Painesville journal. [volume], August 26, 1871, Image 1

About Painesville journal. [volume] (Painesville, Ohio) 1871-1872

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JAMES E. CHAMBERS, Editor.
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AT PAIXESVILLE, LAKE COUNTY
OHIO.
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VOLUME I.
PAINESVILXlE, LAKE COUNTY, OHIO, SATURDAY, AUGUST 26, 1871.
NUMBER
tisements before the expiration ol'iheircontracla
will he charged according to the above rates.
Transient advertisements must invariably b
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and Machinery, together with a force of compe
tent and skillull workmen, we leei mat our ta
eilities are second to those of no other establish
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to be paid at the expiratiou of each quarter.
ASPIRAXIO.
BT BKV. T. S. HODGSON.
Airs from the summer seasons or my youth
Are playiuK all around me. 1 rejoice
Like mountain siieiiherd who hears the voice
Of his lost laiuhs. My life with sudden growth
Leaps into new existence; anil the trum
That things sire rent in this world of ways
Has flashed uKu me from those hidden days
Like truest ligntning after lengthy drouth.
Aud now the dews of knowledge gin to fall
Upon the withered grass and drooping flowers
Ofmv miud's faculties, reviving all
W ith an intensity of balmy showers.
Creating newer beauties, all which shall
Be nature's vassals and the nation's dowers.
There is a mood comes o'er the passive soul
W hich is not born of aught in earth or sky,
Nor a creation of the memory.
Nor offspring of the thought. But like a stole
Of dreamy sunshine, or a silvery roll.
The breathing music of au angels sigh.
It conies u p from Uie deep eternity
Where tiod lives in our life, and links the whole
To his eternal Kssence. How it thrills
The soul with a new growth a passion-Khake
Of joy and strength, which overbrimming tills
The vessels of our framework and they break.
We cannot fathom what our spirit wills
Nor the true measure of our feelings take.
SCATTERED HOSES.
BY ETHEL LYSS.
'Tis a prettv Ccrnian story,
Fresh as falling mountain dews,
Told us, merely as an item.
In the page of foreign news.
Uretchen. with her banded tresses
Mraii led close like robes of gold.
Comely skirt aud snowy kerchief
Blossomed from the bodice fold,
Walks beside the cart of flowers,
Dreamv, sad, and full of thought;
Thinking all the while of Gottleih,
Not of business, as she ought.
"Franz," the rough old dog who loved him, -Harnessed
in the shafts to draw,
Turning round to look at Oi-eu-heu,
A tearful little visage saw.
Bright uHn the bridal finger
Shone the unaccustomed ring:
Scarcely won ere, called to battle,
Uottleili left her sorrowing.
Now the bitter light is over,
sldier bands with flag and drum
Come marching home. But t.retclien whis
pers, "Alas ! still (iottleib does not come.
"What care I for German glory?
One 1 love is lost to me:
In the trench a ghastly vision
Of bis pallid lace 1 see.
"Ah, when strangers buy a posy.
Calling it meantime 'too dear.
Do they guess the rose's dew -drop
Is the while a woman's tear?
lowly, Franz! Why bound so wildly
Why that cry so loud and glad?
Down, 1 say. Alas! my flowers!
Art wicked, Franz, or growing mail'"
Far and wide lie scattered blossoms:
There is a cry, a dog's low whine;
A dusty soldier clasping Uretchen,
While bugles blow "Watch on the Khiue,"
And passing bands go by them softly,
Grim, weary eyes grow moist and jflad,
As. tonchiug sleeves, the soldiers whisper f
''The little one has found her lad."
MARIAM.
XII.
THE BALL.
Brilliant was the throng, and light
the spirits of the "select many," assem
bled on Mariam's birth-night, to wish
her heart-felt, happy returns. Youth
and beauty were there, but in no fornyj
did they so admirably Mend as in thal
ot Mariam, who passeu tiirougu rne
rooms gracefully leaning on the arm of
her foster-mother, and saluting the com
pany as she moved along. A wreath of
brilliants was locked m tne ngiit eniDrace
of her beautiful golden hair. A robe
nn on iriwannipr vpT. snnrk ino- with sil- I
ver embroidery, fell over skirts of snowy
satin. Her full, blue eye beamed within-
fellect. vet was as droouinsr and timid at
the too eager gaze as that of a fawn. Her
lips, full and pouting, were just parted a
lirtlP- rlplicntA hlnsli tniiclmri .rh fair
cheek with a spring-like and faint crim-
ami uiwdi a nprta tho anna nn n vnmio-
' - " 1 " .... o I
rose-bud. An indescribable sweetness l
pervaded every feature; and admirable
majesty ming'leil with her modesty of
mien. She was, in truth, not the belle of
the evening, for it were almost sacrilege
to use a term so common,but the very in
carnation of womanly grace and purity
the fairest of all fair, earthly things.
The cynosure of all eyes was she yet
there were two persons who, . stationed
apart, could not seem to move their
glances from the fair object but when
the envious crowd obtruded its shapeless
outlines between them and her beautiful
form, they would each move, perchance,
with careless steps till some rent disclosed 1
the star shining, undimmed, in trans-
cendant loveliness.
One of these bore the impress of man
hood, and though there were no lines of
anxious thought, no impress of carking
care, yet many a struggle nau nis neen
with adverse fate, and calmer looked his
brow, deeper and more thoughtful his
keen yet gentle eye, while his expression
was as though he had said, "I have con
quered myseif I have conquered for
tune I feel myself a man." His form
was erect, massively made, though the
exceeding symmetry of its proportions
prevented that appearance of heaviness
which sometimes allies itself to great
ness, using the word in more senses
than one. Thought sat upon his brow
as on a monument, the enduring triumph
of the sculptors tame. He was
the favorite of genius, for she seemed to
have thrown her best and choicest gifts
nt. Ida fwt. Tie could summon the muse
the muse
at his will. He could sit at the harp,
and while Insniration senil thrown
round him as a mantle, tmnmvise hour
Ifpr hour. He could Idly take the 11m-
. . . . - . .
tier's nencll. and from his laDora -
tory of memory bring forth the most ex-
quislte specimens ol art. He could sing,
nn ... 1 : I . . . An nnivAl -. ,1
Mi Biinr in 1 1 ivv, At, iingt-i, mm j cii nii.il
all these gilts he was neither vain nor ar-
rogant; nor yet did lie neglect the ster
ner duties 01 tne law. xnese tilings
were his recreation as well as his delight,
and withal he could use them for the
happiness of others. Such was the man
within whose noble soul was shrined a
love as deep and fervant as ever cher
ished by mortal hope. Such he who
stood, admiration aud tenderness alter
nately giving his expressive features a
beauty that was scarcely of earth, while
unconsciously he pictured the pleasure
of those in Whose nana lay that of the
(lovely,Mariam,though but for an instant.
I ki i i ,11 1 11 H 1" ll i til U 1 1 11 11 1 11 tllltVl HI IW1...I-,
fu... ...... -ni-.i!--. 51-iiL.c-
man, upon whom many eyes were
turned, and many young hearts palpi
tated with the anticipated delight of an
introduction to a real lord. Verv
handsome, yet unpresuming in manner
was the young nobleman ; but there was
tuMd'h less of character in the play of his
sparkling features; and the slight down
iupon bis chin told that manhood's 3'ears
were yet in prospective, in manners
lie possessed that careless, dashing air
-which those men sport upon whom sor-
row ha never yet poured a drop from
her phial upon whom fortune has
smiled from the cradle, and for whom
ease sits embroidering the golden slip
pers of opulence. Yet his frank, white
brow, hi sunny locks, and eyes of blue
so liquid and tender, won for him the
admiration of all who met him. To
night he was the lion of the feast; the
k,Jki! aud shoulders of the whole coin-
lUlllV.
