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farm, Garden, and Household, , ONIU < TED 1,1 1TTNAAI SI MONTI, N. Our Iriendfl who may have communications, oh . nations, Inc.-, suggestions, or anything of interest, i taiuing to this department, are request- d to roinmu , at.- the same Dr. l'umam Siinonton, searspori. who .<: I prepare t!,e same tor public u,-,n. i' of sufficient im portance, h ElltOIA I SAFE AND t NSAFK KINDS—TESTS LAW PUJSI8H IV, IOL SlANfl't :ri:i and SALE OF EXPLO SIVE KINDS. ]., i .rtiH-r tirtM'ies u ,* stated that kerosene was lip,- I i.> .bstilling petroleum, which is • ilst-’f :i cimtp.qimi ,ii' several substances, some 11 lI :i mil' ll lighter anil more volatile than ,thei>. m about this order: First, benzine or j ,ptka. tiie lightest of all, appears: then a j . nviei fluid, which is kerosene; then r. lieav-i ■ ill the lubricating oil; then there remains mnai ts as coal tar, eoke, tec. Ihe ker -eui.' tiius "otaiue i is nut quite pure, and is i -I to eitai.i chemical processes to rid - w i; - t - ..I benzine and other impur ities may remain. I> kcr.'sene -xplosiv' ' I’h.c jutri article is no i- will . vt lire. But its half-brother, , Lptha, the lather of benzine, is highly explo re, and if kerosene is ever so, it is because some I enzine has been left in it in the process if manufacture, or has afterwards been added to ii. because a cheaper article, to promote gain at the risk of life. Vet uoneof these are explosive, any more than i pile of wood. withoutaiY; for this is the great igeut In all combustion. Ifence so long as a .amp is kept full of the liquid, whatever it is, thus i xi luding the air. there will be no explo *'•>11. For these accidents usually happen un •r these circumstance' when, with a light i ar. the lamp is being tilled; the vapor ot the . ,,ati!e oil rushing out and taking lire, the air lushing ,u to take its place, and carrying with ! the ignited vapor,—altogether causing those rrid explosions which have sent how many v tuns to the grave; and when, the oil being tv a large space in the lamp being filled with . a change to a lower temperature, ascar ting the lamp to the door or into a cooler • m, condenses the vapor, thus producing a am into which the air rushe' and causes •explosion. One of our neighbors had a nne explosion by setting a lamp on the cold floor of a cellar where he was at work. In i mu:t.ae same way accidents occur by blow- i lug out. the light—as much from blowing air us fire into the iump. Hut as even the most prudent cannot always I avoid these dangerous conditions it is necessa- 1 > to have an oil which ignites at only sucli a ! t, inperature as to make it absolutely safe in the I , oj tinary mode of of burning.—which point of t safety lias been pronounced by our best client- l sts to be 100" Fall. i i to- New 1 ork Board of Health recently cm- I i iyed a very skillful chemist, Prof. Chandler, ' to furnish a test for safe kerosene,—to exam- : lue various specimens in the market. &c. He 1 reported : “The vaporizing point of good ker osene oil should not be below 100 degrees Far., aud the burning point not below 110 deg.’’ And of fs samples selected from as many dealers m New York , not one. tie says will hear that test. By persons having thermometers, this test i s very • a-ily made, tiius : Take some dish, as a • ■•! warmish water, put in the tbermom- I • •■• I'l' cool the water, as required, 1 li.e mercury stands at 110; pour into the ■ i r a spoonml of kerosene, and apply to it t • lighted match. It on good trial you cannot oak. ft burn, it is up to the test," und is all • Hr., if otherwise, your “time may come” any j icoin- nt it is burning near sou. Iliose who haw neither the means nor the j -position to be so accurate, will find a very | I'ciul lest and one easily made, by applying a . ■ anted match to a little kerosene ill some dish ; between its burning or lifel may lie the differ ence between death und life. Whiie from this cause death .s abroad, mote terrible in its forms and its tiequercv than “in pestih nee that was etli at noon day,” and when the tests and the avoiiiariec of these dan gers au-so simple and easy, it i* .suicide not to . apply them ; ns it is murder on l .< part of those who, tor vile gains, manutuciure and put into nearly every family these concealed instru ments ol death, under the name ol kerosene. haw lias faithfully done its duly, ;.s this , naetme.it will show : FRAUDULENT I KEROSENE, l’he 29th section ot he amended U. S. luter * "• He venue Laws relating to illuminating oils, ! is as follows :— i. jtnatKu urtnu- emc-tm. shat no person ball jii. v fui sale naphtha a ss.i iiiumiunting sals, or shall knowingly sell or keep inr -ale, or oiler Un -ale such n,ix- ! turc, os shall sell or ollei lor Bale oUmadeh-om petrole* as: lur illuminating purpose.-, inflammable si: as- teinpei ature or lire test un» one hundred and ten degrees Fab-, reuheit; and sissy person so doing shall be held tube gsssitv ol ami-demeanor, and on eonvietion thereof, In indictment or presentment in any euurt ot tin; I'niied states, hut dig competent jurisdiction, shall be punished ' by a hue of not less than one hundred dollars nor more 1 than live hundred dollars, nud by imprisonment tor si term ot not less than six months nor more than three 1 unis. | le t the people do this, ami this minister, more dread than the many-headed Hydra of old which it required a Hercules lo destroy, will pnerish also. It is—and, readers, as you value ' , our own, nud the life of those dear to you, v • . ntreat you io do i. it is to try instantly ic tt.