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“hm Liltlt‘ Tut Iluvs. “nudity i take my little tul .\ml nll nith snap and with And my llUHil'b‘ elnlln a lrnl-. w". ill -. Mu mills me her unutl tinny-13.1w. 'l‘nesilny 1 limit my tiny iron. And smooth my dnliies‘ tire-aw; Dress them up nicely in \‘lt'Jll eh the-3 And enmh their silken n I‘SH‘F. 1m \Vt'dllt'édtl)’ nmmnm cuts wme nnxh And i sew it neat .md tidy: And mammn comes 11111 l kim-s me And snys l‘m a little lady. Thursday I In the kitchen :n. Help mnmmn do the lvnlune; And bread ur cake, or pics or time, 1 make wlmt she is making. Friday I give my dolls n fen-"t. Then take them ullout walking; You‘d laugh to hear the funny things They any when they are tnlkmg. Saturday we have a merry time. Some game or merry trolie. Unless a dolly is taken sick With toothache or the colic, Sunday I rend some little bonk Until the bells are ringing. With mnmma go to church and hear The sermon and the singing. Brown's Sweetheart. Brown wnsn bachelor-4 su-l, silent men, who, instead 0!‘ having passed through the t‘rivolities ot‘ yi‘uth, had passed them by, and was now safely landed on the other side. llis age was an undetermined problem, not to be set tled like that of ahorse, by his teeth, for they were artificial, nor by his locks, for they Were dyed, while, hy brushing forward his buck huir so as to form a false crown several inches below the nat ural one, a certain incipient baldness ms dexterously concealed. ' “He will never see five-unil-t‘orty," darkly hinted 'l‘nbithn Skimply, who, after setting her cup at Brown for many years, at lest,like [Esop’s fox, found con solation for bellied hopes in undervalu ingi‘ their object. hough at most times sad and silent, Brown “as not unseciel. He enjoyed the company of friends. in a circle of whom, with a bottle of wine to help, he would often thew out perceptibly. "It‘s a wonder Blown never married," remarked Peleg Rifile, on one of these occasions. 7 Brown sighed. i “What 3 model hand of a family he‘d l have made," added Jolhnm Trunnell. “ Another sigh from Brown. . ; “A perfect pattern of the domestic vlr- ‘ tuss," returned Peleg Ritlle. “Upon my , word, Brown, you've sinned ngfiiinst “O'i ciety and yourselfin hiding your light under a bushel." i “You,” putin Jothsm Trunnel, “whol should now be setting a bright example 3 of conuubial bliss to the rising genern- j ticni” l “Alas!" said Brown, “it was not to be." i “Can it be true," inquired Peleg, “that 1 you once proposed to Tabitha Skimpley, ‘ and were rejected, as she says, on thel score at age?" ? “As for my age,” muttered Brown, , “she‘s old enough to remember it, at any rate. But,” he continued, “I don’t mind telling,once for all, thestory of my heart, just to grove how little Tabiths Skimpley had to o with it.” Jotham and Peleg set themselves to listen, and thus Brown began: “It was as case of love at first sight." “Wouldn't it be more methodical," suggested J othsm, “if you first told us how you came to see the lady 2" “But I didn’t see her." “Come, that’s a paradox.“ “A truth, none the less; I found her picture.” _ "And fell in love with that? Ah! I see,” replied J otham. “I picked it up from where it had been dropped in the street. It was a minia ture, done on ivory, and set in a hand. some locket—none of your trumpery photographs, which give to all the same eyes, hair and complexion, but a match less painting, representing a face of exquisite beauty, whose white rivailed the lily, and its red the rose. Ringlets of shredded gold fell on shoulders of ale baster, and—" “Hold on, Brown 1” interrupted Peleg —-“isu‘t that going it rather strong?" “Strong! Itell you it was an angel's likenels, improved by leaving out the Whigs. " 0 find the ori ‘nal of that celestial shadow. I vowed tgolanceforth forward to devote my days. I bought an opera glase of extra power, and visited in suc ceuion the moat frequented places of amusement. I promenaded the fashion able thoroughfares, went the round of the highest-toned churches, sauntered in the parks, and lounged in the picture galleries. If I saw before me n. cataract of golden curla flowing from benentli a jaunty hat, I would hurry forward and look back to find, alas l—that the face was enother‘e. “I began to despair at last. I felt that my fate. like that of the Wandering Jew, In to “much! much!’ for evermore. “I resolved to noon tmy destiny. If I could do nothing ergo, I could at least mnifelt my devotion by ‘marching on.