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1869. VOL. XIII.—NO. 52. The Democratic Messenger, Published Every Saturday by L.l PTLETON DENNIS, Proprietor AT SNOW HILL, WORCESTER CO.. PRO. Subscription, $1 Year in Advance. Literal arrantrcnifm* made with clubs. Corre*|><>!idenec solicited from all parts oi the county. AH YERTISING RATES. One doll ar for one ineh space will he charged for the f„rst insertion, and fifty cents for each insertion. , A* liberal dieconnt will te made on quarterly months, or yearly advertisements. Local notices will te inserted at 20 cent* per line. Marriage and death notices inserted tree. Obituary notices inserted at half advertising rates. All advertising bills arc due after the fir t insertion, unless otherwise agreed upon. LITTLETON DENNIS, Snow Hill. Md PROFESSIONAL CAROS. A DIAL P. BARNES, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office opposite Court House, Snow Hill. M}. Will visit Pocomoke City every Saturday. Btrict attention given to the collection ol claims. J. PURNELL, ATTORX EY-AT-L A W. Office opposite Court House, Snow Hi"!. Md. Btriet attention given to the collection ol claims. Will visit Berlin on tlie second Satur day of every month. IT'D WARD D. MARTIN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office opposite Town Hall. Berlir. Md. Special attention given to the collection o! e’afms. FDWARD B. BATES, (Late of Baltimore Bar,) ATTORNEY AND COLXSELOR-AT-I.AW. Snow Hill. Md. Office opposite Court House, adjoiuing the Post Office. M. UPSHUR, ATTORXEY-AT-LAW. Office, Court House Square, Suow Hill. Md. Prompt attention given to the collection of claims. f'EORGE W. PURNELL, v * ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office,opposite Court House. Snow Hill. Md. Claims promptly collected. Will visit Poeo moke City on the second Saturday of each month. W. COVINGTON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office, Court House Square. Snow Hill. Md. Prompt attention given to the collection of claims. CAMUEL H. TOWNSEND, ° ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office, opjiosite Court House. Snow Hill, Md. Prompt attention given to the collection of claims, W M SIDNEY WILSON. 1T ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office on W ashington Street three doors above Post Office. Snow Hill, Md. Immediate attention given to the collection of claims. Dr e. e. dashiell, DEN 11ST. Office, opposite Franklin House, Snow Hill. Will visit Berlin on Thursday. Frida) and Saturday of each week. All operations n the teeth performed in the most skillful man ner, HO TELS. NATIONAL HOTEL, (Late Col Dtxock'b.) Opposite Court House, Snow Hill Md. Large Airy Rooms, Excellent Table. Home Comforts Permanent and transient guests kindly re ceived and hospitably entertained. Term*. * 1.50 per day. Hacks at the It. R. Depot to meet all trains J. S. PRICE, Fropri' tor. SALISBURY HOTEL, ULMAN A BRO., Proprietors. Division oppmsito , Court lloiim-, SALISBURY, MD First-class Restaurant, Billiard Parlor, Bar arid Livery Stable attached. Free Hr.cks at Depot to meet all trains. Passengers conveyed to any part of tht Peninsula upon the most favorable terms. TERMS. *1.50 PER DAY. First-class accommodations and home com forts. CLARKE HOUSE, POCOMOKE CITY, MD. 11. C, I*OIVELL, Proprietor. Accommodations Unsurpassed FIRST CLASS BAR ATTACHED. Twilley A Bros.’ Livery Stable connected wit's this House. ATLANTIC HOTEL, (Late English’s,) CHINCOTEAOUE ISLAM), \A. W. A. MATTHEWS & CO.. Proprietors. The undersigned beg leave to inform theii friends and the general public that they have leased aud refurnished the above elegant and commodious house, and are now prepared to accommodate permanent and transient guests in first-class style. Large airy room*. Home comforts. Fine Sea and Bay Fishing, (funning and Bathing, ctr. Tin- table is provided with Wild Fowl, Terrapin, Fish, Oysters, Crabs, and all the luxuries of the season. Pleasure boats of all kinds, guides, fishing lines, decoys, ponies, etc., always ready for the nse of guests. First-class Bar altacl ed. Choice wines, Iqtiors. ales, beer- and cigars. Passengers fur Cliiiieoteagne couueet with steamer for the l-liml at Franklin City, the terminus of the Wo center Railroad, morning and evening. Connection may also be nude daily a. N*> hville. All who visit the Atlautic may rest sssurtd that they will receive cour teous treatment and excellent fare. Yoor patronaue is respectfully solicited. W J. MATTHEWS <fc CO. SNOW HILL, WORCESTER COUNTY, MARYLAND, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1881. RY TIIE WAY. O what climl mg plans of name, Shining, battle-conquered fame, In that first-felt sense of pride When lie perished from my side In the West-world, long ago— Even so. All is won. Yet what is won? All we dared to dream is done. Yet 1 had rather rest to-day