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"fc.^"' "mfc-^^SErg rsr z-szw&^sa&immm ON THE CHANNEL-BOAT. OW CAUUS, MAY, 1879BY G. L. 0. "What! Fred, you here? I didn't see You come aboard at Dover. I[mct the Browns list week they said That you were coming over, But didn't say how soon." "Oh yes, I came hy the Britannic And what a rush there was for berths! Twas almost like a panic. I'm mighty glad to meet you, Will "Where are you going?" "Paris." "Good! so am I. I've got to meet My cousin, Charley Harris, To-morrow. He and I have planned A little trip together Through Switzerland on foot I hope WeTl have some decent weather." Take eare there! hold your hat it blows.'i "Yes how this steamer tosses! I'm never seaBick Charley is, Though, every time he crosses. Who's with you, Will?" 'Tm traveling with My sister and my mother They're'both below. I carue on deck It's close enough to smother Down there These chaps don't care a snap Tor ventilation, hang 'em! Where did you stop in London? We Were stopping at the Langham." "You were? Why, so was I. But then I only got there Sunday At breakfast time, and went away The afternoon of Monday And yet within that short sojorn I lost my heart completely Such style! such eyeBi such rosy cheeks! Such lips that smiled so sweetly! I only saw her twice, and then Dont laugh'twas at a distance But, Will, my boy, I tell you what, In all my blest existence ne'er before set eyes upon A girl eo really splendid. But, pshaw! I couldn't stay, and so My short-lived visions ended. I don't suppose she'll e?er know How I, a btranger, love her." .Who was she, Fred?" "Ah! that's just it I eouldnt e'en discover Her name, or anything at all About her. Broken-hearted, I saw it wasn't any use To try so otl I started And here I am, disconsolate." "All for an unknown charmer! You're soft, my boy. Let's stroll abaft The sea is growing calmer Or forward, if you like. The view May make your feelings rally. We're drawing near to France, in half An hour shall be at Calais, See! there's the town, and, just this side The port with shipping in it And there, beyond, vou see the spires, And" "Fere, Will, stop a minute. Byjove! look there! that girl in gray, With red flowers iu her bonnet! I do declareIyesit's she I'd take my oath upon it. What luck! if I bad only known! How can it be 1 missed i er? Look! bere she comes!" Why, Fred, you fooll That girl in gray's my sister!" GEN. JOSEPH LANE. An Autohlographi al Sketch of the Veteran Soldier and Senator. The following letter from Gen. Joseph Lane appears in the Charlotte, N. C., Ob server. It is dated at Rosen burs', Oregon, July 17, 1870, and is addressed to a lady friend and relative at Charlotte. DEAR MADAMYour letter of the 21st ult. has been received. I thank you for it, and woubi have answered ere this but for a press of business that could not be delayed. I am the grandson of Jesse Lane, one of the three brothers mentioned in your letter, who lived where Raleigh now stands. The three brothers were bom near where they lived away back in colo nial times were clever, intelligent, old style gentlemen, and did good service in the war of the Revolution. My father, John Lane, entered the army while quite young, just in time to be in the battle of King's Mountain, and remained in the army until the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. He voted lor George Wash ington the second term, North Carolina having adopted the constitution after his first election he then voted for John Ad ams, first and only term, then for Jeffer son, two terms, then for Madison, for Monroe, Jackson, etc. My father and uncle, Charles Lane, set tled in Buncombe in 1795, where they spent money, time and much labor in an effort to estaolibh iron-works near where Asheville now stands, but failed to ac complish their olject In 1798 my father, then about 40 years old, married my mother, Elizabeth Street. I am the second son, and was born iu Buncoiuba, within four miles of Asheville, on the 14th of December, 1801. In 1804 my father left Buncombe for Henderson county, Ky where I was rais ed. I married young, raised ten children six sons and four daughtersall now living but ne, a son, who died of cholera in New )rleans, in December, 1848. The others are living in this state, all married but one, to-wit: Col. John Lane, a grad uate of Weat Point, who resigned at the commencement of the late civil war, iomed the Southern army, came out at the end of the war badly" whipped, and returned to Oregon. My life has been an eventful one. I was elected to the legislature ot Indiana in 1828 from the counties of Vanderburg and Warw ck, where I had settled some years before, and continued to serve in the State legislature oft and on until '46, when fresigned a seat in the Senate and entered the army then being organ ized Jbr the war with Mexico soon raised from the position ot private to that of birgadier, and came out of service at the close of the war a major-general. My first battle, Buena Vith, was under Taylor, then transferred to Scott's line, and saw and helped to fight as many, if not more, bat tles than any offieer of that war. Very soon after peace was made with Mexico I was