Oxford Democrat. [volume], December 10, 1869, Image 1

About Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933

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VOLUME 80.
PARIS, MAINE,
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1869.
NUMBER 47.
Of (Mori) tlrmorrat.
• Pl'BLlSUCD EVERY KKllVtY MORNING ·**
t\ E. SHAH,
EDITOR AND Γ KO ι* Κ I Ε τ«» Κ
ΓΚΚ M·* Ttu Dollar» {ht vear ; On*· lH)lla r aad
fitly Cent·, if paid in adtanc*.
liutra of Advertising.
For t »inar«vl iaehot apace) 1 week. · - fi.oc
Karh w«*k,
For 1 » ju*r« » ni·».· #* <'·'. « non |7. 1 year $t?.
For 1 colutna 1 >· ar #160.00, \ col #Λ). J c»>l #.V>.
8rm'l*i Norn kA-^pvreeDt adduivnal
PbobaTK S<»ru*H—Ordrmot notice uf KatateM*
t>rderaon WHI·, p*r .«{liai*, . . 1.5e
(.uariian» Notic**, '♦ . 1.50
idmttiitmor'· *id Éucatorli Xutkr·, · i_jO
411 oUm N»»lu*e» ..50 p*r «^u»r\ for tfirr·
|aa«-rltoaa.
105 PfllSTING. of e*e«7 de»crpton. neatfy execated
·* \|. l'ett*.'B|Ulk Co., Ιο >uir4||«r| Ko«toa.
ni ΗΚμμΜμΙ Ν· W Y"k. andS.R Nil··»,
Γ dirt Mrrot, rtottua, arr authorizrd agrnt·.
Local Ag* Ht* for Th*· /)» wocni/.
Who .»rv -luth •riz'°d to receipt for monry.
J. H Loaejor, Vlha.iv Ν. H. Hubbard. Hiram.
Milv.xn i« An<l>·»· r. W tiickix !!. U irtiorl
Κ K.»«ter. Jr., H· th< 1 J«»hu Κ llohha, Lovell.
Dr I.Aj.ham, Rryaui'- P. Hrurr Vf. Park. Mexico.
Kit Κ B«*u, Hrowuli> Id iïeo. H. Brown. Μλ»··ιι
W C Ββ·Μ·Μ. Il«*nr* IMn^ Norway.
Κ Κ. H 'It. < aato-i < »r 11 K«»M. r V wry.
BoUterA Wright. IMxl'd Κ ·» Wvm.tn. P«tu.
l»a\ i-l s. wall. Κ ^nnaaer li Abbott. Jr .K. Rumfd
F "*hir|rr. Kry> hurtf. J. I». Kirh. I'pton.
1» H *.'r>»<-kctl.tir**»-nw'd Η Η Obwilk. W San'r
Α X. K'.iapp. Hano*#r. J a· M *!u« Waterford.
H >Uiin'l« '«. SwMtre.
Travelling Vtf«-nt, Ko . S. W. Γικκν κ.
S jbo'rlhfr» ran tell, by examining th<> eoioivd
a lip attarbrd to their p«p«-r. th« amount da*, ami
thoae wiahin·: to avail tkem«#lve· of th»· advanrrd
pavrnvnt». ran «rod to u· by mail or hand to th«·
a*-arr»t a.;· nt. *->»-pt. I, '«if,'* 00 th«· »lip. m<*an·
thr pap**r i« paid for, t<> that date. Wh.-u moory 1·
a^nt.rare nhould br uk· η toeaanuar th«* «lip. and it
the laaary 1* not ert-dilrd within two wrrka, wr
• hould be apprutcd of It.
Prof\ ssion a I Ca η is,
DK. Λ. 4.
DEISTXIST,
Rl'CKFIELl) VILLAGE, ML
Particular attention |>ai-l to tilling ami pr«-*cr\ ·
ui< the natural t«««-th
ArtitWaJ Teeth in»ert*«l from on* fc*»th to a full
•et. Aitti all w<>ri warrante·! to f\\* « at i «tertio·.
Lttier tiiluitn »;ere«l h heu «le*ired if a<ivi»able
*» H U viMt t ant>« the βτ»ι Monday in each
m >nth an<1 rrraain through th·* \%«.k rot >:
Ai. D. BI8BEI,
Attorney & Counsellor at Lair,
Il«rkatl4, Oif«ir«l (oaatjr, V·.
II. 1. JEHCTT,
1) Ε PITY SHERIFF,
For Oxford *n«t Cumberland Cotuktie*.
!' Ο AtMrr·', North Waterft>rd, Ma.ue
·*- VU braine*» "«ent b> iiiail will rerei» e prompt
nUruti<>n inareh 1.'
S. t\ ANDREWS
Counsellor ή- .it tome y at Laic,
MVKKlKl.l» «'VhoUlito. MK.
Π pmetiee in «»χί.··«1 Cumberland an<)
Aa<iroK liti a' ountiv*
Maine Uterine Hospital,
AM» —
"W A Χ Ε IR, CURE,
(SUT COLD WATEM Cl'MK,)
WATKKFOKD, MAIN K.
w. p. mu %ττι t κ. n. 1»..