-ds; and if not up to the standard of the bt»wi, ev-turn them whence they came, with the admonition that prosecution will follow the lurtlicr dale of dangerous kinds. This will drive them hack upon the wholesale dealers, and these back upon the manufacturers, where the original sin belt,tigs, and so strike at the loUUtuin of the evil. Vet most purchasers are themselves in part manic, in preferring a cheap t and dangerous, to a dearer and safe article. And this is Hic key to the whole mischief. Naphtha, < r ben zine, trom its bad properties having a bad name, lias but a small market value; as pute kero sene, for opposite reasons, has n greit. one— the former about hall the price ol tin latter; so that mixing the two, puts Into narket a comptund nTUcli cheaper than pure kerosene, and ul the same time gives a large prillt to ev ery scoundrel who is willing to thus tarter life for lucre! There is another danger, even frompure ker osene, scarcely less great, though title thought of—because silent and insidious in is work— the Inhaling of gas and smoke from ladiy con structed lamps. This will be coushered next week. Deeming the matter of safe or m afe kero sene as of vast moment to the pubic, we pro pose to keep standing, for a shot time, the proper tests and the law respecting it. Legal Tests fob Keuosine. 1. Test. Put a thermometer hto a small dish of warm water, ami raise o- lower the temperature as required, till the me fury stands at 110 degrees. Add to the water a urge spoon lul of the oil; apply to it a lightel match; if it burns It is a fraudulent article, ti be return ed to the seller. 2d Test. In some safe place, and one of moderate temperature, put a large spoonful cf the oil into a dish and apply a lighted match if it burns, as in test No. 1, it is not pure ker osene. but contains benzine or other danger ous liuids, and may any time explode at a low temperature. Law Regarding Fiial'dui.ent Kerosene. The 29th section of the amended U. S. Inter nal Revenue Laws relating to illuminating oils is as follows : — Sect. 20. Andbe it further enacted, That no persot shall mix lor sale naphtha and illuminating oils, or shal knowingly sell or keep for sale, or offer tor sale such mix ture, or shall sell or offer lor sale oil made from petrole uni for illuminating purposes, inflammable at less tern perature or lire test than one hundred and ten degree: Fahrenheit; and any pet son so doing shall be held to b< guilty ui a misdemeanor, and on conviction thereof, b; indictment or presentment in any court of the Umtei states, having competent jurisdiction, shall be punishet by a tine of not less than one hundred dollars nor mon than live hundred dollars, and by imprisonment lor : term of not less than six months nor more than tlire: years. ■KM SE PLAXT8. THEIR EFFECT ON HEALTH. We are often asked, “ are house plants health fnl?” To answer this will require to conside; some of the principles of vegetable and tini inal physiology. Both animals and plants are breathing things the one with their lungs; the other, with theii leaves; and in both, respiration has two ob jects : by inspiration to take from the atmos phere certain things essential to their life, am >v expiration to throw out certain effete mat ;crs whose retention would be fatal to it. Ant u all the wonders of creation there is scarcely i fact more wonderful, and showing more the oving kindness by the Creator than this, tliai mimal and vegetable kingdoms, in many o heir want-, reciprocate each other. Thus al uiitnals must inhale from the atmosphere a gas, tailed oxygen, without which they perish vhile they breathe out a gas—carbonic acid, he same which arises from burning charcoal— without which they perish also. Plants as es !oii:ial to their life, take in this way carbonic icp.l. which destroys animal life, and gives out u exchange Hie oxygen, which saves it! -More •uncisely stated, plants and animals take from, .ml give to, each other, precisely what limit vanls require. We see in these principles the injurious el ects, as regards health alone, of destroying out oresls; for to multiply animal life, and lessen iluut life, is to surcharge the atmosphere with his destructive carbonic acid, and to diminish he vital oxygen, which vegetation would give o it. This is no doubt a great cause of In Tensed amount of sickness and death, dispro lortiouately, as population augments; espe ially of those diseases involving, like cou umption, the breathing organs. When out inters a grand primeval forest, he leels lifted up, —inspired, as if by some mighty, invisible gen us of the place; which even, to the Druids tud kindred worshippers of old, seemed to be ;he dwelling place of God; all the benign re mits of the purified air. as just explained. And ve have known many invalids, denizens of re gions with depraved air, restored to health, vheu all other means had failed, by the healing lower of the woods. When to destroy out loble forests is moral murder, and ought to be’ vheu wantonly done, as often happens, leaa^ nurder. “ Woudmau, spare that tree" Is more than a duelling pathos, more than a thing of filial al eetion and happy memories. A tree, a shrub, .ml all that bears a leaf, is a thing both of joy .ml life giving. Spare, then, as one of our ie.st friends, the forest; over many an acre plead wide the orchard; adorn the dwelling villi tree, shrub and flower; for iu them you bid united the immense blessings which flow 'rout pecuniary profit, refined taste, and high i -a ili-giviug measures. 1 .