‘ 2:: 331, however, I was brought to a. t. “By Whit," asked Jotham Trunnell. “tho yelp of a dog. “I ow not what mysterious intluenqc there was in that yelp. At any rate. It Imtled me from my rem, and turning about, I luv—4' - ” “The In 101' your dreams'." 02139“! mticipuwgeJotham. ‘ Ni» :1 big dog wax rying 11 little one,“ prweuulwl llrnwn. "1M go. ynn brute!" wad exvlnimed in it ~ilwrv wiee. .\ torrent wt gnlden ll'n‘-~l‘~ rippled «hm n the speaker‘s back, which “A: tuwmll me. fine was vigor mnly pl:nehin;..r the :..~'.~:iiling our in the film wilh her lmrnsul. The scene aroused :ill the hero within me. L'nll-mntml by the horrors of hy-hnlnhuhiu, I sprung fur mml. gllhlwtl as juw ut‘ the yellow 3;;- grrnur in either hnml, like Summit whm he rent the lim, and :et free the nhnmt sll‘ullglml victim. “Turning to place lhe resened poodle in its mistresa‘s urms, l enughL sight of her face. It \\'lL~'—-" “Hera?" criell Jnthnm. "Hers!“ miml Bronx), hollnwly, “The picture, it is true, fluttered her it little, but in all essentiul respects the likeness was peit‘eet. “She eonrtcsied, thanked me, and hur rying up the stern of an ndjucent man wit)", dinnpponrct within. “ ‘Who lives thele'l’ I inquired of a passing policeman. “Ulnncing me over, probably to assure himself that I wun not burglnriously bent— “ ‘Mr. PcnSwnrth.’ he answered. “I noted down the name and number, took n night to reflect, and resolved upon my cellrae. ~At nproper hour next morning I called at Mr. Penswurth‘u and rang the bell. “[3 Miss I’enswnrth at home?’ I en quired ot' the servnnt who came to the door. “‘She is, sir.’ “"l‘ell her a gentleman wishes to see her} "I was shown into the reception-room, and soon it rustle of silk was followed by the mistress of the little dog. “ ‘I have cnllerl.’ ‘I said, rising “ "l‘oinquire utter Fido's health, I sup pose,‘ she intenupted. 'lt‘s very kind of you, I‘m sure. Except the shock to his nerves, he has sutfered no injury.‘ “ “It‘s not that I have come to speak of,’ I said, ‘but a more serious matter.‘ “I threw myself upon my knees—a stroke I had long preconcerted with my self—and clasped her hand. “ ‘Your image has haunted me for months,‘ I began. “‘My image't' she replied; ‘why you never saw me till yesterday.’ “ ‘But nearly a year ago I found thia,’ I answered, placing the locket in her hand. “‘07:! my poor grandmother‘s picture, which it grieved me so much to load.” she cried. ‘She‘s been dead these twenty years. They say Ido resemble her, but am not half so pretty.’ “I rose and took my leave," concluded Brown, “a and and disappointed men; and now you know why I've remained a bachelor, and how little Tabitha Skimp ley has had to do with it." Cost of Trangpqytutipn Before the R‘anx-oaa. That there was no need for new melhods of intercommunication, the in creasing population made every day more apparent. In 1784 the cost of transpor tation from Philadelphia to Erie is slated to have been two hundred and forty nine dollars a too, the method being by pick horses principally, which werei drivcndn lines of ten or twelve, each horse being tied to the tail of the one‘ preceding, so that the train was under, the management of one driver. Each‘ herse carried a pack weighing about two, hundred pounds. In 1780 the first saw-l mill in Ohio was built by the New Eng‘ land and Ohio company, about sixteen miles from Marietta, on Wolf Creek, about a mile above its junction with the Muskingum. The crank for this mill was made in New Haven, Conn., and weighedahundred and eighty pounds.‘ it was carried by pack horses over that mountains to the Youghiogney river, at Simrel’s ferry, and thence shipped by? water to Marietta. This same year the ‘first wagon-load of goods is said to have gheen transported, by the southern route lthrough Virginia, from Hagerstown,i lMaryland, to Browsville, Pennsylvania, l whence, by the Monongahela, water com ‘ munication was had with the Ohio river.; lAtrain of four horses could take a ton lfrom Hagerstowu and return in a little l less than a month, the distance being one l hundred and forty miles, at a charge of 1 three dollars a hundred weight or sixty dollars a ton. "‘ * '" "‘ The oFeratione on the lakes during the war of 812 called attention again to the cost of transportation, and in 1818 the House directed the secretaries of war and of the treasury to report at the next ses sipn a list of the internal imgrovements in progress, and plans for ai ing by ap propriations. In the discussion upon this motion it was stated that the exYense for the transportation of each barre of flour to Detroit was not less than sixty dollars, while for every pound of ammunition and other material it was not less than fifty cents-Harper‘s Hagaer'ne. A FRENCH Anti-Tobacco Society ofl‘ers the following prizes on competition :—l. A prize of one hundred francs to the schoolmaster who will write the best pa per in View of warning youth against the dangers of prematurely indulging in the use of tobacco. 