. niftd llio lit Ruaiinn . . -1 .
wliiii Mriam greeted her admirers
VAW CliarneU ni- uiucirini; lilt
and Lord Wnry was one ui ner most
devoted Joivefs she held out her hand
reservedly aiMP Mushlngly to recieric
Le Dunlap, the juephew of her adopted
another; she j-aisedAher eyes, and her
Accents or welcome -wfe Jiurneu. o"
would almost have thqugWf tpere was
something of dislike in bqr abriipt, or
rather nervous maune. To Lord Wftry
she frankly gave her hand; .inhie.d, an,
i i ... ... ...i.i. itiiitiii3aa tS
ei y iri i . m i . . ' ii. .
tone quite flattering to his .vanity, 11
vanietv he had, and surely the see,mi,ngy
marked preference of the, most beautlfta
woman present, might well exquse some
little self-approval.
t. ...... tf At o -lam m eventful niflit
.Queen of the festive scene, she tripped
it among the others with a grace anu
lightness absolutely bewitching. And
when she wandered for a brief time of
thought with slower step tnrougn tne
n - 1 ... 1 .1 .
conservatories OI rarcpiams ami iiuncrs,
lior honrt heat with a rapidity that was
not lessened on observing there Fred
eric; I Dunlap. He stood with pensive
brow, and welcomed tier with a smile
that was almost sad. For an instant her
em, fusion was extreme; she turned to
retreat, but he stepped hastily forward,
exclaiming in a low, but fervent tone,
"Mariam, hear me but one word," and
tlieu he took her hands aud gazed in her
blushing face.
In that hour were the words spoken
that gave Manam's happiness In the
keen'in? of another. She had not dream
ed, nay, had not hoped lor the
oppurtunity so soon; long had she
loved, devotedly, the man who
was worthy of all noble love, but never
had she dared to lisp it to iiersen. Ann
could it be that she had frankly told
another, and that other, till within a few
months, a total stranger to iter, rxcepi
as she read his exalted mind in the let
ters that passed to and fro between his
brother's wile ana nimseii .- ouaugc,
sweet, inexplicable consistency. And in
the midst of her triumph for it was a
triumph to call forth such love a low
voice pleaded at her side, would she walk
on the balcony only one little minute.
Trembling, she knew not why, yet con
senting, she allowed nerseu to ijc ito uu
the well screened balcony, whieh, illum
inated with soft, glow-liKe lamps,
warmed by artificial heat and garlanded
with flowers, made a pleasant promenade
for the wearied dancers. There, again,
she listened to the accents of a lover.
Little had she dreamed that sucn ieei
ines slumbered in the bosom of the
young lord, for innocent of any emotion
toward him. other than friendship, and
drawn irresistibly by his frankness and
urbanity of manner into a sore oi goou
humored familiarity, she had treated him
as a brother, admired his pleasing exter
ior, and perhaps unconsciously led him
to think she was interested in him. She
had taken all her aunt's laminar raiii
with reference to Lord Henry as pleas
ant badinage, for she know how highly
she esteemed the brother of her beloved
husband. It was then in sorrow, almost
in tears, that she absolutely declined
hia offer a coouettlsh triumph waslnot
hers, nor a eoqette's vanity and she saw
the cheek turn pale, and the eyes darken
sadly with a keenness of anguish that
quite unfitted her for further participa
tion in the gay scene. OO Willie luinzi
were whispering and flirts ogling, while
sweet strains of music made melodious
every sound that floated by, she excused
herself, and in company witli her aunt,
wim utti-ihiitivl her lassitude and nerv
ousness to flutter of spirits, caused by
the young lord's confession, leu the ies
tive .banquet.
It was long alter muiingin,
pale morning, lifting her veil oi same,
threw a dim glance over the hills, and
strove faintly to penetrate thick case
mentsbut still the white stars kept
blinking. For hours had Mariam paced
her room, with the yellow papers be
queathed by the sailor's widow rustling
in her hand, her mind agitated by con-flictiiio-
doubts and emotions. Was it not
a futile attempt, even in thought, to pen
etrate the mystery ensnroitumg uex : n
it was found'that hers was a dishonorable
birth, a slow consuming grief would eat
away her young life; again, what hope
could she cherish of ever finding her
kindred? Better
to burn the papers
to destroy the clasps to solemnly cov-
Pliant Willi nerseil Ulill. :i
word of this discovery should ever pass
her lips. But after a distressing mental
conflict, honesty of purpose triumphed
'it would be better to make a full confes-
sion now.rather than when the weight ot
the burden had become insupportable,
Throwing a light shawl over her dress,
ahf took the niffht lanio. and cautiously
. . " . i , 1
moving to ner iosier-iiuiuu:i iiuiici,
knocked softly.
After some little delay, a voice said,
Come in;" and Mariam cautiously
nnened the door and entered, though
entereu, iiioiign
With unsteady Step. I
1 . . " 1
Mrs. Le Dunlap had just gatnereu ner i
luxuriant tresses, now Slightly stiveicu i
by time and sorrow, under a neat cap;
and tlioiio-h her nisrht toilet was blush
ed, she sat. nen in hand, before a table,
upon and atxmt wnicn lay nine neaps
of naner. A small lamp shone mil on
her vet handsome lace tne uuaiu eve
and rapt expression denoted the strug-
gie oi Diirning tnougnt wiuuu
''You, Mariam!" she exclaimed, hasti
ly rising, "come here, my love, and take I
the chair next to me ah! I guess your
errand but but you look pale, you
tremble is it so sad a thing then to re
ceive a lover's declaration?"
Mariam blushed deeulv.
Ah! I knew I was right!" exclaimed
Mrs. Le Dunlap, triumphantly, "you
shall tell me all about it; confide m me
dearest confide wholly in me."
"You said you could guess my errand,"
said Mariam. in a low voice.
"Yes, and 1 did did l not?" astea tne
other, aft'eetionately.
No, not wholly; nor no i iiiuik you
can p-uess for what purpose l nave
sought you.
3Lrs. l.e uuniap looKeu net- amaze
ment, but. was silent for a moment, then
said, "As I told you before, Mariam,
confide in me wholly you should nave
I no secrets from me nor will you, my
sweet, dutiful girl; cornel must smile at
I vour trepidation, and yet I am all impa- I
I tience to comfort vou if you need com-
i ... - - i
fort." I
1 "Indeed I ao." answereu mariam.
earnestly "but in this cas I hardly
I think you or any one on eann can soive
I . . . .. -1 . . I,... .1 . (1 mil III,. Qtiviuhr til Mol
I inv ni'iiui-i 1.1114 puv J - "j -......
Some lew mornings ago 1 wanteu a very
old copy of 'Bunvan's Pilgrims Pro
gress,' that I remembered seeing years
aco in the garret."
"well," said flirs. te unman smiling
ly.
"I lenient was peevisn ami sunering
besides with a bad headache and as 1
knew the other servants were variously
engaged I concluded to look among the
old rubbish Rivself. The garret was
quite gloomy and dark ; and not being
able to see well, I stumbled over a small
Japan box, that in falling burst its lock,
I and out came hundreds of worm-eaten
I ii. 1 1111 1-J i'
-
Her foster-motlfer shifted her position
a little to indicate awaKeneu interest.
and motioned her to continue her narra
tive.
Being curiously disposed just then, I
I glanced them over carelessly, and saw
I they had once belonged to to her from
I whom you took me. Looking further
on, I learned the strange, unwelcomed
truth that she was not my momer.