-L under one condition house plants are in unous to health. For it' they absorb carbonic icid and give out oxygen, and thus purify the lir, as before stated, they do so only under the uflucnceoi solar light;—in the dark reversing heir action, giving out this noxious carbonic icid, and absorbing oxygen. Hence plants lion id not be kept iu, or near sleeping-rooms. For the the same reason, plants and flowers n a stale of decay, as boquets many days old, in.I all cut flowers in general, are highly injuri es to health; as in this state, they constant y, night and day, give out those deleterious i is.'s. Many persons have we known to whom die poet's famous lines— or quick effluvia darting through the brain, liic ul n rose in aromatic pain.” tie great truth as well as good poetry ; iu whom -he odor of decaying flowers produced distres sing head ache, giddiness and nausia,—which )dor itsell was the child of those poisonous pises. Catciiixc; Cold. Catching cold is a eom uou phrase for an attack of catarrii, but it is a 'ery incorrect one. One year I suffered so severely from a series of “colds” that my at ention was drawn specially to them. I was lieu a lecturer on medicine, and nearly every tight, from five o'clock to six, during the wiu er months, had to turn out from a warm room, o go through all weathers, leccure for an hour n a theatre heated by a stove, lighted by gas, iml then return again to my snuggery at tonic. When I felt a fresh cold beginning, I Tied in vain to account for It, until I accident y saw iu Copeland’s dictionary that the most ertile cause of a cold was coming from a moist told air to a hot and dry room. This at once •xplained to me the reason of my frequent suf fering, for I had invariably gone into mv bot tom straight from the cold. I, of course, diauged my habit. I dawdled in the hall while taking oil' my great coat, perambulated the rooms which had no fire in them, went up and down stairs, and the like, ere I went into my study, whose temperature was always reduced. Since then 1 agree with a friend, who says, •that a cold comes from catching hot;" and I disposed to think that there is a strong analo gy between a chillbluin on a child’s toes and told iu a person’s nose, throat and lungs. [Medical Mirror. Tim Maine Farmer’s Convention, recently leld ut Augusta, was well attended, and many natters of interest to agriculture were present id and discussed. Among them were farm training, sheep husbandry, the best varieties >1' potatoes, iusects, destruction of forests, &o. fhese are all important subjects; and, one af ,er another, in their appropriate season, we diall give much attention to them in these lolumus. Railroad Hearing. The Kennebec Journal ■ays that the hearing before the Railroad com mittee by petitioners for a road to extend from skovvhegan through Norridgewcck, Anson, Solon, &c., commenced on Wednesday and was continued Thursday. lion James W. Brad )ury appeared for the road, and Hon John A. Poor against it. Thursday, Messrs. Colby of dingkam, Standish of Flagstaff, Webster of Moscow, Parltu of Pleasant Ridge, French of Solon, Brown of Skowkegau, and Bachelder d Solon, were questioned before the coinmit ee. Dr. Tett't spoke for the Somerset road in he evening. The hearing excites great in erest. The Night of Years. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. Some forty years siuee, iu tlie interior of my native State, New York, lived the father ot our heroine, an honest and respectable farmer. He had but two children—Lucy, a noble girl of nineteen, and Ellen, a year or two younger. The first named was wiu ningly rather than strikingly beautiful. Un der a manner observed for its seriousness and unlike serenity, were concealed an im passioned nature, and a heart of the deepest capacity for loving. She was remarkable from her earliest childhood for a voice of thrilling and haunting sweetness. Ellen Dutton was the brilliant antipode of her sister, a “born beauty,” whose pre rogative of prettiuess was to have her own way iu all things and at all times. An in dulgent father, a weak mother, and an idol izing sister, who unconsciously contributed to the ruin of a nature not at first remarka ble for strength or generosity. Where iu all God’s creatures, is heartless uess so seemingly uuuatural, is selfishness so detestable, as in a beautiful woman? Lucy possessed a fine intellect, and as her parents were well read New Englanders, I she and her sister were far better educated than other girls of her station in that then hall-settled part of the country. In those days many engaged iu school teaching, from the honor and pleasures which it afforded, rather than from necessity. Tims, a few mouths previous to our story, Lucy Dutton 1 left for the first time her fireside circle, to take the charge of a school some twenty miles from her native town. For some while her letters home were j expressive only of the happy contentment ( which sprang from the consciousness of active usefulness, of receiving while impart ing good. But anon there came a change. Then were those records for home charac terized by fitful gayety, or dreamy sadness ; 1 indefinable hopes and fears seemed strug gling for supremacy in the writer's troubled little heart. Lucy loved, but scarcely ac-. kuowledged it to herself, while she knew ; not that she was loved. So for a time, that second birth of woman’s nature was like a warm sunrise struggling with the cold mist of the cold morning. But one day brought a letter which could \ not be forgotten in the home of the absent,1 and a letter traced by a hand that trembled iu sympathy with a heart tumultuous with happiness. Lucy had been wooed and won,; and she but waited her parents’ approval of her choice, to become the betrothed of Ed win \\-, a man of excellent family ' and staudingiu the town where she had been teaching. The father and mother accorded their sanction with many blessings, and! Lucy’s next letter promised a speedy visit' from the lovers. io sucu natures as Lucy s what au ab sorbing and yet what a revealing of self is a first passiou—what a prodigality of giv iug, what an incalculable wealth of receiv ing—what a breaking up is there of the ! deep waters of the soul, aud how heaven 1 descends in a suddeu star-shower upon life. It there is a season when au angel may look with interest upon her moral sister, it is when she beholds her heart pass from its j bud-like innocence aud girlhood, and task ing to its very core the fervid light of love, glow aud crimson iuto