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WEEKLY Alums. ;ngtfoWnsend{Jefferson Coupty. W. T. ALLEN WEIR ..Editor Ind Proprietor Thu World. “0 the world H beautiful. liright. and tutti" And a merry laugh rang out on the air. As the little one ltllllllll'll tho new-mown hay, Uhuing the butterflies, bright and guy; But the sun wont dawn. and he drnnpod his head, For the pntty things in his hands lin dead. “0 the world is beautiful. bright, and fair!" And the mnidvn shook out her golden hair, And nhe met-Hy smiled, no the lily end rose ’lid the shining treason she deftly wore; But thelovor come not to claim his bride. And the thorns remained. and the roses died. "0 the world is beautiful. bright. and fair!" And the young mother softly hronthcd it prayer AI she nestled her baby close to her breast. Audits murmnrings gently soothed to rest; But the Father haul need of one Angel more. And He opened for it the heavenly door. “0 the world hi beautiful. bright. and Mr!" Btghed thr aged one with silvery lndr, “But over it all in the aerpcnt'e trail—— With the merry laugh comes the monrnt‘ul well; I but tarry awhile till the summons come To join my beloved in our heavenly homo;" I‘nnor V. RANCH. Sudden Reformations. av J.it. s. Richard Slingorton was a man of the tiwn us the expression goes. llis nut nral and acquired gifts and accomplish ments gave him admittance into the houses of the best families in New York City; lte was managing man in a first class business house on a large salary. Young and preposcssingr in appearance, few would have taken him to be what lie was, an unprincipled man. At the age oflhirty he had come to find his sing'e lite uninteresting. The good Book tells us that no than can live a happy life who lives altogether for himsell','snd it no doubt refers ton higher law than circumstances can reach, that goes all through society, when it says God made of one blood all the nu tions of the earth. A young and good looking bachelor may hauntevory known lace of amusement in the city of New gork— and it has not a few--—he may travel and spend nights in the Jsrdin Mabille, talk to and flirt with all the pretty girls he can meet there or else wherer-yet he will discover when tired out and sick with over-stimulating him self, some night just after he has reached thirty years of age, that. a hschelor‘s life has lust its charm for him. These generalizations may he altogether true and sound, or only in part-“he that so it may, the hero of this story, Richard Slingsrton by name, got tired of a single life when he was thirty yours of age, and went out day after day and night after night, to find a girl good enough to be his wife. He took no account of their being two sides to everything -thnt a girl he was suited with might not [be suited with him, and for not doing so he was compelled to search longer than he thought he would have to look for a wife, as here and there a lady whom he likei, when his attentions became too marked and exclusive, gave him the cold shoulder. But I need not tell how, when and where he was snubbed, as it will not add to this story in the least. Before long, however. there were om inous rumors. Those who professed to be good judges in such matters, said that the beautiful Miss T— of - street had fallen head and ears in love with Richard Sliugerton, and he had proposed to her, but that her father had refused his consent to their engagement and marriage. Her father was a wealthy criminal law er, and from long dealings with unprincipied men he had acquired the faculty of judging human nature. It has been well said that so restless and vital is the force that speaks in every part of a man, that nature and ac quired disposition reveals itself in con~ tour of the face, motions, rest was and complexion, and in countless other out ward manifestations to practiced eyes and subtle mindsea erieneed in observa tion ot'character. 'lPhe phrenologlst who examines your head, while doing so, is engaged, it has been said, in observing whether you are talkative, or silent, whether you are neatly or sloveuly, what is called loudly or plainly dressed, and in observing your features when they are in repose, and in movement. The skill to do this it is well known is not con fined tophrenolugiatr; society is full of equally keen, just and practised ob servers. Mr. 