2. A prize of two hun dred francs to the medical man who will relate the greatest number of interesting and unpublished observations on diseases larising from the use of tobacco. 3. A pnze of three hundred francs to the eu ‘thor of the best paper relating to the in itiuence of 'tpbacco on studies, especially lin universities, civil and military schools. OLD 338 is a tyrant thgt forbids the pleasure of youth, on pain of death.— Rouchofoucauld. Interrupted Table Talk. The othereveniug the Rev. Mr. Philacter sat down at. the ten table with u. very thoughtful air,and attended to the wants nt‘his brand in avery abstracted manner. Presently he looked up at his wife and said: “The Apostle Psul"—— “(tot nu nwl‘ullumpon the bend 'sul'ter noon,“ broke in the pastor's eldest son, “playing haw hull. But tiew oat of the striker's hnnds when l was umpire, uud erncked me right over the ear,un' dropped me. llurt.‘ Unllyl" and the htd shook his head in dismal but expressive pun'o mime as he tenderly rubbed I|. lump that looked like u. hilliurd ball with hair on it. The pastor gmvely paused for the in terruption, and resumed: “The Apestle l’nul”——- “Sew Mrs. O‘Ghemiuie down at Green bnum‘s this afternoon," said his eldest daughter, addressing her mother. “She had on the same old everlasting black silk, made over with a vest of tillOul green silk, cont-tuil-bnsque pattern, over skirt made with diagonal folds in front, edged with deep fringe; yellow straw hat, with black velvet facing inside the brim, and pale blue flowers. She‘s going to Chicago." 'l‘ho good minister waited patiently, und then, in tones just a shade louder than before, said: “The Apostle Paul“— “Went in swimmin‘ last night, with Hurry and Ben, pop, and stepped on u clam shell," exclaimed his youngest son; “cut my foot so I can‘t wear my shoe; and. please,can’t I stay home to-morrow?" ’l‘he pustor informed his son that he might stay away from the river, and then resumed his topic. lie said: “The Apostle Paul says”— “My teacher is an awful liar,” shouted the second son; “he says the world is es round es an orange and it turns round all the time {uster than u. circus man can ride. I guess he lmin‘t got much sense.” The mother lifted a warning finger toward the boy and said—“sh!" and the father resumed: “The Apostle Paul says"— “Don't bite ofl‘ twice as much as you can chew," broke out the eldest son. re proving the assault of his little brother on a piece of cake. The pastor's face showed just atrifle of annoyance as he said, in very firm, decided tones: “The Apostle Paul says"— “There‘a afly in the butter!" shrieked the youngest hopeful of the family, and ageneml laugh followed. When silence was restored the eldest daughter, Willi an air of curiosity, said: I‘Well, but, pa, I really would like to know what the Apostle. Paul said.” “Pass me the mustard," said the pastor, absently. Then the committee rose, and the sen ate went into executive session and soon after adjourned.—Haukayo. Influence in the World. Who can estimate the power of per sonal influence? The careful, industrious mistress of a house has an influence on her circle the extent of which she herself cannot calculate. So has that fast and frivolous wife, to whom pleasure is as the breath of her nostrils, her fine clothes dearer than her children, and of all sor rows work and duty the most sorrowful. How many young minds has she not warped by her pernicious example, so brilliant in its setting and so seductive in its lines? It is so hard to work, so pleas ant to play. Has a bold, slangy girl no influence over her comrades? If a. good, pure and modest girl who neither flirts nor idles, neither talks slang nor afl‘ects improper subjects; who finds no pleasure in sillg little intrigues, and ab are all degra ing little falsehoods; who believes in duty, and acts as if she believes—if such a girl as this is a friend which