perfect womanhood. At last the plighted lovers came, aud wel comes aud festivities awaited them. Mr. W ., gave eutire satisfaction to father and moLher, aud eveu the exacting “beauty.” He was a handsome man, witli some pre tensions to fashion ; but in manner, and ap parently iu character, the opposite of his betrothed. • It was decided that Lucy should uot again leave home until after the marriage, which, at the request ol the ardent lover, was to be celebrated within two mouths, and on the birth-day of the bride. It was therefore arranged that Ellen should return with Mr. W. to take charge of her sister’s school for the remainder of the term. The bridal day had come. It had been ushered iu by a May morning of surpassing loveliness ; the busy hours had worn away and now it was uigii sunset, and neither the bridegroom nor Ellen, the first bridesmaid, had appeared. Let iu her neat little cham ber sat Lucy, nothing doubting, nothing j fearing. She was already iu a simple white muslin, aud her bridal ornaments lay on the table by her side. Miss Alien, her second bridesmaid, a bright-eyed, affectionate heart ed girl, her chosen friend from childhood, was arranging to a more graceful fall the wealth ol light ringlets which swept her snowy neck. To the anxious inquries of her companion respecting the absent ones Lucy smiled quietly and replied : “Oh, something has happened to detain them awhile ; we heard from them the other day, aud all was well. They will be here by aud by, never fear.” lwemug came, tlie guests were assembled, aud yet the bridegroom tarried. There were whispers aud surmise aud wouderings, aud a shadow ot anxiety passed over the face oi the bride elect. At last a carriage drove rather slowly up to the door. “ I hey have come !” cried many voices, aud Elleu eutered. In reply to the hurried inquiries aud confusion of all arouud him Mr. M . muttered something about “una voidable delay,” aud stepping up to the side-board, tossed off a glass of wine, anoth er and another. The company stood silent, with amazement. Finally a rough old farm er exclaimed: “Better late than never, young man—so lead out the bride.” M. strode hastily* across the room, aud placed himself by Elleu aud took her hand in his ! Then, without daring to meet the eye of any about him, he said : “I wish to make au explanation—I am under the pain ful necessity—that is, I have the pleasure to announce that I am already married. The lady whom I now hold by the hand is my wife !” Then, turning in au apologetical manner to Mr. aud Mrs. Duttou, he added ; “I found that I had never loved until I knew 1 your second daughter.” Aud Lucy ? She heard all with a strange 1 calmness, then walking steadily forward confronted her betrayers. Terrible, as pale - as Nemesis herself, she stood before them ; < aud looks pierced like a keen, cold blade into their false hearts. As though to as- : sure herself of the dread reality of the 1 vision, she laid her hand on Ellen’s shoul der, and let it glide down her arm—but she 1 touched not Edwin. As those cold fingers 1 met hers, the unhappy wife lirst gazed full into her sister’s face ; aud as she marked the ghastly pallor of her cheek—the dilated nostril—the quivering lip and the intensely mournful eyes, she covered her own face with her hands aud burst into tears, while the young husband, awed by the terrific silence ut her he had wronged, grasped for breath aud staggered back against the wall. Then Lucy clasped her forehead aud lirst gave voice to tier anguish aud despair in one fearful cry, which could hut wring for ever through the souls of that guilty pair, and fell in a death-like swoon at their teet. After the insensible girl had been re moved to a chamber a stormy scene ensued iu the room beneath. The parents and guests were alike enraged against W., but the tears and prayers of his young wife, the petted beauty aud spoiled child, at last soft ened somewhat the auger of the parents, and an opportunity for au explanation was accorded to the offenders. A sorry explanation it proved. The gen tleman affirmed that the first sight of Ellen’s lovely lace had weakct'jJ the empire of her plainer sister over his affections. Frequent interviews had completed the conquest of his loyalty ; but he had been held iu check by honor, aud never told his love, until, when on his way to espouse another, in au j unguarded moment, he revealed it, aud answering acknowledgment from Ellen. They had thought best, iu order ‘‘to save pain to Lucy,” aud prevent the opposition from her, and secure their own happiness to be married before their airival at C-. Lucy remained iuseusible for some time. When she revived aud apparently regained her consciousness, she still maintained her strange silence. This continued for many weeks ; when it partially passed away, her friends saw with inexpressible grief that her reason had fled—that she was hopelessly insane ! But her madness was of mild aud harmless nature. She was gentle and peace able as ever, but frequeut'y sighed and seemed burdened with some great sorrow which she could not hersell comprehend. She had one peculiarity, vliich all who knew her must recollect ; this was a wild fear aud careful avoidance of men. She could not, she would not be confined, out continually escaped from her friends, they knew not whither. While her parents lived, they by their watchful care and unwearied efforts iu some measure controlled this sad propensity ; but when they died, their stricken child became a wanderer, homeless, friendless, aud tor lorn. j-nrougii lauglung springs, aud rosy sum mers, tramp, tramp, tramp—no rest tor her ot the crushed heart and crazed brain. I remember her as site was in my early childhood, towards the last ot' the weary pilgrimage. As mv lather and elder broth ers were frequently absent, and as mv mother never closed her heart or door on ; ‘•Crazy