very
few exceptions, are exactly similar to those
that were in use centuries ago. Modern in
dustry luas not doue much for us, either by
Oiscovering new materials, or by inventing
novel modes of manufacturing the old ons.
Linen is one of the oldest fabrics used for
embroidery; it is well adapted for that pur
pos an1d many kiids may be used. Hound
toweling is all excellent material, especially
for beginners and children, 1as it is easy to I
work on and very eneap. Crash is used, I
and does very Well for practice work, or
unimportant plieces of embroidery. Very I
beautiful white linen of a good width may I
be had ; the warp and the w of should lhe
of the 111110 t)icklness in linen ised for cm- I
broidery. Fine white linen Is sometimes t
used for silk embroidery, especially when
the whole surface is to be covered, There i
is also at twilled linen, very stout, and of a t
narrow width, which is made expressly for
borderings. In woolen fabrics, serge is an' t
excellent, material for this purpose. There C
is at serge which is twilled only on one si(ae,
and which makes a capital firm grotund for
needlework. Cloth is well adapted for ap- 1
plique work and Filk embroidery, but it
does not do so well for crewel work as serge. t
For wearing apparel, merinos and cashlimores
are excellent, and may be embroidered In C
silks for dresses, jackets, etc. Nearly all
kinds of silks are suitable for embroidery,
even thin sarsanets will look well when
backed by holland and paper; the thin silks
may be used for applique work with very
good effect, for purposes where greatstrength
is not required. The rep silks and diapered
silks, thin and soft, should be used for ec
clesiastical embroidery. Of all textile fa
bries, however, there are none to compare
with satin for beauty and effect, when em
broidered with silk. Its surface, smiooth
and111 lustrous lmll1ost ats pollied metal, re- 1
flect surrounding colors to a greater extent
than other wovon material; while, frot Mke
pecillarity of its texture, its highest lights
are low and cri1), and the greater part of 6
its surface is therefore nearly always in half
tint or shadow, and tile deep shadows of
the large foldsr are themselves lighted up
in innumerable relleotions. This shimmer
of light and shad1e, tils changefulness, L
serves to break into hariony the colors
most, harshly opposed to each other, aind
therein lies the explanation of th10fact that
ladies may venltmle to wear saitinls of a color
thalt in any other stufif wouild be, to ay the
least, very trying to their comlplexions.
Nevertheless, we would not counsel our I
r'eadlers to embroider satinl withlout anyI re
gardl to halrmfonious arranlgemlent of color,
ami1( trus1t to its precise qualllities to set a
things right, for them. Velvets receive eml- '
broider'y well ; they were also used onl apl
p)11que1 work on serge, clothl, silk and~ vel
vets of anothler color. The shorter the pile
of velvet, and1( conlsequemliy tihe mlore4 costly,
the better it is adap1tedi for needilework.
Utrecht volvot looks very wvell ornlamlented 1
iln crewel work, and is especially silitale~ ~
for maniltel-piece hangings, wiall friezes,
p~orticos and1( curtainls.
Origin of i'la,,ta,
Mad(der caime fromi the eat. Celery
originaited ini GermanIlly. 'rie chestnut came
from Italy. The onion originlatedl in t
Egypt. Tobacco is a naltive of Virginia.
The nettle is a native of Europe. The il
citronl is a nlative of Greece. Trhe line is a .3
nlatIVe of America. The poppy originatedi 0
iln North A frica. Rye came originlally from
Biberia. Barley was found in thle moun- 11
talns of Himalaya. Whleat is suplposedl to a
hlave colle and to hlave growni almlta- a
neouisly In Tfartary, northI of thie Hhimalaya I
mountains. Parsley was first known ind
Bardlinia. Bunflower wasn broughlt from
Peru. The parsnip is a nlative of Arabia.
The plotato is a native of Peru. Cabbage
grows wildl in Bibeia. Buckwheat came I
from BiberIa. Millet, was first known inr
India. Thie apple aind pear are from Europe. a
Spinach was first cultivated in Arabja. I
Theo mulberry tree originated In Persia. I
The horse chestnut is a niatiVe of Thibet.
Theil cuicum~ber camell from thie East Indies-.
The quince camne from the lsland1 of Crete.c
'rie radish Is a Dative or China and Japan.e
Pears are supposed to be of Egyptian ori
gml. Th~le gardlen cress is from Eypt and
tile East. Horse radish camne from the
soulth of Europe. The Zealand flax shows I
its origin by its name. The coriandir grows
wild near the Mediter-ranean. 'rhe Jeru-.
salem artlehloke is a BrazIlian production.
Hemp is a native of PersIa and the E'ast
Ind(lcs. The tomato originated in South
America, blut was '*known in England as
early as 1587. Dodoeng, a Hollands agri.
culturist, mentions the tomato: In 1058,
"a vegetable, to be eaten with popper, salt,f
and oil." Thue bean is a native of PersIa. (
The beet origInated in AfrIca and Asia.
The cabbage came from England. Cayenne
pepper came from the tf'oples; the beet
varleties from the.West Indies. The sweet i
potato came froem tropital iAmerncs, an4
was early introduced 1ato Eurdpe.,.
"WRY do Eou ,#If18i48h 'sa
cordd of oi e f' -abkda jhtle*i#o
Ithe late Horace Gireely. "Because they
are the sin news of thq spepot?" Was
FOOL) FOR THOUGHT.