"What!" exclaimed her auditor, ler-
ting fall her hands, and gazing with
wide-open eyes on the beautiful face lie-
fore her "do you mean it? Not your
mother! Who then wno"
"Alas! I know no more than yourself;
but let me show you what I found," and
she read for the hundredth time the
scrap from Jack Trevor's Log.
Take the lamp away," muttered her
foster-mother, in a strangely altered
voice, "It is
'It is too strong for my sight.
I im Cilll 111 UftUUI
1. I f iil-Llir, Ulllllllllllll mill 1 1 . 11 11 mailt 1-m
to the poor widow's letter, during which
l miia vii....v.i, nun Hiwi niiiu vu
i sue utu not wc me strong uguauuu mai.
shook her foster-mother's frame the
asny, corpse-uae panor oi ner cneeKS
the dry, burning eye the parted and
convulsed lips. When she had finished,
naii-suppirsscii juuuu mi uuiu uiu
nps 01 ner auuuor aim men sue wius-
pered, hoarsely, still holding her hands
hefore her face, "Is thatall ?"
"No, dear mother, for I shall ever
all vnn mnt.lip.r " answered Marinm.
-1. 1 f. 1 .. l.... i 1. .1 v,!., , ..,.1,1 1 1 ,.
wi " i mcsc una i sm, una
ff lace were folded in between
flue leaves fff the log. Could they have
been parts frfmy dress at the time?"
'.t 'f WF" i A r
an instant, looked at the gold, the lace.
gazed naggamiy at juanani, wno snrams
from her strange manner, cried in a
loud voice, "My God, can it be pos
ble?" and fell forward on the table,
Where her head laid heavily, like that
oi a conse.
Mariam sprang trembling to her feet,
What meant that sudden glance of anger
or remorse? what meant this unusual
emotion? Had she in reality found
parent ? Was this her frail mother, and
this the sin that seemed at times to crush
her to the earth ? Was she the child to
whom often reference had been made,
often coupled with tears and deep feel-
ino-y And linrl Kh rxen cist mar?
Would public isrnominy answer? would
the mother in owning her, own her sin?
All these and many other thoughts
passed with the rapidity of lightning
through thinindxl the perplexed girl:
she laid her baud on Mrs. Ie Dunlap
and whispered, "Mother" then, seeing
no assent or motion, she said louder,
"mother, are you ill ?"
Still there was neither the drawing of
a breath or stirring of a muscle. Mar
iam grew frightened, she passed her hand
under her brow, all seemed cold and
rigid she rang; in alarm for a servant,
and presently the old serviug-maid hur
ried in with wild looks and clothes has
tily thrown on.
Is the house on fire?" she asked.
glancing wildly round ; "murder rob
bers thieveii bh ! ring all the bells in
the house."
"Hush !" exclaimed Mariam, as stern
ly as she could for her tears ; "nothing
is the matter, except that your mistress
seems ill faint cold I dare not dare
not think dead," she falteringly added.
un ! poor, blessed heart one ot ner
old turns," cried the garrulous domestic,
hustling up to her mistress, "bhe's had
them often rknow jest what to do ; give
me that camtire, dear heart, and that lit
tle bottle of sally votille now you rub
one hand and I'll rub the other there !
you see, she's coming to quick as chalk.
she shouldn't keep such late hours; 1
told her so myself but la! she don't
mind what I say no more'n chalk. Hey
dear?" she muttered, in a lower tone,
stooping down by the now reviving, wo
man. "Let me be alone," murmured Mrs.
Le Dunlap sighing deeply. "Mariam, I
will call if I want you Philly, assist ine
to bed I shall feel better soon."
The sun was iust rising when Philly
knocked at the door of Mariam'a cham
ber, and delivered a message from the in
valid. Mariam had not slept, but pas
sed her time in perplexing thought. She
hastily obeyed the summons, and on
nurrying to the bedside was frightened
at the alteration visible on the counten
ance of her foster-mother. Some great
struggle had changed her features to a
rigid, stony cast, and her hair had surely
turned whiter over her broad brow.
"Mariam my child,"she said, taking
her hand and gazing fondly upon her,
"look at me fully, steadily in the face;"
then she gazed with an inquiring earn
estness on those beautiful features, closed
her eyes, and still holding Mariam's
hand, murmured, "yes thank God! I
have atlast conquered he is murciful
have overcome myself, would you
think I ever had cause to hate you, Ma
riam, my child ?"she languidly inquired,
yet fondly smiling. !
"Hate me: oh! why? what have I ever
done that any one should hate me? no,
no; you, all goodness that you are, never
had such thoughts toward me."
"You say truly, yet might not l think
I had cause cause?" she repeated, with
feeling "but thank God, merciful is
He, that I have not become in deed as
in thought, a murderer. Xay, do not
shrink from ine so, my love in time you
shall know my whole history.and then
you will weep with, and lor ine, nor
wonder that reason gave place to pas-
sion. And with me you will see the
wonderful retribution of the justice of the
Almighty, who has entrusted entirely to
my charge the innocent Deing l both
,l:,,i:i i 1 1 t . r. ....1...
uinoi mm iuunS. i ui iami
now, Mariam, don't shrink from me and
break my heart; there," she added, tear
fully, as Mariam sat down by her side
and took both her feverish hands pi hers,
1 il . l .1-1.1 l T 1
mat. is my own i-mm niiuiu j. nave
strange contrauiciton, is it notr nuieu
anil wrougeu, toveu anu iriierixueu.. Aim
now what more had you to tell me last
night? My head feels confused, but I
think you hinted at something else."
"Did you not halt guess at the tinier"
asked Mariam, blushing.
"What! a proposal ?"
"Yes," answered the fair girl, mod
estly.
"But. you do not love him. you cannot
love him!" exclaimed Mrs. Le Dunlap,
rising as she spoke, her thoughts refer
ring to Lord Henry, "say that you do
not love him oh I why have I sinned
thus? your looks tell me you do. Mar
iam, if you love him, I am doubly pun
ished." But, my dear mother, yon, your
self "
"I know all you would say acknowl
edge my wicked spirit my pride, my
foolish, remorseful pride urged me on
vhy,l know not, unless the fiends enter
ed me alas! then and he loves vou."
Mariam did not answer she knew not
what to say this mystery, this vehe
mence astonished her.
'If there is any dishonorable circum
stance attending the knowledge of my
birth, I would not have one so dear to
you,' the brother of your husband, noble
and lrank, and all that is good as he is,
connected witn me wno would pernaps
bring you and him disgrace."
"Dear to me my husband can ft be
ii i ... j..- 1 1 i
oi rmienuyousueiiM ui uurrreuer-
u: s uou uress vuu, men an isnm
thought you spoke of Lord Henry I
inougnt certamiy ne nau mane you an
f C (Vtil- 111' 1,1Q 1 1 '1 1 1 1 1 ' '
offer of his hand.
"And he did, dear mother .;
"Mother ! I love to hear that and you
rejected him? Poor fellow, he does
love: you then, I read.it in every move
ment, in each glance I read his wor
shipping love. How could he help it?
Nature, nature was his teacher she told
fum where his own blood flowed through
the veins of another."
"You are enigmatical, mother.''
"Let me be so for a while bear with
my silence, for when I speak I will have
something pleasant to tell you. Good
morning go and seek your rest. Next
week, God willing, we will start for the
continent you 100K surprised, nut 1 ten
you to marvel at nothing for six good
months to come. Trust all to me, my
darling now go,
"The first happy moment for eighteen
longyears!" exclaimed the loster-moth-
er, as Mariam left f her ; and she clasped
her hand and raised her eyes heav
enward with reverent thankfulness.
"sweet, sweet to forgive and find peace
at last; sweet to throw off" the terrors of
a burdened conscience. All my fear
are past. Henceforth I shall seek 111 v
pillow without tears. Oh! happy, hap
py morniug."