Lucy,” she often spent an hour or two by our lireside. Her appearance was very singular. Her gown was always patched witli many colors, aud her sltawl or mantle worn and torn, until it was opajjj. work and fringe. The remainder ot her wardrobe she carried in a bundle on her arm, aud sometimes she had a number of parcels ot old rags, dried herbs, ifcc. In the season ot flowers, her tattered bonnet was profusely decorated with those which she gathered m the woods or by the wayside. Her love lor these and hers.veet voice were all that were lelt her of the bloom and music of her existence. Yet, uo ; her meek aud child-like piety still lingered. Her God had not forsaken her ; down in the dim chaos of her spirit the smile of His love yet gleamed faintly—in the waste garden of her heart she still heard His voice at eventide, and she was not afraid. Ilev Bible went with her every where—a torn and soiled volume, hut ns holy still ; and it may be, as dearly cher ished, my dear reader as, the gorgeous copy now lying on your table, bound tu “purple j aud gold,” aud with the gilding untarnished upon the delicate leaves. Thirty years from the time of the com mencement of this mournful history, on a bleak autumnal evening, a rough country wagon drove into the town of C-. it stopped at the alms-house ; aud an attenu ated form was lilted up aud carried in, and the wagon rumbled away. Thft was Lucy i Dutton brought to her native town to die. | She laid been in a decline for some months aud the miraculous strength which had long sustained her in her weary wan dering at last forsook her utterly. Her sis- , ter had died some time betorc; and the widowed husband had soon after removed to the far west, so Lucy had no friends, uo home but the alms-house. One day, about a week from the time of her arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer greatly aud those about her looked for her release almost impatiently till morning. The mat ron, who was by her bedside when site awoke was startled by the clear and earnest gaze which met her own, hut she smiled aud bid the invalid “Good morning.” Lucy looked bewildered, but the voice seemed to reas-! sure her, aud she exclaimed : “Where am I ; aud who are you? I (lo not know you.” A wild surmise flashed across the mind of the matron, the long lost reason of the wanderer had returned. But the good womau replied calmly aud soothingly ; “Why you are among your friends, and you will kuow me presently.” “Then may!*e you know Edwin aud Ellen,” rejoined the invalid ; “have they come? Oh, I had such a terrible dream ! 1 Ireamed that they were married 1 Only Link, Ellen married to Edwin ! Strange j tis that I should dream that.” “My poor Lucy,” said the matron with! i gush of tears, “that was not a dream, twas all true.” “All true !” cried the invalid ; “then Ed win must be untrue, and that canuot he for te loves me ; we love each other well, aud Ellen is my sister. Let me see them ; I will go to them. She endeavored to raise herself, but fell1 tack fainting on the pillow. “What does this mean?” said she— ‘what makes me so weak?” Just then her eye fell on her own hand —that old aud withered hand ! .She gazed ! in it in blank amazement. “Something is the matter with my sight,” he said, smiling faintly, “for my baud ooks like an old woman’s. “Aud so it is,” said the matron gently, ‘and so is mine ; yet we had fair, plump lauds when we were young. Dear Lucy, do you uot know me? I am Maria Alien —I was to have beeu your bridesmaid.” I caunot say more—I will not make the vain attempt to give in detail that mourn iul revealing—to reduce to expressive words that dread sublimity of that hopeless sorrow. To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty years were as though they had never beeu. Ol uot a scene, not an incident, had she the slightest remembrance, since the recent aud traitorous lover stood before her and made that terrible, anuouucement. The kind matron paused frequently in the sad narrative of her poor friend’s madness aud wanderings, but the invalid | would say with tearful calmness—“Go ou, goon,” though the drops of agony stood thick upon her forehead. When she asked for her sister aud the matron replied : "She has gone before you, and your father . also.” “Aud my mother?” said Lucy, her face lit up with a sickly ray of hope. “Your mother has beeu dead twenty years.” “Dead! All gone? Aloue, old, dying? Oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full,” and she only wept aloud. Her frioud bent over her, aud mingling her tears with hers said affectionately: "Hut you know v> ho drank the cup before ! you ?” Lucy looked up with a bewildeied ex pression ; aud the matron added—“The Lord Jesus ; you remember him.” A look like sunlight breaking through a cloud, a look which ouly saints may wear, irradiated the tearful face of the dying wo man as she replied : “Oh, yes, 1 knew' Him and loved Him ' before I fell asleep.” lhe man of God was called. A few who had known Lucy iu her early days came also. There was much reverential feeling and some weeping around her death bed. j Then rose the voice of prayer. At first her lips moved as her weak spirit joined in that lerveut appeal. Then they grew still, aud poor Lucy was dead—dead iu her gray haired youth. Those who gazed ou that J placid face, and remembered her harmless ! life and patient suffering, doubted uot that ■ the morn ot an eternal day had broken on her “Night of years.” The Lazy Man. uv THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 1 he lazy man is almost always good na tured. He never flies into a passion. He might crawl into one, if that were possible, but the idea oi his flyiug iuto anything is preposterous. Whoever heard of a lazy man breaking iuto a bank, where a crowbar had to be used, or drilling iuto a safe ! Nobody. Not that he might not covet his neighbor’s goods