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The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, February 04, 1869, Image 1

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farm, Garden, and Household,
.OMH'i IK I) I* V ITTNAM ?IMONTO\.
iei t'ui Iriciula who may have communications, oh*
:ions, lurts, suggestions, or anything of interest.
■ .iiiing to this department, are requested to com mu
■ tin - liner-' I>r. l’utnam Simonton, Sears port, who
I,r' pan the same lor publication, it of sufficient im
■ r ranee.
It EROMF^K.
From the li.ingor IX m.icr. t.
Retribution at Last,
l lie mills of the gods grind slow, hut
they grind exceedingly fine.” Very many
entertain the notion, that there can he noth
ing dishonorable in polities, and that every
deception in that field is proper and fair.
The notion is a mistaken oue. Dishon
orable practices in politics are overtaken
with just retribution as well as dishonorable
practices in business.
We last week noticed the defeat of Lit
M. Morrill for. the 1 'uited States Senate.
Many of our readers have probably forgot
ten a scene that occurred in the Senate
nearly four years ago. lion. .John 1’. Stock
ton, a Democrat, had been fairly and legal
ly elected to that body by the Legislature
ol New Jersey, lie had been admitted to
his seat. The question of overcoming the
veto power of the President then arose. It
teas found that the opponents of the Radi
cals had one more than one-third ol the
Senate. To obtain the two-thirds requisite
to override the veto, it became necessary to
unseat oue Democrat. Stocktou was the
victim hit upon.
Nature very wisely provides a thicker and
more rapid growth of tiair in the winter than
in the summer; and the disposition of the hair ,
to assume a bristly appearance in cold weather,
however obnoxious tollnieal tastes, is nature’s
own adjustment of covering, to ward oil' dan
ger from cold, and to keep healthy the pores
of the skin.
Grooms may rub as much uud as often as
they will, but they should not tiud an <xcuse
for laziness in heavy and close blanketing.
Blankets of coarse wool are the best, which
permit a free circulation of air, and, if liti d,
they should be lined with a porous cloth
Buffalo-robes, used for this purpose, are bad,
and, if used at all, should be used in’f/i tin- hair
| side down, by which means the vapor will be
absorbed by the wool, and not field in close
contact with Lhe sweltering skin of the animal,
i It is the poorest of all policies to secure a
sleek, supple skin at the expense of eonstitu
tionai vigor and native hardiness.
Mary Moore.
All my life-loug 1 had known Mary
Moore. All my life had loved her.
Our mothers were old playmates aud first
cousins My recollections arc of a boy, ia
a red (rook and morocco shoes, rocking a
cradle in which reposed a sunny haired,
blue eyed baby, not quite a year old. That
boy was myself—llarry Church ; that
blessed baby was Mary Moore.
Later still, I see myself at the little
school house, drawing my little chair up to
the door that Mary might ride home. Many
a beating have 1 gained on such occasions,
for other boys besides me liked her, and
she 1 fear, was something of a flirt, even iu
her pinafore. How elegantly she came
trippiug down the steps wjieu I called her
mime. How sweetly her blue eyes looked
at me. How gaily rang out her merry
laugh. No one but Mary could ever bring
her heart so soon to her lips. 1 followed
that laugh from my days of childhood till
I grew an awkward, blushing youth 1 fol
lowed it through the heated uoon of mau
liood—auil now when I lie frosts of age are
silvering my hair, and many children climb
upon my knee aud call me “father,” 1 find
that the memories of youth are yet strong,
aud that, even iu gray hairs, 1 am follow
ing the music still.
When I was fifteen the first great sorrow
of my life came upon my heart. I was
sent to school, and was obliged to part with
Mary. We were not to see each other for
three long years. This, to me, was like a
sentence of death, for Mary was like life
itself to me. But hearts are tough things
after all.
I left college iu all the flush aud vigor of
my nineteenth year. 1 had grown into a
tall, slender stripling, with a very good
opinion of myself, both iu general aud par
ticular. If I thought of Mary Moore it
was to imagine how I could dazzle and be
wilder her with my good looks aud wonder
ful mental attainments ; and never thinking
she might dazzle me still more. I was a
coxcomb,! know ; but as youth and good
looks have fled, 1 trust that I may be be
lieved wlieu I say that self-conceit has left
me also.
faced maiden of twenty, uot much changed
from tlie dear little sister I had loved so
well. I looked at her for a moment, and
then stilling the tempest of my heart, by a
mighty effort, I opened my arms and said :
*• Lizzie, dou’t you know me?”
“Harry! oh, my brother Harry!” she
cried, and threw herself upon my breast.
She wept as if her heart would break.
I could uot weep. I drew her gently in
to the lighted parlor, and stood with her be
fore them all.
Children and their Sayings.
Very few parents realize how children—
even at a comparatively tender age—cipher
out the shallowness of parental excuses,
aud laugh in their tiny sleeves at parental
inconsistencies. Instauce in point, my lit
tle friend Willie.
one day where lie sat.
“Yes,” replied Sherwood.
“What is it?” (iu alarm.)
“Coal.”
• 'Ii-IOUY, NATURE, OltllilN, ISI'S, DANDERS
AND 1'IIEIR REMEDIES.
\ i s(■ n(* Is now the “light of the world;”
enelieial. and yet becoming so fearfully
j live to lieu 1th and lilt*, that we cannot
j, i- h, u, r service to our readers, perhaps,
, , thiwiigli n brief article or two on this
subject.