Where the wide-eyed play— Rest as he rcsta, lone and low— Even so. Rather walk that grass-grow n trail, Peopled by the piping quail, Leading to that lonely grave Where forgotten grasses wave, To my ow n grave than this show— Even so. Soft and low, soft and low Like Sierra's sad winds blow ; I am sad : a strange bird blown ; By the four winds from mine own ; Blown and beaten to and fro— Even so, Joaquin Milled. How I Saved Two Lives. It was only a few days after my mother died that old Kate, the blind woman who lived in the room next to onrs, lost her little dog, and offered to share with me her small means of liv ing if I would fill to her his place. I was glad enough to accept her offc-r, ar.d so day after day I led her through the streets, and at night shared her humble cot. 11 was iu that way, through passing so often the same honses, that I noticed and was attracted toward the irimatcs of one. It was an elegant stone dwelling, with a bay window, and in that window often sat a lady, with the gentlest, most beautiful face I had ever seen, while leaning at her knee would be a boy of about twelve years, with eye 3 aud brow like her own, but features iu general more like the dark, handsome face of one who would some times come aud talk with them for a while. It was all the same to old Kate where I led her, so long as she knew by the sounds about her that we were in a pop ulous neighborhood, and I often would pass and re-pass that house with the bay window and its beautiful occupants as many as a dozen times a day; and so, though they knew me not, I came to know them well. The months went on and summer came with its pleasant eveuhigs. Then, when old Kate, tired out, would fall fast asleep, I would watch my opportu nity and slip out unheard. Perhaps it was wrong for me to do so; but surely, 1 thought, no one would harm a little eight-year-old girl. One evening, drawn by tlio splendor within an open door, I stood looking in, when a lady who was passing left the arm of the elderly gentleman whom she was w ith and came to my side. “Come away, my child,” she said earnestly, “do you not know that that is one of Satan’s most deadly traps ?” I was not afraid—she spoke so kind ly; but it did not seem to me that what she said could lie true. “Oh, it is too beautiful to be that,” I answered; “it is just like fairy-land.” Her voice was even more earnest as she spoke again, and there was a bitter ness iu it as if somehow she hail suffered through just such a place. “But it is so, my child. It is the straight road to that dreadful place where only the wicked dwell. True, it is beautiful—Satan knows only too well how to entice and ruin.” I w alkcd on by her side for a couple of streets—the gentleman all that time never saying a word, but looking, I thought, a little amused—and then she loosed my hands and I sped home. Auotherbright, moonlit evening came; the room was hot and stifling, and all looked so clear aud inviting without that I could not resist the temptation to once more stray out. This time my steps turned toward the house in which I was so much interested. The lights were lit but the curtains were all drawn, and though I crouched low by the iron rail I con'd see nothing, and was turn ing away, when a light carriage sud denly drove up and stopped, aud a gentleman alighted and ran up the steps. At the same moment the door opened, aud the lady with the beautiful face came with outstretched hands to meet him. But her face was as I had ifever seen it before—all stained by tears that yet fell, though with her white hands she tried to brush them awav. “Oh! George, where is Gaston? 1 Herbie is ill—perhaps to death! I ! have longed so for yon to come, for ! only you could I ask to search for him. ! My poor boy has done nothing but moan and call for his father for the last three I hours, and the doctor says if his wish is | not satisfied and his mind set at rest he j fears the worst. Oh, George, I pray I you leave no stone unturned till you ' find my husband. T cannot tell you 1 where to look, for I have not seen him , since early this morning. He did not j know that Herbert was in any danger, for even I did not. The fever became | violent for the first time this noon.” The gentleman stooped and kissed her forehead. “ My poor sister, I only wish for your sake I had any clew as to where Gaston is—but I will do my best.” But ere he had left her I had gone, on tlie wings of the wind, for I knew where to look for him. Only an hour before I had seen him enter the door that opened upon that brilliant, glitter ; ing peene I had heard called—“ Satan’s i most deadly trap.” I kuocked, and, no one answering, though in my heart I was frightened, I pushed open the door and entered. I saw not this time the great crystal lights ; or the bright pictures that lined the w alls, for my eyes were fastened upon two forms who, in the center of the room, were confronting each other. “You shall pay for your words—and now !" one was saying; and as lie spoke he drew something black and glittering from his pocket. The man before him who was thus threatened with the deadly weapon, was him I sought. I sprang forward. “Stop !” 