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T - dfrt .numa nuet 4t aamsEse(31 Llb
EVERY WEDNESDAY V!ORNING,
FF 0 E'sSpecial modeces in local column 20 cesfa
%I%al;a & -H, Greeker, raniamala..
s=e "'''"''yl I.WDNESDAY MORNING, JULY1,17.Io 8
The 1wdy of the World.
stinoruing yo start on the journey
tibeart ful of hope and your
pochet of gold,
qWien the air seems with sunshine and hap- f
Tm. think you can never grow weary
Th6 path lies before-the ascent is but
And th soft springy turf with fresh dew
drop is pearled,
W ajout spirit is bright and your foot
step is ligha .
It's a very nice way is the way of the
When surrounded by friends you stride n
And each weaves for the other green gar- P
Tands of bays;
WhbU-yo lighten your journey with langh
ter -and song, g
'Twill be sunshine, you think, till the end h
of your days. -
If steeper the path grows as still it ascends,
What prospects of bliss are before you
While the storm stil impends, ere you're s
left by your friends,
It's a very smooth way is the way of .the
But, ah, when the tempest o'ertakes you at
When clouds and thick darkness the
prospect enfAld, s
When you wrestle in vain with the force of
Till it leavep you exhausted, and naked, U
and cold. 8
Whea the path you were climbing is shat
tered and cleft,
Aid sharp splintered crags all around
ys lie hurled;
When your friends have all left, and of for
tune you're ret r
t's a very hard way is the way of the
'STAGINS XPERIIENT. a
BY AMY RANDOLP. r
"The best fellow in the world!" '
swd. Harry Lane enthusiastically.
"Is that his picture ?" said Eus- b
tacia Allan, standing on tiptoe to b
took :over her cousin's shoulder. N
"He is very handsome !" o
.Xor.mas she herselt exactly the it
jipposite of that adjective, as she 1
stood-.there, with limpid hazel
light eeomingand going beneath S
ter long brown eyelashes, and red r
lips hatf Apart.0
"I do think I should like him,"
asoud&d-Musisgey, "if only-" 0
"CiU, don't. be unreasonable !
saidHarry. "Remember the roc's a
-If onir" went oa Eustacia,
resolutely ignoring her cousin's i1
words, "he bad an income of his t
own, and I wasn't so rich !"
"You might make over your ii
fatleto me," gravely soggosted o
her cousin. "It would t,e difficult .E
to find a more deserving object." s
"iNeusense!" said Eustacia.
. "'Or you might change it all into t
Spanish douibloons, and chuck it h
into the sea. Don't be a goose, a
Stacia ! I tell you he is a fino fel- s
* low, and deserves the best wife s
;that fortune can.give him." hi
"Then why don't he come and h
plead his cause for himself ?" said '
Eusacia, suddenly firing up, c
~here it-is," said Harry, with
a slWazg of his broad shoulders. n
'You nerer can get him to be in S
*1 a hurry about anything. Ho has
taksisi a fancy to go fishing along d
the Housatonic river this month, c
andtlaPse alone knows when ~he
wilfbeback to town." a
"He shows good taste, at all b
events," said Eustaeia meditative.
ly "Just let me look at the pie.
$ure once more, Harry." S
'!Keep it, if you like," said her e
cousn. "Do you feel yourself be. e
"lPshaw !" said Eastfeia. "0 t
dear, I wish I was a man myself;
jtmouldn't be such bad fun to go C
tishing along the Hausatonie riv
"I wish. you were, puss," said in
iiarry. "I think, for my own s
pa:t, yoa'd be a regular jolly
"Gqy Percival," said Eustaeia, s
-stifi tutning the photograph round '
and round in her fingers ; "it's a t
prttynamefl-a very pretty name." v
"I beg everybody's pardon for
intruding, I'm sure," said Mr. I
Percival, as he followed his gun
sad4 game bag into Mr. Etherege's
kitehen; "but what is a fellow to
di dem1o it rains like forty equi- '
notasrolled into one ?"
"]Na's apologize, sir, I beg,"
sai4 tl~e farmer's hearty, hospita
ble voice. "you're as welcome as
flowers in May."