every wise mother desires her child to make, so, on the other hand, is the bold and idle, thriftless and undutiful girl the one whom she would wish to be avoided, be cause of the power of influence. Every man and woman living has influence for good or evil. Our personality has influ ence; our habits, our modes of thought, our fashion of dress, our method of speech, each circumstance of our individ uality, makes its mark, and either repels by the distaste or attracts by the admira tion which it inspires; there is no one so small and insignificant as to be destitute of the ow er of stirring, to some extent, the wurY-i in which he lives. QUEER. Pars—There is a curious case at Rockport of the singular attachment sometimes instituted between man and the lower animals. A Mr. Hale has been for a long time accustomed to throw bits of food for some eels in a little brook that runs across the back of his lot. Latterly he observed that they seemed to be wait ing for his visit, and with a little training they were induced to eat food directly from his hand. They were learned to play and fondle about his fingers, held in the water and enjoyed his caresses. More recently the largest one of the four, a huge old fellow over two feet long and very large around, allows Mr. H. to take him entirely out of the water, slide him shout freely from hand to hand, appar ently enjoying the novel gymnastics. When Mr. 11. goes to the brook he calls them with a peculiar whistle, and they soon come rushing briskly from dowu stream. Not long ago he brought them his usual lunch of fish and mackerel, when only the large one came. The eel waited a few moments, then turned down stream and soon came back, bringing his tardy family to supper. This shows there is no touch of the human in them, for any ordinary biped boarder would ‘ have pitched in without waiting, and L cleared the table!—-Boston Globe. AT every birth a funeral is announced, ' The Cigar lie Did Not Smoke. During the great war between France and Germany, Prince Bismarck, “the man of blood and iron," “as the actor in an incident of a most suggestive nature. The prince is said to be a smoker, ardent ly attached to the “weed.” lie is re ported to have said, “the value of a cigar is best understood when itis the last you lossess, and there is no chance of getting another." Most devotees of tobacco in any form seem to delight in their bond age to it, and to be miserable if deprived of it. It is said that Bismarck had cher ished his last cigar all through a battle, in glad anticipation of the luxury in store for him, when he suddenly and gladly deprived himself of the smoke giving solace. In his own words, “I painted in glowing colors in my mind the happy hour when I should enjoy it after the victory. But Iliad misealcn lated the chances. A poor dragoon lay helpless, with both arms crushed, mur muring for something to refresh him. I felt in my pockets, and found that I had only gold, and that would be of no use to him. But stay, I had still my treas ured cigar! I lighted this for him and placed it between his teeth. You should have seen the poor fellow’s grateful smile. I never enjoyed a cigar so much as that one I did not smoke.” This is a charming little story, and rc minds one of the still liner unselfishness of Sir Philip Sidney, who, at. the battle of Zutphen, gave the water brought to him, parched with thirst though he was, to a poor wounded soldier. Both illus trate the great truth of the “luxury of doing good"——a phrase as true as it is beautiful. It is a luxury within the reach of all, even the poorest and hum blest, and is one, too, which does not lose its charm by repelltltill, but increases the more it is indulged in. Sir Philip Sidney denied himself the draught of water, almost a necessary of life, to his humble companion in arms. Bismarck surrendered a luxury that per haps cost him nearly as much self-denial as that of Sir Philip Sidney. Both knew a pleasure that was greater than the one they had foregone, for eternal] true are the sacred words, “It is more Elessed to give than to receive.” “I never enjoyed acigar so much as that one I did not smoke.” Might not this sentiment be uttered b many a man who has relinquished his daily wine or beer for the sake of others. The new found pleasure of Bismarck is one that has glnddened the hearts of thousands of unknown men and women, who have dis cerned that teetotalism has yielded them a joy