appointed by Mr. Polk, then President, governor of Oregon ter ritory and ex-officio superintendent of In dian affairs. The trip to reachtlny post ot duty had to be made across the plains in the winter, a feat that had not before then been accomplished. But I had at the request of Mr. Polk undertaken the journey, and with hurried preparations an escort of twenty men, under Lieut. Haw kins, left Fort Leavenworth on the 10th day of September, 1848, aad after a haid struggle arrived at Oregon City on the 2d of March, 1849, and on that day issued a proclamation making known that the laws of the United States, by act of Con gress, had been extended over the terri tory of Oregon that I had been duly el ected governor, had taken the oath of of fice and had entered upon the duties thereof. Weil, I continued in office, at wawmm tended to the interests of the good people, and also to the Indian affairs, brought the murderers of our people, Chief Tilo kite and four of his braves, to trial and the gallows, had several fights with different tribes, came near being killed, was very badly wounded, placed rela tions on a good footing with all the tribes, and in 1851 was elected delegate to Congress was four times elected dele gate, and then elected one of Oregon's first United States Senators retired from the Senate in 1861. In 1870, on the 16th of August, my good and beloved wife died. Since then lived alone on my ranch in the mountains, twelve miles from this place, until now. I have just finished a neat little home, where I think I shall spend my days unto the end. I am in a quiet part of our town near some of my children, with whom I shall take my meals, and still live alone in my pleasant little home. My son Lafayette, who represented this state in the Forty fourth Congress, lives near my house he is the youngest of my tan children, a good lawyer and kind son. And now, returning to the old family: I visited in 1860, North Carolina, and my lather's birfh-pluce, the old home of my grandfather, four miles from Raleigh. In Raleigh I visited the house in which Joel Lane lived at the time he deeded as a present to the state 640 acres of land, on which the city now stands called at the state-house, where the records are kept, to look at tho deed of conveyance saw many relatives, and spent several days with my cousin, David L. Swain, at Ghapel Hill, and learned much about out family, and intended to visit Buncombe, but did^not. Had I carried out my pro gramme' I might have enjoyed the pleas ure of seeing yeu. Of my grandfather's family there were eight sons and eight daughters. My aunts married gentlemen named respec tively as follows: Rhoda was married to Rakestraw, Patience to John H^rt, Re becca to Lucky, Sally and Polly to broth ers named Kilpatrick, Winnifred to Rog ers, Elizabeth to Parson Montgomery, and your grandmother, Carrie, married David Lowiie. My father and Uncle John Hart, Matt. Barher and one other gentleman, whose name I forget, and Uncle Lowry, were in pursuit of Indians who haci been stealing and robbing the outside settlers, andall five were good Indian fightersventuring too far were attacked by a large party of warriors, Barber, Lowiy and the other, after hard_ fighting, were killed my lather and Hart made good their escape. Sometime after Aunt Carrie married Swain, whose sont David L. Swain, I had corresponded with for many years before I made his acqaintance at Chapel Hill, as above mentioned. All the eight sisters were noble, good and true women. oft en saw your grandmother, but was to young to remember her. Gov. Swain oft en spoke of her with much love and re spect, and esteemed her one of the best mothers and most lovable of women. The eight sons of my grandfather were named sis follows: Charles, Joel, Jona than, Simon, John, Richard, Joseph and Jessie. Gov. Colquitt of Georgia is the son ot the daughter of my uncle Jo. Lane. I met him in Mexico and served with him in Congress. My grandfather moved from Georgia to Illinois when he was 84 years of age, and killed1 many buffaloes in that then new and uninhabited country. He died at 88. I know but little of the whereabouts of many of many my cousins. They are scattered over the Southern States. HAIR OP THE PRESIDENTS. An Interesting Collection in the Patent lice at Washington. Of- In the Patent Office at Washington there are many objects of interest con nected with the Government and those who administered its affairs in time gone by. While examining some of those ob jects of curiosity nothing struck us so forcibly as the samples of small locks of hair, taken from the heads of Chief Mag istrates, from Washington down to Pierce, secured in a frame covered with glass. Here is, in fact, a part and parcel of what constituted the living bodies of those illustrious individuals whose names are as familiar as household words, but who now live only in history and the remem brance of the past. The hair of Washington is nearly a pure white, fine and smooth in its appearance. That ot John Adams is nearly the same in color, though perhaps a little coarser. The hair of Jefferson is of a different character, being a mixture of white and auburn, or a sandy brown, and rat