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Mk- Bliss. flunk "and spam emn. Which undue. our 30;- won, "HI vim In ull. when mil 'u u‘n_ Wlth than tr kw: on. in ny “Mu drum. I m. WI“ w “brill-n 04 I, In». And put upon Mtrvunnd (run My child 3nd nk' T:¢ Mount plum!“ u! the wumz, Ute darkening nhodous lode nu; And gm. m [Hum 01th: blun- Wlleb new dot-y. ‘ oh. wedded low! Ood‘l dram! a": To render dl MI Mm ble». 'll. only. not": lu ankle we um A perfect ml. A fun for Life. “My dear follow. i am delighted to see you,"exclnimed my friend lticC‘nueilnnd,j as he met me at the door of his house. i l Ind gone on n viuit to Homesdnie, l linin ton in the north of England. McCeueland was engineer to the water company there, and had‘invited me to go down for a week. ‘ After the usual interval for dressing, we sat down at the excellent little dinner. Not. unnaturnlly the conversation turned upon the weather. . “I on sorry this rain continues,"said McGeuslund; “it spoil: my Water supply. ‘ People bully me as if [could help it.” “Are your reservoirs near the towni”! asked. “No,” he replied, “away in the hills. We can go over tomorrowif you like. I’m due more.” - _ The excursion . was arrnnged. We egreed to alert at eleven o'clock next morning, end we Itarted punctunlly. We pursued our way up the hill, and prose-l ing cheek-ow mbhed‘n email inn. .Here we‘fonnd a country gig awaiting hs.’ Into this We climbed, and proceeded along a moded by-rond, stony and rut-full. At length. when hope had Almost given {my to, had langfige, we pulled 11pm soother , Infill Inn called the 4 “Beauvoir-J“ We got on't‘bf the gig gladly. An engineer foreman hurried up and eccoeled us pfiiliulfi. l” nil d 'I , ‘ n n‘ in e c mgflhafilq {'34 r. i‘ . 3‘ ee, ell in right: but"—- ‘ “Well, but when" ' “I don’t. quite like the South Reservoir embankment," wee the reply. , _ 'ltoCenslend tundjele to hisgz’ery Ips “Oome with me,” he laid abruptly. We hurried after him in eilence, and with a strange dreed urn ue. ‘ We noon come in sig tof the extensive egwrment, finial: cgaflned the winter; a ': "el 9 e ,gee mcrvoreo we" Holmlm'nifiiny. ' “There is the spot I was looking at thiemorningflisdd Johnson. _' ‘ "You had better have s few men to‘ puddle up this." said McCeusland, indi =oetie e'tiny creel: that wuuld have ee cewd‘lees experienced eyes. 0 then continued our inspection, but during our progress round the works the clouds bed msesod themselves in wild grsndeur ehove thihllls, and lay heavily above the Apps "Valley in front. The railroed crossed the valley in a graceful viednct nee: Amuering 51 unotion. A low MW eeun ‘ wes in the sir. It was not e. lod.ior“the breeze had etrsngely lulled. The men had all gone up to .’themeseryoire. «~MoCsusland and! “abetting tpgethee. . , ‘ f ....‘I , ~ . u-Jv ' “no you think you could find your way back alone," he asked suddenly. “Why!" Isaid. . “Do you lutend to re main here? Is there my denser!" Wen; scumly that; but I think It ought to be on the spot. Iwill return‘ to-morrow or next day." ‘ “Cannot I stay, too?" ‘ “Certainly. if you desire it. We rough it up here, though.” 1 “I do not mind that,” I replied. So it was settled. Fortunate it was that I did rel-sin. As we were preparing to visit the sluieee egsin we were startled by s vivid flesh of lightningmhioh had hardly pssesdwhen the rocks nag out with e thou-end thunder echoes. This wnl the sign]. The window of heaven opened, end I perfect deluge dc mended upon the devoted valley. The little brooks leaped up, and danced down the hillsides, in white urn}. Tiny we terfnlle swelled themselvee Into cataracts, mg famed down to the streams. But mu the men worked hard amid the gathering gloom Ind thunder by Intern—light, md Nntm mud not that livelong night. But I turned in and got some sleep in defiance 6f the element-lam without. At Me o'clock in' the morning. as the gray light woe struggling into life, Mo ‘ausland came. fa y_ dressed, into my room, gI tilted-up“ “Drea- gourself a quickly at you can, and come down stain, he said. I began to Mk quutiona. "lose no time," there‘s a good fellow; I want your aasistance." fie loft the room. ‘ I tJumped up at once, hurried to the win 017 and looked out. Day wasjust breaking through the misty sky, and all the wor d 11l raining. Em Ind anon n aharp snap denoted a‘ bough torn from its place and whirled toi than looking eorth. 