TO BK CONTINUED.
Greeley recently sent to San Domingo
lor liny peanut trees to set out with wal
nut trees on his farm in Westchester
county. He has a theory that, by graft
ing peanut and black walnut somethin
out of the ordinary line of nuts can be
produced. On being told that peanuts
grew on roots m the ground he looked
disgusted and replied to his Intormant.
"Do you think I'm a fool, and can be
made to believe mat nuts ami pertater
are the same thing?"
Two mothers were speaking of their
respective "only" children. Said one
"My son blew out the canille when he
was only seven months old." "Ah!
replied the other, "the boy who blowi
out the candle at. seven months will
never set the world on fire."
One ol "our young girls," at an ex
amination in grammar the other day
when asked why the noun "bachelor
was singular, blushiugly answered
"Because it is very singular they don
get. married," She went up to the head,
THE NAME OF JESI !
BY HEXKY WARD BEECHKB.
In its lowest use, a name is a sign af
fixed to a thing for the purpose of separ
ating it in our regard' or representation
from every other thing. After a while,
in the Drogress of time, by use, a name
not simply signifies the thing which it
represents, but comes also to nave in it,
and to convey to those that hear it, a no
tion of that which adheres in the thing.
It rises from a mere physical appellation,
and begins to have an interior sense.
And then, naturally, it is applied to qual
iries themselves. Or rather, the name of
a tiling, when pronounetd, conveys the
idea, not so much ot the thing itseii, a:
of its aualitv.
Both of these are combined when
names are applied to persons. In regard
to persons, they are at first the simple
means of identifying dinerent ones.
They separate one man from another,
and are signs of separateness and indi
viduality. Thus, a list ot names in a
directory conveys very little impression
except of so many separate persons. It
gives very little notion of character. It
suggest verv ntue iu-u 01 a.-s-ui-im.iirii.
A list of letters in a post-office, if we
knew the persons, would, when the
names were Dronounced, stir up in our
minds a thousand thoughts of their dis
positions, and of their histories, and of
their relations, and 01 tne moments con
nected with them ; but s we read them
without that knowledge,we merely think
of numbers as applied to persons. So a
roll of names of soldiers, a series of
names set down in any way, merely con
veys to us an idea of the individuality
and separateness of the person mention
ed I mm the mass.
Our own name means more to us than
any other, of course; and it comes to
mean more and more in proportion as
we actually grow," whether within or
without : whether our development is in
the sense of relation to external things,
or whether it is in manhood, and his re
lation to invisible qualities.
We are not conscious ot how tun ot
nerves our separate names are. w e are
not conscious of how much of pride, and
lione. and iov. and fear, and love, is sub
tly ooiuiected with the sentence in which
our own personal name is pronounced.
it you touch tne name, you toucii ine
soul itself, often, and send it forth in
flight, sometimes in another direction,
according to circumstances.
Perhaps some of you saw on exhibition
not many years ago. in New ork, a
singularly effective though realistic pic
ture of a prison, such as might have
been seen in France during the French
Revolution, in which all the half-lighted
vaulted space was filled full of persons
men, women,and children very noble
many of them many of them historic.
On the back side of the picture the door
stood open ; and there were the grim and
savage otheers ; and there was a rencn
functionary or official standing with a
list or names, and calling tnem on. iney
were the names of the prisoners who
were to go out to be guillotined that
morning. And as the sound fell upon
the ears of the hundreds that were hud
dled together there, what do you suppose
was the effect of the pronouhciatioii of
them? What were their names to those
prisoners then? How much did they
suggest to them, not only of their own
selves, but of all their hopes, and of all
their future, and of all their relations to
one and another, to life, and to time, and
to eternity itself? And all these feelings
were started because the names, pro
nounced in connection with a certain
time and purpose, touched every single
chord in their souls some with horror,
and some witli gladness (for such were
men's sufferings then that they were
glad to die).
1 recollect one day when 1 was travel
ing alone in the Alps (for the sake of
that additional luxury we had parted),
that, after I had been for some hours
without company in that strange land,
where I was surrouneed by very unfamil
iar and novel scenes, and where only a
foreign language was spoken about me,
I heard, tall down as it were out oi the
air, my own name, spoken so cheerily,
so buoyantly, that, l was utterly bewild
ered. Of course I did not suppose that
angels were troubling themselves with
me ; but I knew that it must have come
from somewhere above me. I waS'climb-
iug up; and, turning in the road, very
soon 1 saw revealed to me the welcome
face and familiar form of a friend from
New England, whom I did not know
as absent Irom home. He was coming
from the other direction, and, looking
down, he had seen me. I never knew
what 1 should feel like when I was re
duced to an absolute abstraction until
that hour, when my name was pronoun-
ed under such circumstances. It pro
duced in me a bewilderment and whirl
of feeling. I knew not whether it boded
good or bad, joy or sorrow, w net tier it
came from friend or foe I could not tell.
It caused a total inward awakening or
agitation such as I had never experienced
before. A man's name takes hold of a
thousand inward chords, and may lie so
pronounced that almost every nerve and
sensibility of his being shall be thrilled
with it.
One of the most matchless scenes in
the New Testament history is connected
with this, where after he came forth on
that blessed morning, Jesus walked in
the garden, and Mary, the most devoted
of all women, could not see bun because
of her tears (for people's griefs are very
apt to hide from tlieni the presence of
the uomiorter;, anu sue saiu to nun, sup
posing he was thegardner, "Sir, if thou
hast taken him away, ten me where thou
hast laid him," and he who had spoken
with her, and had not been recognized
by her, simply pronounced her name,
, Mary:" and with tnat sne cnea out,
in an ecstasy ot remembrance and ot
love and of gladness, "Kabboni!" and
would have clasped his feet. The whole
scene is too dramatic to be interpreted.
Read it, and if you do not feel it, nobody
can interpret it to you. The whole force
of this scene was in the line of the his
tory of her heart or past associations,
and of all her hopes, and all her long
ings, and all the visions and aspirations
which his company anu teaching had in
spired in her. lhese had been buried
with him. And sue stood netore him
and he talked with her, ahd not a single
chord vibrated until he struck her
name; then her whole life burst outlike
the morning.
Our names, then, stand intimately con
net-red, not simply with our persons and
our qualities, but, as we have seen, with
our own personal experience with char
acter, with dispositions, with all manner
of mental traits. But in the progress of
time, names come not simply to stand
lor things and the qualities ol things.
for character and the qualities of char
acter, but rise from the specific and the
individual, and take on generic forms.
Or rather, personality may become so
large as to seem a genus, and not a spe
cies still less an individual.
Thus, the names of men of action in
the world remain, and they interpret, to
those who use them, whole periods of
history, or whole departments ot human
development. Where men have had to
do with human attairs in such ways as
to prove themselves to lie preeminently
masters in any direction, their name not
only identifies whole complex develop
ments ot anuirs in history, it a signines
what man has lasiuoned. runs the word
Carnar remains to-day to mark a quality.
Casarism indicates certain ideas, or a
certain department, or a certain genus
Alexander is another such name. Bona
parte is another. Bismarck, witli his
extraordinary mind, is another, and will
lie so in times to come, even to a greater
extent than now And many other dis
tinguished persons might be singled out
to show that a man's name does not stop
with his personality, nor with the quiili
ties of Ids disjiositiou, but that it goes on
to signily large departments ol historv
which have been particularly associated
with hiin. A man's name, then, does not
so much stand tor him individually,
tor the great departments ot atlairs in
which he has acted. Numberless exam-
pies of this will suggest themselves to
you. The great philosophers and giants
ox intellect have letf. their names as his
toric landmarks. Art and leauty are
al represented by names. In other
words, there have been names so associ
ated with these things that when we
think of them, we do not so much think
of the persons, as the scenes in which
they acted, or the realms which they
created. To those who are familiar with
art in antiquity, such great names as
Phidias, and Raphael, and Titian, and
Albert Durer, and many others like them,
who might be named, do not stop either
with the individuals, or with the narra
tion of their history, but with their sug
gestion of certain great departments of
civilization and refinement and philoso
phy.