î*!i^·· nteo-l n^ Ph> - anan<t ·>. <τ«ΐπι( >uryeon
I DW U<I> I . PHILBROOK,
L'ouns* llor Attorney at Law,
«.ΟΚΙΙΙΊ. X. II.
WbutiBf» by m.t I or .»4hen*i*e. urompUv at
teuJedto Will prartxe in Oxford I "Unty Mc .
an·! t €>··* (' ;nl> . Ν II
U. C. F Kl Κ,
Counsellor \ .It tor ne y at Laic,
Kuiuforti Point.
«tar 1· >68.
O. |{. II 11.1. Τ IK.
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
HI « Kt'lKLU, ML'.
β"» "*-tf
ΙΛ04 II I'OMKK, JR..
Counsellor .Ittorney at Laic,
k»:tiii:l. mi:.
DK. W. H. LIPH4H.
W II .ttten 1 to the 1'ra- tie* of
MEDICIAE £ SURGERY.
— IJk ALSO —
Lmwlnlnii Smjjniu for lu««lid Pru«ion«,
AT UKY XNT'S P«»M>. ML
\A ;i Hp«<ial attention to the treatment of
Nervuu» l»»«ea«e·»
vtturda* ». *hrn practicable, will be devoted to
il.< r-k.tiu u.\iion Oi m valid pensioner», .in J gener
ai ..fllre t»u»iae»«. june 1. >*>
BOLSTEK Λ ΜΚΚ.ΙΙΤ,
Counsellors and Attorneys at Law
PIXIIKLD, Μ κ.
W »' |M>1 <T*.U J. ». WKI'.lir
Am. U. HM II 4RDMh,
JTTOItJSE V AT LAW,
ιιι.ιηκι.», η int.
<»ΙΙ«*1;η|Γ |>γο·»|4Ιτ att?n<U*«l to. -«'p-4
I ) \>S A VCBKILL,
l'livsici.i ν s .ι s ι h a eo\s,
\l»UHAV IILLU.I:. m»:.
1»! Κ Mill μ^ν i>.*rtirulv atu-iitiou tu Ui
of tfu- Kï L ;u».t'K .\K
»>ifc *■ al th*? r*-i«i«·»"·· of l»r C Κ E*a>s Of
fl··. , iar«. l'r<>ui S t<< lv> Λ .M . au*l 1 to 3 I' M
c. ft t\ A\S » Β * «lKKILL
UK. (·. n. TWÎ1THELL,
DENTIST,
Π I. Τ II ft: L II IL !.. «ΛΙ.1Ε.
f <»n M tin»· St—*»νι*τ t*'·<_>l£ **
Te«tti in^rt lonl P»t Plat*·»
H' -i'Ieii <· ou t hun-h Mrrrt.
i»r Τ will Ti'iHrirhse, S H :ht> u et k toll· »
1119 thtr -«Η:«>α·1 Mun.U) of each month
1>K. <·. P. Mme,
DENTIST,
Μ>Κ» Λ Y VILLAGE. ME
C^rMhin^vHvJon GoW, Silver, or YnlcAu
««<1 kuut>rr
J» Mm miiW, WL Dm
PHÏSJCJAy b SURGEON,
β y. r h 1: L, η κ.
• ».T. ·*- η kital'AJl » Β k , R ··*. ien * on Park St
CiEOKCii: 4. WILMtV
Attorney fr Counsellor at Late,
OJIt t opf*'*Ur tkf .UbvitU· H-'USt ,
>«K'TH PARJv MK
êé' { ollectinjf promptly stun-Kvl to.
II hKU.L A kUTH.
m. u; b ja: h or a ε κ s.
— Ρ i.u e.» oi Itu-iiH'-s—
BI.TIItL 1Λ1» M>( TU PAHIS.
[Γ*·γ the Oxford Democrat ]
The following verses were written on:i
stormy winter night, «everal years ago,
by λ youlh of 1? yean*, now a devoted,
efficient minister of tho gospel.
FULL OF SXOW.
«Hit in the win·! and ftorn, U|>on * tree
All stripped ami hare. «its drearily
A bird'» ne-t full of snow,
From which the hint hath parted long ago.
Froin that cohl ne-t no «ong of joy in flowing,
No cry for food from tender nestlings going,
< »ul\ the cold, cold wind-, that round are blowing.
Full ot snow.
Mourning and tad the l»arren branche- wave
\ round that nest au unprotecting grave;
*Tis sad to we it so.
Braving the «torm Imm which it cannot go.
Fetter- of ice the driTintr *ieet is leaving:
Alone to that cold branch we see it cleaving,
lb'neat h sun, moon and «tars, and winter'- heaving
Full of -now.
Type of a wilder, eotder winter'· region.
Semblance of deeper, sonl-in wailing pair'
For well this world I know
That it is very wide and full of woe. , (Ing
Cob!, cold *< hen» to-night. round heart* are wail·
W nd- of dark irrief. the spirit'* features paling;
^ e> thou .-and* walk this journey, weary, failing.
Full of snow.
, (iod know- of grief that we know not, alone,
, tied know - of ne-t* from which the bird ha# flown.