therein contained, but his horror of hand ling crowbars and drills would always de ter him from actually committing burglary. He never runs away with his neighbor’s wile, simply on account of the horror he has ol running. It he is ever known to | run it is—run to seed. He rarely lies about his neighbors, for it would be too much exertion, but he cau lie i about a bar room all day. He is ot inestimable service to a billiard saloon, keeping the chairs warm and watch ing the game, for few would care to play were there no spectators. The fact that he does this without pay, day in and day out, shows the unselfishness of his nature. What an industrious man, who considers his time worth something, would want pay for, the lazy man generally does tor nothing, show ing a freedom from mercenary motives that should go far to his credit. The lazy man never gets up revolution, insurrections or other popular excitements, aud don t make a nuisance of himself by tramping around the country making incen diary speeches to promote public discontent. In his own neighborhood he is never a busy body iu other people’s affairs, for the very idea of being a busy-body at anything would drive him out of his head. By the way, if he ever got out of his head, you would have to drive him out, for he wouldn’t have the energy to go out of his own accord. No lazy man ever ran mad. If he went crazy, it was because he couldn’t go any where else without walking. Lazy men don’t disturb the quiet of peace ful neighbors by putting up factories, fur naces, and such abominations. h iaally, lazy men don’t get up base-ball clubs, which, it nothing else could be said iu tl.eir favor, ought, iu these days of ex cessive base-balling, to entitle them to pub lic gratitude. [Cincinnati Times. Report of the Rank and Insurance Ex aminer. This is the tlrst annual report of A. W. Paine, Esq., the official appointed under the nmv law for making inquiry into the affairs of Banks aud Insurance Companies, with annual report of their condition. The document be fore us is an interesting account of the num ber, business, condition, profits, &c., of the in stitutions of the kind in this State, together with excellent reflections and suggestions on the general subject, especially of insurance. A cotemporary, who has made a careful exam ination of the facts embodied in this report gives the following abstract— The only banks now doing business under State charters, are the Eastern, Mercantile and Veazie banks of Bangor, aud the Lime Rock and North banks of Rockland. Their charters have been extended to Oct. I, 1370. The total ' circulation of all the State banks, including ; those which have accepted national bank char- 1 ters, all outstanding, is $132,790. There up- ! pears to he but lour which have redeemed all ' their State bank bills. The Auburn bank lias $9,205 unredeemed. Tint present number of 1 savings institutions in the State is twenty- * eight, all of which have been carefully exam- ( mod, and the result has been most satisfactory, t showing a safe condition of the funds aud a . most flourishing state of business. In no case lias there been reported a dollar’s loss during l the year; on the contrary, their assets have 1 been largely increased by timely, investments t iu government and other seurities. There is t an aggregate of deposits and earnings now iu the several institutions of $3,032,570.71. Mr. i 1 Paine found the insurance business eulirely '• 1 without system. Prom the most trustworthy ! s and fullest information which the examiner has 1 t been able to collect, he is brought to the con elusion that the amount of fire aud marine risks 11 iu Maine, exclusive of those iu our own com- ^ panics, is about $100,000,000, and life risks « $30,000,000. The Bank of Commerce, Belfast, has $1100, and the Searsport Bauk $1792 of their bills still unredeemed. _____ a Deacon Andrews, the Kingston murderer, Is i_ employed ill the polishiug shop at the State ‘ Prison, enjoying good health aud quite recou- I cited to his lot. : f How Lost Money was Recovered. From the* N. V. Herald, 24th ulf. Stories romantic, stories tragic, stories oi matters of common place fact, stories al most surpassing the farthest stretch of fau cy, stories of nuusual though oft quoted se quence about fact being stranger than fic tion, might he given, based ou developments brought to light through advertising. We give below a story in point—an “ o’er true tale,” and only one of many that might he given—iu counectiou with the Personals” iu the Herald. Five years ago Mr. Homer E. Sawyer came to this city from Boston. He stop ped at the Belmont Hotel, in Fulton street. He had SI,Coil iu bank bills, which, for sate keeping, lie carried iu his pantaloous watch pocket, and, to make assurance doub ly sure as to its safety, keeping his pocket pinned. Being eu route to New Orleans, he went to a railroad ticket office, bought a ticket, took out his money, paid for the tick et, returning the remaining roll to his watch pocket, carefully pinned it as before and re turned to Lis hotel. lie shortly missed his money, but ou examination found his pock et pinned. The only conclusion lie could come to was that he placed the roll of hills inside the waist of his pantaloons instead of his watch pocket, and thus lost it. This was ou January 8, 1801. It rained hard all day. The supposition was that the money soon got mixed up witli the slush of snow and mud of tiie street, and with the refuse—for they cleaned the streets in those days—would tiud its wav to some dumping ground, an irremediable loss. “ What shall I do about it?” lie asked of Mr. J. P. Richards, proprietor of tiie Bel mont Hotel, after reciting to him his loss. Advertise in the Herald,” answered the keenly penetrative Mr. Richards. The loss of the money, though with no statement of the amount, was advertised us Mr. Richards