1 I dreued quickly and joined McCaue: landin the Halo parlor. He was study-i ings prinh copy of , the railroad time bola, which an an ofllclal he always canhd. “Will you take the horse and ride down to Ammering Junction with a message?" m- oollectod manner assured me. Was am am A ride through the min was aotmuch. “Of course. 1 will go." He mum! my hand firmly. “Are you rue-"nus?" he said. Is he held it In his own uwndy grup. "Summon" K roplicd. lsnghing; “I'll be muly in five minutes if it‘: important. In the harm ready?" Ino up for my watcrproofs. When I am down the hum- In at the door, and Mct‘nusland inqm‘tlng him. I muuntml. ".V-m'.“ lszli-l. "for this gro-at momma. if you plan-w " .‘lrl'zutslancl‘s tune hml mun-thing very .mlumn in it, as he re )lit'tl . I “Tell the station umstvr at Ammering Junction. untl any people you sun. that the South Rosermir will not last three hours. It will burst down the valley, and will dvstrny the Apps Viaduct. and carry away tlw hritlgcs on the llnlmeu dale branch. Stop the tratlic and sun the passengers. God blels you; and, hark yo, rlde for your life. I Will the the lig nal cannon u a warning. Good-bye.” .Ammeriug Junction was some miles nway. My route lay through an unknown countr , across moreland intersected by floods; streams and swept by the fierce wind and rain. . I I must do it. I thought. as my horse picked his eantibus way amid the loose stones down the steep by-road we had as cended the previous day. I should need all my strength, though, to execute my task. sol pressed on. A valuable slice out of my time had been expended when I reached the broad highway and urged my horse to speed. I had to turn ofl again, I knew, but I fancied I should easily find the path. Besides, was there not a sign post? I reached the turning and pulled up to read the direction Ishoug take. .I‘nearw fainted with horroi'as I 'ad. "The fate 1 finger pointed to the cross road I was pursuing—To Holmesdale and Seaham. The opposite index pointed—To Ruddail and Ammelring. I gould scarce. yredit my'sensess ‘Sorelyg I' wei iii, 'l, We had come up the previous day, and up the hill to the reservoirs. I had merely to reverse the route we had traveled. This was a terrible rnistrxe. was nowpast six o'clootx; one; :1 twipl’fimgus liohrl had elapsed; ‘an ‘ was ‘flirt or from Amine ' 3 than when I started. I Was seized v 33: despair; whatever could ll'do now! ’ll‘xo 1101‘be remainedaand I twin , sto de,;a then biggie! weimoyegowss (Cd inbot before I could reach the junction, and before ‘11:“ the trains might have started, and t en—. ' I huriflntoh oold'ifierspirstion at the :th‘olghkcnd than dispel-ate, and only half conscious, I rode madly beck to the Ammering road, and up the hill again. i The summit of the nel hboring bills} were shrouded in a hell of mist, but furl in advance, on the level, I could trace the railroad linen From they- 95% at‘ which I stoodn ebuldtbuu tho no] of the Apps river down the valley, and could guess the spot st which the flood would strike the railrond, had the branch lline over the spur of the hill. I could ‘ju t distinguish‘vtho Junction in e 'mid (lf: distance. A dark make up red to be rising from it; an engine ferhaps wait ing to start with n ttslnl on was linger lng on the hill. This, and more, I could erceive as 'I reetsd on the summit. somewhat refmshe ;'I rode manfully “or wsrd into the storm. ' How my horse to this feet I do not to this hour undenunii: 9 Tn“- 1 was quite alo'ne,’nat ”human being in sight, but suddenliv ‘the whistle of a locomotive was carxied, tony “1".- .An engine moved out of the “slim. Kh otber vlfi’stle shortly eMwe .‘-'!l!e train was safe. I watched it glide away _over the viaduct. Five minutes later I rode into the atatlon, and callpd W‘jlie station master. :4) I. dismoumfthe clock struck eight. The time was up and no signal from McCausland. Tele graphing would now be easy. A porter ‘csme out in. response to my summons. ._“,l'm eon] ye lost the express," he ‘ “I don‘t want the train," I replied, “I must telegraph at once. Where is the station master!" ‘ “He'll be here inamlnnte. But yc can’t telegraph. The wires are blown. We had to'eend a ‘pilot’v‘wlth the express; to clear the line or to Headleifh." “Not telegraph I tell you must-top the indie. The South Holmesdsle Reser voir will burst