Of hidden, «tient w«»e.
Which we'pass by ami lo«e In life'· grent flow,
j <,od ««π·· the stricken mourner'- secret weeping.
Me see- the dark, cold shadow silent creeping
ι O'er hearts which cold distrust or sin is heaping
Full of snow.
1 O. what doe- the wide world know of real life,
! (>«r« as it is. an inner *i!ent strife ?
Of thoughts that ever flow
Peep in the secret soul, what doe- it know '
In each soul'· realm of being there'» an ocean
Fver unknown to man. and yet in motion.—
>borrles* and deep; with storm* that have their
portion
Full of snow.
«•reen vale· but tremble o'er earth's inner (man··
Daiaie· Mnnm white above t\tï battle'· hone·;
We •urtace gaiers do not know
The hidden cave· the ocean lave» below
There i» a night that never know* a breaking
Thi- side of heaven suns rise and yet η·> waking
>!cep on the lid· of joy. and moment- flaking
Full of «now.
Have ye not fslt it who hate laid God's boon
The loved and lovely, in the cheerio*· tombs?
Yon made the hitter hour t«· know
When from it· renting pla * the bird mn-t go 1
Have ve not felt it who in doubt are treading
Paths ou which « hn»tian fa.1l4.n1> light i· «bedding ?
Which pride on passioo da· an<l night i« spreading
Full of »now ?
See a· I linger here the cloud· droop nigh.
W md· -t >nn and night rush howling from the sky >
Hopeful, though «ad, «Miod I go.
For thou art God of *priug a- well a* snow
The lini ' i« short, if we in taith are stead*.
A home beyond t.me'· falling fl \ke- i- re.vly.
When in the · 11 alight of God'· throne shall eddy
No more »nuw
iflfct i(ori).
LOVE AMt DRESSMAKING.
• "Do you really love me, Chartey?"
"Do I really live and breathe? Now,
liuth, what's the use of asking «uch an
absurd question as that, when \ou know
perleetly well that I <1 >»u 't belong to my
*elf at all. I'm a slave—a miserable
abject captive, iu the chain of your sweet
eyes and gentle wrortU—and, \vhat's more,
1 haven't the least desire for a grain of
, my l<»»r freedom."
••Nonsense, ( barley."
But Kuth Murray said "Nonsense" in ;i
torn· th:it ver\ clearly meant "the b«?st of
sense," and Mr. CHarles Trevor took
advantage bi the coquettish syllables ac
cordingly.
Th« y a-eft· sitting in the libarry of the
fine old country house, with a bright tire
blazing on the hearth and the bay window,
curtained with warm, crimson folds, just
revealed a glimpse of clear orange
twilight lilted with silver crescent of the
now moon. You eould n<»t distinguish
much from the dickering, uncertain light:
but the eve of a romancist is .supposed
to be preternaturally gifted,and the pen of
a romancist in no way deviate?» from the
truth in saying that Charles Trevor was
tall, dark, and handsome, with wavy
black hair, and frank lips, an 1 where the
brown shadows iuelt»'d almost impercep
tibly into velvet blackness.
And Kuth Murray—what -hail we say 01
her. a> >he >it> there on tin· sofa, with the
• capricious fire-gleams darting in lines of
light uj» and down the bugle trimming of
her piquant velvet jacket.andj>ccasionally
pan>iiiir to mirror themselves reflectively
' in the liquid depths of her lovely eyes?
What can we say? Only that she was very
, small and very plump, with long, brown
eyelashes, ami lips red and ripe a> straw
berries, and hair like golden water stirred
into fantastic ripples by the summer
I evening winds. Only that she was
wonderfully pretty, and coquettish withal,
as most pretty girls are apt to be. Isn't
i that enough?
"Charley," she said, thoughtfullv play
ing with one of the sparkling buttons of
her jacket—"1 do believe that jou love
me—but I'm afraid that your sentiment
» will undergo an alteration when you
know that—that—"
"That what?"
••1 ought to have told you before,"
faltered Kuth. coloring vividly, and
ι seeming to shrink away froui the ruddy
shine of the fire, "only—"
"Told me what darling?''
"That 1 am only s dressmaker."
••You a dressmaker! And visiting at
Wardley Place?"
"Kate Wardley and I were school
companions, Charley—and she is very
kind—and she promised to tell nobody,
lest people should be cold to inc."
Mop a minute, Kuth," said Mr. Trevor.
I "I didn't ask the question bccauso the
fact made one whit's difference in our
relations towards one another; only, I
wae taken a little by surprix as it were. A
dressmaker, are you? Well, Ruth, I
I shouldn't eare if you were a crossing
sweeper. I love you, ami that's quite
enough for me."
"But, Charley, I am poor ami obscure. *
"What of that? I'm not rich, by any
means; but 1 amtully capable of working
for both of us; ami as (or being pt>or and
obscure, why, weT try ami see if we
cannot make a name for ourselves in the
world, Ruth."
"But you are not obscure, Charles.
The Trevors stand high in the circle «>1
fashion. I know that, humble little
! dressmaker though I am."
"What then?"
"Why the world will say that you have
made a mcsalliancc!"