1 cried, with frantic energy, “Do not kill him, for his boy—him they “ ‘Tis Liberty Alone that Gives the Flower of Fleeting Life its Lustre and Perfume—and We are Weeds Without it.’’ 1880. call Herbert—is dying, and calls for him !” All eyes turned with curiosity and surprise upon me; but 1 cared not. The man’s hand with the weapon fell to his side. “His boy, Herbert, is sick and d y ing,’ I repeated, “and he calls for his father; and the doctor says if lie does not see him he cannot possibly live.” I shall never forget the look of agony that came in the place of the anger to the dark face of Herbert’s father. “My boy—dying ! and I here !” He had been beside himself with drink, but the shock of my words had sobered him, and taking my hand, he led me from the place. Once out in the street I tried to leave him, but he held me tight. “If my boy lives it will be yon who have saved him,” he said. “Yon shall come with me.” “Such a pathetic scene as it was when the mother, hearing steps, came to the door aud saw her husband ! I cannot think of it now without tears. What my beautiful lady said to me when, in a few words he told her all, I will not now repeat, but I never shall forget. A couple of hours later the doctor de clared that the danger was past; the boy had had his desire, and, his de delirium quieted, he had sunk into slumber. So it was that I, Polly Evans, saved two lives. Mr. St. John, true to his word, never from that time touched another glass of the soul-destroying liquid, and Herbert grew and thrived from his childhood (which his mother told me had always been delicate) into as stalwart a lad as ever gladdened a parent’s heart. Twelve years have passed since then, and lam Polly Evans no longer. But I will not anticipate and tell just yet who I am. That night, when through God’s prov idence I was instrumental in doing the good He put in my way, was the turning point of my own life, too. “You must stay with us, my child,” Mrs. St, John said. “Henceforth your home is in this house, which but for you would be desolate indeed. I can never repay to yon the benefits you have given to me, but all that is in my power I shall do. Your real name is Mary, you j tell me. I had a sister Mary once, and j I love the name. Mary, will you be willing to let me do wliat 1 can to make you a happy, useful woman ?” I w T as put at once into school. Of course I was ignorant, and had much to unlearn as well as to learn; but hard work accomplishes wonders, and two years ago I received my diploma with kiudlv words from my teachers that brought a thrill of pride to my breast, for I felt that with that in my hand I could at last reach the ultimatum of my bulging, aud go forth into the world and work for myself and be independent. One day, when I thought we were en tirely alone—Mrs. St. John and myself —in her cosy boudoir, I broached the subject for the first time. I was little prepared for the effect of my words. I knew that she loved me,but how well not till then. But though she pleaded, yet I was firm, for I had dis covered during the last few mouths something within myself that forced me to be so. But, oh ! it was hard, indeed, to resist those tender, earnest tones. “Mary, do you not know that to see you leave my roof would break my heart? You do not speak—is there, then, no way in which I can induce you to give up this idea that has gained such hold over your mind ?” “Of course there is,” cried a rich voice at the door that brought the blood in a torrent from my heart to my cheeks, as, pushing aside the curtains, the son of the house entered. His eves met mine, and mine fell. A joyous light sprang into his handsome face (that face that I had long known I cared for with more than a sister’s affection). “Ask her to stay as your daughter, mother.” As I stood there blushing crimson— though I had died for it I could not lift my eyes, for I knew that their expres sion would betray me—a soft hand took mine. “Can it be possible, Mary, that you care for my son ? I had not dared to hope for this ! I knew Herbert loved you, but I never dreamed that you had a thought for him that was not merely sisterly.” (Ah, my short-sighted bene factress !) “Will you indeed stay, Mary, as my daughter ” “And my wife,” another voice added, while a strong young arm enfolded me. Aud I staid, and hero I still am, no longer Mary Evens, but dignified Mrs. Herbert St. John. Herbert often calls me “Polly,” for I love to hear my old name spoken in his tender tones, though, indeed, perhaps it might be as well to say that everything to me