this very hour." “Can that be true?" inquired a cool, gentlemaniy man at in: elbow. It was the station master himself. “True!" I echoed. “It is only too true. I have ridden to tell you. We must stop the trains." “The excursion leaves Hendlelgh at 8:05," mused the station master. “There may be time; come with me.” He crossed the line and entered a fixed op- Yoslte. I followed him. Just then a ond booming sound rent the air. The. sound "came beck from the hills like thunder. . . "It is the signal!” I exclaimed. “The water is out. Heaven help us now !" The station master celled out. A cleaner appeared. “In that engine readyl" _ ‘ _ _ ‘ “Yes, sir; waiting for the excursion.” “Run and open the points. Now, sir, set up." i I obeyed mechanically, and before I‘ quite realized the situation we had croued to the up line. The station muter‘ stopped to get a red flag and give a few ‘ instructions to his subordinate. I now‘ perceived that we were to nee, the flood. Steam ' versus water. -Whioh would conquer? » A whistle; we started. “The flood, the floodl"shon‘ted the porter. We turned one glence wup the valley. A moving brown wall, capped with a snowy ridge, lwas tearingedown the devoted viaduct. ,No time to lose. “Go nheed." cried the station master. Itnrned on steam, put the lever over enother “notch." snd the rsce begun in earnest. It was an exciting race. and one never to be forgotten. On rolledthe flood. We were running "neck and neck" for one terrible half-minute. Now the resistless flood boredirectl to the bridge. Stones wert' rolling begin-e it like marbles. Trunks of trees. hsystncks. debris of every description came headlong down upon the doomed structure. \'e fled like lightning over the rails. Our err-«d told now. Sparks flew from the crim ney. Another “not.ch,"—the bent of the piston quickencd to on almost inconceiv able rapidity. We were on the bridge. Hurrah! The curling wave beneath seemed to spring forward. It broke against the buttresses. In a second we were across. I shut off steam, the station muster put down breaks. A tearing, tending sound that was not the brakes— e crash! We looked back. The line dropped behind us like a stage-trap. The brid gave way,end with e roar that was geqrd tyre miles 011‘ the pretty vie duct Wes swept ‘hWey by the boiling, fu rious Water. We were truly thankful for our nan-0w escape. And now to save the excursion. Speeding forward again, whistling like a demon, ur engine-Vigilant by name—— soon came in sight of the excursion train. By waving our red flag We Matted an other danger—e collision. The telegraph posts b’eingldoflmitrnlnsfhnd to “in upon the same line as far as Handleigh, but our timely action was all set to rights at last. We soon gave the bewildered passen gers to understand the narrow escape they had had. Fervent and sincere were the thanks we received from all, except one man. Hi: waaescaping from justice, and was capt 'r'ed. From ‘the elevated em bankment we could trace the course of the flood for miles. V The train was put Mel? toHanfilelgh, whence the passen gers were forwarded by another company.- By the time we had arranged matters he returned to the broken viaduct; the water had subsided. A. footway was con structed across the muddy river-bed, and trains stopped at both sides of the stream, the passengers exchanging from one to the Ether. , ,_ ~ fl , _ " {l‘ 93581106? 6! the cmy as! retfiiccd my' steps was deplorable. I could scarcely recognize the places I had passed in the morning: ,1 found Mc ausland and his etafl' at the reservoir awaiting me. He wrung my handl fervently, and staid certain words that sh ot easily or at. , rue-viii?“ m quickly when. Just the station master at ,Ammerin does not forget the thee of’ steam'versuégwater on the-Vigilant locomotive. Nor do I. ‘ W A Year’s Earthquakes. Manifestations of internal force be neath the earth‘s crust in the shape of eitherearthquakesyor volcanic eruptions occur an ad average nearly three times a week in greater or less intensity in some paste of .the globe. Such, at, least, is the chnclus‘ion to'be arrived at from the com pilation of all the recorded phenomena. of this kind in the year 1875, lately pre pared by Professor Fuchs, and published in a German scientific journal. d Out 0; the three hundred anmty-flve ‘ - t” ear one, hun were mamas ~bfitei’r6sti'ial disturbances" of which authenticP recmds exist, While there must have been many shocks of more or less violence in unfrequented portions 6f the globe wlnre volcanic forces are known to exist. The most serious of these ob served phenomena occurred at Cucuta, New Granada, on the 16th, 17th and 18th of May, when several towns and villages were destroyed; at San Cristobal and Guadalaier'n, in Mexico, on February 11th; at Lifu Island, in the North Pn ciflc, on March 28th; at Lahore, in the Fun) üb;a‘l<)i at ’Porto‘lßlco on the 12th and glst of ecember. 