I in- name. “kerosene,” s guides nothing of
..■if being a fancy name given to a certain
v ing principle found iu certain coals,
n rock-oil, or petroleum, dc., and applies
s-vc'id distim t articles, as benzine, naptha,
[is sources are two-fold—petro
. . , 11„-distillation of bituminous, or soft
■ . .11 j, j. Dili, . -i, a rock, and oleum
,,,.,ki,ii. Is a natural product, oozing
• . surface, and flowing out With the
i,i , sjniugs Koek-oil is not something
,s most people suppose. Herodotus
I-, ak~ ol a spring' of il in tlie Island of /.ante,
v* it h i seats ago; and for what untold
,' .ess i: flowed there tu-lore him, lies be
, ml oe ion -i histoiy and tradition. 1 firs is
!,i i \;n l iJiiny sviiicii, under the name of
. >,. made .Noah'S ark svatcr-pioof, saved
- in, among tlie bulrushes, built, with
iinisl enduring cement, lilt walls of Baby
uni iuimshed a great piophet of old with
in . ,.ii. Il tlgure lorthe punishment of
n ad ,d. "the streams shall be lurued into
• ■ the land shall become buiuing pitch. ’
1 Sea owes its name to tbe fact’
h i,e "l life, eifiici animal or vegetable,
,i. iis waters, so highly charged are
, , v. f. tins pneb. or (rude petroleum,—the
- ene presenting, for this reason, tlie
j: , • i.-ss and God-forsaken aspect.
- , id liomaii writers, as Tacitus and l’iiuy,
..■-I. tlie Greek word for pitch The
i,i. nt of this age calls it coul tar.
- Iliis general statement may assist 111
g and retaining these names and ideas.
, i, d,.s substance exists in a rluid and thin
•bii 1 naptha when iu a much dens
, i . i,-oil. or pen oleum: when much
-,i - 1 peril, bitumen, coal tar, &c. ; when
die form of a black, brittle, solid mass, re
.i d.iig partially burn! rosin, it is called as
. ii in. Hut they are all esscntiallay the same
,', -;ri:;c* s. ditiering only as to the proportion
• : ini iilary parts which compose them
i , ,i,st as the same letters, differently eom
give many different words.
Ai....11-g numerous ether places on the East
., I’oiilin nt where petroleum is found iu
iiiilalic. may im named Italy, Sicily, ou the
idols of tin- Caspian Sea, iu Burmah, Ac.
mid amid volcanoes il is found oozing from
■ gioui.d, and near Vesuvius a spring of it
-i s up through the sea. This fact of its
loximny lo volcanoes, we think, clearly points
; 11.i• a of petroleum, and will be further
wi oil n firii we '.''iini' (o consider Unit branch
i lie sliiijc : in a J il t in - number,
i is eipl ill) erroneous, dso, to suppose the
,g ,f : 11i- ,inieie for illuminating, and oth
p.. t; ,,i'- I g.nated in till' country and
- mil wind l ies above named
i"t ilios, |meposes for centu
i. k" iieiir ilie Caspian Sea, Is a large
v.iii i' ' n sometimes of great purity,
eii .'"ilecli d by means of artificial Wells,
. .. in in dn-. foragis supplying Persia
a ' I, iw gii.n alioui with their only means
. -oi itlciul liglii.
’ i ■■ history, miuiv and supply ol petroleum
: uiiitiy are too well known to require
t-rn.il>n lii a future article we shall consid
i Us nature, origin, uses, &c.
iimui rne iioibHcii
I 1!t considerable1 experience with horses
..i mon *liiin thirty years, especially in ser
wbeie ‘aey must stand exposed to a cold
i . : ti greater than they find in the stables, we
. t\. i-mg lif ii satisfied of the bad policy of
a blanketing, and of all means which keep
n. too warm there, because, as with the hu
Hi - uid -cl. it is these extremes which pro
-•oid>, inflammations, atnl often death. It
a> if : man should wear his overcoat in the
use by a tire, uud then, after brisk exercise
an itour or two, should stand as much long
»if .lours, during a cold winter’s day oi
. I*t- :.'i merely his under clothes. For the
i.st ! w years we have used no blanket* in tin
ible except when the < Id was below zero am
\ e ii, In quite cold weather, the horses cairn
i tin -table in a heated condition; and so sat
aei >rv has it proved to us and to many otii
; - who have- tried it, that we would earnestly
* Minuend it to the public. lion. David Sears,
boston, who raises much horse stock, and
> l'1 'ice kinds, on his farm in Searsport, al
• ' ’t'" a n * blanketing, while his stables
• I bi'-ak hill, and make no pretensions to
- 'a rie- article below, from a recent No.
II • i f'i and Home, contains so much sound
: - pay on this subject as to merit the wid
' circulation.
Professor Liautard, tin; veterinary surgeon,
a- favored us with some observations upon
c- subject, which are of special importance
this season of the year.
He believes that very much harm is done by
’ hrnctj f laiifaitiny, supporting this view by
■■'und physiological reasons.
The skin of one domestic, as of all verte
brates, consists of two distinct layers. Tht
uur, or cuticle, is composed of layers of round
/ Us, in which resides the coloring matter.