"And what care I for the world's
verdict, as long as I am happy in your
love? Little Ruth, what sort of a mercena
ry renegade do you take me for? 1 love
you, and Γη» going to marry you!"
There was a glitter suspiciously like
te.ir< on the long eyelashes, as Ruth felt
Charles Trevor's loving glance resting on
her face, and I he little hand stole softly ;
; into his with an unconsciously confiding :
movement.
"Charley," said Ruth, in a soft, stifled
voice, "I'll try and be a g«»od wife to j
!
And then—oh, strange, inscrutable j
heart of woman!—Rnth Murray criedjusi
because she was so happy.
And the next day, the gay country-1
house coterie broke np, all die guests !
goingtheir several ways,and owning.one |
to another, that they had a delightful
time, and the next chapter in their book
of fashionable dissipation, while Ruth
Murray went home to a house with ji
shop, where a plate bore the words, "Miss ι
Mackenzie, Dressmaker.*
The bright January sunshine was turn
ing the crusted <η·ί\*· to diamonds, and
making Miss Mackenzie's shabby carpet
look half a do χ in degrees shabbier than
ever—tb · eloek h.sd just struck eleven,
ami Kuth Murray, in a bine delane «Ire·.·»,
and trim linen collar, was tacking to- j
(fether the breadths of a gold-colored
glace »iIk, with her rosy m<>uth full of
pins. MU.1 Mackenzie stood watching
her, with a skirt-lining depending from
her bony arm.
'•Kuth," saiil the old maid, dubiously,:
"I don't understand you at all?"
** I K»n*t yon, Hetty? Well, that's not at
all strange, for hall the time I don't un
derstand myself.*1
"No, but—Kuth, this arrangement
seem* t«» me so unsatisfactory—so un
suitable—~
"Don't my work give you satisfaction?" ;
"I never had an apprentice learn half
so quickly, those little fingers of yours ι
seem gifted by magic."
"Thank you," said Kuth, sewing
demuredly.
"The yellow silk, please?—Hid n't you
tell me that Miss Trevor waa coming here '
at eleven to try on her dress?"
"So she said—and there is the carriage
dashing up to the door now. It's :i line
thing to be rich. Are you sure the dress
is ready, Kuth?"
"Quite."
lVrhaps Kuth Murray's cheek wa* a
tiill»· pinker than usual as Miss Trevor I
rust led loftily into the room; but other
wise there was no shade of difference in
her manner or demeanor.
"I'm afraid I'm κ little belli η 1 time,"
l»egan the imperious young lady, throw
ing off her costly ermine cape ; "but—
why, Kuth Murray! this surely cannot be
vou?"
"It is I, Miss Trevor."
Maria Travor started.
"Oh, you've come to have a tire·**
fitted—Miss Mackenzie has such success!"
"Oh," said Ruth, quietly; "I am Mir>s
Mackenzie's assistant."
Maria drew herself up haughtily.
"This is very strange," she said rigidly
—"nay it is quite unaccountable. I
thought you were a visitor at Wardley
Place?"
•Ί was."
"And did Kate Wardley kuow—"
"Who f was? Perfectly."
Maria tossed her head.
"I'pon—my—word! this is really too
gratuitous an insult to her other guests !
Kate Wardley shall know my opinion on
her conduct."
Ruth had grown pale and then red ; but
thh next moment a score of laughing
dimples broke out around her mouth.
It was dreadful to ndmit a dressmaker
into the circle of her aristocratic friend—
and it ^ as unheard of audacity in the
dressmaker to venture within the charmed
: limits.
"Will you allow me to try on your
dress, Miss Trevor?"
Ma:ia stood haughtily silent in the
middle of the room, while Ruth, mount
ed on a stool to bring her nearer to Miss
Trevor's height, put in pins here and
there, and laid little folds and hasted
refractory seams.
"She is pretty," thought Maria, as the
sunlight glanced athwart KuthV golden
hair, and showed the exquisitely tine
ι texture of her rose-leaf skin.—"No pearl
powder there! I wonder if there was any
i truth in the report that Charles fancied
her. The idea of our brother flirting
I °
with a dressmaker!—for of course it was
nothing buta flirtation, on his part!"
And Miss Maria unconsciously gave
herself such a jerk that two pins flew half
way aeros* the room, and Ruth arched her
j eyebrows.
"Dear nie. Mine Trevor, 1 shall never
got your dress fitted if you don't stand
still!"
•'Home?'1 said Maria Trevor,imperative
ly, to the coachman, as she· folded tho
gay Afghan over her silken skirts. The
promised turn in the Park must stand
aside uow—Mise Trevor was anxious to
impart the choice bit ol gossip she had
just gleaned.
Mrs. Trevor wae dreaming over a bit
of embroidery by the lire, and Charles
Tro\Oi\ -t;;n iing in ihj bijr window, was
glancing up and down the columns of tlx*
morning paper as Miss Maiia entered.
It was a magnificent drawing room, with
ceiling of fresco and gold, and carp ts
soit and rich as finest moss, while plate
glass windows, hung with massive satin
draperies, let in a softened light, and rich
pictures glimmered on the walls. The
Trevors were not rich—but the Trevors
were very worldly, ami knew exactly how
to make appearances their tool.