The same is true in respect, to the re
verse qualities. There are names in
which we have stored up almost all that
we ever thought of which is hateful and
hideous. Judas is a receptacle of what
ever is base to our thought ; Nero of what
ever is brutal m cruelty; Macchiavelli
of whatever is malignant and selfish and
cunning in craftiness; Arnold of what
ever is wicked and base in an unpatriotic
soul; aiii Jeflrevs ot whatever is talse
and corrupt and oppressive in judicial
stations. So names signify moral quali
ties, and departments or them.
Now, out ot this thought we oegin to
come near to some conception of what,
is declared in the name of Jesus. That
by reason of his own personal character
and history, God should give to Jesus a
name, is a large idea. A day snail come
when Christ's name shall stand in the
Universe as the suggestion of all that is
most beautiful, most lovely, most admir
able, strong, intelligent, aud effective in
executiveness; of whatever thought, and
whatever quality, and whatever senti
ment we have kindled in ns which is
connected with any special name in its
lower forms. We shall come to a daj'
when we shall find that in that one
Name we rise above all others, aud that
it comprehends in itself that which on
earth Jias been distributed throngh ten
thousand minor names, each carrying
some separate quality, some single affec
tion or disposition, or some department
of qualities or affections. There shall be
a Name so large, so full, that it shall in
clude in it the sum of all development
during the whole period of time.
It is indeed a JName aDove every name.
In the evolution of time the experiences
of mankind are growing more and more
into the association with that Name. The
best things which for the last two thou
sand years have taken place, have gath
ered themselves around about that Name.
Bad as has been the handling of religion ;
base as has been much of the history of
the Church that undertook to minister
religion ; corrupt as lias been many of
the hierarchs; recreant as have been
many of the men who have enlisted un
der the banner of Clirist; dark, cruel,
bloody, hideous, infernal, as have been
many of the suggestions and the associa
tion and the exjieriences of the Christ
ian Church, such was the power of Christ,
the beauty of Christ, that his name has
risen above them all. Ana tne nest, tne
sweetest, the purest, the noblest things,
the things best worth living for or dying
for, are still associated with the name of
the Lord Jesus Christ. In spite of his
ministers, in spite of his churches, in
spite of all the malignity that has been
manifested under that cioaK ot tne jn aine,
its innate quality and power and its
fruits have been such that it has come
down to us, after all, full of the sweetest
suggestions of the most transcendently
beautiful things. And yet, we are our
selves dim-eyed, and short-sighted,
and we see through vapors, and have
never seen him clearly. We have seen
him as through a glass darkly. And in
the small tract over which the race has
passed since his coming, in the little evo
lution that has taken place among the
race since then, it has not been Christ in
the body that exhibited Christ, but Christ
in the great mass of the human race,
uplifting them in their multiplex and
and multiform relations in life. His
name has steadily gained power. Even
they who theologically disown it, moral
ly receive it, and call it transcendent.
They believe in it who do not believe in
the Book, nor the supernatural elements
in it. They who deny divinity, and
claim that Jesus was but au extraordina
ry man, a moral genius, readily and wil
lingly advance him to the- forefront.
And if that be the ascription of those
who do not enter into sympathy with
mni.or with his name, as advanced or
advancing, what shall be the ascription
of those who are in sympathy with him,
and with the best conceptions ol things
moral and spiritual ?
The truth, the beauty, the refinement
of moral sentiments, carried through
every phase, through every combination,
through every conceivable adaptation,
with all the force that inspiration can
give to them, and in heroic forms, shall
stand connected with Jesus Clirist. And
what, is this but saying that when we
shall see him as he is, and lie shall be
revealed to us in all his thought, and
feeling, and life, then we shall perceive
that he is connected by his history with
all forms of moral heroism ? As Raphael's
history connects lam with the most
exquisite things in art; as Caesar's name
connects him with the most efficient
things in military life; as Michael Ange
lo's skill with the chisel connects him
with the noblest conceptions which man
has formed ot statuary; as many a. think
er is connected, by reason of his rela
tions and investigations in the sphere of
philosophy and thought with the bright
est achievements of human genius, so,
when we behold at last the full person
ality of the Lord Jesus Christ, he will
be One of such moral relations, aud his
history will be lound to have so associa
ted itself with everything that is most
resplendent in intellectual thought, and
research, and execution, and combina
tion, and creative force, that that which
is the noblest, and most transcendent m
truth, in honor, in sublime faith, in self-
denial, in meekness, in humility, will
be embraced therein, and that his name
will he verily a JName above every one
HISTORY OF PA1.TI!VJ.
BY H. F. CARLETON
It is to be supposed that painting was
among the earliest efforts of human in
genuity, for the love of imitation would
naturally suggest the Idea of represent
ing tne surroiinuing objects which
engaged the attention and interested
the affections. Thus it is that the sava
ges painted their own bodies, by
means of puncturing the skin, and in
fusing dinerent colors into the punctures.
and that they painted on their shields
different figures according to the fancy
of the bearer. So, likewise we find f hat
the Mexicans were in the habit of repre
senting tneir warlike exploits by means
of picture writing, which were some
thing similar to the hieroglyphics of the
Egyptians, that served to represent sa
cred objects for religious puriioses. The
first step beyond the rude outline was an
attempt to complete the imitation by ap
plying colors, which at nrst was effected
by covering the different parts of the
figure with different colors, after the
manner of our colored maps, as was
done by the Egyptians, and is still prac-
ced by the Indians and Chinese.
Painting was partially cultivated hy
the Egyptians, but was not carried to any
perfection, because they principally em
ployed themselves in the representation
of the monstrous objects of their worship
rather than in depictring natural or
real objects; in consequence, their natu
ral figures were very stiff and unseemly,
the legs being drawn together, and the
arms pasted to the sides, like the mum
mies w hich they copied. Their painters
were likewise very much employed on
earthen vessels or drinking cups', or iu
ornamenting barges, and covering with
figures the chests of mummies. Pliny
also informs us that the Egyptians paint
ed the precious metals, wiiich doubtless
consisted in covering gold or silver with
a single color. The Persians, as well a:
the Arabians, had some idea of mosaic
but the art was cultivated by those peo
ple principally for domestic purposes,
Among the Indians, painting is confined
principally to the representation of their
idols and monstrous obiects ot worship,
but the painters of Thibet are remarka
ble for the delicacy oi their stroKes, in
which they might vie with the Greeks,
although deficient in every other particu
lar. The Chinese are remarkable for the
brightness of their colors, but this is the
only perfection they can boast of. Their
figures are as unlike nature as possible,
devoid of expression and of proportion.
The Etrurians were the first people who
appear to have excelled in this art.. Many
sjiecimens of Etruscan painting have
been preserved, which consist of long
ireizes, and pilasters adorned with huge
figures. The paintings are executed on
a ground of thick mortar, and many of
thein are said to be in a hign state oi
preservation. There are likewise many
Campanian vases extant, which are won
derful proofs of the perfection of the art
at a very early period among these peo
ple. As to the origin of painting among
the Greeks, it is not easy ;to define the
period ot its commencement; J ne weeks
themselves, according to Pliny, speak of
Polygnote as their Hrst painter ot emi
nence, who flourished in the 90th Olym-
paid, 424 years betore Christ. That paint
ing in dry colors existed in the time of
Homer is certain troin several uiscnpnons
to be found in his Iliad and Odyssey;
from the same source we also learn that
they were then acquainted with basso
relievo, or which the oucKier ot Acnines
was a specimen. Polygnote was tol low
ed by Xeuxis and parrnasius,wnose skiii
in imitation is said to have been such,
that he first deceived the birds by paint
ing cherries so exactly, and the latter
deceived his rival. Apelles, Protogenes,
and Euphranor contributed to raise the
art to its highest perfection.