er course. In his youth Mr.Jefferson's hair was remarkable for its bright color. The hair of Madison is coarse and a mixed white and dark. The hair of Monroe is a handsome dark auburn, smooth and free from any mix ture. He is the only President, excepting Pierce, whose hair has undergone no change in color. The hair of John Quincy Adams is somewhat peculiar, being coarse and a yellowish-gray in color. The hair of Gen. Jackson is almost a perfect white, but coarse in its character, as might be supposed by those who have examined the portraits of the old hero. The hair of Van Burcn is white and smooth in appearance. The hair of Gen. Harrison is a fine white, with a slight admixture of black. The hair of John Tyler is a mixture of white and brown. The hair of James K. Polk is almost a pure white. The hair of Gen. Taylor is white, with a slight admixture of brown. Toe hair ot Millard Filmore is, on the other hand, brown, with a slight admix ture of white. The hair of Franklin Pierce is a dark brown, of which he has a plentiful crop. It is somewhat remarkable, however, that since Pierce's time no one has thought of preserving the hair of his sue cessers. There are vacancies in the case: but there is no hair either ot Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson, or Grant, for the in spection of futurity. When Payne, the author of "Home Sweet Home," returned to Boston after a long absence in Europe he called upon a lady, an old school-mate, who said, "Mr. Payne, don't you find Boston much changed?*' "Yes madam," he answered, "very muchI receivevery manywinvitations attend church and fe to dinner A little boy up town calls the cinders from the chimney "the shavings of the smoke." IrentBUB, Eve and the Virgin Mary. BrIUlh Quarterly Review. In regard to the interpretation of the Old Testament, it must be admittod that, in accordance with the custom of his times, Irenseus gave the reins to his imagination, indulging in tho most un constrained observation of analogies to Christian doctrines. And for this he ad duces the authority of the ancient pres byter he so often quotes. From him he learned not to reproach the patriarchs and prophets with those sins for which the Scriptures reproves them, for they were remitted by the advent of Christ, while in regard to those which the Scrip tures only mention, but do not blame, we should not impute sin, but seek a type, for none of these are idly told, or without some spiritual significance. The wonder is that when nis adversaries sought to establish then views by arbi trary allegorical interpretations, he did not see that in indulging himself in such interpretations, which were also arbritra ry, he was nol helping rather than op posing them. To one of his analogies we shall advert particularly, as has been recently supposed to present some thing forshadowing the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. We mean the analogy between the circum stances ot Eve's temptation and cum annunciation of the Virgin Mary. Irenseus was/ not singular in his day in ob serving this analogy, which is in some re spects so oblivious, that it has at all times been noticed even by those who have failed to perceive any special doctrinal significance in it. We shall translate the words et Irenseus as nearly as we can from the edition ot the Jesuit Feuardent: 'When the Lord was coming to his own, His own creature bearing Him which was borne by Himself, and was making a re capitulation ot that disobedience, which was in respect to a tree by that obedience which was on the tree, that seduction being undone by which the Virgin Eve, already destined to a husband, was ill-scduccd, the Virgin Mary, already betrothed to a husband, was well evangelized through the truth by an angel. For as the one was seduced by the discourse of an angel, that she might get rid of God, going contrary to his word, so the other, by the discourse of an angel was evangelized, that she might bear God, be ing obedient to his word. And as the one was seduced that she might get rid of God, so th i other was persuaded to bey God of the Virgin Eve the Virgin Mary might become the advocate, (nodoubl, parakle tos, counselor, is meant and as the human race was bound to death by means of a virgin, so by means of a virgin it might be loosed, virginal disobedience being bal ancing an even scale by virginal obedience. For th? sin heretofore of the first created was receiving emendation by the chastise ment of the first begotten, the wisdom of the serpent being vanquished in sim plicity of the dove, while the bonds were united by which we were bound to death." Tiie same analogy is drawn out less con cisely in iii.33. There are, however, a few differences. The assumption that Eve was a virgin at the time of the fall is there justified by another pure assump tion, that the newly-formed couple were as yet immature. The Virgin Mai y, by her obedience, became a cause of salvation, as Eve, by disobedience, became a cause of death. The obedience, however, is represented as a con equence of piedesti nation, which has a clang of Calvanism about it which seems strange in so great an advocate of tree will as our author was. God predistinated