1 hough deprived of blood-vessels and nerves,
l!S ol|b*r skin lias a true vitality, and its prop
■ r functions.
l n«‘ inner or true skin has a more perfect
ganizutiou, is move sensitive, and is tlie real
looting-place of the hair. It varies in thick
ness in different animals, and in different per
ils oi tlie same animal. It is much thinner
and more sensitive in the thorough-bred racer
Hutu 111 tin' ordinary cart horse. On the inte
I o' part ol the thigh, the skin is thin; on the
exterior, much thicker. The hair, also, which
i- distributed over the whole surface, varies iu
thickness and length, ns protection against
• old is more or less needed. From all domes
tic animals in a healthy state there is an exha
laUoii lroin the surface of the skin, called iii
w/i.siWi hviutiuratiuH. When tiiis excretion be
comes sensible, by active exertion or condition
ot tempera' uic, it is culled sweat.
Both loi ills oi excretiou are important to the
k '’al economy, mid vary greatly with the state
ol the atmosphere, activity of tbe digestive
organs, and quick or long-continued muscular
exertion. It is, if we may use the lan'Mi.V'e
i sort ol skin-brejUltiiuj, by menus of which
I1 ul or unnecessary matter is eliminated from
1 he body, just as vitiated and carbonized uir is
thrown oil by ilie lungs. Thus, sometimes
dns cutaneous transpiration will have t ,e odor
h' urine; at other times (after dozing,) it will
have the odor of sulphur.
This natural transpiration should neither he
becked nor should it be excessively provoked.
Heavy blanketing lu stables will very likely
make the hair lie .smoothly (thus saving some
labor to ihe groom,) and make the skin supple ;
but it will open the pores unnaturally, and
make a delicate horse fearfully sensitive to
sudden changes of temperature
HOI KK I'LAKTN IX H I.MKIl
Nothing bHU'i bespeaks taste am! refine
ment, in' adds more to the cheerful aspect, ami
therefore lo the happiness of home, than plants
and iiowers during the cheerless months ol
winter. Of such a home, how truly a great
poet sung: “A lb mg of beauty is a joy for
: ever,” Vet bow few homes are blest with
j such tilings: partially because, with many,
| taste does not • un that way,—though it Is iu
I loresting lo see how fast the circle ol flower
i admirers is widening,—ami partly Irom want
ol knowledge as to the proper plants for bouse
culture, and a> to the best means of treating
them.
The former, the proper kinds lor parlor cul
ture, the best soil for them, &c., are ideas now
out o' season to consider, and will be named
in their appropriate time. At present, how
shall those already in being be treated V
There are three positive things eveiy plain
; must have, everywhere—requisite moisture,
warmth and light,- as well as two negative
things—irecdom from dirt and iusecis.
The great trouble with buildings urtillcially
warmed, both to plant and animal lile, is the
excessive dryness of the air. Fe r not only do
plants languish from tills cause, but much ol
the sickness ot families,—headaches, catarrh
| al, pulmonary, &c., affections, arise largely
: from It. Hence equally to both plants and per
sons, especially in the sickroom, night and
day, it is a condition of vital necessity that
j rooms heated by close stov, s and furnaces
must have water ireely ami constantly evapo
I rating in them. In addition to this mode of
I B
watering the ioliage ot plants, every washday
: carry them into the wash room, where the
: steam, vapor, and slops, will be a great blessing
j lo them. For our own plants, we have in use
a tin garden syringe, obtained in lioston—cost
$1.25- which in five minutes will wash in every
direction a hundred plants, as well as the gen
, ties! summer lain can do. Vet in moving plants
I for ibis or any other purpose, or in admitting
! air for ventilation, care should be had not to
expose them to a temperature much below the
one they are accustomed to. In watering them
j at the roots some care is required; if too fit
| tie, they perish from drought; if too much,
i from drowning. Rain water, at summer
{ warmth, just enough lo keep the earth fairly
moist, is the true medium. Vet a fatal mistake
I is often made In forgetting that plants w hose
: roots n, al ly till I lie pots, require vastly more
! water—often ten times more—than those iiav
! ing a good supply of earth, since in the former
the:e is nothing to retain the water ami keep
; it from passing beyond their reach. Little uni
; often here, is the true rule.
Next week we shall consider the requisite
heat, light and cleanliness for house plants.
HOOK XOTll'EM.
We have received Part V. ol' A Ui.ir.ii m
mi. Srniv os Inskcis, and a Tkkatisk on
! uio.sr. 1 NJt'uiocs and Bkxkviciai. tii Chops,
bv S A. Packard Jr. M. 1)., Salem, Mass.
; Price 50 cents.
i
When, more and more, each year, produc
tion is being fearfully diminished, and the
j hearts of many cultivators are failing them,
for this reason, the world should hail this ex
cellent work as a benefactor, and one which for
tlie. great merits both of the work and ot its
author, deserves to lie extensively known and
patronized. For we are happy to inform our
I readers that Dr. Packard is one of our Maine
' young men —a son of that Nestor of classical
learning, Prof. Packard, of Bowdoin College,—
; ami who, besides other rare advantages for ac
quiring knowledge, has been, and is, perhaps,
a pupil oi the distinguished scientist, Agassiz.