'l‘., Richard's loved one's stern and unyielding parent-for Mr. T. was stern and unyielding in most cases—suspected Richard of being a worldly, unprinci plled man from the first time he'saw him. a himself was what could be called a good man. He had one great fault, how ever; the fault of occasionally over-in dulging,r in liquor to such an extent that under its influence be committed many indiseretions, and once in a while a yrievous sin. lie would give the world, ' ncluding his daughter, if he wanted her, to the man who could cure him of his love for the intoxicating cup. He was a church communicaut, and every time he was tripped into the sin of over-indulgingin liquor that caused him to be unlike himself when under its influence, he would he in agony for days and perhaps weeks, lamenting his sin. God looks at the spirit that prompts the act, and not so much, perhaps, at the act itself,he it rint'ul or otherwise. The spirit that prompted Mr. I‘. to get intoxi cated was merely an inordinate love of pleasure, and he always meant to stop shott ol‘ intoxication when he commenced drinking. So God (lili not give him over to himself in his weakness, but Christ “as with him. and raised up an instrument to heal him of his great infirmity. ('uming one day to see his ladylove, Riehard‘sqniek eye detected that her father, who came into the parlor to meet him in her stead, was intoxicated, and he mentally exclaimed:— “'l‘o~night I can work on the old man so that he will consent to give me his daughter in marriage." . 110 asked Mr. ’l‘. ifhe could see his daughter. “Ynu'rcn schmlrdrel!“ suid Mr.’l‘.. in grant anger. “I f'rbid yuu t‘ house !‘ Richard tlmuglltto himself}— 3 “He is as great a acoundrel as I was. And he knew me so well that I must ic‘mfcss and tell him that since 1 have ,loved his daughter, his pure and lovely ,daughter, I am a changed man," (which was true.) “I used to get under the in lflnenco ot' liquor—l must pretend not to lace that he is—hnt nowl am thoroughly itemperate, and intend to join the church ,as soon as P‘lSsiblC." l These thoughts went quickly through lßichard‘s mind while he was employed L gazing in apparent astonishment at Mr. 'l‘. “I was a scoundrel, Mr. 'l‘.," Richard ’said, presently, “but I am at last, I trust to God, on the straight and narrow path. I intend to become worthy of your daughter—to become a member of the church in a few days. It was her love that completely changed my nature. My love for her and hcr‘s for me. I sat up very late last night bewailing my former sinful way of living. Last night, think ing that I could come before you to-day ——good ajudge of human nature and of character as you are, Mr. 'l‘.,'—and show you that lam a changed man. I used to drink very freely, Mr. 'l‘., but three days after I became acquainted with your daughter, I made up my mind, by the help of God, never to get intoxicated again, and I have known your daughter some time now, as you know, and I have abstained from any indulgence, and have no desire to commence again my former style of that living. Mr. 'l‘., look closely at me, and see it [am telling you the truth." Mr. 'l‘. was not so much under the in fluence of liquor that he was not taken completely by surprise, and feeling flat tered, and not being thoroughly clear headed, he impulsively stretched out his hand to Richard with a remark that led Richard to understand that Mr. T. be lieved every word he had said about his repentance. Richard grasped Mr. T.‘s hand and shook it cordially, and whis pered in his ear: “Let us kneel down and pray. lam so glad I came here to night; it seems good to be here, and I feel thatl am an instrument in God‘s hands to bless you, Mr. ’l‘." Richard, after he had talked as above, was astonished at his boldness, but he had hardly finished his above quoted re mark, before Mr. T. was on his knees, the tears running down his cheeks, and be fore Richard, who was the means of get ting him there, had knelt to pray him sel , Mr. I‘. mac and exclaimed: "You are my best friendl My daugh ter is yours. I know that I am saved from my hesetting sin. I feel that I will be able to hereafter live a godly, righteous, and temperate life to the end. I feel the spirit of the Lord Jesus upon me, and that in answer to my prayer just made I have the spirit of strength to do God‘s will willingly while I live, and re frain from the intoxicating cup.” “God grant it to be as you have staid to both of us. God bless us both,” said Richard in a voice trembling with emo tion. Soon after this memorable occasion Richard Slingcrtun was married to Miss ’l‘. Ten years after their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Slingerton