"Mamma, what do you think?" ex
claimed Maria, breathless aud eager;
"that Kuth Murray, whom we met at
Ward ley Place—the pretty blonde I told
you of—'
"What of her?" .asked Mi Trevor, as
Maria stopped for breath, and Charles
looked quickly up, with a deep flush on
his check.
"She's nothing but a dressmaker!"
"Nonsi nse, Maria, you surely must be
mistaken."
"Hut Γιιι not mistaken, mamma. 1
saw her this very morning at Miss
Mackenzie's ; and she tried my dress on
\\ it h her own hands!"
"Surely, my love, Kate Wardley would
never invite a yoflng person in that social
position to—"
"But, mamma, the Ward ley s are *«>
odd, you never know what freaks they
may !>e guilty of. The idea of α common
dressmaker presuming to associate vs iih
those who are so tar above her!"
"Stop a moment, Maria," said Charle<
Trevor, advancing into the room. "I
have yet to learn in what respect Mi-^
Murray i« at all inferior t«· any of the
guests at Wardley Place,—in mv estima
tion, her beauty, grace and intellect place
her fai above any young lady there!"
"There, mamma, I t«dd you ;u«t how
it was!" said Maria, turning to her mother.
"Charles has been just foolish enough to
become infatuated with her baby fact·. I
wish we had never gone to Wardley
rincer
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Trevor"
"you surely cannot be in-earnest."
"Mother." s.iid Charles, quietly, "lam
so deeply and entirely in earnest that I
shall a>k you within a few da ν s to
welcome Kuth Murray as your son's wile."
"Charles!" gasped the mother, "are
you insane?"
"Will you receive her as your second
daughter, mother?"
"Never!"
"And J never, never, will recognize
her as one of the family," exclaimed
M ma, actually pale with anger. 'Châles,
how dare you degrade us?'
"It is ;m honor." returned her brother, ,
calmly. "Kuth i- a jewel of the first wa
ter—mne's the pity that you are blind to |
it· sparkle."
"But Charles—my son," pleaded the '
mother, "we have so depended on yonr ,
making a worthy alliance."
"λΐother, I am so sirk ol this scheming
and maneuvering," passionately spoke
out the young mail. "Depend upon it. I
shall never become Ihe hanger-on to a
rich wife. I have too much respect for
myself evci to Ikî iKiiight and sold in the
matrimonial market. I love Kuth Murray
and I -hall marry her !"
Ami from llii- po-ition no storm of i
tears, reproaches or upbraiding», could
induce him to-werve one hair's breadth
It was not plea-ant to be seen, this do- '
mestic whirlwind; but was not Kuth
Murray woi th il all ?
"And w hen will you be my w ife, Kuth?"
••Only wait until February, Charles,
pleaded the blue-eyed damsel, "1 hare but
one relation in the world—my uncle—and
lie is coming home from abroad. I should
like him to be present at my marriage."
So Charles Trevor waited, much against
his will.
Manu Trevor came into the drawing
room one evening, full charged with the
fashionable on <lit of the day.
"Mamma, everybody is talking about
this Sir William Murray, who has just
arrived from India. Mr. Lacy says he
was commander-in-chief there, and is
imiucnsly rich ; moreover, that he is a
bachelor, and his niece is to be sole heir
ess. Couldn't wo contrive to iu;tke her
acquaintance? Oh, if Charles wasn't
such an infatuated madman about tliis
dress-making girl."
"It's the same name," mused Mrs. Tie
vor; "surely they cannot be count· .'ted !"
Maria laughed contemptuously.
"General Murray connected with a
dress maker! That looks likely, don't it!''
And Mrs. Trevor owned to herself that
the idea had been a very vague and vision
ary one.
The wedding was to be quiet—Ruth had
insisted upon this—and as she walked to
the church dressed in a neat gray travel
ling guise, leaning confidently on the
arm of her future husband, a sudden
memory flashed across Charles Trevor's
brain.
"I thought you expected an uncle,
Ruth ?"
"He will met us at the church, Charles."
"And you've never even told me his
name, Ruth.''
"His name—is General Sir William
Murray."
"What !—not the General Sir William
Murray Γ
"I think thcro is Init one General Sir
William Murray," said Ruth, smiling at
her lover's astonishment.
"Hallo! ejaculated Charier, stopping
short and staring down into the blue eyes
—"and are you theheires* that half the
world is goosiping about ?" ,
"1 believe so Charles."
Charles Trevor never spoke another
word until the marriage ceremony requir
ed his voice, and hardly know whether
he was awake or dreaming, then his
wife introduced him to a tall, white hair
ed old gentleman who had given her
away as "Uncle William."
"Young man" said the General, "my
nieee tells me that she married you under
f;il hi pretensions—doyou regret the trans
action?"
"Nota hit of it," said Charles, heartily.
"I don't care whethei; she is a dress
maker or an hoire^s, as long as she is my
own little Ruth."