The title of the work siilticiently indicates its
nature and great value, yet it is proper to state
I that it is a work, not, like many others ou the
same subject, made up from slight observation
ami the superficial skinnnings of oilier publica
tions, but is a highly original and elementary
work on Entomology, the science of insects;
a great wantof the world, not well supplied till
now. And while it is a highly scientific work
which every scholar will want to possess, its
great popular and practical value will be seen
in this : The number before us has upwards
of;>00 life-like engravings of insects, their eggs
and their young; so that, by such helps, it is
easy to know and identify any insect—the lles
siau tty for example—that we meet, as to know
our old acquaintance—the house fly—when vve
see it. For the mischief has been, hitherto,
that not knowing the insects favorable, from
those unfavorable to us, like blind Sampson,
we have struck right and left, as often destroy
ing our friends us our enemies! We shall
often have occasion to draw from this excellent
work.
Cold Comfort. A coi respondent of the
Boston Herald relates the following adven
ture, which he pretends occurred at Augus
ta iu this State :
Oue of our royal good fellows, a few
evenings since, who loves strong potations
and who was stopping at one of our tem
perance hotels, was sadly iu want of an eye
opener. So emerging from his room, he
met a fellow boarder, to whom he had re
cently been introduced, and told him of his
i weakness. Away they started. The desir
! able could be procured. After meandering
about through the circuitous entries for a
| length of time, they, tit length, stopped iu
front of oue of the chambers, aud pushing
| open the door, the pair eutered Hush!
Silence ! A big black trunk was opened,
a corpulent bottle produced inscribed “old
1 fom." Next, tumblers for two. The bot
tle was elevated in mid-air. A bright,
j sparkling fluid descended. The glasses
were raised, aud at the next moment there
were to be seen two youug men iu the act
of a telescopic observation “Cold water,
by thunder! I thought it was gin!’’ aud
the sold one darted out, aud the uext morn
ing our population was one less.
All advantageous proposal was made me
at that time, aud accepting it, 1 gave up all
idea of a profession, and prepared to go to
India. Iu my hurried visit home oi two
days, 1 saw nothing of Mary Moore. She
had gone to a hoarding school at some dis
tance aud was not expected home until the
following May. 1 uttered out a sigh to the
memory of my little blue eyed playmate,
aud then called myself a man attain.
In ayear, I thought as tlie vehicle whirled
away from our do >r, in a year, or three
years at the very most, I will return, aud if
Mary is as pretty as she used to be, why,
tlieu perhaps I will marry her.
And thus 1 settled the future of a young
lady whom 1 had not seeu for years. 1
never thought of the possibility of her re
fusing me—never dreamed that she would
not condeseud to accept my otter.
Hut now I know that, had Mary met me
then, she would have despised me. Perhaps
iu the scented student she might have found
plenty ot sport ; hut as for loving me, 1
should perhaps have found myself mistaken.
India was my salvation, not merely because
my laborious industry had counteracted the
evil iu my nature, aud has made me a better
man. When at the end ot three years I
said nothing of the reformation of myself
which 1 knew hail taken place.
They loved me as 1 was, I murmured to
myself, and they must find out for them
! selves whether I am better worth loving
than formerly.
I packed up many a token from that laud of
romance aud gold, for the friends I had
hoped to meet; the gift for Mary Moore, 1
| selected with a beating heart. It was a l ing
| of virgin gold with my name and hers en
graved inside—-that was all, aud yet tiie
: sight of the little toy strangely thrilled me
las I balanced it upon the tip of my finger.
To the eyes of others it was but a small
plain circlet suggesting some thoughts, per
haps by its elegance, of the beautiful white
hand that was to wear it. Hut not to me—
how much was embodied there—all these
! delight were hidden within that little riusr
! of gold.
a an, uearueu mm suu-urouzed, 1 knocked
at the door of my father's house. The lights
in the parlor window and the hum of con
versation aud cheerful laughter showed me
that company was assembled there. I hoped
■ sister Lizzie would come to the door, and 1
i might greet my family when no strange eye
1 was looking carelessly on.
But no—a servant answered my sum
mons. They were too merry in the parlor
to heed the long absent one who asked for
j admittance. A bitter thought like this
ran through my mind as I heard the sound
from the parlor aud saw the half suppressed
smile on the servant’s face.
I hesitated a moment before making my
self known or asking for auy of the family.
Aud while I stood silent a strange appari
tion grew up before me. From behind the
servant peered out a small golden head, a
tiny delicate form followed, and a sweet
childish lace with blue eyes was little to
mind—sc like those of one who had bright
ened my boy hood, that 1 started with it sud
den feeling of pain.
“What is yout name, my pretty?” 1
asked, while the wondering servant held
the door.
“ Mary Moore.”
“ And what else ?” I asked quickly.
She lifted her hands to shade her eyes,
i had seen that very attitude in another in
my boyhood, many and many a time—and
answered in a sweet, birdlike voice :
li Mary Moore Chester,” lisped the child.
My heart sunk down like load. Here
was an end to all the bright dreams aud
hopes of my youth and manhood. Frank
Chester, my boyish rival, who often tried
in vain to usurp my place beside the girl,
had succeeded at last, aud had won her
away from me. This was the child—his
child aud Mary’s.
i suuk, oouy luiu soul, beneath this blow,
aud hiding my face in iny hands, I leaned
against the door, while my heart wept tears
ot blood. The little one gazed at me,
grieved aud amazed, aud put up her pretty
lips as if about to cry, while the perplexed
servant stopped at the parlor door, a id
called my sister out to see who it was that
conducted himself so strangely. I heard
a light step and a pleasant voice saying—
“ Did you wish to see my father, sir?”