Proud hearts and lofty mountain a
tre always barren.
Duties ftilillied are al ways pleasures
,o the memory.
The reward of one duty is the pow
)r to ftifill. another.
Better be upright with poverty than
Aicked with plenty.
Virtue does not give talents, but it
mtipplies their place.
The trees that are most In the sun
bear the sweetest fruit.
Every Imlan whof has decision of char
ictor will have oenmies.
Be indu8tilous. Indolence, debt
ad disease aro brothers.
Justice is like glaiss which cannot be
bent, but easily broken.
Carl3'e says thait false modesty is the
nio(st dleci-nt of falsehoods.
It is in infancy that we lay the
oundation of a good old age.
Tito slanderer Is the devil's bellows
,o blow up contentions.
It you converso by the way remeni
)er there maiy be mn11 in tie grass.
The 81111alest Perfect acievemnenlt is
iobier than the grandest failure.
Let your word be your bond. Good
,redlt is a fortune to begln with.
A wise man can 1111 a thousand
nouths, a fool cannot protect himself.
There are enough fiue mottoes In the
Vorld. What we need Is men to wear
,m111 )iIIned Onl the Ilappeis of their
In auversity be spirited and firim, and
viti equal prudence lessen your sall
Wisdom is at pedestal from 'which
,mvy nor malice cannot hurl the occu
Be temperate. Liquor has made
nore paupg-e thani all other vices coi
What Ii it to be resigned ? It is to
mt God between ourselves and our
The l0ont opens his mouth ; the ele
Phant (the amblet of wisdom] shuts
Great things are not accoinllished
y idle dreamLs, but by years of pa
You miiay be chaste as lee and pure
s snow, but you shall not esoape cal
it ia as asdificult for a young woman
o know she is ugly, as to be Ignorant
f her beauty.
In most discussions we love our
elves bett'r than our cause; aid seek
ess to have It valued than ourselves.
A pound of energy with aun ounce of
alent will achieve greater results
han a pound of talent with an ounce
There is nothing more universally
otumended than a fine day; the reason
s, that people can commend it without
One (lily there catne a man to the
,reat Themistoeles, and proposed to
din an art of memory. lie answered
ltterly, "Toach te the art of forgot.
Love Is the sha.iow of the morning,
vhich decreases as the day advances.
rleindship is tle shadow of the even
nig, which strengthens with the set
Ilg sun of life.
The mind is but a barren soil; a soil
vhich1 is soon exhausted, and will pro
luce no crop, or only one, unless It be
ontinually fertilized and enriched
vith foreign matter.
Whoever slceerely endeavors to do
11 the good lie can will probably do
luct llore than lie imagines, or will
ver know till the day when the se
rets of all hearts shall be manifest.
When the cup of sensutal pleasure is
rained to tile bottom, there is always.
olson in1 thle dregs. Anacreon him
elf, decclar'es that "the flowers swim
t the top of the bowl.
All useless mIsery is certain folly,
nd( he th'at f'eels evils before they
1)me1, may be deservedly censured, yet
utrely to dread the future Is m~ore
caisonabie than to lament tihe past.
Tlhley who are ignorantfy dIevoted to
lie mere ceremonies of religion arc
all1011into thliok darkness; butt they
me in still thicker gloom, wh~o are
oletly attached to fruitless siaenula
Know ledge can not be acqu Ired with
)it pain11 and ap~plication, It is
roublesomne, and like digging for paire
vater; butt, when once you comne to
he sprlig, it rises up to meet you.
TVhe beginning of hardships Is like
he first taste o1 bitter food--it Sceems
or a mnomencat un bearable; yet, if there
minothilugelse to satisfy your hiunger,
'ott take anlothier bite and find it possi
>le to go on.
'Whatever faeilitates ,our worls Is
bor ithatn an omen it'ts1 a cause of
uIccess. Thlis Is one of those pleasing
uIrrise whlich otteni hatppenl to actIve
esolutions. Many things difficult to
esign prove easy to perform.
Th'le supreme Court of Iowa has do
wded( thait s01hoo1 boards have no0 righlt
o put lightning rods on 8011001 build..
ngs, except to replace old ones,'And
tow It is to be called u pon~ to decide
vhether they' have a rightto Ins ure
lhe school buildings ' against de
tructlin by lire.
rure cloahliness, says a- foreign wri
or, is a matter of minutio,'and adrmits
f nto subterfuge. If dirt can find a
rack, a ledge, or an absorben I sur
ace wilhih cannot be reached by thte
rdinary mfethlod of cleansing, there
lIrt will accumulate;y and whore dirt
stheore wlhldisease be also.
TIhe durability ofoak may be known
rean the fact tl at the t4ene of d..~~I
vardl thle Conteso 1s88)0 yare old
mo of the oaken-e i~ondti dh airs has
been in the ~resent siWstlon In West,
ninister Abbyaboy 54M0 years; 'and
h#oldest wo~oden br dgo of whileh awe
ave'ang add*unt, Is of oak--it Ie thiat
amous for its adefence by Hforathts
ecc0les anid. which existed 40gea~rstbo
ere 16 a modntnti p S i8witser
ooIgif hie chh d
iate lInoe of duty AVe ad Gf
cnowedge that pghteoa