"It was her own caprice," said the vet
ran, laughing. "The (act is, Ruth w.i
>o afraid oi becoming the victim to sonic
devouring fortune hunter—"
"That «h·· turned dressmaker in sefl
defence,".· lid llutli, finishing her I'ncle'.s
sentence for him. "Kate Wardley and
Mi>s Mackenzie, who had once been my
mother's maid, were alone cognizant of
•nv secret; and the\ hnve kept it well.
Now it i> no longer a secret. Oh, t liar
lev! how 1 trembled that t.ight at Ward
lev I' ll ace, lest you -thouId withdraw
your love when I told you I was only a
dressmaker."
"I loved you.llutli," s.iid honeM ( 'harles
all unconscious that any other expla
nation was possible.
And Ruth looked triumphantly at her
Uncle, with eyes that said, "Have 1 not
won .ι prize?"
Uncle William wiped his spectacles and
smiled, but said nothing. To him Ruth
wa> the de ir«»sl fhhg in all the world,
and he could fully >vmp ithize with Mr.
Tr«*· «·|·.
M .. !! t·') ν ·'· . >ι · I ι .·· mother and
-41 . . : !i iuVi κ» her j ι Lace heme witb a
«wei't Irankne^s and cor I al welcome
that aim ·Μ porsuad '«I M iria into the be
liefthat sle· had entirely forgotten the
little episode in Miss Mackenzie's room ;
and Maria love» dearly to tal* to her lash·
ionable friend* about 'darling little Ruth
the heires.H, you know, that Charley mar
ried."
) οuh(/ HoHne-kerper*.
[The Γ« » 11 ο \ ν i 11 practical thoughts arc
from IΙι«· "Letters ι·» I'hilip," in the House·
hold, and should lie road by ;i 11 young
married people.] Κι». I)km.
The new li tiiso built and furnithed—
what in* xt ? My dear I'nilip.thc lion so is
but tin* shell after all. The life that it en
closes is the kernel, sweet or bitter as tin
ease may be. I think it very probable
that as, after your Ion# years ol boarding
house ex|H*rience, you sit to-day at your
own table, and watch the glow and
sparkle oi the fire upon your own hearth
stone,you feel as if your true lit'»· was just
beginning. You have no inigivings, and
but few anxieties. You have, indeed,
se· η homes that were far from realizing
your ideal; homes that instead of being
the gates of heaven, seem to lead us quite
th»· opposite direction. But you have no
fears jus to yours. It shall be an idtal
home, perfect as a poet's dream.
All! beautiful eon fide nee of youth.
We who have grown weary a little with
the "burden and the heat of the day," we
reverence it, even while we touch it ten
derly, hapU with pitying fingers. All
dreams lose a portion of their glory when,
instead of Moating airily in some faircloud
realm far above us, they grow real and
tangible; when we can lake hold of them
and note the form and dimensions there
of. This home >f yours, which 1 trust
will be one of the happiest on earth, will
not be quite what your fancy has pictured
it. In various letters that I have written
to Alice the burden of my song I as been,
"Do not expect too much." It is but fair
that I should repeat the refrain in your
disbelieving ears.
I wonder, now, just what you do ex
pect? You were a mere boy when you
left your father's house, and you are more
familiar with the homes of dreamland
than with those of this work-a-day world.
Your imagination has never descended to
the tin pans ami potatoes of actual dt»
nie.stio life; and I would really like to
know what your ideas are concerning
that life. Fiction has given us a host of
improbable wives in improbable white
dresses, living i:i improbabl cottages and
serving up iinpro!» iblc desserts <»( straw
»tM" i - ill < ' ii.ι t ce rtain equally ini
pi ) <« !: . r I) > aot, I beg of you,
fa>hi«tn >oui ideas a;i. r any such pattern.
Heal lile is a different thing. White dress
ed will become soiled, and they must be
washed and "done up." Bridget attempts
the latter feat, and lo! her tlat iron is too
hot, and leaves its mark in burnt umber
upon the front breadth ; or the starch
"sticks" and the sheen muslin is drawn
dreadfully askew. Then Bridget's mis
tress conies to the rescue, and succeeds;
for brain can accomplish more than mus
cle any day. But the day is very hot; all
the blood in her body ha", she thinks,
made its way into her trembling red hand.
That is, she thinks so until she looks in
the mirror and sees her face is equally
Hushed, and finds her hair in an unwont
ed st ite o! dishevelment. She is too tired
and too uncomfortable to dress immediate
ly, and when John comes in he finds Mary
1 —not wearing the legendary white gown,
hut trying to rest from the fatigue of iron·
ing it. I will leave it to any lady of your
acquaintance who is not rich enough t<>
keep a laundry-maid, to say if the alwve
is not a fair statement.
Then «t'Kwberries, very unfot innately,
do not grow picked ami hulled, and ready
for eating. Quite frequently it is true,
the worms, or the birds, or the drought,
or the cold weather, or some other of tho
ills that strawberries .ire heir fo, prevent
the necessity of picking them at all. Hut
ί assure you, Philip, that if they are eaten
they have to he pieked hy somebody ;
perhaps with the sun beating down upon
that sonicIxnly's head, and when the flies
and mosquitoes seen» thicker than the
fruit. This, mind you, is simply by way
of illustration. White dresses and straw
berries symbolize a great deal of the poet
ry of domestic life which in the end re
solves itself into the baldest prose.