and children—they had two—were called to the death-bed of Mr. T. He died blessing Mr; Sliagertnn, and as his daughter bent over to kiss him for the last time, she said his face was like that of an angel. Though Richard Slingerton was sorely tempted to return to his former free and easy manner or“ living, only twice did he yield to the wiles of the tcmpter, after which he always did sorely repent, and now he is established, strengthened, set— tled as a pillar of the church. He he came a communicant a few weeks after the night of answered prayer in the par lor of Mr. T. lxcrnnm‘ moss Tun Sun's: Hones AT Bosrous—lt was on e' public occasion, when as large number of prominent men were present. A Springfield gentleman, having no one to point out the celebri ties to him, managed to get on speaking terms with an intelligent looking lady who sat next him in the gallery. He told her his situation and asked if she could name some of the prominent men who were present. As she (firmed to be a stranger. too, he procee ed to point out to her the few persons whom he recog nized. “There is ex-Governor —, and next to him in General —; behind him is Senator —-—; that one there is -—-—. the poet," etc. The lsdy showed by her looks that she wished to reciprocste, end, after looking all over the hall, leaned forward. excitedly, Ind, pointing her fin ger, said: “There goes Descon -——, of our church." A nunmu. announcin I picnic for coiored people, in Kentucfiy, rendl than: "Per-om attending an requented to leave pinch: and ruon at. home." The City of Odessa. The city of Odessa, 400 miles from Constantinople, is at once the chief corn rnercial port and a thoroughly Russian city. It was in the twilight of the morn ing of the second day when we landed on Russian soil, and stood within the walls of Odessa. The elegance of the city is due to the genius of Emanuel de Riche lieu, a French emigrant, who was its tirst governor, in 1830, and whose statue in bronze is at the top of the grand stair case, which ltads to the gardens and to the sea. The streets are broad and well paved; the buildings are large and ele gant; the churches are immense, and ornamented to excess; and everywhere there is an air of wealth. At evening the splendid boulevard which runs along the sea was thronged with persons of all ranks. The ladies were fashionably dressed, but many men had a decidedly Russian appearance. Chief among the public buildings is the University of New Russia, established in 1865, and is worthy of its name. The Public Library is well supplied, and in its Museum is a relic which can never fail to awaken rec ollections of one of the noblest of men. It is ajapanncd llat candlestick once the property of the philanthropist Howard. His remains lie mouldering on the shores of the Black Sea. near Khersou. His last words to his friend Priestrnan have been fulfilled. “Let no monument or monumental inscription whatever mark the spot where I am buried; lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten." He can never be forgotten, but those who pass by his tomb in its lonely place are alike ignorant of his virtues and his name. Ot‘the two hundred thousand citizens of Odessa, eighty thousand are Ru~sinus, fifty thousand are Jews, ten thousand are Germans, fifteen thousand are Greeks, fifteen thousand Turks, ten thousand Italians, and twenty thousand French. English and Americans. The commerce of the port is large and valuable. The imports and exports are estimated at over seVenty millions in gold per annum. AltliOUgh American petroleum is a large factor in the imports, yet it may be in teresting to the denizens of “Oil City " to know that on the shores of the Caspian Sea there are immense wells of Russian petroleum. It abounds at Baku, in the southeastern Caucasus, and in the north western corner of the Caucasus at Taman At. the latter place the supply seems to be inexhaustible, and that found at the former place is equal to our best. The crude article can be bought there at thirty cents per barrel, and is now sold in Moscow and St. Petersburg, at one dollar and a half per pood, or six gallons. One thing, however. is favorable to the Ameri can trade; the Russians are slow at pres ent to invest capital in the outlay neces sary to bring their petroleum into market, and until then we can let our light shine. —-Natt'onat Repository. Enormous Prices for Paintings. Some enormous prices were realized at scale in London on Saturday, the oth