I looked up. There stood a pretty sweet
There was a rush and a cry ot joy, uud
then my father and mother sprung toward
me, and welcomed me home with heartfelt
tears. Oh, how sweet the greeting to the
way-worn traveler. And as I held my dear
old mother to my heart, and grasped iny
father’s hand while Lizzie clung beside me,
1 felt that all was not yet lost, and although !
another had secured life’s choicest blessiug
many a joy remained for me in the dear ,
sanctuary of home.
There were four other inmates of the
room, who had risen ou my suddeu cu
trauee. One was the blue eyed..child whom
I bad already seen, and who stood beside
Frank Chester,'clinging to his hand. Near
by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary’s eldest sister,
and in a distant corner, to which she had
hurriedly retreated, when my name was
spoken, stood a tall and slender figure, half
hidden by the heavy window curtains that
fell to the floor.
When the lirst rapturous greeting was
over, Lizzie led me forward with a timid
grace, and Frank Chester grasped my hand.
i; Welcome home, my boy !” he said with
the loud cheerful tones I remembered so
well. “ You have changed so that I never
would have known you1; but uo matter about
that—your heart is in the right place, I
know.”
“ How can you say he has changed?”
said my mother, gently, “ to be sure he
looks older and graver, and more like a mau
than when he went away, but his eyes and
smiles are the same as ever. It is a heavy
heart which changes him. He is my hoy
still.”
“ Aye, mother,” 1 answered sadly, “ I
am your hoy still.”
llcaveu help me: At that moment 1
felt like u boy, aud it would have beeu a
blessed relief to have wept on her bosom,
as J had done iu infancy. Bat I kept down
the beating of my heart and tremor of my
lips, tiud answered ipiietly as I looked into
his full aud handsome face :
•• You have changed, too, Frank, hut I
think for the better?”
“O, yes—thank you for the compliment,”
Iu. answered with a hearty laugh.
“My wife tells me 1 grow handsome ev
ery day.”
His wife. Could l hear that uatne aud
keep silence still?
“And have- you seen my little girl?” he
added lifting the infant iu his arms, aud
kissing her crimson cheek, “I tell you Har
ry, there is not such another in the world.
Don’t you think she looks very much like
her mother used to?”
“Very much !” I faltered.
“Hallo’” eiied Frank, with a sudden
ness which made me start violently. “I
have forgotten to introduce you to my wile ;
1 belie\e she and you used to he playmates
iu your younger days—-yes, Harry!” aud
he slapped me on the back, “for the sake
ol old times, and because you was not at
the wedding, 1 will give you leave to kiss
her once—but mind old fellow you are not
to repeat the ceremony. Come—here she
is, and I lor one want to see how you man
age the operation."
He pushed Lizzie, laughing aud blushing
towards me. A gleam of light and hope al
most too dazzling to bear came over me,
and 1 cried out before 1 thought, “Not
Mary.”
L must have betrayed my secret to every
j oue iu the room. But nothing was said,
j Even Frank, in general obtuse, was this
time silent. 1 kissed tile fair cheek ol the
young wife, aud hurried to the silent fig
ure looking out of the window.
“Mary—Mary Moore,” I said iu a low
eager tone, “have you uo welcome to give
the wanderer?”
She turned aud laid her baud in mine,
aud said hurriedly—
“I am glad to see you here Harry.” Sim
ple words, auil yet how blessed they made
me. I would not have yielded her up that
moment for an emperor’s crown. For
there was the happy home group, aud the
dear fire-side, with sweet Mary Moore,
fiie eyes I had dreamed of by day aud
night, were falling beneath the ardent gaze
ol mine, and the sweet face 1 had long
prayed to see was there beside me. J uev
: er knew the meaning of happiness until that
moment.
Many years have passed since that hap
py night, aud the hair that was dark aud
| glossy then, is fast, turning gray. I have
grown to be an old man, and can look
i back to a happy, aud I hope a well spent
life. And yet, sweet as it has beeu, I
would not recall a single day, for the love
that made my mauhood bright, shines also
upon my white hairs.
An old man ! Can this be so? At heart 1
am as young as ever. Aud Mary, with her
bright hair parted smoothly from a brow
j that has a slight furrow upon it, is still the
Mary of other days. To me she can never
| grow old or change. The heart that held
her infancy, aud sheltered her in the flush
aud beauty of womanhood, ean never cast
her out until file shall cease to warm it.
Not even then, for love still lives above.
Sidney Smith was once looking through
the hot-house of a lady who was proud of
her flowers, and used not very accurately
a profusion of botanical names. ‘Madame’
said he,‘have you the Septeunis psoriasis’
‘No’ said she, ‘I bad it last winter, and I
gave it to the Archbishop ol Canterbury ;
it came out beautifully iu the spring.’ Sep
tennis psoriasis is the medical name of
‘seven years itch.’
The Stereoscope is generally supposed
to be a modern invention, but it has been
found that the fundamental principle of it
was known by Galen 1509 years ago, and
that Baptista Porta in 1599 gave a complete
separate picture seeu by each eye, and the
combined picture placed between them.
There is a proposition before the Maine
Legislature to modify the divorce laws of
the State so as to make divorces less desir
able. It is now proposed to forbid the
parly in fault from marriage.
He had just begun to go to school, but,
strange to say, did not like it—for which
reason I fear he can never become Presi
dent of the United States. It was rather
unfortunate, perhaps, that his first experi
ence of school aud of snow fell togelher.
Temptation came to him iu the shape of a
sled, with red runners, aud he fell an easy
victim to it. So it was that about school-'
time he became subject to au accession of
headache, which made confinement impos
sible, but did uot at all interfere with his
going out to slide after au hour or two at
home.