The woman wo read of performs all
manner of culinary and domestic feats
without so much as ruffling an eyebrow.
She stands over a glowing stove and
dishes up savorv messes of her own con
cocting without an added flush or a
quickened breath. She >teps from her
kitchen to the head of her table without a
mo tient in which to re arrange her toilet,
a!i»l appears there a* cool, a- fre>h, :ts
immaculate in attire, with hand» ax white
.uni forehead as calm, a- it she h:id
had nothing to d<> all day but to lounge on
a <»of;i and read of impracticable heroines
like h» rsclf. The woman we know tears
her dres* and displays an occasional
grease sp:>t. Her hair gets out of curl
nnd even frowsy. She bums her fingers
in attempting to take the blend from tho
oven, and burns h *r faco as she stirs ' *r
custards. There is ι black spot on iiie
holder and it transfers its.-If to her hand.
She g«*ts tired and -«li ' shows it. in spite
of every effort to ίπ· one of the pattern
housewives who are never fatigued and
who are always a.* fresh as dew-drops.
Knowing as I do thai you are not rich
enough to relieve Alice—it such a thing
i>> ever possible—from all household care
and labor, I forewarn you that you will
sometimes find her in an uhbecorning
wrapper, with her hair tied up in a hand
kerchief—and—not an inch of her face
that is lit to kiss? You I;» not believe me ;
but it will be so. Did you ever happen
to >et your mother in "h >tnc-eleaning
time?"
The children of romance .in;all ·**·ιιΠ«·«Ι
darling- little «inles* angels who found
tin· gates of heaven ajar.out· day and
came down here on errands of merry.
They walk in firry furnaccs and coinc out
of th»*rii without as much as the stn· i of
lire upon their garments. They touch
pitch with their pure, fearless lingers
hut they are neverdeliled. Tin; children
of real life have their "hits of temper"
and their dirty face*. They get the croup
and the meas|e.J. They lose their fir·*'.
! teeth ami the second set come in awry.
They tear their little trousers and pet
: grass-stains and berry-H'aiiis on tfn'ir
i white aprons. Ami—bless their little
' hearts, we love them all the hettcrth.it
they have not found th- ir wings yet —
they rau into tie· street and strike up im
promptu intimacies with lod-headen Mike
and frecklcd-faecd Pan, and learn to say
words that :ire not in the dictionary and to
double up their chubby little fists after
the fashion of prize tighter*. Now, I do
not say that the woim-n <»r the children of
real life are a whit le«s c!i inning, lc-s
Movatde t'i:»n tho·"» of r<»m in c. |{iit I do
-ay that if a young mm cultivate·» his
: ta-tcs too lasfldiousl y and t i!u-s his idea
• if woman as >he should Ik-from Irvine's
"Wife" and stories of that ilk—where
lw\e and poverty, vine-wreathed cottages
spotless muslins, hlue riband-, harp-,
and straw I »errie- and cream, mingle in
picturesque confusion—he will surely be
! disappointed. Some day »ν!ι·. η he comes
: into tne house and lind Man down on
1 ο·· knees mending a hole in the carpet,
witii her hair pushed back to keep it out
ot the way, her hands soi le I by the du-t
and stained by the colored yarns, he will
, begiit to think she is rather a common
place sort of a worn·'.η : not at all what
I · ·
he had conceived her to be. Life is
crowded with unpoctic duties an ' derails.
A beautiful home is a poem. But the
sweeping and «Justing and ouril ving and
renovating that keep it such, and that
must l# done, are prosaic in the extreuo.
And in ninety-nine out of a hundred
families, take our eountn through, a lnrge
share of these inevitable duties fall—and
rightly—upon the wife.
Rightly, 1 say; for I am not quarreling
with this state of tiling. In the millen
iutn, perhaps, we shall all he released
| from the necessity of doing common place
things, and, what is better, of thinking
1 common-place thoughts. Until that time
i conn s, however, I imagine that in spite·
j of phalansteries and co-operative housc
i keeping, it will be needful for women
to attend to their household^. and in so
doing to come in contact with the dusi
ami grime of actual life. Happy is the
man who does not need the wand of the
fairv God mother to enable him to recog
nize tl ο Princess in thegarboi Cinderilla !
Jiethel Saturai History Society.
The Bethel Natural History Sc ieh
met at the house of K. Foster, Esq., oil
Saturday evening, Nov. ^7th. ΙΗβϋ. Λ
full and interesting paper was read by
Win. Gray, M. D.,«n the Natural History
of the Southern Alligator. (Alligator Mis·
sissippiensie). He had a fine stuffed speci
men for illustration, as well :is the skele
ton. Each joint of the vertebra.· is con
cavo convex, while that ot fi*hos isuo· bl
concave. The bone* ot the extremities
are stouf, and the surface rough for the
insertion of e'.jut muscles. The nose is
round, while that of the crocodile ie point
ed. He turns the ipper jaw back. His
teeth, like those of reptiles, generally
enter socket*, hut they are never pronged.