36 was a great room, the ceiling '
crossed and re-crossed by trans- S
verse beams, and the windows a
draped by fringed curtains,,~while ~
upon th~e huge stone hearth blazed
stelh a huge fire of hickory logs
as no sne man could1look atwith-,
out a sensation of pleasure on suchH
a hlySeptember nightfall .as
this: huge sticks wreathed w:th
ribbons offlamer ashes that glowed
& .red lik the battlements of bun
i cities, streams of sparks that
ished like flying battalions up
ie chimney, and a merry crackle
,d sputter that was like the talk
E familiar friends. It was better
ian a hundred welcomes.
"Upon my word, this is com
Prtable," said the young man,
Ivancing to the bright hearth,
3d taking the chair pushed for
ard by Mr. Etherege. "I am
[r. Percival, from Gantt's Inn,
:wn by the rapids. Unfortu
ELtely I missed the right road in
ie twilight, and here I am !"
"Glad to make your acquain
Lnee, Mr. Percival," said the un
)phisticated farmer. "I'm Job
therege, and this 'ere," with a,
Dd toward a brustling little wo
an who had just drawn a round
ine table into the middle of the
>om, "is my wife,"-Utrs. Ethe
,ge courtesied, and Mr. Percival
Dt gravely up to bow-"and
ere," turning to a corner only
ow and then illuminated by the
icker of the firelight, "is Emily."
"Your daughter, sir?" asked
ercival, trying vainly to identify
ie brown eyes that seemed toi
iine so vaguely out of the dark
ess-the silky hair that gleamed
ld-bright, every now and then,
,om dense depths of shadow.
"Not my own gal," said the far
ier, with a certain embarrass
ent; "but she seems just the
a m e. Emily teaches district
bool, sir," said the farmer proud
r, "and gets eighteen dollars a
onth for it V"
"Oh !" thought Guy Percival, a
ight contemptuous quiver eurv.
ig the corners of his lips, "the
illage school-ma'am, who paints
n velvet and teaches wax flow
rs. I know the genus. What a
ity one couldn't enjoy this glo
ous farm house and the jovial old
ople without having to endure
e school-ma'am too I"
But when the lights came in,
ad Mr. Percival saw what man
er of person Emily Etherege
mlly was, he owned to himself
at for once instinct had led him
"She's a beauty !" he said to
imscl. "She's graceful as a wild
irch-tree-sho has a face like a
Ienus di Milo! What queer freak
E'Fate had dropped this gem down
the wildernesses that skirt this
And Mr. Percival ate the pre
wrved quinces which Mrs. Ethe
ge had brought out in his hon
r, without knowing whether they
-ere honey-sweet spheres of fruit
r sour apples "done" in molasses.
"I wish you'd let me stay here
few days," he said to the farmer
ext day. "I'm sure the squirrel
unting is much better here than
the valley below, and I'd be no
rouble at all."
"'ve no objections in the world,
'you think you can put up with
ur homespun ways," said Mr.
therege genially. And so Guy
"It must be a great bore for you
go off to schooT every morning,"
e said, one golden October day,
he strode by Emily Etherege's
de, over the yellow carpet of
>ftly rustling leaves ; for, some
ow, his way to the woods and
or way to the school-house al
ays seemed curiously to coin
"Not half so great a bore as it
ist be for you to do nothing,"
e said mischievously.
"But I never was brought up to
o anything," said Guy, with ex
'How do you expect to live ?"
sked Emily, turning her big
rown eyes gravely upon him.
Are you rich ?"
"No, I'm not ;" dubiously re
ponded the young man, half vex
d, half amused at this unexpected
"Do you expect to inh'erit a for.
une ?" she persisted.
"Can't say I do," answered Per
"Then," said Emily, "not being
lily of the field, that toils not,
either does it spin, how do you
appose you are to live ?"
"Miss Emily, that's a home ques
ion," said Guy, elevating his hand
ome eyebrows. "I suppose you
ould despise me," he added hesi
atingly, :-if I were to tell you the
"What is it ?"
"I mean, what I did intend once.
have changed my mind since."
"To marry a fortune."
Emily's color deepened. Invol
ntarily she withdrew her hand
rom Percival's arm.
"There !" he said. "I knew you
rould think me a contemptible
uppy, and you are quite right.
ut I am not the only man, by
any a score, who patches up his
canty garments with cloth of
;old. Besides, didn't I tell you I
ad giveni up the idea ?"
"Yes, you said that."