The Romans derived their skin in
painting from Etruriaj but the art re
mained" very long neglected while the
people were engaged in conquests, and
struggles for liberty. From the building
of the city to the time of the emperors,
there is mention only of two who excel
led in painting, namely, Fabius, sur
named Pictor, and Pacivius, the nephew
of the tragic poet Ennius. In the time
of the emperors, pamting, as well as the
other arts, flourished. A colossean fig
ure, one hundred and twenty feet long,
was painted by order oi the emperor
Nero, which is the first painting on cloth
mentioned among the ancients.
The artists who painted moveable pic
tures were superior to those who painted
on ceilings.or compartments of buildings.
They painted their moveable pictures on
wood or the flr, larch, or dox : or on can
vas, as above mentioned. The old Greek
and Roman paintings on walls are sup
posed to have been done in distemper or
is fresco : they made use of oil in var
nishing, for the preservation of their
paintings, but they do not appear to have
expressly used it in their colors.
After an interval during which an the
arts languished, imperfect efforts were
made to represent religious subjects,
which paved the way for the revival of
painting in the thirteenth century. A
noble lorentine, named mmaouc, nrst
learned the art from a Greek, and culti
vated it with success, so that he may be
reckoned the founder of the Florentine
school, of whieh Mieheal Angelo was
the great ornament. Rapheal was the
lountler ot the Jtoinan scnooi ; .Titian,
that of Venice. Corregio was the father
and the greatest ornament of the Lom
bard school, but the Caracei, Lewis, Au
gustin, and Hannibal, who were natives
of Bologna, also formed a school, which
has been called the second Lombard
school.
Among the French, miniature paint
ing, and painting on glass, were cultiva
ted at an early period ; out other branch
es of the art were at a low ebb until the
age of Louis XIII., when Poussin ar
rived at such eminence as to be called
the Rapheal of France ; but he had no
pupils, nor any influence in forming the
French school, the honor ot which was
divided between Vouet, who laid the
foundation, and Le Brun, who raised
the edifice. The Germans have never
cultivated painting so as to form a school,
but Albert Durer and John Holbein have
secured this nation from being forgotten
in a history of painting. The Flemish
school is remarkable for having intro
duced oil painting, which was first &t-
tempted, or at least brought into general
practice, by John de Bruges; but the
master of the art was Rubens, the foun
der of the Flemish school. The Dutch
have distinguished themselves in minia
ture painting, of which Rembrandt was
their great master, and also asjhistorical
painters, among whom Lucas, of Ley don,
holds the first rank, and may be consid
ered as the founder of the Dutch school.
The English school is comparatively of
modern date, and owns Sir. Joshua Rey
nolds as its founder, it is principally
known by its correct observance of the
great masters of the Italion and Flemish
schools.
ANECDOTES OF PUBLIC JHEIV.
BY COL. J. W. FORNKY.. . :
NO. XXX.
How to win friends and keep them is
the secret of a successful public man.
Andrew Jackson possessed it without
absolutely courting the people. His
strict integrity, generous nature, high
honor, military character and history,
were the chiel elements ot bis prestige.
Henry Clay possessed and knew how to
use It. His charms were unrivaled elo
quence, supreme ambition, innate
patriotism, commanding presence, and
magnetism of men and women.' John
Quincy Adams, Martin Van Buren and
James Buchanan were cold and formal
men, who inspired admiration by their
talents, but never awakened real affec
tion. Abraham Lincoln captured every
body by seeming to be indifferent to the
very qualities in which he was eminent,
His simplicity - and naturalness, so to
speak, were resistless. But no character.
certainly no candidate for our highest
office, was a completer master of the gift
oi securing tenacious menus than
Stephen A. Douglas. He had scarcely
touched the floor of Congress before he
oecame an object ot interest.. His ex
treme youth, his boyish appearance, his
ready wit, his line memory, his native
rhetoric, above all, his suavity and
heartiness, made him a favorite loifg lie-
lore he was named lor President. He
delighted in pleasant company. Unused
to what is called "etiquette," he soon
adapted himself to its rules and took
rank iu the dazzling society of the capi-
toi. Aiauy a time nave i watched hnn
leading in the keen encounters of the
bright intellects around the festive
board. To see him threading the glit
tering crowd with a pleasant smile or a
kind word for everybody, one would
have taken mm lor a trained courtier
But he was more at home i n the close
and exciting thicket of meu. This was
his element. To call each one by his
name, sometimes by his Christian name;
to stand iu the centre of a listening
throng, while he told some Western
story or defended some public measure;
to exchange jokes with a political adver
sary; or, ascending the rostrum, to hold
thousands siiellnound for hours, as he
poured forth torrents of characteristic
eloquence these were traits that raised
up for him hosts who were ready to tight
for him. Eminent men did not hesitate
to take their stand under the Douglas
flag. Riiier scholars than himself, older
if not. better statesmen, frankly acknowl
edged his leadership and faithfully fol
lowed his fortunes.
But among them all none came Into
Congress more devotedly attached to
Douglas than James A. McDougall, who
died shortly after the expiratiou of his
term as Senator iu Congress from Cali
fornia. Born at Bethlehem, New York,
on the 19th of November, 1817, he re
moved to Pike county, Illinois, when he
was just twenty years of age, and when
Stephen A. Douglas was Register of the
tauu Office at Springheld, m that State,
There was four years' difference between
the men, and they loved each other like
brothers. McDougall was chosen At
torney General of the State in 1842 and
re-elected in 1S44. In 1849 he originated
and accompanied an exploring expedi
tion to Kio del JNorte, Gila and Colorado;
afterward emigrated to California, where
he followed his profession until he was
elected Attorney ueneral of that State m
1850. He was sent to Congress for one
term, from 1853 to 1855, but declined a
re-election, and remained out of public
lile until he was made a senator in ton
gressin 1862, the term of which he served
out. He entered the Senate as a War
Democrat of the advanced school, and
was for a while a representative of the
ideas for whicli Broderick fell at the
hands of Terry in 1859. He advocated
the extremest measures against the re
bellion, and sustained the Lincoln Ad
ministration. But as the excitement
grew and sterner measures were de
manded, he gradually tell back into the
ranks ot the Old uemocracy and died m
that faith. It can be no irreverence to
his memory to say that James A. Mc
Dougall would have been living now if
he had not yielded to tne destroyer.
When I first saw him in 1851, as a Repre
sentative from California, he was the
picture of health and strength. Public
life,, with all its fascinations, was too
much for him. Generous to a fault, un
usually disinterested, the enemy of all
corruption, he had the material lor a long
and useful lite. Had he not discarded
the opportunities in his path and surren
dered to the allurements around him he
might be still among us. Unlike some
in the same body, McDongal rarely for
got his place. If he committed excesses
it was outside the Senate chamber.
Everybody loved him. I think he had
not a personal enemy, and those who op
posed him in politics admired his genius
and deplored his weakness. Some of his
arguments were specimens of complete
logic. He was an adept iu the law. He
seldom forgot an authority, and his
opinion on the gravest questions was
frequently sought and followed. Well
versed in the classics, familiar with an
cient and modern poetry, his tastes,
whether of books or men, were always
refined. '
Let us not iudge harshly of James A.