the animal man tirsti to wit, that he mig'it be saved by the spiritual man. As the Saviour pre existed, it behooved that what might be saved should be created, that the word Saviour should not be void of meaning. Consequently the Virgin Mary is found obedient, saying, "Be it unto me according to my word." This seems to negative the idea of any merit on her part. If she is said to have loosed through faith what Eve had bound through unbelief, the way in which the untying of the knot is explained implies that Mary was herself entangled in the knot in a manner quite inconsistent with the notion in reference to which the an alogy is relied on. The reciicling back of Mary upon Eve is fancifully illustrated by the loosing of what is tied into a knot. Tt.is can only be effected by the turning back of one of the fastenings into anoth er, whereby there is a loosening of knotted cords. Mary must therefore have been herself entangled in the knot untied by her being turned back upon Eve. Artistic Wives. OWhat a number ot decorative wives there are in society, especially in that which assumes to be' 'jur bestand it is all the best I exclaims a writer in the New York 1 imes Cheap satirists rail at them they are treated in epigrams thgy are lectured, impersonally, for their wordli ness. But why should they#be? They please their husband they perlorni their part of the contract they are the radiant centre to which all their surroundings lead, and are toned up. No one can say that they do not harmonize admirably with the Turkish rugs, Venetian mirrors, frescoed ceilings, delicately tinted walls, rosewood tables, handsome pictures, beautiful vases, and curious bric-a-orac they are environed by. To all the'r hus band's guests they are most courteous and gracious. They never speak a woid too much they never do a superfluous thing their moods and manners are mat rimonially exact. They move or delight, but they never offend, and the many who meet and associate with them are quick to say that they are charming womena social phrase which denotes that their own self-love respects the self-love of oth ers. Every particle of their decorative duty they dischaige they are social ar tists and aie perfectly aware where light is needed and shadow is most effective, what 8 ades of color will blend, and when boldness of handling is required. Tho husband of the decorative wife is usually very good-natured or seems so and seeming is all that society asks for. His material affairs are apt to prosper, his clothes fit, his dinners aro excecllent, his digestion is complete. In these com mon prosaic things, it is wonderful how much of what is called mans happiness is easily embraced. He is uni.ormly polite he has plenty of self-discipline and regards it as a part of his religion never to disturb those who are- protected by his roof. He and she aro always on the best of drawing-room terms, treating one another as courteously as if they were not married. They might serve as models for couples notoriously fond. They have no lovers' quarrels, they do not display anger one hour and tenderness the next, either of which is equally disagreeable. They preserve a well-bread consideration and esteem one for the other, and glide smoothly through apparent difficulties to graceful conclusions. They demonstrate the practical value of decorative art cop ied from the home into humanity, or transferred, mayhap, from humanity to the home. In this country, decorative wives may be said to have come in with the latter half of tho present century. They are foreign rather than*native, but, having became ingrafted on domestic stock, they flourish as bravely here as beyond tho sea. They may be styled American on the European plan. THE CIRCUS FOR HE. "Olc Bill Cole Is a jolly old soul A jolly old 60ul was he, And we all must go To see the mammoth show. Forhe lets 'the boys'in free", 'Tis now along the highways The robins gayly flute, An in the orchard byway The cabbages take root. 'Tis now the chief musician 'Round the cottage is the wren 'Tis now the fruition Of the merry -hearted hen Wakesjoy in the bosom ofAnn Maria Who sells eggs. A teacher who taught in St Paul, One evening went out to a ball, Then she told the trustees "I'll doju6t as I please," And she lost her positisn, that's all. Syracuse Tim&s. An infant was born in Nyack, Whose body was totally black As a dozen silk hats. Or a stack of black cats, And its face was as black as its back. Syracuse Times God bless the girls, Whose golden curls Are not what they do seem But at the end of day. On the bureau lay. While their owner sweetly dream. FMladelphia Item. In the spring, the female fancy Lightly turns to thoughts of -bonnet, With amaze of gimp and ribbons And a bunch of feathers on it St. Louis Times. Upward and earthward the baseball wings its way, And boys get stomach-nlows while at the play The new-made grave a stone with these words shows He failed to catch itand so out he goes." New York Express. Presidential Pictures. Washington Letter to Cincinnati Commercial. Healys portraits of the Presidents of ishe United States, recently added to the Cor coran Art Gallery, are mainly the studies from which, about 