is music that comes from his lips. Ferry Facts. “ Hermit,” the New York correspon dent writes: “ The East Itiver Bridge is rapidly approaching completion, aud the public will soon learn what advan tage is to be derived from an investment, of at least §14,000,000. The number at present annually transported by the ferries is 45,000,000 souls, being equal to 120,000 per day. One-half of this immense crowd take Fulton Ferry, and this fact has given Fulton street its great impoitancc as a place of traffic. The fare, from five o’clock in the morn ing until 7:30 o’clock, is only one cent, this liemg in favor of the working class. It is evident that the bridge will serious ly impair the ferries, aud yet the latter will have a reasonable patronage. To reach the bridge one must go to the City Hall Park, which many will find an inconvenience. Others will dislike to trust themselves on a bridge whose strength is a matter of doubt. The fer ries have been wonderfully exempt from casualties, and hence have won general confidence.” Prohibition. —The vote of 19 cities in Massachusetts was very nearly equal ly divided mi the subject of license for liquor selling, the aggregates being: In favor of licensing, 31,687; against it, 29,561 Eight of these cities decided to try the experiment of local prohibi tion. r THE LOSS OF THE JEANNETTE. ■ She is Crushed in tlie lee and De scried by her Crew. - . . [ From the New York Tribune. 1 The Jeannette has shared the fato of ’ the Tegethoff. That vessel disappeared ; oft' the coast of Xovuia Zemlia, in 1872, and was never again seen, but two years afterward Payer and Weyprecht r and their companions returned without r their ship, having broken away from Arctic imprisonment and effected their escape in their boats after an agonizing i struggle. In like manner the Jeannette l has been crushed in the ice, and her gallant commander comes back without 5 his ship two years after it was last | sighted north of Behring Strait. The scene of the disaster was latitude 77, , longitude 157 east, and the time June I ‘23. The crew embarked in three boat one of which reached the mouth of the , Lena on September 29, and another , subsequently, while the third has not • reached land. Tlie survivors were in their boats from seventy to ninety days, . and their condition on reaching land is described as pitiable. Their sufferings must have been even more heartrending thau those of the Polaris castaways, whom De Long himself rescued off the coast of Labrador; for although they too left their ship iu latitude 77 and had been 196 days on the floating ice when they were picked up by the Tigress, they had started with more than a boat’s load of provisions. Tlie escape of two-thirds of the Jeannette’s crew is a deliverance almost miraculous. The sufferings of those brave sailors will ex cite a thrill of sympathy wherever this last story of Arctic adventure is told. The English-speaking world, recogniz ing their Anglo-Saxon grit, will rejoice with one consent over the safety of those who have been rescued and will lament the possible fate of the missing boat's crew. Has Do Long the same solace which Payer and Weyprecht enjoyed, when they reappeared after their two years' voyage? They had discovered Franz Josef Land. It was an accident, to be sure, for their vessel had been caught iu the ice and they had been drifting in utter helplessness for months when their eyes first caught a glimpse of that mysterious shore; still, it vvas a discov | ery which richly compensated them for j all their sufferings and trials. Has De Long done anything more than to return half way on the track of Nordenskjold, the intrepid commander of the Vega? Unable to break through the ice on the Behring Strait meridian, has he turned to the left through Long Strait aud spending two winters on the Siberian coast, only edged his way as far west as the Siberian Islands ? Or has ho also made discoveries in higher latitudes, so that he can do something besides com pare notes with Nordenskjold ? The details of his cruise will be awaited with the keenest interest. The latitude where disaster overtook his trim little vessel indicates that be had a higher ambition than to repeat the Swede’s exploit. It is a higher latitude than that of the northernmost cape which the Vega rounded, aud is on a level with Prince Patrick Land and the southern edge of Spitzbergen. Whether it was the high est latitude which he had reached, or whether he had made discoveries of real importance before his ship was aban doned, we shall know when the log is furnished in detail. It will be melan choly, indeed, if this gallant commander aud his plucky companions have strug gled and suffered as they must have done w ithout having added materially to the sum of human knowledge or enlarged the horizon of tho polar basin. In the first flush of this sudden news