McDougall. Let ns rather sympathize
with his weakness and remember him for
those qualities of heart and head, which,
with a little Siilt-restraint, would nave
made him a shining light in the councils
ot tne nation.
As showing how tranquility and good
temper promote happiness and long life,
turn to the contrasting character of Ger-
rit Smith, of New Y'ork, who came into
Congress -with McDougall in 1853 and
went out with him in 1855. Gerrit
Smith was born in Utica, N. Yj, March
6, 1797, and is, therefore, in his seventy
fifth year. He is living at Peterboro, N.
Y,, in fine health. I saw him several
months ago in Washington, the picture
of ripe, vigorous, well-preserved old age. i
The possessor of immense wealth, which j
he distributes with princely generosity,
he delighted In gathering men or oppo-1
site opinions, and especially the southern
leaders, to his dinner parties. His hand
some face and elegant manners, his kind i
heart, native wit and graceful hospitality
were made strangely attractive by the
fact that he never allowed a drop ot wine
or liquor at his entertainments.- Every
thing else was in profusion,' and it was
amusing to hear the comments of those
who never knew what it was to accept
an invitation without anticipating co
pious draughts of champagne, sherry or
madeira. Bold and manly in his oppo
sition to slavery in all its forms, a power
ful speaker, a conscientious legislator,
he mingled wtth the extreme men of the
South like a friend. Combating what he
believed to be their heresies, he extend
ed as free a toleration to them as he de
manded for himself. When he met
McDougall first, the latter was one of
the most promising men in the nation,
and I doubt not when his career was
prematurely closed no one mourned him
more, or made a more generous allowance
for his frailties, than Gerrit Smith, ol
New York.
"JTESITS WEPT."
BY REV. C. G. COLSON.
Christ's humanity is toucliingly pic
tured in the two words which comprise
the shortest verse in the Bible. In the
same chapter wherein is found the sub
lime declaration "1 am the resurrec
tion and the life," it is recorded, ''Jesus
wept." Divinity speaks forth in the dec
laration; humanity sorrowfully mani
fested itself in the brief, simple record.
Though as we read the Gospel narra
tions, we can believe the Saviour to be
a man of sorrows and acquainted with
grief," we never realize how closely his
nature is allied to our own mini we see
hiin weeping in sympathy with others
over a frieud dead. Christ healing the
sick; making the blind to see, causing
the lame to walk, and performing alt
those God-like miracles which so clearly
prove his superior power, wins our most
devout worship; Christ sorrowing as we
sorrow, stricken in heart with a griei so
common to us all, calls put our deepest
and warmest love.
Human grief is so very human that it
moves with strange control. We cannot
look upon it in idle indifference. Griefs
are of many kinds, however, and not all
move us alike. Sorrow born of deatli
has the strongest influence. Speaking
of this sorrow one said once, in our hear
ing, "When a friend dies it is not so
much that one we loved is dead, but that
part of our lile is wanting." And so
when we see stricken ones mourning
over the part of their life which they
miss, our hearts respond in sincere sym
pathy. When the Redeemer weeps over
Jerusalem, because of its wickedness, we
are touched, nutinoniyasugnttiegree;
when, with Martha and Mary, he weeps
over the dead friend and brother, we can
scarcely do other than add our tears to
his..
Perhaps in no other portion of the in
spired narrative is the marvelous union
of tlrt divine and thelmman, in the per
son of Christ, so clearly shown as in this
eleventh chapter of John. Jesus wept
not as we weep when those we love are
taken from us. His humanity asserted
itself for a moment, but has he not said
to the sorrowing Martha "Thy brother
shall rise again. What need that lie
should be long troubled in spirit ? Only
a moment later, and he could say "Laz
arus, come forth," and the tomb would
yield up its dead. Blending with the
tears of the man was the wonderful pow
er of the All-Father, which should bring
joy to the bereaved but believing sisters,
and faith to the doubting Jews.
And still Christ is troubled in spirit
because of humanity's grief,still he is say
ing to all "I am the resurreetiou and the
life :" still is the human in his nature
reaching out to human natures every
where, to draw them up toward tne di
vine. We do not realize this enough.
We think of Christ too much as one who
was crucified for our sakes, but having
been crucified is forever more disassoci
ated from us, and from everything allied
to humanity. We need to appreciate
more clearly that he is still our elder
brother, sympathizing wiih us, sor
rowing with us, and even interceding
for us.
CWX'8 BABY IN A NUTSHELL.
Such frequent allusions are made to
"Ginx's baby," that those who have not
had time or opportunity to read the re
markable little book bearing that title,
will thank Mr. M. D. Landou, the spark
ling correspondent of the New York
Commercial, for the following synopsis;
. "Who Is Ginxr"
"Ginx was the father of the thirteenth
baby. Ginx was poor, imd, becoming
impatient at Mrs. Ginx's increasing
nauies, airer sne nau had the tweiltn, de
clared tnat ne would throw the thirteenth
on Westminister bridge."
"Did he do it ?"
"No, but he discovered the infant,after
jurs. u-inx: had succeeJed m hiding it
away for several days seized it. and
started for the bridge, and
"Threw it in!"
"No, the police stopped him. Ginx ex
postulated, said he didn't want, the
baby; that he had twelve already at
iionie : tnat ne was a poor man. and had
no use lor the thirteenth Ginx. Then a
Koman Catholie nun came along, and of
fered to feed it and save it's life."
"And never bring it back?" ask-pd
Ixmx.
"Never!"
"He's yours to have and to hold !"
and then Ginx ran back to his wife and
wretched twelve children, a haiinv
Then the tug commenced. The babv
was uapuzeu. tjinx s wne nau to go and
nurse the baby twice a day. Father
iiozan wanted to and did make the
sign of the cross on Mrs. Ginx before
tne baby was allowed to nurse. Mm
Ginx told this to a Protestant friend.
"Sio-ll of flip crnoa Mrs fiiiirH ni.
horrors thay are making a proselyte of
the baby those atrocious Roman Cath
olics!" said the friend.
J hen the Protestant clere-v o-ot hold
of the scandal. 'The Roman Catholics
have forcibly distrained a Protestant
baby, and are trying to make a Roman
Catholic of him what shall we do?"
they asked.
"Bring an action,' said lawyer Meddle,
on action of habeas corpus.""
Ihe case went to court. Thnusariri.3
oi pounds were spent. Newspapers
i.i.ivcii nnoui, rne -uinx-nanr ease '
wiii s-uauv I Unas' were collected : f lip
luwyera hiok tne money, and the baby
was surrendered to the Protestants.
Soon the baby fund was exhausted ; its
nurse in vain demanded pay for nursing
him ; and finally, onetiay" she left, the
poor baby on a club-house doorstep to
starve! Another humane religious socie
ty took it after the almshouses said they
would net have it. Another religion's
controversy ensued. The baby was also
poor, half-starved and neglected, while
everybody was lighting over his reli
gion." " What became of him?"
" Well, after fifteen years of kicks, of
cold neglect, of ignorance, and starva-
uon wiuie an the world and the news.
papers were talking about how the Ro
man Catholics had forcibly distrained a
Protestant child from its doting parents
the poor, neglected, sorrowful, igno
rant boy went, one dark night, with not
even a flickering star, to see his act, went
and jumped "
on Westminister bridge?"
The same: and at the verv rilace
where the policeman caughtGinx fifteen
years before, as he held the little inno
cent cause of all the trouble over the
rolling flood."
E.IST OF FAIRS.
Ohio State Fair SeDt. 25-. at Sm-ins-lielil:
Win. Lancr. President:.!. H. Kilnnnvt. t'nr. Sei-.:
II. S. Babbitt, Hea. See.
Adams uo. so organization.