incalculably greater and more last ing than the one “glass" ‘ever gave. At lirst, perhaps, they experience a physical discomfort and social inconvenience, but as they saw lost men and women rescued; ragged and half-starved children clothed and fed; aching hearts made glad; and wretched homes made Joyous, and have traced this human prosperity and glad ness to their own teetotulism, they have borne about their hearts a quiet but a genuine satisfaction which has repaid them a hundred-fold for the “sacrifice" they have at first. “That cigar I did not smoke." How many, looking back upon the time when, after hesitating between two opinions, i the decided for the safe and noble side, ‘ andy left untouched the glass that waited their lifted hand, can say that that glass they “did not” take was the most joy giving glass they ever knew? In almost every town and village there are men and women whose hearts are gladdencd by the sight or the memory of the good Work done. In the quiet church-yard rests one man, once a nuisance to the neighborhood and acurse to his home, and an outcast from society. A brave man tried to rescue him, and by the glass of wine he “did not take“ reache his heart, and won him to sobriety and god liness, till his wife and children wel comed him they had once dreaded; the wretched home became bright with plen ty and love, and the neighborhood found that the man who was its disgrace and annoyance had become a respectable and useful citizen. In a pulpit in a great town stands a wise and Christian preacher, whose influ ence is mighty on the side of Christ and humanity. Years ago he was in danger. His personal attractiveness, his talent and geniality were perilous gifts, for the “glass" was his growing resort in aid of sociality, endurance, and brilliadhe. A wise and womanly woman saw it and trembled for him. She stood well in so ciety—her table was the resort of the culture of the neighborhood, and the elo quent preacher was one of her most wel come guests. To save him, she not only uttered words of tender warning, but set the example of personal abstinence. By reason of her antreaties and example, he became an abstainer. He sees the peril he so narrowly escaped. He sees men abler and nobler than himself who have ‘fallen to degradation by means of the tempting snare, and by his gratitude for his own salvation he has won hundreds froma like peril. And she—his good earth angel, old in years, but young in ispirit—rejoices gratefully and daily in ‘tio good she wrought by the glam she ; “did not take." Ever it is so. The happy are those who give happiness. We doubt if anybody is wretched who makes other lives glad. Those who suffer from annm‘, and feel that life is prosy and dull, may find a remedy for the dullness in loving efi'ort for others, and especially in the great temperance field. Next to direct re ligious efi'ort, no work is so fascinating, so fruitful and so joy-giving. And those who relinquish their “ less" from s sense of duty and love will End thatthe results of their apparent sacrifice are such as will repay them a thousand-fold for the 1033 of the wine they do “not take." Eruption! of Cotopaxi. The last eruption of the volc ! Cotopaxi .(the tenth, according tgnonp; } computation) to3k place on the 26th of June last, with every circumstance that i could increase its horror—utter darkness lrn broad day, thunder and liuhtnin r ‘icarful explosions that made the eartéh’ ,tremble‘, subterranean noises and wild ,gUsts oi “Ind, accompanied by a rain of ‘ashes. An eye-witness told me that the !volcano poured out acataract ten times ithe‘ bulk of Niagara, which carried all I beiore it in its headlong course, and sub merged the whole surrounding country The torrentdivided itselt'in two opposite; dirtctions, as if to give greater scope to i its devastation and to make the confusion still more dire. ()ne branch took a southerly course toward the city of’Lata. conga, situated twelve miles from Coto paxr. On its way the tol‘l‘lllii converted the plain of Calla.) into an immense lake There is but a faint hope that the ruins of the palace of the Incas, described by Humboldt and all other travelers through the central valley of the equatorial Andes have escaped the ravages of the flood: Near Latacunga the furious current tore up from its very foundations the cotton factory of Don Jose Villagomez, whose value was estimated at $300,000; crops cattle, buildings, were swept away; this massive bridges of Cutuche and Pausal vo were destroyed, as well as a part of the flue carriage road (scarce equaled even in Europe) which connects Quito with the towns in the south of the republic. The branch that headed toward the south of Cotopaxi devastated the pros perous and enchanting valley of Cirillo, and in particular the estate of the Senor Aguirre,noted for having been the resi dence of Humboldt. 