from the Jeannette, science and geography count for little. It is the human element which touches the hearts of people of generous instincts. There is joy over the deliverance of the bulk of the crew; there is sympathy for the brave commander’s wife, who has been waiting so anxiously for twen ty-eight long months for tidings of his safety; there is sorrow that the ship’s company has been divided, and that so many brave men may have perished. But the scientific aspects cannot be en tirely overlooked. The failure of this expedition may tend to simplify the future course of Arctic exploration. The theory generally adopted in recent years has been that in order to reach a high latitude within the Arctic Circle the vessel must follow a coast line tending northward. When De Long left San Francisco in 1879 there were three coasts which seemed to offer pe culiar advantages for Arctic explora tion. One was the Greenland shore, which Kane, Hayes, Hall and Nares had followed; another was the recently discovered Franz Josef Land, which has since been partially explored by Leigh Smith; aud the third was Wran gell Land, which was supposed to be a large island aud possibly one of a chain of islands stretching toward the pole. De Long hoped to succeed in winter ing on Wrangell Land and following what was fancied might be a polar archipelago far to the north. Wran gell Land is now known to be a small island with an impenetrable sea to the north, and Leigh Smith’s disappear ance iu the Kara Sea discourages at tempts to make Franz Josef Land a base of operations. If the phantom quest for the Pole is ever to be resumed, the old route through Smith’s Sound must be considered the safest highway. The little colony of Americans and Eskimos which was landed in Lady Franklin Bay last summer lias better opportunities for scientific research and extended ex ploration in the highest latitudes than any ship’s crew exposed to the terrible risks of the Siberian waters and the Barentz Sea can possibly have. French Railways. —M. Papon has j introduced into the Chamber of Deputies a bill for the immediate purchase of the whole of the French railways by tho Government. The scheme provides for the division of the great lines into sections, each of which is to be managed by a company under the general super vision of the Ministry of Public Works. M. Papon’s proposal is already meeting with considerable opposition. Kansas Divorces. —A new law' in Kansas forbids any person to marry within six months after procuring a di vorce. At a Yucatan Ball. A BOSTON MAN DESCRIBES HIS INITIATION INTO THE MYSTERIES OF DANCING. r i The same dazzling array of beautiful, , jewel-bedecked meztiza girls beamed > upon us this evening, as at the first t dance, and soon all my friends were : busy tilling their books for the dances, i There was no prescribed style of dress for the men; some wore their shirts ; outside, fluttering iu the evening air; i some woro them inside, and some of the ' more aristocratic even wore coats, but all wore their hats. Unobserved in a corner, I was watching the strange cos i tumes, when the sharp eye of the Gen eral espied me, irom his chair of state, beneath his own portrait, draped in Mexican colors. “Hi, Seuor Frederico, why are you not dancing ?” “Sener General, I don’t know how.” “Yes you do; you’ve got to dance, anyway.” With that lie approached me, and when I tried to dart through the crowd, caught and led me sternly back. “Here,” beckoning to a lovely girl, “come, my darling, and dance with el tenor cstrane/ero." Tlie girl came and stood in front of me, smiiing. “That is my niece, the prettiest girl in the room aud tlie best dancer in the canton. Take her, now, aud the Lord help you.” Then I explained that I never danced; that a lame duck iu a ten-acre lot could waltz all around me. It was of no use. Ho repeated, ‘ ‘There’s my niece ; look at her!” True enough, there she was, waiting for me to take her out. Oh, she was a handsome girl, with regular features! and shapely shoulders, and hung all | around with gold ornaments. Now, that girl couldn’t understand a ; word of my language, but she must j have seen that I didn’t want to dance ■ with her. But wheu the music struck up she merely smiled and said, “ I ’amonon /” Vamonos is “come along!” but Ij wouldn’t go. I commenced to explain : “Senorita, yo no so this kind of a dance, you know ; it’s all Greek to me ; a Vir ginia reel, now, or a sailor’s hornpipe, for instance, but this ” I never fin- ■ ished that sentence, for she advanced with fire in her eye, and seized me about the waist and said, in a decided ; manner, “ Vamonos and I ramottsed. ! Well, that young lady sailed all about! me like a swan. While I hopped up and down, stepped on her skirt, and trod on j her toes, and she remained as serene as a summer sky, pulled mo this way aud t hat, whirled me round