I he teeth of lishes are soldered to the
bony plate and have no socket. The
lower jaw is smaller than the upper, so
that the teeth all shut within the contour
of the upper jaw. This distinguishes all
the Western reptiles of this order from
the K.istem crocodiles. The back is
covered with row· of square, l>ony like
plates. The >kin is tough and sometimes
tanned tor leather. They are cold-blood
ed. By means of a drawing he showed
how the inculating is carried on. Reptiles
have but three cavities to the heart. The
impure venous blood and the pure arterial
blood are both poured into the ventricle,
where they are mixed, and in that con
dition distributed over the system. This
induced a low order of vitality. Conse
quently they are sluggish in their move·
meiits go a long time without food, and
ι heir iueulation is slow and the blood of
of the· »aino temperature as the sur.ound
ingmetl mi. They perish wle η the ten»·
peiatui'i* is at the freezing point of waur.
Thev are generally de>eribed as very
t'«-ro( ious, I.nt this i<» not so. They are
naturally 'luggidi, but swim rapidly with
the t ·Ι, and can -trike down a calf with
their powerful tail and drag it under wa
ter. (Prof. Cruttenden, who was present
said he had heard of their striking a pig
with their tail and whisking it into their
mouth, all with one motion.) They switu
in the water exposing only their eyes
and thçtipoi the nose, forming a triangle.
They will lie on an old log from which
they cannot easily be distinguished. They
lie there with the upper jnw turned up
ward, :us if they were watching for some
thing to turn up or down. When fired at
they do not crawl otV the log, but tumble
oil into the water. They hylwrnate in the
mud and make their appearance in April.
The female lays her egg-*, about the si/*
of a goose eg^, in the earth on the bank
of the bayous and streams, where she
leaves them to be hatched by the heat of
the sun. When near the time of hatching
she makes her appearance and appears
ν tv restless and watchful. She digs
them out ot the».· holes, by which many
id tuein are destroyed. As soon as they
are hatched tin y present all the traits of a
fullgrown alligator ; they w»ll snap and
yelp like a young puppy, and immediate·
U seek the water, where they are cared
for by the parents for thetir>t three months,
when thev take e.ire ot themselves. Ihe
ν · ding are v\ eb-ft> )ted, but lose thai charac
ter in adult age.
The President than exhibited the (»ar
! Pike IV» » m the Mississippi river, and
I «howed lli.it if v.- a connecting link be
tween r«»ptilcf mi·t fishes. It h:nl a con.
a\e convex rctebra like reptiles, and
eon M turn its head independent of its
body, which other fishes could not do.
After considerable discus-ion of much
, interest to the members, on tin· Mibjcct,
i the next p:ip«?r was read by K. Fo*tor.K>
on tli" IlardnesH of Minerals. After de
; scribing the eharae· ri-tics of a mineral
lie said th.it in" ·· ralojjisH had divided
I . .
minerals into ten different durées .,t
h.trdnoss. The softest was that which
could be scratched with the nail. The
diamond was the hardest, which could
not be scratched by any other substance.
Quartz possess» I [in· hardness of?. Xo
stone not harder than quartz was was re
; girded as .1 precious gem, though many
eofti r mineral·; were employed in je weir}'.
Tiie President stated that a diamond can
be detected from other gems by placing
it in fluoric aeid. if a diamond it would
not lu· affected : if anv Mliecous £.·ηι it
I would be ctchc ! on its surfiec. Mr. J.
A. Snv 'i state I that precious gem- are
often m de partially of glass. The Frei.ch
paste was set on the· bottom and on it
wa- fastened a thin plate ol the emerald,
tins presenting the external appe·■ ι mice
of a real gem. The only place in this
country for cutting the diamond was in
Hostou.
The next pv>er v.·as on the min
eral resource·» of Colorado, by J. AMen
Smith ol Denver City, Colorado, lie
said that C'»lora»lo was where tlu
Great American Desert was located
years ago, but now more wh^at had been
1
raised to the acre the la-t year than iu
any oilier part of !h" Γηίοη. It·» agric J
tural resources were excellent and ra. id
! lv developing. The continuous paying
I mineral region embraced a territory from
j 10 to Ιό mile.· square, while another belt
: 3'X) miles long and from 10 to .'JO miles
I ·
wide, paid well at times. This part of
i the subjeci ho would endeavor to present
at the next meeting. There are no forests
except among the mountains. The prin
[ » ip:il growth is pine, spruce, tir, and a
little cedar and a little cotton-wood along
the streams. There are no hard woods,
except a little scrub oak for a distance ol
508 miles, but they have the ligneous
coal in large quantities. Ile had visited
one vein 12 feet thick ant! nearly horizon
tal so that a horse and carriage could drive
anywhere in the vein where it had been
quarried, for a distance of 500 feet.
Another vein of lb led wide was vertical.
It had been sunk 800 feet. It was nearly
pure, free from slate rock and frequently
showed the woody structure and covered
with resin. It burns with a clear tlaine,
and is very valuable. It is used almo«*t
e xel usively for f^ -1 in Den ver and Colorad ο
city. It seems to be inexhaustible. He