'l‘nere, too, as in Latacunga, arose the building of a thriv ing t'actory;which, only the year before, had been destroyed by tire and had just been repaired at great expense. The tor rent rooted it from the ground, and here it. away in a thousand fragments. It is asserted thatamill of Don Manuel Pa lacios floated on the water like a ship at sea until shattered by the current. The loss in the valley of ()hitlo alone is esti mated at over two millions of dollars, and the loss in other sections is equally great. ,It is likewise calculated that the number of the dead exceeds one thousand. Al; though the surroundings of Quito have been laid waste, the city itself suti'ered only from araiu of ashes and acom lete darkness, which began on the 26d: of June, at three in the afternoon. At Ma chache and other places the night lasted for thirty consecutive hours. In the midst of this opaque gloom one could hear the bellowing of the cattle and the cries of other animals who, deprived of their usual food by the shower of ashes, sought, in a species of frenzy, for the means of satistying their hunger. Other beasts, frantic ~with terror, careered hither and thither as if in des pair, and the piteous howling of the dogs pierced the air with its ominous sound. In Quito the darkness was as that of night; it was like that described by the youpger Pliny in a letter to Taci tus, in which he relates the eruption of Vesuvius, and the destruction of Pom peii. “It was," he says, “as if the lights in a room had been extinguished.” At Quito the shower at first was of coarse, heavy sand, which subsequently turned into ashes so tins and inipalpable that they penetrated not only into apart ments, but into the most carefully c osed receptacles. In the depth of the dark ness men and women, brat .15; ‘he raln of ashes, sallied forth into the streets, screening themselves with umbrellas and lighting their way with lanterns, and all the while these strange apparitions rent the air with their cries and prayers for mercy. The umbrellas, as well as the green eye-glasses used here on journeys: were no superfluous precaution, although they afforded but scant protection against the subtle power, which it was remem bered had in many cases produced blind ness during the eruption of 1843, and the rain of ashes of thirty hours that attend ed it. From the outset the people had unan imously ascribed the disaster to a chas tisemeut of heaven, brought down by the irreligion of the Government, which had arbitrarily closed the churches and de prived the people of those spiritual con solations that were made doubly neces sary by the sad condition of things in general. The idea of a Divine punish ment spread like wild-tire, and as the tempest raged more wildly this convic tion gathered intensity, until at last groups of men, without a leader, without any concerted plan, and without arms, threw themselves upon‘the guard at the military hospital, while others attacked the guard stationed at the powder‘maga zine on the hillof Javira. There were but few troops in the garrison, the greater part having been sent to suppress the insurrection in Imbabura; but the assailants, lacking arms and direction, were promptly overpowered, with no fur ther loss than that of two soldiers and two citizens. 0n the day following, be fore the city had recovered from its con sternation, and while clouds of ashes still hovered in the air and pervaded the streets, five of the unhappy prisoners who had been taken during the tumult suf fered the barbarous punishment of five hundred lashes. Some have died in con sequence. The fact needs no comment- A number of res ectable citizens have been arrested and) are to be subjected to a court-martial. In the present wretched ,condition of Ecuador, ruined as it 18.1)] ‘a series of disasters, the recent eruption iis the culmination of its woes. ’i_‘en years of peace and prosperity, of which there is faint prospect now, will not suf iice to repair the evils which a few hours have wrought in this unfortunate land.