and round till I was giddy, and ended by flinging me into a seat, while tlie whole audience, who had remained thunderstruck with awe and amazement at my war dance, burst with loud cries of “ 17m cl Amer icano!" The Power of the Press. One of the old-time editors of Michi gan was boasting that he had never been j sued for libel, or attacked in bis sane- ' turn, but ho could recall many narrow escapes. Twenty-five years ago he was running a red hot paper on the lino of the Michigan Central Railroad, A man named Carson, who was running for some county oflice, was given a bad racket, and the editor received a note that if he had anything more to say he might expect to receive a good pound ing. He had a still more bitter attack the next week, aud the paper was hardly mailed before in walked Carson, the ; candidate, accompanied by a brother aud two cousins. Tlie four were strapping big fellows, and each was armed with a horsewhip. The two compositors and the “devil” got out with all sped, leav ing the editor without support. He realized the situation at once, and began: “Walk iu, gentlemen ; I presume you have come to horsewhip me ?’’ “We have,” they answered. “Very well. Have you thoroughly j considered this matter ?” “It doesn’t need any consideration,” i replied Carson. “You have lied about me, and I’m going to lick you within an inch of yonr life !” “Just so, my friend, but first hear what I have to say. Did yon ever hear of the press being stopped because the editor was cowhided ?” “I dnnuo.” “Well, yon never did. Lick me all you choose and my paper comes out week after week just the same. The power of the press is next to the lever which moves the universe. It makes or breaks parties, builds up or tears down, plants or destroys. Aggravate the edi tor and the press becomes a sword to wound and kill. Wollop me if you will, but next week I’ll come out more bitter than ever.” There was an embarrassing silence right here, and the face of each horse- I wbipper had an auxious look. “It will go out to the world —to j America, Canada, England, France— aye ! clear to Jerusalem, that the Carson family of this county live on roots and johnny-cake; that they stole a dog from a blind man; that they murdered aped- j dler for a pair of 2-shilling suspenders; ! that the women are club-footed aud the men work their ears when they sing; and the—” “What is the regular subscription price to the Herald ?" interrupted Car sou. “Only twelve shillings a year.” “Put us four down.” “Very well—s6 —that’s correct. Run in aud see me— all of you, aud if any of you want to see any of my Detroit ex changes I shall lie only too glad to serve you.”— Detroit Free Pres*. Though a snake be fed milk, it will yield poison.—Tamul. Put a crow iu a cage, will he talk Use a parrot ?—Urad. The nim tree will not lie sweetened though you water it with milk. San scrit. Mr. Bubnand, the editor of Punch, is the happy father of fourteen chil ] dren. Just imagine Mr. Bnrnand fixing ; his children’s pan-cakes every morning. ! —Elmira Advertiser. FUNERAL REFORMATION. Practical Suggestions to Clergymen —Mourning and Economy. Of late there has been a great variety of reform in tho conduct of funerals, • both iu this country aud in England. • Most of these have been in the interest f of comfort, economy and common 6 sense. Much of the costly and absurd • parade which formerly made funerals s j odious is now abolished. The old prac s j tice of keeping a corpse for nearly a > week iu order to have a great demonstra -3 ; tion on Sunday ha 3 largely gone out ot • ; fashion, owing to the decided way in 1 j which the clergy frowned upon it. The ' 1 long procession of carriages, which j often made frightful inroads on the > . moans of the survivors, is now materjal -1! ly shortened. Fashion yet compels the : use of the dreadful black clothes, which 1 | have always been recognized as the , | millinery of grief, but there is an abate ment from the extremest blackness even > of these. The custom of sending great quantities of floral offerings was so 1 overdone that there has been a reaction, i and the business of the florist is seri ously damaged in consequence. There ■ is room for still one more improvement in funeral management. That pertains to the clergyman’s part of the services. 