She was a beautiful girl too,
hey told me," added Percival;
one who of herself would have
teen a prize to any man. But,
omehow, I !ook differently on
uch things now."
.ha was her name ?"'
They walked on, for a few min
utes, in silence. Then Emily spoke
"And r-hat has wrought such a
obange in your sentiments ?"
"Shall I confess it to you hon
"Of course!" she said, a little
"I" Emily reddened raeiantly.
"But how-when-have I-"
"Every day and every hour, and
by a thousand insensible influences,
Emily, you have made a self-reli
ant man of me. Heretofore-and
I don't think it was so much my
own fault as the error of my early
edocation-I have looked upon
myself as something above and be
yond the working herd of every
day creation-something to be
spared and relieved from contact
with toil or effort, st any cost."
"And now ?" she asked softly
with her brown eyes raised wist
fully to his.
"As I said before, you have
taught me differently. I am go
ing home from beautiful autumnal
wildernesses, to work."
"Wat are you going to do ?"
"Chop wood-carry coal-study
law-do something. Don't laugh,
Emily. I have studied law super
ficially. Now I shall throw my
whole soul and energy into the
business. I will make my own
"And the heiress?" demanded
Emily, with demure gravity.
"Oh, she'll find plenty of better
husbands than I should be," frank
ly answered Mr. Percival. "Is
this the school-house already ? and
I have so much more to say to
"I must wait until another
time," said Emily, with the digni
ty of the schoolmistress. "Good
bye, Mr. Percival."
And she disappeared into the
little brown weather-beaten build
ing, where the children were al
ready beginving to swarm like so
many juvenile bees.
"He is a splendid fellow !" she
thought, with throbbing heart and
softly luminous eyes; "and oh,
how much truer, nobler, manlier,
than I had any idea of!"
Mr. Percival was waiting to es
cort Miss Etherege home, under
the yellow canopy of the great
white-wood tree whih stood like
a sentinel at the entrance of the
"Emily," he said wistfully, "I've
been thinking of it all day. I can
not go away unless you will first
promise me to be my wife."
"Guy, this is very sudden !"
"Not with me. It has been in
my mind since almozt the first
d-ty I ever saw you."
"But, Guy," she faltered a iittle
in her voice, though she strove to
make it firm and steady. "I'm
but a poor school-teacher-how
can I help you on in the world ?"
"By your counsel and compan
ionship and sympathy-by your
sweet self, Emily !"
He had taken her hand now,
and was looking ear-nestly into
"Emily, do you love me ?"
She hid her face on his shouil
"Oh, Guy, how can I help it ?"
They had nearly reached home,
walking in the golden enchant
mert of the dim illuminated woods,
when the late sunset laid bars of
quivering amber across their path,
and birds glanced in anid out, like
thoughts that come and go in hap
py hearts, when Emily paused.
"Stop a minute, Guy. There is
s>mething I wanit to show you."
And she drew from the folds of
her dress a little photograph. He
started, as wvell he might.
"My own picture!"
"Yes--your own picture; the
one you sent to Eustacia Allan !"
"Did she give it to you ?"
"Not exactly. Oh, Guy, how
shall I tell you? Yet it must be
told ! Guy," with a sudden effort
of self-command, "I am Eustacia
kilan, and Emily Etherege is only
a fictitious character ! I knew
you wore here ; and, Guy, I want
ed to know you as you really
were! Are you very angry ?"
Guy stood staring breathlessly
"It's like a play !" he cried.
"But, Emily-Eustacia, I mean
I cannot give you up-no, not if
you were a score of heiresses !"
"If you ever say that word
again !" said the little actress,
stamping her tiny foot on the
rustling leaves. "Besides, you
can't give me up ; you belong to
me now, soul and body ! I should
like to hear you talk of giving me
And then she cried, this incon
sistent, undignified little heroine
of ours, the brightest, happiest,
sweetest tears that ever baptized
the damask of her cheeks.
And we leave her here, quite
satisfied that there is nothing more
to be said.
Enamelled silver bracelets are' a
Tomate ar-c healthful.