suggested, tiie tiuder to call on Mr. Richards. There came no re sponse to the advertisement. Mr. Sawyer went to New Orleans, where two years ago bodied of yellow fever. That advertisement was seen in the Herald. The tiuder re membered it—remembered the name ol Mr. Richards, to whom the information was asked to be given, remembered the ho tel, remembered everything hut giving hack tiie money. The memory, in fact, haunted him, followed him through live years. The struggles of conscience none can know, lie determined to restore the money, hut with the determination resolved not to let him self he known, lie wrote a note, without signature, to Mr. Richards, asking him to specify in Herald u personal" particular* of the loss of tiie money and to whom it be longed. This letter Mr. Richards received ou tiie 4th of December last. In the next morning’s Herald lie inserted the following “ personal” : ago ,a suowy day}, nboui $ 1 • m giveii'mcks ; owner Is dead; any communication lo.- hi; widow, who is in very needy circumstances. will gr.itiTullv receiv ed by J. i\ K., for Mrs. II. s.twyer. The above was nut Miilicieutly explicit. Another letter, by the same anonymous hand, was written to .Mr. Richards, upon which the following personal" was pub lished : 4 —FIVE YEARS AGO MONTY LOST; JTRS. tr ill E. Sawyer, 171 AVarron avenue, 15 .-ton; amount, St.07.0: smallest bill S00; the veil mieht !i n e -eparuted in losing. Rut yet the anonymous letf-r \a r>»cr was not satisfied. lie wanted to mere about the death of the original :ivu;r ot the money and date of his muiuuage. The name of Waters was signed to this third note, with special request, that the an swer should be directed to this address, so there could be no mistake tiiat 'no was hold ing his communications v/lih the same par ty. The following third personal was the result of these further inquiries : WATERS—U. K. S —MARRIED OCTOIIER vs. ls5S, IKipkint'jn, Al e..., by Key. I s. 11:11: died Oct. 10, 1807, at .Xew Orleans, of y.-ilow lever. The re mains were brought to Massachusetts and interred. 15. express to 171 West avenue. In a fourth note the moiiev finder—(or there can be no doubt of course i ut thi Avas the individual writing—ask - ah oi: the circumstances of the widow of the one be ing the money, the expense of advertising and it there is no shadow of doubt that she is the Avido.v of the original owner ol the money. This called out the following per sonal : He. s. is the eight person: i can give -• bonds t » that ciT.Tr. 'Ht only ■ .n* .>t -Miiiport is singing in :i church, i’aul ,J. j*‘ i;. It is uiineuossiiry to truoo t':i-s siory on', in till its miiuite tloUiils. i'iu* nooLiyiiioiis letter writer became satisfied with the cor POOt lipci a!' A r»• i *; ,.l,..1 ’ t.. i . \ i ib'.'U'.?; ... - —* • '••■muu'. i .-um .auiii.-. . we come to the end. .V lady, closely veil ed, restored the money to Mrs. Sawyer— not only the money lost, but interest on it from the day of its loss till the day oi its restoration, and expenses oi advertising : altogether $2,100. On the l'Jth inst. this money was given to the widow and her fa therless children—the result of one in stance of advertising. As m express train on the Michigan Cen tral Railroad was nearing Albion, Tuesday afternoon, the passengers waiting for the train were startled by the frequent whist ling of the engine. It was found that a man was driving at a iurious pace to get ais horses and wagon across braf track be bre the engine reached the crossing The sngineer did his best to stop the train, but t was too late, and the cowcatcher struck ust between the wagon and the horses, sep iratiug them iustautor, and consigning each o a place on opposite sides of the track, ittle or none the worse for the collision, fhe man and his wife (each about lid) were aught on the platform above the cowcatch r, and just in front of the engine. Instead d losing presence ol mind and jumping oil', hey settled themselves as composedly as hough nothing had happened ; the old lady mt her bauds in her mull, while the old nan, with one hand extended, as it grasping he reins, and the whip raised in the other, -ssuined a jockey attitude, and thus the old ouple rode up to the station triumphant, mid the cheers of the bystanders. .Vs I oou as the train stopped, a number rushed : a their assistance ; but they declined all id, manifesting no concern tor themselves, ut considerable for the late of the horses! ud wagon. The horses were uninjured, ud the damages to the wagon were trilling. A lady whose horror of tobacco amounts luiost to a disease, took a seat by tin, side ol man in a railroad car the other .by uni nerv usly asked him, “Oo you chew tobacco, sir?” No, ma am, replied tile astonished man, “but guess 1 can get you a chaw, if you’re sutlcrin' >r it." Graphic Sketch of tho Eeilo of San Francisco. San Francisco Corrospon leacc of tin- Frovid’mv .loar nal.; Mrs. Filet, in her recent book on ‘'Fa nous American Women,” makes mention rf a California lady, remarkable for her ibility to entertain twenty gentlemen at mce by her vivacious conversational paw n's. It this were the only or chiefly re narkuble tliitiir about Miss Hitchcock she would he u far less remarkable persou-igu tliau she is. Jiut siie is u character, an I . slu;h a character as this age cannot aud uec ! not duplicate the country over. As Ameri 1 caus’ Wu have long boasted of the versatil ity of our climate, soil aud people. Per haps Miss Hitchcock was a uccessarv na tional production that the world mu, he convinced < f the truthfulness ni this boast. I She is a public character—au actress requir ! iug a far broader stage aud larger house than other actresses of the time. She is au j only daughter, au only child, I believe of a wealthy aud most respectable family, her i father, Dr. Hitchcock, having come to this coast as au army surgeon during the Mex I >cau war. He is now a retired physician and among the most substantial and worthy j ot San Franciscans. His accomplished ; daughter has long been one of flic belles of i this city, without whom no social gathering i of the ton was complete if she was in the I country. YY hen a child she was rescued from a burning building by some members jot Kuickerboker engine coiupauy, No. 5, I since which time she has never forgotten i them—wearing conspicuously, at all times | aud all places, a neat gold upon her | 'Ifess. and at times making the company, ot which she was a duly elected member, cost ly presents, ranging from the cherished •■o’’ to the gold mounted lire horn. She was eccentric to au extent that would shock our New England notions ot propriety, showing her eccentricity, now by presenting the ‘•hives” a barrel ot brandy, now bv siak iug a thousand on a favorite horse at tin: races, again by riding on the cowcatcher with the constructing engiueer over the en tire length of the Napa \ alley railroad, to which ride she challenged said engineer, and still agaiu by the noblest deeds of phil anthropy aud charity. She has upward ot I S50,0UU in her own right, aud of course is ! expected to inherit the hundreds of thou I sands of her lather’s estate. From her own j purse she supplies the wants of many needy objects of charity, beiug generous in the j extreme and of noble impulses. She vi : brutes between San Francisco and Paris, taking New York and Loudon in her way aud astonishing the natives of each of these quiet (?) intermediate cities by wliat she does aud what she does not do. She defies all rules aud conventionalities of society, dresses aud acts as she pleases everywhere, selects her company from all classes at will and yet commands the confidence and good will ot ali. She is conspicuous at the grand | balls ot the Empress at the Tuileries, at i tends annually the Derby in England, where, I it is said, she amuses herself by winning or losing a few hundred pounds a day at tin? hands ol the young sprigs of nobility. A tew days since she started overland for New York aud thence to Paris. Two days alter | her marriage notice appeared as evidence | of the last of her eccentricities; she in a | quiet way, with the personal knowledge of but two human beings beside herself aud the fortunate ( rj groom, having suddenly experimented in the role of bride. Anoth er admirer was with her all the alteruoou of that day, until six r. ji., v lien she went, as he supposed, to dinner. As eight p. u. he met her again by appointment aud went with her to the theater, after which he ac companied her aud the family as far as Sacramento on her overland journey, quite ignorant of the fact that tram eight i. >r. tie had been iu company with. Mrs. Howard ( "it instead ot Miss Hitchcock. This i ihe same youth whom she dared to drive down an embankment on the (flirt House road a few days ago, which he did at the small cost ot SlAIMJ. Her husband is left behind, she not having seen him, i. is said, since they lett I'M. .James’ tree church. Doubtless, ere this, she has informed her loving pa aud dearest m.i ol’her i.i.-t roman tic experiment and is >w enjoviug some other innocent amusement. Hut while ihi heroine is thus eccentric and romantic i:i her composition and thus reckless in her demeanor, a- before remarked, there are m her character many of toe noblest trait.- po — sesed by any. She speaks evil of no one hut has a kind word and warm heart an ail. Were that heart, those talents and her means consecrated ts her God aud her lire restrained by the religion ot ,J .--us -he would have almost iinlimii.-d eap.vuv t,»r use ful ness. One more is add-d lo the ii-. ..fine "m daritig robberies iliat have i t perpetrated iti New \ oi k I r 111a!i\ ve i . 31 . \\ iiiiam Moray, one ot tlie > t it a !’> lailway bank, was sitting alone iti 1 ; - ;■ oil ue.-;i his attention was attracted bv tic noise ot' the outer door opening. Thinking ; .at i: ■A'as some trice l (altering, lie did net in >v trom his position. Three nv i cn ; e.i the room, and as one of them approached him Morey heard him remark,—•■Don’t mow or holloa, or l wilt slab you.” Tais strange remark did not startle Morey, as he still thought the intruders were some friends who were playing a joke ort him. fin room was dark, the gas not having been lighted, aud Morey could but dimly discern the men as they entered the place. He I was still sitting in his chair, when .me m the men came around in front of him and brandishing a huge bowie knife, threatened to stab him if he mado the least noise, oi attempted to give any alarm. Mr. Morey prolitiug by the recollections ot Mr. linger'.' SJlCri liei ng his life by resistance IKSainea passive and permitted himself t > Ite bucked aud gagged. This work accom plished, the ruffian put away the kuile and coolly proceeded to strip Morey of his val uables. In au inside pocket they found a wallet coutaiuiug S7700, which they trau.i terred to their owu custody. Next they re quested tho loan of his valuable gold watch aud chain. Oue of them admired a valu able solitaire diamond ring that sparkled iu the gaslight; aud, removing it trom Me rcy's linger, tried it upou his own, aud. as it exactly lifted, ho concluded to let it tv maiu iu its new quarters. While these changes ot property were being made, tin third ruffian politely and with many apolo gies, relieved poor Morey, who at ibis time was more dead than alive through fear, of a valuable diamond pin. Having secured everything of value about his person except his clothing, tho thieves wished him a very good night, retired with their booty, relock cd the door and carried oil' tho keys. A person recently asserted that the rea son why a certain minister was so popular was because he carefully excluded politics aud roligiou from his pulpit preaching, liather a doubtful compliment.