inst, of the collection of pictures formed by the late Mr. Munro. Sir Joshua Rey nolds‘ “Kitty Fisher" brought $3,570. and his portrait of the lion. Mrs. Stsnhope, pcrsonifying “Contemplation," was knocked down for $15,800. Wilkie‘s “Gentle Shepherd" brought only SBIO, and the pictures of Richard Wilson, be lieved by many in England to be the finest classicalxpszntcr of the eighteenth century, sold or a mere song. Then came the productions of Joseph M. W. Turner. Thirty-two drawings,éarge and small, brought a little over $Bl, 00. The oil pictures, which included "Ancient Italy," “Modern Rome," “Rome from the Oventuine,” “Juliet after the Masque rade,” “Van 'l‘romp‘s Gallery," “Ava lanche in the Val d‘AOsta," and the “Kil garrcn Castle," went at prices ranging between $10,200 and $29,780 apiece. Two others sold for $20,000 each. The nine works in oil produced an ag gregate of $211,050, and the grand total tor all the Turners sold that day was $203,682. Two undeniably genuine Ho garths, being two of the scenes from the "Ilarlot's Progress," went cheap, one for $2,650, and the other for 81,580. Two paintigps by R. P. Bonnington, “The Fish arket,” and “The Grand Canal, Venice," sold for $15,800 apiece. The total amount realized was $856,575, the highest ever reached for such a small number of pictures—N. Y. Harald. Tun Woxnu's Home Temp. A boarder at. the Women's Hotel fills a col nine of the New York Sun with praises of this establishment. She says: “I have been much more luxuriously provided for than I sm accustomed to or care to be; have received in every per ticuler much more for what I am to pay than I ever did before. We have a quiet, elegant home, such as the most opulent woman in the city might envy, and into which no rude masculine element can possibly intrude; the use oi'e library and reading room superior to that which the‘ ordinary millionaire places in his own‘ house; surroundings which are artistic 3 and resthetic in the highest degree; the material henefltol‘ a good French cuisine, and the respectful, prompt attendance of a corps of trsiued colored waiters. I don’t know how to reslize that I am in a working- woman’s hotel. In fact the whole thing moms like a dream." Clvxuzuxox in America may be puehing right nbeed of any other nation on the globe, but when a newepeper “amps the prone to ennounce :he result of a game of hue-bell between the Clad boppere end the Bowler." men's faith in m onward ptogreu e eubjected to 3 terrible wrench. Poisonous Gases in Houses. Typhus fever, diphtheria, and other fatal diseases, are often caused by sewer gas which forces its way through the wa ter-closet and open fixed bnsius into the house. Another dangerous gas is that emanating from stoves. The New York Harald thus writes about both these poisons: ‘ A > _ 7 Unless there is a free circulation and an adequate supply of pure air in a bed room occupied by one or more persons, the volume of air enclosed becomes very rapidly exhausted of its life-preserving properties, and proportionately charged with gases of an Opposite character. The mere breathing of the air takes from it the oxygen, and returns a volume of carbonic acid gas, which speetiily as sumes an undue proportion to tho former, and renders the atmosphere absolutely dangerous to life. But there are other sources ot danger that too frequently fail to be recognlzed, even by generally careful householders. These are the pipes leading from water eloscts,sinks and due] wash-stand basins, to the house drain, and which often serve as the inlets by which that most deadly of poisons, sewer gas, enters dwell ings. . It does not matter very much whether the poison enters the hallway from a we ter-closet, the kitchen from a sink, or the bedroom from a fixed wash-stand basin, it will attack the sleeper in his bedroom. Thousands of fatal cases of disease that are believed to be the result of con tagion are really due to sewer-gas poison brought directly into bedrooms by the ways we have suggested. Another dangerous gas that must be guarded against in bedrooms is that ema nating from stoves. During cold weather these stoves are much used as heaters in sleeping apartments, and throngh igno rance ot' the principles of combustion and ventilation, the carbonic acid gas given at)” fills the air with its poison; It is a hundred tithes safer to sleep in u cold bedroom than in one heated by a badly-regulated stove. Open fireplaces obviate all danger, and serve as the best means ef ventilation. To WASH GREABY Woon.