30 years ago, he ex ecuted a commision from Louis Philippe, then King of the French. Those ot the earliest Presidents are copies from Stuart and Harding, the others are from life. They were purchased of the artist by Thomas B. Bryan, Esq., of this city to gether with the portraits of Taylor, Fill more, Pierce, Buchanan, and Lincoln, painted since the French Royal order, and sold by him to the gallery. They are ot various degrees of merit one or two are quite bad, a greater number in differently good, and few leally excellent. From some unexplained cause the por trait ot General Harnscn is not em braced in the collection. The Directors are anxious to supply the omission, and two have already been forwarded them for inspection, with a view to their sale, but neither proved satisfactory. The bet ter of these came from Louisville, and is the property of Mr. Oliver W. Lucas, clerk of the board of Aldermen of that city. It is by Mr. John R. Johnston, for merly of Cincinnati,but now of Baltimore, and was painted in 1840, about the time of the general's election to the Presidency, It it a tolerably correct likeness, but .the colors are much faded, and it is cons d erably, though not irreparably injured in its transportation hither. For these rea sons, and in tuc hope of securing a less objectionable picture, its purchase was declined. Mr. J. H. Beard painted sev eral portraits of the general, which must still be in existence, in a good state of preservation The portrait of Mr. Lincoln was painted in 1860, during the pendency of the Presi dential election or immediately thereafter, under an order from Mr. Bryan, then a citizen of Ciucago. The face is unshaven, ich gives it a rather youthful look, without in the least improving its native homeliness. Mr. Lincoln was in the hab it of explaining that he 'turned his beard loose'* at the suggestion of a lady, whose knowledge of his personal appearance was confined to newspaper cuts, which fairly made him an ogre. She- wrote to him that, in her woman's judgement, whiskers would add much to his beauty, and if he could be persuaded to cultivate them she would kiss him the first time they ever met. The gallant rail-splitter at once restricted his tonsorial operations to the upper and nether lips, leaving them free for the osculatory reward, and in a fe weeks garnished his cheeks, chin, and throat with a hairsuit adorn ment which puzzled Mrs. Lincoln, and sur prised his acquaintances without, as al ready intimated, cuhancing his personal pulchritude. As the necessary conclusion to this "o'er true tale," it chanced that he and the unknown lady met, and the promised reward was claimed and re ceived. He was never clean-shaved after wan). The next ugliest of the Presidents (counting Jefferson a "good third") is Zachary Taylor. His portrait somewhat refines the plain features of the rough and weather-beaten old soldier, but it very corectly represents him "as he lived." His eye, which was black, keen, and piercing, greatly relieved his common place countenance, and it fairly glows from Healy's oanvas. Probably the most striking picture in the whole "lot is that of Gen Jackson, who, too, in spite of his long life, never grew to be a "marvelous proper man,' al though his appearance was very distin guished. He sat for Mr. Healy in the spring ot 1845, and tho picture was fin ished only nine days before his death. The picture is in marked contrast with the full-length portrait of the General Eangs ainted by Vanderlyn in 1819 which in the main gallery. The latter represents him in uniform, but bare headed, standing beside a cannon, sword in hand, with the smoke of battle filling the background, and its blaze faming from his eyes and illuminating his face with martial glory. Healy's is stripped of all this glamour, and affords painful evidence of age and infirmity, of disease and suffering, but the, wonderful head still bears its leonine aspect, while the teel-blue eyes, undimmea by time or ap plication, retain their former marvelous Eower, and seem to look through the bc older. A duplicate of this picture may be seen at the Hermitage the pose is slightly altered, and the effect rendered more agreeable and impressive. Yet it is sad to look upon, and one at last turns from it with a* sigh of relief. False Wealth. The revelation made of the affairs of Mr. Harry Palmer, the colleague ot Mr. Jarrett in the management of Booth's Theater, and the enterprising and suc cessful manipulator of so many great dramatic and musical enterprises, has been a great surprise to that portion of the public which imagines because a man has to do with business in which a great deal of money passes through his hands, therefore he must be rich. Probably there never was a time when so many people who have the appearance of wealth were, in reality, as poor as now. It is not only the misfortune, it is the ruinous fault of this country that every one tries to manufacture an appearance of being much better oft than he really is/ Ex Surrogate Robert B. Hutchings re marked recently that nothing had sur prised him more in the course of his official duties than the disclosures which death made of the baseless foun dations