One glorious morning, in particular, he
came to his mother with a “ drefful” head
ache—school was not to be thought of un
der such circumstances.
“ Very well, Willie,” said she, “ if you
have a bad headache you must stay at
home, but remember you must uot come
afterwards aud ask to go aud slide.”
Not a half hour afterwards up came Wit
lie—his “ drefful” headache all gone—with
his usual petition.
“ No, Willie, you know 1 told you if you
staid at home I should uot let you go out
with your sled, and you wouldn’t have me
tell a lie, would you ?”
Willie turned away thoughtfully, but a
moment after his face brightened up as he
saw a path out 01 the dilemma, aud he sid
led up to his mamma with a confidential
whisper :
“ I don’t waut you to tell a lie, mother,
but couldn’t you just fix it, you know, as
you do when you put me to bed and say
you are uot going out, aud then go?”
Not inaptly has “ the faith of the little
child” been held up as au example for ttie
emulation of the grown. Harry had been
told that whatever he asked for in earnest
ness of heart would be grauted of God. It
was raining one summer day, and he waul
ed to go out and paddle with bare feet iu
the pools that had formed. “ Mamma,” he
said, “ do you thiuk that Dod would stop
raining a little while if I ask him?”
“ Perhaps so,” she replied.
Harry weut to the window aud put out
his head as far as he could stretch it.
“Dod! Dod!” he cried, “stop ‘yaiuiu’
please ; I waut to go out and paddle.”
A Hash of lightning aud a clap of thun
der made him dodge in his head, as you’ve
seeu a terrapin retire into its shell. “Mam
ma,” said he, “ I guess Dod’s augry be
cause I didn’t say mister.”
By and by he tried it again : “ I say Dod
—Mr. Dod—won’t you please stop ‘ vaiuiu’
a little?”
(Joiucidently, the suu looked out from
the clouds, and the shower resolved itself
into a few rattling drops: “ That’ll do, Mr.
Dod,” he said, waving his hand iu a rather
patronizing manner,‘I can put on my old hat.
A friend of miud has two bright little
boys — Freddy, between three aud four
years old, aud Willie about live. A chrou
isle of their doings and sayings would fill
a volume, but two specimens must suffice.
Both were very t'oud of milk, aud a mug
of it always completed their supper. It so
chanced that they one dav saw the girl
milking.
“ There, Willie,” said Freddy, “ you see
that, do you? 1 don’t waut any more milk
after the cow’s had it,” and he withdrew
very much disgusted.
That cveuiug wlieu their mugs of milk
were placed on the table both stood un
touched. A reason of this phenomenon
being asked, Freddy simply declared that
he didn’t want any milk after the cow had
had it, but further refused to explain.
Willie, however, told of the discovery of
the morning.
The mother then explained to them that
the milk did uot come to them second-hand
—that the cow ate grass, which was chang
ed into milk by a wonderful chemical pro
cess, akin to that which produced every
thing in nature. In the light of this expla
nation Willie was satisfied, but Freddy
still turned up his nose at milk, sticking by
the original proposition.
After supper, Willie, who ou these im
portant occasions always acted as expound
er, took his hrothei' aside into a corner.
“ It’s all right, Freddy,” he said, “ and you
can just go ou drinking your milk again.
The cow eats grass, and that’s what makes
it. Now if the cow didn’t eat the grass,
you’d have to, you see. That’s what the
cow’s for.”
Freddy resumed his evening draughts.
To his miud the only alternative was eat
ing grass, and from that he shrank.
Ou another occasiou the mother was tell
ing Freddy about the proposed sacrifice of
Isaac by Abraham, assisting his comprehen
sion of it by the picture of it in the old fam
ily Bible. There lay the boy bound ou the
altar, while the patriarch brandished a huge
knife, drawn back apparently within au inch
of the nose of the ram, which stood looking
out from the bushes as unconcernedly as
though it were not his own fuueral. The
mother was expatiating ou the greatness of
the sacrifice and the opportuuess of the sub
stitute, when Freddy, whose feelings were
now worked up to the fever pitch, surprised
her by shouting out, “ Sheepy, slieepy, why
don’t you grab the knife and run?”
His sympathies lay wholly with the sheep,
which will recall to tho reader’s miud the
story of the little girl who was affected to
tears on being shown the picture of Daniel
in the deu of lions. On beiug told she need
not cry, for tho prophet was not devoured,
it turned out that she was distressed for tear
that one little lion in the corner would not
get anything to eat, Daniel beiug evidently
too small to go round.
Children, by the way, are generally great
humorists—unconscious ones, often. Prac
tical jokes in particular, are their delight.
They like, too, to provoke expectation and
then disappoint it. Aud they do not very
often commit the too common mistake of
laughing at their own jokes.
“What are you going to do to-duy, Cher
wood?” asked that sage grandfather.
“Nothing.”
“Did you-ever see nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Where ?”
“Down a well.”
“Isn’t there something burning here ?” i
asked his mother coming into the room j
All this as gravely as a judge, seemingly
uuaware that he was perpetrating “sells.”
Breakfasting with a physician in the sub
urbs of New York not long since, during a
pause in the conversation, little Julia began
to talk very earnestly. Her father, quite
a steru disciplinarian, checked her in rather
a nettled tone, by saying, “Why is it that
you always talk so much?” “’Cause I've
got somesiu to say,” was the quick reply.