The lot of John Chinaman is,
indeed, a hard one. lie comes
into life too numerously to begin
with, and be feels himself incon
veniently crowded at the very
start. As an infant he is cast
into tho famous porcelain tower;
or, if he escapes that. he comes
forward in a state of wretched
squalor, lives by fighting with
starvation, suffers all the angles
of permanent poverty, and either
consumes himself with opium eat
ing, is exported as a coolie, or
transported to communities that
pelt him with denunciations or
make game of him by stoning him
to death, refuse him as a witness,
serve him up in hateful doggerel,
twist or destroy his queue, laugh
at his color, his eves, his loss,
and ridicule his anxiety to be sent
home when he is dead to mingle
with the celestial dust of has na
tive land. Yet John is neat, thrifty,
industrious, and has the genteel
est appetite it is possiblc to dis
cover. A handful of rice sustains
him even to fatness; and upon it
his work is performed as merrily
as that singular operation with
the shopsticks which would alone
give him distinction.
If John is reflective, and he un
doubtedly is, be must wonder why
he was ever created. There is
hardly a spot on the globe where
he is permitted to fructify. Civ
ilization rains, kicks and cuffs upon
him if he wanders abroad, and at
home his head is taken from his
shoulders with a frequency that
is positively monotonous. Or, if
if 6pared by the mandarin, there
is the tigery Tartar to hunt him
from generation to generation
along the frontier. The mission
ary is present, too, who in sav
ing his soul somehow incites
him to deeds of blood that lose
him his miserable body. He
is compelled to wallow in fumes
of opium, and decay and paralyze
himself that a lucrative trade may
be maintained. He is bundled off
by hundreds in coolie ships, and
roasts himself to death by the fire
he deliberately kindles ; or, escap
ing that, be perches on guano
heaps to stifle to death by the
dust, or perishes miserably of the
fevers and malurias of a. sugar
plantation. His life is private,
and yet he is public talk; retiring,
he is yet a publie misfortune and
Poor John I We style him a hea
then, yet accept the morality of
Confucius. We vote him bar
barops, yet his is the most civil
ized nation on earth, and has for
gotten things the world is just
learning. We borrow from bin)
competitive examination for civil
service, try to imitate his porce
lain, his paper, his painting, his
schools, his silk ; and are staggered
to find what an adept ho is in art
:ind science, and how much of'
both he has been practising for
ages, while outside barbarians
were struggling with mcere rudi
John's humility, if nothing else,
should insure him respect. He is
the brother of the Sun and the
Moon, but is in nowise stuck-up
about it. The Cincinnati butcher
cuts off his queue, and John only
picks it up to coil again about his
head. The Labor Refor-mers hurl
anathemas at him, and he nullifies
them by keeping stet.dily at his
work, retorting nothing. His
wages are not paid him on a rail
road, and he meekly requests
that he may be sent home, refu
sing to demonstrate as a rioter.
Beaten, burned. suicided, married
to turbulent females, he yect ap
pears more numerous than ever.
Like the Utah grasshoppers he
keeps advancing. Voted a nai
sace, he is a growing acquaint
ance ; a thorn in the Crispins'
side, he is discovered treating the
North Adams girls to. ice cream,
and taking advantage of the Ku
Klux law in San Francisco. Evi
dently John, unlike Jefferson Da
vis, or the sonorous Toombs, pe
cepts the situation. It really ap
pears as if we must accept him,
whether for the regularly recur
ring holocaust, or to maintain the
equilibrium of manufacturing es
tablishments, and confess that he
and his woes must exist forever.
Thbe American (Ga.) Republiern
has the following: A drunken
negro stumbled into a colored
prayer meeting a few nights
since, while the congregation were
kneeling, and in hunting about
for a seat, fell heavily on a broth
e, who, it seems, was oblivious to
all earthly things, and who sud
denly started up, yelled "Ku
Klux!" and at one bound went
through the window. In an in
stant the congregation was in the
greatest con fusion. The women
shouted, screamed and prayed ;
the men yelled and fought, strik
ing anything and everybody near
them. The Iisrbts were put out
during the melee, and the house
was emptied as speedily as the
affrihted darkies could disentan
gle themselves and get out, ex
;p t.he dbrumnken wretch who had
been trampled upon and knocked
about untill he was nearly sense
less. As soon as it became quiet I
he got up and made a dash for ,t
the door and was soon hurrying <
homeward. On the way he met 2
some gentlemen, to whom he <
said: "The damn Ku Klexers t
came down church jess now, and I
kilt about twenty-fire, and whip- r
ped the wimmen and driv us all 1
out. They skint me all over with i
great big knives, and my bones I
ain't got a bit of meat on 'em.