upon which reputations for wealth were built up. Thousands ot men who live on Fifth and Madison avenues, while they are here, whose daughters are sent to expensive sehools, whose sons drive carts, and whose wives figure as patronesses of charities, are found to be worse than poor, for they have laid no honest foundation upon which their children can build even a livelihood. They have thrown themselves away upon "cats and dogs,'" their resources are represented by worthless securities, and tneir gieat expectations are mere air-bubbles. Such men have the greatest confidence in themselves and their wisdom. They resent aiiy intimation that they cannot control future events, aud never dream of the necessity ior warding off calami ty by reserving provision from the overflow of the present. The specula tive habit and tendency is so strong upon them that all other considerations are sacrificed to it in fact, they refuse to entertain them as possibilities. Nor can women be charged with blame in the matter. JThe most prosperous households of to-day, almost the only ones that arc built on a solid foundation, are those in which the wife assumes the interior management. The interests are identical and the confidence complete. It is not natural for women to live on un certainties they are usually too timid. The majority would far rather depend with safety on an income ever so small than take the chance of a great deal cf nothing. Few wives of speculative men have, however any control over thefinan cial affairs of the family. The household is run on "bills." Their inquiries and expressed wishes lor more fixed methods are me* with rebuffs they hear a great deal of inflated talk about the money made in this, that or the other, and, as "they i nd it easier to make a "bill" of $100 than to get possession of five dollars in cash, and aie compelled by force of circumstances to preserve the same appearance as the people among whom they live, why, they do it, and they could not do otherwise. MORAL MAXIMS. Which Should Be Treasured By Old and Young. Did our young readers ever think how little it takes to stain their character! A single drop of ink is a very sjuall thing, yet dropped into a tumbler of clear water it blackens the whole and so the first lie, the first oath, the flist glass, they seem very trivial, yet they leave a dark stain upon your character. Look out ior the first stain, If God hath given thee a son, be thank ful, but tremble at the trust. He hath confided to thee. Be to that child the image ot Divinity, until he is ten years old let him fear you, and until death let him respect you. Until he is ten years old be bis master, until twenty his father, and until death his friend aim to give him principles rather than elegant man ners, that he may owe thee an enlighten ed rectitude and not frivolous elegance make him an honest man rather than a man of dress. Gossip entails on those who encourage it absolute dishonorwe mean the dis honor of repeating conversations, opin ions, circumstances, not made under promise of secrecy, but which a high sense of honor would treat as confiden tial, if napiy a high sense of honor were the rule. It is odd that one of the best things a boy learns at school is to eschew tale-bearing and keep faith with his com panions, while one ot the most common practices of society is to betray the trust contained in talk, and repeat to all what has been told in implied confidence to one. This habit ot repeating what we hear is as fatal to the best intercourse of minds as to the finer feelings of integri ty- Teach your Ioy that a true lady may be found in calico quite as frequently as in velvet. Teach them that a common school education, with common-sense, is better than a college education without it. Teach them that one good honest trade well mastered is worth a dozen beg garly ''professions." Teach them that honesty is best policy, that 'tis better to be poor than to be rich on the profits of "crooked whisky.' etc., and point youi precept by the example of those who are now seftering the torments of the doomed. Teach tnem to respect their eld ers and themselves. Teach them that, as they expect to be men some day, they cannot too soon learn to protect the weak and helpless. siessKiws^aawiSiMBttsfciiss whose death is just Jannounced was one of the most secret, darkand mid night men imaginable he did not wish the fact that he was ill to be made pub lic and so, when his faithful friend was asked how the old gentleman was, he took the inquirer by the button-hole and whispered in his ear: "He's dead, butitV A doesn't want it known. 