77 A , _ All these places, it will be observed, are in the torrid zone, with the exception of Lahore, which in only a short distance north of the Trrric of Cancer. It is esti mated tbtt no eWer than twenty thou sand person: lost their lives during the destruction caused by these earthquakes, while the demnge to property was enor mou§e§anfgn§fimm ' Fe Hut Freon—The cit . a publlgflan account of a (film wfiofbm out of work, walked all the way from Newark, N. .1" to New York in search of employment. Not finding any, be re turned to Newark, as he came. on foot. Soon after his arrival there he fell to the ground in a state of unconsciousness, proA duced by hunger and exhaustion. On being restored he stated that one piece of dry bread was all he had eaten in two days. ‘t -‘ ' ' Surely, stringent as the times are, there cannot exist any necessity for suffering like this. Provisions are plenty, on hearta are not so cold that those in want need to starve}. The difliculty is that while many re er ' to working, those who at: reallybfgfiiggd to the great est straits for food are often ashamed to beg. But when human beings are acto elly reduced to a state of starvation in this land of plenty, they have only to make their necessities known to have them relieved. '7 _ _ 1 R3ll puingr‘l‘to reflgc‘: “poi:I suffering ike ntp 'l‘ On. or it mam: chug‘luclpgefmiues ere 93);“. :11] the malt of the folliee and salts of one who endure them. The first thing to do fore man who is starving in to fee .him. Lectures on domestic economy do not Igroper}, come in order until nfter war a,—-N. Y. Myer. .'AGnnxmllté‘ruy man up that in America thieves no lo scarce that re wuda ate offered {or them. Where to Find Work. In all the cities and towns in these hard timee there is much auti'erin . The number of the weary unemployedgia very ‘large. Strong and brave men wear out their hearts ae they see wivea and chil dren in want, and after months of vain searching for employment too often are tempted to crime or maddened to suicide. Yet the land is broad enough for all, and millions of acres which will yield a sure subsistence to patient workers lle waiting for any man to till them. Our cities are overcrowded. The~growth of rural pop ulation has been slew, while the towns have advanced with a rapidity far exceed ing the demand for such service as can be rendered at the centers of population. In 1860 the rural population of the north ern free States—the newer States, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and the Pacific States not being included, of course— was 10,208,727, or 765 i) per cent. of the entire population of t ose States. But the changes since that time, as shown by successive census reports. have been re markable, and indeed alarming? The following shows the population iving in citiee and towns and in the country, with the proportion of each class to the total population: T Cltles and Towns. l‘r Cent. Rural. Pr Ct. . i&50....3.i31,675 28.5 10,208,727 76.5 ‘ 1860.. ..5,081,086 28.0 13,287,002 73.0 1870....7,841,950 84.0 15,215,023 66.0 The same services, in commerce, inan ufactures, and other tasks performed in cities and towns, which less then one fourth of the whole population sufficed to perform in 1850, more than one-third of ‘the entire Population was struggling and crowding or opportunity to rform in 1870. At the ratio of 1850, ti)“; popula tion suflicing for the cities and towns of these States should have been only 5,614-, 248 in 1870, and, though many changes in our industrial condition have justified some change in the proportion, it is in disputable that we have gathered by far too large a part of the population into towns and e ties. There they crowd and crush each other, fighting desperately for the work which is not enou h for all, and wasting no small share of 