Dis poor deflicted chile is a dead
nigger," and be went staggering
Summer Evening Music. T
Of all the memories of a Euro- t
pean tour, none is more vivid or I
more delightful than the out-of
door music of the Continent. In
deed, music and life in the open
air have a much closer relation
to each other than is generally
imagined. The most musical peo
ple in the world are the Germans
and the Italians, whose two, e
schools are acknowledged as the
only standards of musical taste
and culture, and the Germans
pass most of their time out-of
doors during the summer. while
the Italians of the cities live in
the open air for the greater part I
of the year. Music is cheap with I
them, because it is a part of their
being, and it is excellent because
their taste has been so highly ed
acated that they will not tolerate
mediocrity in composition or per
The increasing attention paid
to music in this country, especial
ly in the line of summer concerts,
which is in a mreat measure due
to the large erman element in
our population, is a very gratify
ing fact. The climate of the Uni
ted States from May to October
invites us to the open air for the
enjoyment of the pleasantest
hours of -the twenty-four in the
late afternoon, and parks have
come very properly to be regard
ed by all our municipal govern
ments as indispensable adjuncts
to cities. But the park without
music is the rose without perfume,
life without love, a world desti
tute of color, Hamlet with the
Prince of Denmark omitted.
Given a park there must be mu
sic. And what so conducive to
inmocent enjoyment, to the public
h-oalth, to the improvement of the
national taste ?
It would be a curious inquiry
to examine the difference in the
open-air life of the Germans and
the French in respect,of their mu
sical entertainment. Paris has al
ways been, in a certain sense, mu.
sical, and on the Chamr - Elysees
the summer nights u-..d to be
"filled , with music." But the
Frenchman liked the, cafe chant
ant, the stage and the foot-lights,
gas and grauze petticoats, even
under the trees. The expressive,
spiritual, dreamy music, the lofty
armnmes of the great German
masters, or the pure melodies of
of the Italian composers, would
alike have bored him unspeaka
ly. For mnstrumental effect he
prefers Offenbach. The German
demands the highest effects of the
art, and rejects all that is mere
tricious or impure.
But this comparison is apart
from the matter in hand, which
is the importance of providing
both for the amusement and in
struction of our people by the best
musical performances. All efforts
in this direction deserve the heart
iest encouragement, and it is easy
to see that they will receive it.
The orchestral leader who pro.
vides a high order of music in the
open air is a public benefactor,
Married Without Knowing It.
A Mr. Thomas Cooper, an En.
glishman, has published an ac
count of his travels in Thibet,
v hich he visited disguised as a
Chinaman. Among his stories is
He was just halting for break
fast, after leaving the Thibetan
town of Bathang, when a group
of young girls, gayly dressed and
decked with garlands of flowers,
come out of a grove and surround
ed him, some of them holding his
mule. while others assisted him
to alight. He was then led into
a grove, where he found a feast
being prepared, and-after he had
eaten and smoked his pipe, the
girls came up to him again, "pull
ing along in their midst a pretty
girl of sixteen, attired in a silk
dress, and adorned with garlands
of flowers." "I had already no
ticed," Mr. Cooper continues, "this
girl sitting apart from from 4e
others during the -meal, and was
very much astonished when she
was reluCtantly dragged up to me
and made to seat herself by my
side; and my astonishment was
considerably heightened w h e n
the rest of the girls began ,to
dance around in a circle singing
and throwing their garlands over
mysell and my companion." T.he1
meaning of this performance was,
howeve, .-o mae ear to Mr.
"ooper. He had been married W
rithout knowing it. At first he h:
ried to escape the liability en- lo
ailed upon him, but such an out- fla
'ry was made by all the people th
,round that lie was forced to wi
arry of his bride. le managed cy
o get rid of her before very long cr
Py transferring her to one of her se
elations, but even that was not lo:
rented as a dissolution of the ha
narriage. On his way back he w
v,as joined one day by a Thibetan fo
lame, of about thirty years old, or
vho announced herself as his as
vife's mother, and said she had ta
:ome, with the consent of her w
iusband. to supply her daughter's bc
ilace. We can well imagine Mr. to
looper's surprise at meeting with w
his novel proposal on the part of ab
iis mother in-law.