2 ESCAPED THE ROPE. I The Thrilling Appeal Which Saved a Life. In a recent case in the Recorder's Court, Attorney J. W. Donovan told the follow ing story, which is, Public Spirit believes, quite new. It hails from Texas: One hot day in July, 1860, a herdsman was moving his cattle to a new ranche further north, near Helena, Texas, and passing down the banks of a stream, his heaid became mixed with other cattle that were grazing in the valley, and some of them failed to be separated. The next day about noon a band of a dozen mount ed Texan Rangers overtook the herdsman and demanded their cattle, which they said were stolen. It was before the days of law and court houses in Texas, and one had better kill five men than to steal a mule worth five dollars, and the herdsman knew it. He tried to explain, but they told him to cut it short. He offered to turn over all the cattle not his own, but they laughed at this proposition, and hinted that thy usually confiscated the tshole herd, and left the thief hanging on a tree as a want ing to others in like cases. I The poor fellow was completely oyer come. They consulted apart a few mo ments, and then told him if he had any explanation to make or business to do, they would allow him ten minutes t do so,_and defend himselt. n'e turned to the rough faces and com menced. "How many of you have wives?" Two or three nodded. "How many of you have children?" They nodded again. Then 1 know who I'm talking to, and you'll hear me." And he continued: I never stole any cattle I have lived these parts over three years. I came from New Hampshire I failed there in the fall of '57, during the panic: I have been saving I have lived on hard fare I have slept on the ground I have no home here my family remain East, for I go from place to place these clothes I wear are rough, and I am a hard looking custom er but this is a hard country days seem like months to me, and months like years, married men, you know but that for the letters from home'- here he pulled out a handful of well-worn envelopes and let ters from his wife"I should get dis couraged. I have paid part of my debts. Here are the receipts," and he unfolded the letters of acknowledgment. "I expected to sell out and go home November. Here is the Testa ment my good mother gave rn me here is my little girl's picture.*' Ana he kissed it tenderly, and continued: "Now, men if you have decided to kill me for what I am innocent of, &end these hftme, and send as much as you can from the cattle when I"m dead. Can't you send half the value? my family will need it.' "Hold on, now stop right thari" said a rough ranger "Now, 1 say, boys," he continued, "I say, let him go. Give us your haud, old boy that picture and them letters did the business. You can go free but you're lucky, mind ye." "Well do more than that,'' end a man with a big heart, in Texan garb and carrying the customary brace of pistols in his belt *'let*s buy his cattle here, and let him go."' They did and when the money was paid over, and the man about to start, he was too weak to stand. The long strain of hopes and fears, being away from home under such trying circum stances, the sudden deliverance from death, had combined to render him helpless as a child. He sank to the ground completely overcome. An hour later, however, he left on horseback for the nearest stage-route, and, as they shook hands and bade him good-by,^ they looked the happiest band of men I ever saw. Time is Money. One fine morning, when Fracklin was busy preparing his newspaper for the press, a lounger stepped into the store and spent an hour or more looking over the books, and finally taking one in his hand, asked the shop-boy for the price. "One dollar," was the answer. "One dollar," said the lounger "can you not take less than that?" "No, indeed one dollar is the price.7' Another hour had nearly passed, when the lounger said: "Is Mr. Franklin at home?" "Yes, he is in the printing office. "1 want to see him," said the lounger. The shop-boy immediately informed Mr. Franklin that a gentleman was in the store waiting to see him. Franklin was soon behind the counter, when the lounger addressed him thus: "Mr. Franklin, what is the lowest you can take for that book?' "One dollar and a quarter," was the ready answer. "One dollar and a quarter! why your young man asked me only a dollar." "True,' said Franklin, and I could better have afforded to have taken a dol lar then than to have been taken out the office." The lounger seemed surprised, and, wishing to end the parley of his wn making, said: "Come, Mr. Franklin, tell me what the lowest you can take tor it." "A dollar and a half." "A dollar and a half? Why, you of fered it yourself for a dollar and a quar ter "Yes," said Franklin, "and I had bet ter have taken that price then than a dol lar and a half now." It is certain that Prof. L. Grandeau, ot the Agricultural Experiment Station at Nancy, France, is not a disciple ot Mr. George Vielle. He very properly be lieves that "meadows and cattle are not heresies,' and if so, he thanks God that "French /arming is still in the heresi archs," and holds that "it is more than ever necessary to increase the production of barcyard manure, and to improve the preservation and use of this important substance." Further he says "In agri culture, as in everything else, absolute doctrins are unfortunate. However gpe cious arguments to defend them may be, ho*ever plausible and positive their advocates may appear, they must be dis trusted, especially if they lead to the con tradiction ot facts which have been set tled by the experience of ages. To work* to observe, to compare and experiment, without fixed opinions, and witn the single object of discovering a portion ot truth, is the only sure way." "as \1n~\9m