1 j To minister at a funeral gracefully and to the edification of the bereaved and their friends, is one of those arts in which few ministers excel. There are some who are just what they should be iu their tender manner, their touching eloquence, their mag netic power aud their felicitous allu j sions to the deceased. The ministra tion of such a man at a funeral is a j benediction to all who are present; but such men are rare. Most clergymen j talk too long or too loud or indulge in | fulsome adulation of the departed,which j must be offensive aud painful even to tho closest friends and relations. A I funeral service is ouo which calls out the highest and most delicate skill a minister possesses. Whether in a church or a private house, there are sure to be people present whom his or dinary ministrations do not reach. Their religion max* be of some diverse 1 pattern from his own, or possibly they have no religion at all. By approach ing them judiciously, he may exert a most salutary influence over them. By scolding at them for not coming to church or for holding objectionable doctrines, he may awaken their most pronounced opposition, aud fail of the good which he honestly intended to do them. At a recent funeral the pastor of the church to which the afflicted family be long was on hand for duty. His princi pal exercise was to make an address about thirty minntes long. Although standing in the doorway of the parlor of a moderate-size house, this good man spoke as if from his own pulpit to a large congregation. His voice was as loud, his tones as oratorical and his gestures as majestic as if he had 5,000 people be fore lum. His remarks were theologically formal and cruelly cold, dwelling much . on how Adam brought sin into the world, and how through sin came death. After ■ this man had" thoroughly wearied his • hearers, another clergyman offered a prayer, which was in every sense extem porary. It was crude and cheerless, and did not seem to aim in any more definite direction than was indicated by the fre quent utterance of the expression: “We tiiank thee, O Lord.” What is wanted for real edification at ; a funeral is the very reverse of all this. The Episcopal Church has shown a nice sense of the fitness of things in the nse of its beautiful liturgy. When that has been gracefully and eloquently read there is no occasion for vapid remarks, doctrinal harangues or fustian oratory. So with the Catholic service, in which the prayers are of deep and touching solemnity. If thero must be preaching aud exhorting nt funerals, the work of those who educate young men for the ministry should be to teach them so to speak and to conduct themselves as to initiate a radical reform in this branch of ministerial work. Philadelphia S Times. A Practical Joke. Auother victim to the practice of practical joking has paid for his credulity with his life. The other day, as the French bark Felix was approaching the port of Marseilles under easy sail, a negro belonging to the crew suddenly clambered upon tho bulwarks and plunged into tho sea. Although the vessel was promptly hove to and a boat put out in search of the unfortunate m an, who was known to be a powerful swim mer, all the efforts made to rescue him proved fruitless. Inquiry amoug the crew respecting the motives of his suicide resulted in the following painful revelation. He had shipped at Mozam bique as an able seaman, and his ship mates, learning that he had never before made a voyage to France, agreed to persuade him that human flesh of the negro variety is so highly relished by ! wealthy Frenchmen of the present day that he could not fail, upon arriving at Marseilles, to be roasted and eaten. Their plot proved only too successful. The conviction that he was destined to figure as a comestible at some Marseilles i restauraut preyed upon his miud to such an extent that he at last resolved to die by his own act rather than en counter tho fate awaiting him in port. This determination he made known to the authors of the hoax, but they never theless kept up their jest until the Felix sighted Marseilles, when the wretched uegro, believing himßelf irrevocably i doomed to suffer death within a few hours, drowned himself. His tormentors are in prison, and likely to pay dearly for their joke. We are not all unlike Curran in the following anecdote': —By the way, some one says that to be in one’s dotage is bad enough, but to be in one’s anec dotage is much worse. Currau, after a heated debate, put his hand on his heart and declared that he was the trusty guardian of his own honor. Upon this Sir Boyle Roche congratu lated his friend on the snug little sine cure which be had found for himself. They say that money does not bring ; happiness. This is an experiment, however, which every one wishes to try for himself. .00 PER ANNUM. WIT AM) WISDOM. , Four babies have come all at once to Mrs. Tyler of Kansas, and each weighs four pounds. It is supposed that Mr. ' Tyler will lecture. An exchange wants to know “whether our college-s turn out gentlemen.” Cer tainly not; the gentlemen are allowed to go on and graduate. It is a little cuiions that when you say a man is a hard drinker yon really mean that he drinks so easily that he does it all the time. A lover writes to his fair but fickle fiancee: “I have wasted a choir of paper writing notes to you, and now if musick be the food of love it’s played out. A ru MUER recently got mad when he heard some man speaking of a South American bird that is noted for its pipes that nothing can beat. — Purl:. There are not many men in the world who are as lazy as the dog who leaned his head against a wall whenever he barked. Thf. oldest inhabitant is generally a man; not because he is given to lying, bnfr because he commenced owning up to his age sooner.