"A Woman in the Pulpit." uI
A corrrespondent of the Char- I s
eston Republican, writing from g
liken, S. C., under date June 21,;eu
On Sunday last, Miss Emily si
lodney, a colored woman, preached 10
rom the pulpit the most effective te
ermon we ever listened to. The W
[ord called her to the ministry, 5
tnd she is doing Hiq work. Her ki
iome was in Philadeiphi. She lo
ived with a family of Friends or he
Quakers, and now dresses like C
;hem, although a member of the tl.
hurch. After the surrender she is
eft Philadelphia to work for the h:
levation of her race. In Staun- n(
on, Virginia, by her own efforts ha
n raising money she built a l"
hurch and established a school. 0
he buildingm are now worth W
bhree thousand dollars. Then bc
he went to Greenville, Virginia, I tb
ield meetings which white and h(
lored attended, and again built ki
% chireh, costing one thousand M
Jollars, in which a school was sc
beld. Leaving them with only SC
Ifty dollars in debt, she came last ti
rall to Columbia, S. C., where she em
smmenced her labors in a part of n<
the city most needing them, and Of
now has a mission school of fifty s
scholars, and is raising means to 01
build a church. tb
Here is one woman's work. Not ri
% smooth path. either; ignorance Mt
ind envy are the stumblingblocks in
in every great work. The con- i
Ference, consisting of men, refused
ker license, because she was a wo
nan, but the Bishop gave her
permission ; so, those who desire
an her in the'pulpit. SO
,LXo.Aing and evening the house P
was crowded. many from curiosity, fu
some to criticise, yet all were v
,onvineed, and many better for h
the hearing. C
In alluding to her sex she re- h
marked, "The Bible says the Gos- tu
pl shall be preached," not that 01
man or woman, male or female e
must do it, but "it shall be preach- e:
ed." "The Lord tried men so
long he now gives the power to IS
women," and if women ca.a influ- P
ence men for badness, and all h
know she can; pure, good, holy ti
women can draw men's souls U
away from evil and load them to ti
the kingdom." t
In her explanation of the two tI
blind men, sitting by the way nl
side and calling on Jesus to heal ei
their sight, language fai.ls to ex- c1
press the power of her words, or g
the impressiveness of her exhor- a
tation. when urging sinners to t
come now, "while Jesus was pass- 7'
ing by ; come sinner, no matter if t4
you are a card-player, or a drunk- Li
ard ; no matter what the world ir
will say, come now-come! while 3
Jesus is passing by, come ! with h
your cards in your pocket, come ! )
ven if you have the rum bottle n
there, c~omec! if you are half drunk, si
and when the Spirit of the Lord "
gets into your heart, the other d
spirit will get out."
She advised them to peace, hon. d
esty, justice ; showing that true fi
religion was a principle, and must a
be shown in the (laity life. C
The correspondent concludes
A few more such women in such t:
work would make Christianity a
iving reality, and lift up any race ,
that accepted its teachings. o
Bachelor's Wives and Old r
The -old bachelor looks critically t
on men's wives. He takes an in.. s
vestigating interest in them. But S
he does so in a critical and an t
analytical sort of way, which the r
husbands did not practice in t,he V
irst instance, and which they b
would hardly like to have fully ex- d
plained to them now. But the V
bacelor is nothing if not critical. C
He detects the tinge of red or gray, is
the inequalities of curve or hine,
and. sees clearly through all the[h
mysteries and artifices of the toil-It
et. He has got an exhaustive ji
sneer: "The poor felloit has mar-[1
red for morney," or, "the poor fel-If
low has married for love." "By
Jove=, Sir!i Look at that womnan' a
waspish wait !Whore -can shet
have crammed her viscera?~"-d-r <
hatever jewel a man may think be
s found, the connoisseur bache
- will hold 4,haL he can find a
w in it. Sometimes he will do
is quite cynically. Other men
I1 do it just as often, tbough not
nically. The object of such
iticisms is very often some mere
f-glorification. If he-the bache
-had married, no one would
ye been able to criticisa Cesar's
fe. He would not have missed
rtune, as one friend has done;
beauty, as a second, or family.
a third. His wife would have
- transcended the commonplace
ves of average men. She would
everthing that a wouan ought
be. In short, the bachelor's
fe is always perfection in the
Naturally enough, the thoughts
the old bachelor mainly run
on his lovers; but that of the
I maid, upon young children.
iat mighty instinct of maternity
ever more busy in her heart.