—-Dissolve a large tablespoont‘ul of horux in n int of boiling water. Mix one~quarter oPit in the water in which the wool is to be washed. 'Putin one piece of goods at a time, using soup if needed, and if neces sary udd more of the borax water. Wash well and rinse in cold water, or in water only slightly warmed. Shake well, and hang where the goods will dry quickly. For twenty-six years I have used for washing my white flannels water aboutns hot as wou d be used for cotton clothing. My flauncls are beautifully soft, as well as white. I never have any shrink. For washing goods that,fade use crude um monla instead of soap. Soilcd neckties may be made to look like new by taking one-hulf ti tcnspooni‘ul of spirits of hurts horn to n toucup of water; wash well, and if very much soiled put through a second water with less ammonia in. Lay it on a. clean white cloth and gently wipe with another until nearly dry. Then lay a cloth over it and smooth with on iron not very hot. H the color fades it will all come back to its original hue. Use no soap, and do not rinse. ~E’uhanga. Arena Tanners. —-Peei, core and halve some large apples, trimming them ‘so as to get them all one size; drop them as they are done into cold water, with the Juice of a lemon squeezed into it to pre vent thcir turning brown. Have ready a syrup (mode with one pound of sugar and one quart of water) boiling heat-put the apples into this, with the thin rin of a lemon and two or three cloves. As soon as they are cooked (great care must ‘be taken that they do not break) take them out and leave them to get cold, then set the syrup on the tire to reduce. i Make some short paste with two ounces 10f sugar, two ounces of butter, the yolks ‘of foure gs, a little water, a pinch of ‘salt and gear quant. suf., work it lightly land roll it out to the thickness of one }eighth of an inch. Line some patty pans iwith it, till them with uncooked rice to l keep their shape and bake themin amod crate oven till done. Remove the rice and place on each tartlet half an a pie, the concave side uppermost, pour a fittie of the reduced syrup on each tartlet, and lastly put a piece of guava or current jelly in the cavity of each apple. VEAL Bans—Three and one-half pounds chopped meat, 1 tablespoon of salt, 1 teaspoon pepper, % nutmeg, 5 small crackers rolled tine, 3 eggs; work well together to make it adhere; if the veal is lean add a small lump of butter and 1 teaspoon cream; form the veal into a large ball and spot thickly over with butter; then strew over it the powdered i crackers (a small portion of which should be mixed with the other ingredients); ‘ place it in the oven and cook slowly for two hours; from time to time add a little water, that there may he gravy. BEAN Sousa—Take Spanish or black beans, wash and put into a pot with a proper quantity of water; boil until Well i done; then dip out the beans and press them through a colander into the water in which they were boiled; tie up some thyme in a little bag, put in the pot to simmer a few minutes; boil hard a few eggs, quarter and ut e gs into the soup; 3 sliced lemon. a fittle gutter, and season with salt and pepper. Rica Cnoqun'rrn.-—lnto 1 pint cold boiled rice stir 1 egg and l tesspoon of sslt; mix well and mould into egg-shaped balls; fry in hot lard. Fm." or Sum—Take u floundur or my other flnh; fry I nice brown; butter well nll the time M- on the are; um with nlices of lemon and tomato nuce. The Fascination of Archery. l 80 long as the new moon r [heaven a bent, beautiful how, noeiggz'wifi {the lascination efarchery keep hold of th hearts of tuen. I can demonstrate m" liascinatron. and can give the reasou “his tit exists. But first a word as to fit: tinctof its existence. Since the public than in this magazine forJuly,lß77 of a .articic on archery, l have received hear‘in ‘tive hundred letters of inquiry, and m I have come hundreds of miles to see who: lmanner of how and arrows I use. Ydu rhave butto mention an archer or archer jto your friend and immediately his inter]. test is aroused. He may scoif at the bow and sneer at the arrow; but Ire will in game and show curiosity. Hang a lon ' bow and a quiver of arrows conspicuousg. ly in your ball or library, and you Will soon discover that no exquisite paintln or hit of statuary will receive more stung. tion from guests than will be m. corded to these ancient Weapons, No doubt if one could procure a shellstrun with gold and silver cords, after the fashß~ ton of the old time instrument wherewith the gods made music, the same fascins. tion would attach. indeed music and poetry sprang from the now as did the goddess of wisdom from the head of Joy. l‘he bow is the old first lyre, the mono: chord the first rune of litre art, and is as lnseparahly connected with the historyof culture as are the alphabets of the learned languages. 