So witty was the saying that the whole ta
ble greatly enjoyed it, and oven the good
Doctor was torced to join in the laugh.
Pity that, all talkers—public speakers at
least—wouldn't see to it that they have
“Somesiu to say” when they open their
mouths.
What do you think of the little boy who,
soon after his mother’s second marriage,
asked his step-father one evening for a sec
ond piece of sponge cake, which request
was peremptorily refused. Fixing indig
nant eyes on the tyrant oi the tea-table, he
burst out with : “I don’t care ; we’re sorry
we married you, and mother says so, too !”
He could scarcely prove a wellspriug ot
pleasure in that, house.
Vindictiveness iinds a resting place even
in hearts which should he gentlest.
“1 won't pray for you when l say my
prayers,” said a little girl to a companion
who had vexed her, “aud Jesus won’t bless
you—aud He shan’t redeem you, either !”
she added alter a moment's pause to Hud a
fitting culmination for her displeasure.
There was a slight touch of Calvinism
about the concluding threat, I think.
All children, I am sorry to say, are not
good, r know very few that are patterns of
perfection. One sometimes finds them in
biographies, but not having encountered
them living, and meeting them only in bi
ographical reminiscences, 1 incline to think
that they all die early.
"Golly 1—Uosli !—Gracious 1 shouted
a little boy one day, something having oc
curred to rouse bis enthusiasm.
“Why, where did you get such a word
as that?” asked his mother.
“Oh, I’ve heard you say gracious, and the
goily gosh I just made up myself,’ lie replied.
One little lellow whom 1 wot ol, must
have been born full of original sin, for he
used the slraugest adjectives aud expletives
as soon as be could lisp.
At the time of which I write he was on
ly three years old. II is mother labored
with him—and on him, occasionally—hut
with no lasting benelit, though she brought
about spasms ot repentance and promises of
reformation. One day she told him that
she could bear it no longer; she couldn’t
have a little boy about her who used such
language ; she would put him away and
get another little boy. In the bitterness
and desolation of his heart, feeling himself
discarded, another Lslimael, lie went out
iuto the yard and sat down on the grass to
cry it out. A little bantam rooster, not
appreciating the sadness of the surround
ings, flew up on the fence and began a
long, loud crow.
“Shut up, darn yon," blubbered Bobby,
through his teats: "1 have trouble enough
on my mind without you.” He had just
resolved and promised to never use that
aud cognate words again.
But dually it seemed that reformation iw.:
indeed effected. For two whole dav■> he
had said nothing to otfeud the most iu-udi
ous, and great was the rejoicing thereat.
The compression, however, proved too
great, for the load of forbidden expletives—
brickbats of the vocabulary lay heavily on
his brain aud must he worked oil. S > one
day he hurst into the house in a real or
simulated state of excitement ■ ■■( lit moth
er !” he shouted, “what do you think ? 1 was
over across the way just now and a horse
was tied there—the wickedest horse ever
you did see. He just stood there anti said
by golly, aud by gosh, aud gel darn you,
aud everything else yon cut think of. If
you’d been there you’d a whipped him ever
so hard, aud so would 1 if I’d had a whip !”
Did ever you hear of such an expedient
for relieving the overburdened mind?
How Lucy Stone Bossos lioi- Husband.
[Correspondence Chicago Tribune.]
lu l«b>.> she was married lu Henry B.
Blackwell, an Iviglishmau by Lirtli, who
was then a hardware merchant in Cincinna
ti, Ohio, and who had lor years been iden
tified with the anti-slavery cause. He was
a well educated, honorable gentleman, and
had long been an ardent admirer of the
brave little woman, who had never suspect
ed an attachment of a warmer sort. When
he proposed to her, he .said he wished her
own terms. Site couse illod ; her terms he
iug the retention of her maiden name, and
the renunciation on his part of nil his lecul
rights and authority as a hiisban 1.
Such a union could not have been for
midable to her, whatever it might have
been to him. Their marriage was nothing
more than an agreement to live together
while t!i '.y were agreeable to on-h other,
aud as there were lew bonds there was little
temptation to break them. Perhaps such
unions might be repeated to advantage be
tween persons who feel uncurtain of a har
monious future.
t-mcy Mono mul her husband—say those
who ought to know—have never repented,
i'hey have lived very happily together for
thirteen years, and are likely to do so to the
last. They have but one child, a daughter,
and have since their marriage resided most
ot the time at West Bloomfield, New Jer
sey, in the strictest retirement.
Lucy Stone—the uaine Mrs. Blackwell
always otfeuds her—is very far from hand
some. She is small in stature, has gray
eyes, dark brown hair, a well shaped mouth,
aud handsome teeth. Her complexion is
so florid as to indicate rusticity, auil her
features are not at all regular or expiessive
of high breeding. Hers is a strong face,
and when lighted up loses much of its hoin
liuess, aud strikes you as intellectual. Her
charm is in her voice. Turn away from
her, aud you can well imagine she is lovely.
Look at her critically, and you almost for
get the sweet tones that have so much to do
with her power of persuasion. She is ex
tremely kind-hearted aud benevolent, and
never ucglects any opportunity to do good.
She has been much misrepresented, ridicul
ed, aud abused ; but uo one who knows
her will say she is not a true woman, whose
aims and purposes have always been in the
direction of justice, humanity, aud right.
i lie moue or ms election was urougm up
before the Senate, and debated for a long
time. Before the final vo.e was taken on
the question, Mr. Wright, Stockton’s col
league, from New Jersey, then iu a dying
condition, was obliged oil account of his
health to go home. Senator Morrill paired
off with him, and Wright went hom'e.