31a industrial force and productive power, which, right ly distributed, would add to the nation's prosperity. Beyond all doubt, this over crowding of civic employments, this dis roportionate massing o the population Fmplacee where hun reds of thousands must struggle in vain for work, has been an important cause of recent prolonged disasters. The remedy? Mr. Greeley taught it: “Go West, youn maul" Look at the advertisements oigi'ering free of first cost millions of acres to actual set tlers. A single company, the Union Pa cific, is now offering in other columns 3,000,000 acres of rich land in Eastern Nebraska, in the great Platte Valley— “free homesteads to actual settlers;" while the Central Pacific has been simi larly ndVertislng the varied attractions of California, the lahorer'e Pasadise; and yet the crewding and 'crushing mil lions in Eastern towns still struggle, suffer and die. Happily for them thou sands have found homes,permanent labor. and sure subsistence on these Western lends. There too, they have found a de gree of independence which few can find where all the paths are overcrowded and every door is “barred with gold," or opened only as a favor. Why it is that I: much greater number, warned by pro longed prostration in business, have not migrated from Eastern towns to the safe. ty, independence, and prosperity of the Western farms. who can telll—N. I'. Tribune. Tnmun WHERE ms Onxs ARE Focim. —Tin is one of the earliest metals known, which is contrary to what, not many years ago, was the general opinion of scientific men. The researches, however, which within the last twenty years hsve been instituted with regard to the earli est races inhabiting urope, have con clusively shown thst weerons and imple ments of bronze (en sl oy of tin end copper) where probshlythe metallic eni cles euliest in use, liter those composed of copper alone, end before the intro: duction of iron. In the curious “hire dwellings,"din covered in Switterlnnd, not only bmnu implements, but hm of pure an Inn been discovered. The proportion of tin varies from four to twenty per cent, nbout ten per cent. being the most com mon. The principel preeent eourcee of tin ere first, Cornwell, where it ie now el moet exclueivflil chained from ninee ineteed of w a; or “eteem workeg” second. Sexony or Bohemie. in enell quantifier, end exclusively from mines; third, Bence end other ielendeof the Kelly Archipelego, the leley Peninenle, ee well In pub of Kinda-ten end Bur meh; ell the‘groductione from than (now furnishing e grater pertof do con merce) known were!!! u “Efrem “of” being derived [eon eteen worke; fourth, New South Webs. Qneenelend, end other pert: of Autrelie. together with Tee meoie, Spein, Bdliver end Mexico, eleo furniah (or here letely done ea) eone portion of the tin of commerce. Green lend, Jepm, Finland, Siherle, loelend end Madman. end eome other loceli tiee,heve yielded tin in greater or leee quentitiee.—l€nieg Bm. Bnowx—“Hullo. Jones! Whut‘u the mater?" Jones (um-tour {won—“oh, frontal wk kahuna-gonna! the II 'O3:. lo If!" ——“Deu In! §ou oa’t nought!" Jouu_—-"Yu- he. obltgd. n n singing 31%“? BI’OII aid: Ila:- rity)-“1Iy r3O, [cont-mold {alto-l Come And dine with u: to-M‘ht and ‘apend the evening.“ Our Women Growing Plump. l Europeans generally concede that our } American women are handsome, though they say they are so fragile that they learly lose their freshnesss, and with it I much of their beauty. They particularly 'remark the tenden’c’y of our women oto grow thin with yea , while we remark f the tendency of theit' women to the ac. cumulation of flesh as soon as they have passed their youth, and often even before L that period. While we must allow that 1 our women are, for the must part, lack. I ing in roundncss, there are few of as, we imagine. who would not infinitely prefer ithe new world slenderness to the old 1 world stoutness. A medium between the two might be the standard of the becoming, and this medium we seem to be approaching, slowly perhaps, but steadily. The opinion of the thinness of the feminine partof the nation is based rather on what has been than on what is. The majority of our women are' still too loan for beauty, but they are far less lean than they were twenty-five or even fifty years ago. This fact—for fact it unquestionably is—csn scarcely have escaped observa tion. It is