'Wltat the fragments oi Sapphic song and the Homeric epics are to the literature of to-dny, the bow is to the weapons of to-day. When a man shoots with a how it is his own vigor of body that drives the arr-".w, and his own mind that controls the missile’s iii ht. Not so with gun shooting. The modern ,weapon is‘churged with a power acting independently of muscular operations and will shoot just as poWert‘ully for the. schoolboy or tire weakling as it will for the athlete. The Bapphic songs were the natural music of love; the Homeric epics were the natural out-pourings of a great, strong,seli'-sutllcient soul, surcharged with inspiration of heroism; and when Apollo is represented with drawn how he is the symbol of the natural perfect physi cal manhood in an attitude displaying its highest powers and graces. It is curious to note how surely the bow and arrows have found their way into the hands of all wild peoples whose mode of life has made physical culture a necessity with them, and it is equally interesting and signifi cant to discover that among these wild peoples a Chieftain is invariably chosen on account of his abilit y to draw a mighty bow. We are nothing better than ro tined and enlightened savages. The tlbre of our nature is not changed in substance; it is polished and oiled. Tire wild side of the prism of humanity still oti'srs its pleasures to us, and it is healthful and essentially necessary to broad culture that we accept them in moderation. Sport, by which I mean pleasant physi cal and mental exercise combined—~p ay’. in the best sense—is a requirement of th wild element, this glossed-over, physical, heathen side of our being, and the bow is its natural clerueot.—Scribnlr’l Monthly. PATanNM. Govmmunu't‘s.—Mr. Elihu Burritt considers the que~stion whetherit is the businesa of government to assist the emigrant and the laboring producer, by special gra its of monetary assistance. Mr. Burritt particularly favors small loans to actual settlers on the lines o! the fur Western railways, the interest thereon to be paid annually. It is only in this way, as he believes, that the railways to which the Government ha-i made largo advances can he rendered profitable and solvent. Mr. Burritt holds that if great corporations can be properly assisted to "develop the resources" of the country there is no reason why those whose toil increases the resources of the railways should not receive a proportionate en couragement. lie is inclined to consider such advance made by the Nation to the settler as a simple business transaction, by which both parties would be gainers, and the rent. work of clearing and set tlcment be forwarded. He does not see why the aid which is freely granted to a corporation should not be granted to individuals. nor why a republic should not be “paternal" in the sense of only for the very poorest: of her eitizenl.— - Y. Tribune. Expwnnron or Mr. ’l‘onoanmw-P. F. Counelly, the English sculptor, III! gone to the summit of Tongariro, the burning mountain of New Zuaiancl. The volcano is regarded an sacred by the In. oril, who have objected to all attempts“ explore the mountain on the part of the ‘co onists. It is rituated nearly in the l centre of North Island, and, though 0,000 ‘ feet high, is moreinaccuslhle than either iMountEdgecombe or Ruapehu both 0! ‘which exceed 10,000 feet in height. Hr. Connolly found every obstacle placed in the way of his progress by the nativcl, who took poalession of his horses, gnnl, saddles, and nearly all of his outtlt,in cluding his sketches. He, however, over came all resistance, and by the help 0!, some chiefs more friendly than the rut, succeeded in thoroughly exploring the crater, took a number of sketches and photographs of the locality, and deter mined the politiona of the moat import ant peaks. It you know a man who is willing to klu your boots because you are rlcb.yoll may be cure that therein some onebl compels to Hal his boots in turn. HO who will cringe before one who in hiss" thin him-elf will pluy the tyrant on! 11l Imaller tbun blmlelf. Goon field hands no hiring in Georgi! at 050 Ind 075 for the yur.