.ts and parrots are only an ex
so for babies. Had it pleased
)d to bless her with them. how
e would have Cared for the little
v,es! No children would be bet
r or better cared for than hers.
'hen she goes into other houses.
e does not, indeed, think un
ndly of children, for indeed she
ves them all. But she cannot
Ip drawing some disparaging
mments between the children
at she niects, and those non-ex
ent, possible children that would
.ve been paragons and phe.
mena. Other children would
ye been untidr; but hers would
ve been the pink of neatness.
her children are not perfectly
ell-behaved, have little tempers,
tray mor- of the human heart
an of the angelic nature;'but
rs would be nothing of this
nd. They would be good, like
iss Edgeworth's children; talk
ience like the children in Joyce's
:ientific Dialogues, recollect all
er dates, be distinguished from
irly days fort he utmost pt opriety,
iver cry out loud. never tumble
f chairs or down stairs, never
iow rents, stains of jam, hooks
- eyes spoilt, or tell fibs, or steal
ie sugar-basin. W hat little che
ibs such children mast be! They
Ust surely feel their wings grow
g, and be ready for a flight from
is lower earth.-Lndon Society.
The Voyage to the Pole.
The new Aretic Expedition which
iled from New York last week
omises to be more fruitful of in
rmation than any whicb- has yet
tured among the frozen and in
>spitable regions of the Pole.
aptain Hall, at a banquet given
m just previous to his depar
re, gave an interesting account
the difficulties which he had en.
mntered during his twelve years'
eperience as an Arctic explorer.
e announced his belief in the cxr
tence of a passage to the open
olar Sea, and said that ho felt
>pful of finding it. He men
oned some of his efforts in fitting
7 the present ex pedition,. ani
Le hard work which it' required
ipnt it mn proper shape. H said
tat he had been unsually for.tu
ite in obtaining an excellent
>rps of assistants, and a 'good
-ew for his vessel. He' intended
>ing direct to St. John's, N. F.,
id would sail from there through
avis Straits as high as latitude
P to Cape York, and if' possible
latitude 76* or 80'. After win
ring there, he expects to start
April. 1872, in senrch of the
orth Pole. The distance frorm
s place of rendezvous to the
orth Pole would be about 600
utical miles. He said be de.
ged travelling over this space
sleds drawn by Esquimaux
ags. lie bad made provisiont
>r five or six sleds, withb fifteen
>gs to each one. Each sled bc
lIed with provisions,and as fast
Seach load was exhausted the
npty sied wouldl be sent back to
se starting point. The Polaris
ould stop at St. John's for four
ays, and would then pr-oceed on
e journey north ward. Tbe ship
upply will also leave St. John's
'th 300 tons of coal and 100 tons
f provisions on board, whic
ould be taken to the place oi
mdezvous of the expedition. Af
r arriving at UJppernavik the
rpedition would ird farewell te
me civilized globe. Captain Hall
id that his instructions from the
ecretary of the Navy enabled hinm
> sail which way he pleased after
~abing Cape Dix. His first
inter in'the Arctic Circle would
e of one hundred and twenty
ays' duration, and his. eecond
iter would last six mont.hs
~aptain Hall said that he felt sat
fied that be would find people al
he North Pole, from what he had
eard from the Esquiim'aux. A1
be close of Captain Halt's re
arks, Hon. Henry H. Grinnel
resented him a sztaal Americat
ag to take with him. Mr. Grin
li announced that the flar- wat
noted one, and -has passed
iouigh perils by sea, by ice, and
a land It was first used by
ilke in a r-ti exanloat ins ir
1838, and . in 1850 adteutwt
Walker cariied it vithriii On his
trip to The Antarctic P61.' *It, was
also used by liieIuf-Dant 'eHaven
and by Dr.Kand 1i teWieRr" es
for Sir John Frankin;ifidafter.
wards by Dr. Haye l accept
ing it. Captain Hall faid ie-hoped
to bring it back to its owner in
1872, after-it -1hadoated over a
world in which the north star i4
the crown jewel.