— New Orleans Pica yune. A man had better pass for a cent in the currency of lrn fellows and be worth the money, than to go for a dollar and be sold out finally at a discount of per cent. — StubcnviUc Herald. A Wisconsin man stole thirty-nine sheep and a steer, but the warrant charged him with stealiug thirty-nine steers aud a sheep, and he left the court room with all his reputation restored. Not too funny: “Dwo vas schoost enough, bndt dree vas too bleuclty,” re marked Haus, wlieu his best girl asked him to take her mother along with them to a dance.— Cambridae Tribune. “It is said that the laws of this State very closely resemble sausage,” Bays the Syracuse Herald. “Yon have great re spect for them until yon know how they are made.” Voltaire, who is not always to be trusted, spoke of a physician as “a man who pours drugs of which he knows little into bodies of which he knows less.” Texas complains of tci many news papers. It’s getting so that a gentle man can’t take a hand in a lynching or oven join in a free fight without having his name in print.* “No,” said the bank cashier, “I did not need the money. I wasn’t specu lating. I had no necessity for stealing it; but, hang it, I didn’t want to be called eccentric.” Nervoi's lady passenger on the train, after passing a temporary bidge— “ Thank goodness, we are now on terra firms.” Facetious gentleman—“ Yes, ma’am. Less terror and more firmer.” Never forget that it is your duty to laugh whenever you find anything to laugh at. “A good laugh,” so says Charles Lamb, “is worth a hundred groans in any state of the market.” Rather slim: “Save One Little Kiss for Papa” is the title of the latest song. If this remark is aimed at a Chicago girl with four steady beaux the old man’s chances are pretty slim.— Chicago Tri bune. Financial and commercial: In mer cantile houses it is always deemed best to be cautious in crossing the “t’s” and dotting the “i’s,” but in broken banks the defaulting cashier’s chief thought is to cross the “c’s.” —The Score. One of the precepts of the Talmud urges a mau to “descend a step in choosing a wife.” Many a young fellow has descended a number of steps—and in something of a hurry, too—when on that very errand.— Buffalo Neioe. Columrcs, 0., has developed a crank who knocks (’own everybody he meets wearing a white hat with a crape band. We don’t believe in encouraging cranks, but—well—if he should come to De troit—! ! — Detroit Free Press. If your congregation goes away pleased with yon, you may be sure that your services have partaken of the character of a mere performance ; but if they go away displeased with them selves then you have proof positive that you have really preached to them. De politest mau I eber seed was at a railroad depot. A fellow with a lot ob trunks on a long thing wheelid’ aroun’ as though ho was tryin’ ter run over everybody. Finally a man stepped up an’ sez : *“ I see yer has ’siderable trou ble ruunin’ agin’ people. To oblige yer, I’ll stan’ in front of yer machine.” In County Down a countryman whose old horse had suddenly died took tho skin to the tanner. The tanner Baid in the Scotch dialect peculiar to the dis trict : “I canna gie yon full price for this skin ; its ower sma’.” The reply was: “ That’s quare. The aul horse wore it twenty years aud mair, and niver made any complent about it being ower sma’.” The story is told of Senator Vance, of North Carolina, who was a Confeder ate Colonel, that early in the war, in the presence of a trained officer, the men beiug at support arms, he gave the command, “ Order arms,” and the men ordered arms. “ Why,” said the officer, “Colonel, yon can’t do that.” “Can’t do that,” replied Vance, “I rather think I have done it.” The trustees of Tecumseh, Mich., passed an ordinance forbidding meu and boys to loiter within fifty feet of a church door. This was intended to stop the practice of waiting at the vesti bule for the girls to come ont, numerous squabbles over the prizes having oc curred. The spectacle of the eager beanx standing on the prescribed line, like a lot of soliciting hackman, is said to be rather ludicrous. Marvin, the bigamist, says that his moral nature was first blunted at Elmira, N. Y., where he was fined five dollars for eloping with a butcher’s wife. The bntclier was asked about the damage that he had sustained, and he took a pencil and figured on a piece of brown paper a moment, and told the jury that five dollars was about right. He had figured her at four cents a pound, live weight.