noticeable everywhere, par ticularly in large towns and cities, and is due to different causes, all of which are easily recognized. The fleshiness of“- a peopledepends-largely-on the age and development of their can try. Where everything is how, and, in‘dqchrtain sense, raw, as in this lunch; there is V very little leisure or repose. Our entire energies are directed to our advancement; our minds are absorbed by thought of the future and what it promises. We hardly take time to get flesh; we think and fret oi? that which we have acquired, instead of acquiring more. Our women do not perform so much physical labor as our men, but they work longer in their way, and worry more; and anxiety or any form of mental disturbance insures mea greness as nothing else does. These live too much through the mind to live quite comfortably through the body, and the body suffers in conseguence. In the old world everything is sad. The future is not likely to be different from the ,pre ~, eat; there is small occasion for wistfui‘— .ness of solicitudc. Material conditiond j are not usually so favorable there as here, :but they are permanent, and by their permanence, especially by the clear un derstanding that they are so,'they beget content, w ence adipose matter. Amer ican women neither work nor worry as they used. The republic is more devel oped, things are more settled, somewhat of the European feeling is creeping into the national mind, and less th nness is the result. , A. American women take vastly better care of themselves than formerly. They have more 801 uaintance with hygenic laws, and holti them in far higher es teem. The days when they exposed themselves to dampness and wintry cold in thin slippers and silk stockings, when .they abstained from flannels next the skin; when they pinched their waists to semi-suffocation, when they sacrificed comfort and health to what they con ccived to be their appearances—«those foolish and unhappy days have gone for ever, have barely been known to the ris ing eneration. Our women now have mawiish and morbid notions‘as to them selves; the no longer think that to be unhealthy is to be attractive; that indi vidualism and interestingness are syna onymous; that pale faces and compresm lungs are tokens of beauty. They d sessonably; they wear thick boots and warm clothes in bad and cold weather; the allow themselves to breathe fredy, and' they find their looks improved, not! injured, by the wholesome change. Th re are exceptions, many of them, oubtiéa but the rule is as we have described. the exceptions are constantly diminish ing. It may be safely said that all sens, sible women are becoming, if they . have not yet become, converts to nature and that they heed their behests, reeogniaing‘ the great principle that what is not nah ursi cannot be beautiful. Little mom then s querter of e mtury (31¢: young America women were es smed to show e burly eppetite in Baillie. They were infected with the" yronio philoeophy; they wented to be eplrituel—ne if nl true splrltnelit'y did not rest on eound physloel conditione— endtolook elfienu watched. [say ofthenthedb (their wish; theylooketi wretched, but not elegent. They were cherged with drinking Vin er. «ting elste pencile. snd engulfing other monstrous ebenrdltlee. They my heve been unjustly eoeneed. but thei: theories wen-Int the eecueetion. All each non eenee belonge to the pest. Anette“ women todey eet se Inch es they VIM. end more wholeeo-e food thee they once eta; they welt non. eontt the open elf. cultivete their bodies es well ee their . minde. believe in perfect digeetion en. broken eleep. the glow end log 0’ lll bleniehed heelth. No wontgr eit pro ponlone en fuller, their cheeks um blooming, their gee btiflttes’. thei: etc]! more elude. hepaeth of them ttyend theiroonnoeeenee m senil‘ then gene-finely. The ecrswny. eellow, peeked women, it ehe b. edueeted end nun, plead. willere longeeeeetobetlse type 0! II ”maxed-M Andan- wane-“Km: the s y ‘mth the apt: lecreeeed eeee ol cine-memes. Id their complete heelth, Men ween. will hem-elite end made: new thee they have heee. Beteenel eed letenel conditions eseere thie. They eve I“ likely to been-e plus. I en my 0' thei: Europe- sietete en; the w of theouentty its leetltetloee end ite mm with this own team; Mt. will m the. (to. thet— Ilerper‘s Bee-e. Tel Coloeeus mee—the tulip-