The "Southern dominissioner"
of the New York Jovrnal of Com
merce says th)re are four distinct
parti es in the Southern States, but
two of which have any orga.niza
tion. They are particularized
1. Men of the grea& paa.-On
who n ere nulifiers in Jackson's
time, secessionists in. 1860 who
did not surrender with Lee in 1865,
who believe Congress will reverse
the Reconstruction Actp, and wbo
a6Lually entertain a vague belief
that the corstitutional amend
ments wil ultimately -W6 repealed.
They are men of twenty years ago,
who have -earned the doctrine of
State sovereignty so far that when
you climb a fence from one State
to another you. meet on tbeother
side peODle who take no more in
terest in the people on _theaido
you leit than if they did not exist.
They are practically dad men
hanging like an iicubas o0 the
live people, and forthately are a
2. The Conserrative or D;bmo
cratic party. This party~it the
same as the Democratic organiza
tion North. U coup'ise"-tbe
practial intelligenee of tkeOrhit,e
.native population of %h South,
with a considerable priporis of
the Northern element residing
here. t. is a business.arty, and
a tolerant party, an as AAMposed
of men who attehd1o id%asMaI
leave electi-oneeringsevc-Ty* alone.
There is more: iitelligeneti And
vim in thi's p-arty tid any o#Ter.
and if it were successfnlarit ha%
been in Savannab, GetAfa, it
would build s tUmScia'AG-ume
it pays the taxes -do. tbrmi
ness, and com.pre .emee the
good and. peaceable _-raLWr&*'hU*
bands and neig or of P. Aoth
ern commny. ... . .
S.*L'hgi1fefa 0bican ay.
party is t1h sathere :as it " da
the North, an4,.iif.e ar
the differ?idee b ieni~ T.
Democratic~party proper1s .y
a matter of-opition, i4l6o lit
tle sacrifice of - principle in the
changing.e- a- . vote-.- Tese,-oo,
are practical.men, who difr'frow
their neighbors in-opinion, Ond
are .respected by them al the
same. They are small in number,
are tolerant, and like the Demo -
crats, do not talk pojities.
4. The party of .Buzwade ani
negroes. The Buzzard may be
easily recognized as the~ tn,an who,
has migrated here to urse; and has
used, the negro eVem%aV for base
purposes. The p'roceeds of the
operation inur:e to the ..ersonl
benefit of the Bu,zzardmand as
soon -as the spdils are asre
they "fold their tents .hkke sie
Arabs, and as silently steal away"
to a cooler clime to enjoy thess.
Mr. ilenson, a Newark astm
mer, whose daily -avocatio is thim
of a- necha.nical tandf 'nsr'ng
engineer, has ivritteli a henk con.
taning a theory that the i'nteavr
of the earth is by no means es
form or homogeneous, but, Ilierho
crust:, is. made up .ot erery-varnety
of metals, and he insists kha-L "ag
gregation" rather than --conden
sationi" explains -the strange. p1
nomena the earth presena. MNore
over, hc declares that the- geef
oists are all wrong,'and tle as
tronomers do not know'oniff so
mneh as they~ think they~ 4i;
and, turther. that theiteriol- of
the moon is fit foi- habitation - But
the worst is to come. Mr. 1t6nson
holds that the- end of our exi.ting.
system.is at band. .. T hinkof that.
A great part of the naiverse is .al
ready in flames, and "one beaeu
ful world" is fated soon to erackie
in the terrible heat, to pase throughi
<a fiery ordear'of desatFuctiee and.
A CUafosIT.-Dr- Morris. say*
the North Carolina Westerm &nti
nel, of the 22dinstant, delivered a
negro woman oIm-femate child,
near Graham's Meeting House, in
this (Forsyth) Conty. on la.ns
Sunday, which is a eariosity wor'
thy aa place in Barnanw'a Museum.
The child -has a tail thisee inces
broad, and covered with fuz,, and
on thte end of the~tail is something
like a fleshy bulb, and a n
with one joint, and a well dovel
o ped nail. Dr. Morris states tbas
the child can wiggle its tail, andJ
is perfectly forrmed:in every other
irespect. We- understand that
there. is a 'Mhfe mate living ini
B alepi who is esedwith a caudle
}apendsge. His tai}, wode r
stand; 'resemibles that off .. '
prticuarly the Peccary. or' $out
American species of that anu-n..
Wher e is Dar witi?