Wiieu the day of voting came, during the
call of the roll, Morrill did not vote ; hut
when lie found that the vote was a tie on
unseating Stockton, iie deliberately got tip,
asked-that his name he called again, and iu
violation of his sacred word of honor, voted
to deprive Stockton of his seat. A more
wilful act of dishonor and turpitude was
never committed by a Senator. Brobabiy
there was not another man in that body
that would have doue so villainous an m"
The whirlgig of tint- has, however,
brought its retribution. Morrill lias been
repudiated by his own friends at home. II •
has been compelled to drink Jeep of that
cup of treachery, which lie commended to
the lips of the dying and betrayed Wright.
On the other hand John 1*. Stockton lias
just been triumphantly returned to that seat
iu the Seiiuiu from which lie was so unright
eously ejected by Morrill’s vote nearly tour
years ago. On the fourth day ol March
uext, at twelve of the clock, noon, Mr.
Morrill takes his hat and leaves the Senate
forever, a disgraced man. At precisely the
same hour, John B. Stockton will resume
iiis seat iu that body, honored by the peo
ple of his own Sta4e, and respected by the
people of the whole country.
A Remarkable Suicide.
The distressing suicide ot Miss Hannah
Weidmati, a young lady resident of Danby,
111., has been mentioned by telegraph. She
was the youngest daughter of a well-to-do
farmer who strongly opposed her marriage
to a young man of the neighborhood. This
opposition originated from a hardness ot
heart, and the girl was treated verv rough
ly by her father. As an instauce, it may
he mentioned that ou her return from the
Penin-ula, her lover met her in Chicago, to
insure her company that evening at a hall
given a few miles beyond Dauhv, the oeea
sion being tin; annual reunion ot' the regi
ment with which he had been connected
Iduriiig the war. W'lieu her father heard ol
the allair, lie instantly drove over to the
! village, entered the ball-room, and to the
astonishment ot the assembled dancers, took
her forcibly in his arms, placed her in the
wagon, and drove her to the farm To eon
duet ol tiiis kind, ot necessity humiliating
to a proud-spirited girl, she was frcipieutly
subjected, at d finally induced to dec from
those with whom she should naturally
have sought home aud shelter, lint with
her absence these persecutions did not
cease, aud she was threatened with all man
nerot inflictions if she did not return home
I Hu! to ihese thr.m!s si,,, paid no heed, and
persistently expressed her lir.u intention to
remain with her sistei and brother.in law
I'he day ot tin- suicide, her mother visited
I her and when about to leave, remarked.
|" You must go Inline o-morrow, aud if you
won’t come ot your own tree will wo shall
take you forcibly.' in which the daughter
replied, •• Mother, you will never take m*
alive. these were the last words spoken
between them. Shortly after this oeeur
| fence site sat down by the window lacing the
house ot her lover, and lor a few moment
was engaged iu writing. After supper she
I hastily threw a shawl over her head and
I precipitately lelt the house. Iu less [hi:
ten minutes the accommodation train, run
ning at a speed ot ! wenty-tive miles an hour,
thundered past, and before any alarm eon
ceruiug her absence was felt bv anv one iu
the house, her beautiful firm, mutilated he
youd recognition, was l.mid on the track,
within Ins-, than a stoue's throw of the
house by a neighbor just returning from the
depot. At first the impression prevailed
that the terrible calamity vva- ihe cause ot
accident; hut wilii ;he aid ol lamps, the
girl’s pocket-book was found some distance
Irom the body, and attached . > it was the
following note, written in lend pencil over
a closely-written letter, received some time
before from a la ly friend, aud directed to
her lover : —
M\ Ow\ Dkau h nun -It giit opposiic yum
house I sit writing t'lis note to you. for you
I mu-t die. I emmo! give you up only in death,
d ou are to ileal* tir-me far us to part from c.u-h
otli a* t suppose the folks will think me fool
isli, but I cannot help if. I would always lie
in mi-cry. So, dearest Fred, g mil bvv. In
ilealli f remain your Hannah.
Ou the margin of the letter, iu a scrawl
scarcely discernible, was further written
‘‘ May trod bless aud keep you iu the right.
1 hink of me of.en. Not another word
to any one to throw light on her action, or
give a reason tor her entering iu so fright
ful a manner ou the terrible mystery ot
death.
Cleveland lias had another body-sna!eii
ing sensation. Tlie relatives of the missiu
corpse are very indignant, and a warrant
lias been issued authorizing nu oilicer to
search the Medical College. The body
stolen was that ol a Gorman woman. Her
triemis visited the grave last \V ednesday to
decorate it. On examining the mound, it
became evideut that the earth had been dis
turbed—a portion ol' the sods had been
turned over, while toe earth around gave
evidence of having been very recently”dug
up. Suspecting something wrong, the
friends began looking for other evidences
that the body had been removed from the
grave. On a small evergreen near by they
discovered a portion ol the garments in
which the deceased was dressed when she
was buried. Proper implements were at
ouee procured, and in a very short time the
eollin was uncovered. The top ol the box
iu which the eollin had been encased had
been removed, the glass over the face ol
the corpse had been broken, the body tak
en on! and stripped of its clothing, aud the
garments replaced in the colliu.

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