Allen Co. Seut.au-3. at Lima: J. R. Unfiles.
Pres.; G. W. Overniver, Sec,
Ashland Co.-Jf. Bl F. Sampsell, Pres.; W. G.
Helpman, Sec.
Asntamua CO. H. J. Nettleton, Pres.; IS. .1.
Belts, Sec.
Athens Co. Sent. . at Athens: Tsnw. Stanlev.
Pres.; .1. M. Goorispeed, Sec.
Auglaize Co. Oct. 4-6, at Wapakonetta; J.
Kelley, Pres.; O. T. Dicker, Sec.
Belmont Sept. 37-9, at St clairsville; Elavil!
Brown, Pres.; Alenix Coue. Sec
Brown Co. Seot. 5-S. at Genra-ptmvn : John R.
Erase Pres; Wm. Hays, Sec
Butler Co. Oct. , at Hamilton; Fergus An
derson, Pres.; W. K. Cochran, Sec.
Carroll Co. Sent 26-38, at Carrol ton; Alex.
Simpson, Pres.; Thos. liars. Sec
inampaifrn co. sept. 12-15, at Urbana; lan
iel Blose, Pres.; W. A. Humes. Sec
Clark Co. Sent. 5-8. at Sin-inu-ilplil : Peter Sintz.
Pres.; Quincy A. Petts, Sec
Clermont co. sept. 12-ia, at Boston; J. 1
Wearer, Pres.; W. E. Meais, Sec.
Clinton Co. Sent. 6-8. at Wilhiiinu-tmi: c M.
Walker, Pres.; Leri Mills, Sec
Colnmbiana.Co. Sept 20-23, at New Lisbon;
ohn L. Crowell, Pres.; J. F. Benner, Sec
Coshocton Co. Sent. 13-15. at Coshocton: John
S. Elliot, Pres.; L. L. Cantwell, Sec
crawioni co. Oct. 8-6. at Bucvrus; .loshuaii
Roller, Pres.; George Keller, Sec."
'1 :n VRhnu-n I n Onl 3-1. 11 1 eWiilniiili Tk T.
Wightman, Pres.; A. B. Chamber! in, Sec
Darke Co.Oct. 3-6, at Greenville; George D.
Miller, Pres.; .1. T. Murtz, Sec
Defiance Co. Oct 3-6, Defiance; W. D. II ill,
Pres.; Charles P. Tittle, Sec
Delaware Co. Oct. S-6, at Delaware; Larris S.
Felkner, Pres.; Fred M. Jov, Sec
Erie Co.Oct. 8-6. at Sanduskr: C. Caswell.
Pres.; S. M. White. Jr.. Sec
Fairlield Co. Oct. 11-14. at. Lancaster: B.W.
Carlisle, Pres.; John G. Beeves, Sec
Franklin Co Sept 6-8, at Columbus; John M
mgii, i-res; v s uienn sec.
uiton cou
Boouy, Pres.;
Fulton County .-Sept 27-89, at Wauseon, H. R.
oouy, Pres.; 11. L. Morely. Sec
Gallia Co.-AtGallipolis; McCoy Ralston, Pres.;
C. V andue. Sec.
Geailira Co.-Sent 13-15. at Burton: Luther Rus
sell, Pres.; H. C Tuttle, sec.
Greene Co.-Sept 12-15, at Xenia; David MiU
en. Pres. ; J. B. Carruthers, Sec
unernsey co.-Sept 21-22, at Cainbrnlge; J. C.
McClelland. Pres.: C. B. Hutchinson. Sec
Hamilton Consent 5-9, at Cincinnati; Tbeopb,
Wilson, Pres.; R. T. Durrell, Sec
Haraiu co sept 13-15, at Kenton; James Al
White, Pres ; L M Strong Sec.
Hancock Co.-Oct. 5-7, at Findlay; Hanks P.
Page, Pres.; D B Beardslee, Sec.
Harrison Co. -Oct. 4-C at Cadiz: S. Herron.
Pres.; Jacob Jarvis, Sec.
Henrv Co.-Seut 20-22. at Kanoleon: J. A. Stout.
Pres; A. H. Tavlor, Sec
Highland Co.-Sept 4-6, at Hillsboro; C. s. Bell,
Pres.: John W. Ellis, Sec
Hocking Co.-Or.t. 5-7. at Lo-r.111: C. Clowe.
Pres.; H. L. Wright, Sec
Holmes C0.-M1ller1-.burg; George F. Newton,
Pres. 5 B. Herzer, Sec.
Huron Co. sept. 19-21, at Norwalk; J. C. R.
Eastman, Pres.; W B Wolverton Sec.
Jm-tuui Ofi.it-or aa .. 1 I ...-.. ... 1 11 . 1
r . . . 'V J'l 1 111. . . 11, B1..II 11, 11111-11
Thompson, Pres; J A Sells, Sect
jenersou Co. AO organization.
Knox Co. Sent. 2B.2M. at Mt. Vernon: Rnhert
Miller, Pres.; c. E. Critchfleld, Sec,
Lake Co. Sent. 27-29. at Painesville: John
Warren, Pres.; D.UV. Mead Sec.
liawi-enceco. irouton;c. i-aiison, rres.;xnos.
I. Murdoch, Sec.
Licking- Co. Oct. 3-6. at Newark: Joseuh
White, Pres. ; I. W. Bigelow, Sec.
Logan Co. Oct. 8-6, at Bellefontaine; D. W.
Hams, Pres. ; E. J. Howenstine. sec.
Lorain Co. Sept. 19-22, at Klvria; Chas. S.
Mills Pres.; G. P. Metcalf, Sec.
Lucas Co. Sept, 19-22, at Toledo; R. C.Thoinp
son, Pres.; F. It. Warren, see.
Madison Co. No organization.
Mahoning Co. Oct. 3-5. at Canfield: Richard
Fitch, Pres. ; F. W. Beardsley, Sec.
Marion Co. Sent 5-7, at Marion; Peyton llonl.
Pres.: B. F. Stahl, Sec
Medina Co.Oct. 11-13, at Medina; Gaylord
Thompson, Pres.: Jf. H. Bostwick, Sec.
jueigs vo, sept, at ihkk spring; Auner
Stout, Pres.; E. S. Branch. Sec )
Mercer co. sept. -1- s at venna; u. v
Randaburgh, Pres; J. Milligan, See.
Miami uo. wt. at iroy; v ni. . iwc-
riiui-r. Pres: S. It Dinrv. Sec.
Monroe Co. Sepl.S0-8i, at Woodsfleld; A. B.
Covert. Pres.: D. okev. Sec.
Monta-omery co. sept. 0-0, at
Dayton; M.
Ohner. Pres.: A stenheiis. Sec.
Morgan Co Sept 27-29, at MeComiollsville; J.
A. Mct'ounell, Pres.; J. S. Adair, Sec,
Morrow Co. Sept 20-8. at Mt. Gilead:;D. S.
Talmadge, Pres.; E. C.Chase, Sec
Muskingum Co.
Noble Co. Sept 20-22, at Sarahsville; Joua M.
Round, Pres. ; J Danford, Sec
ittawa Co. J. P. Lattiniore, Pres.
Paulding Co. W. H. Snook, Pres.; G. W. Cox,
Sec
Perry Co. Oct 4-6, at New Lexington; Edward
Mose, Pres; T. P. Skinner, See
Pickawav Co. Sept 18-42, at Circleville; V. F.
Decker, Pres: A. K. Van Cleal". sec
Pike Co. No organization.
Portage Co. Seiit, 25-27, at Revanua-Peter II,
Bean, Pres; J Meliurg, sec
Preble Co
Putnam Co Sent 27-9, at Ottawa; Wm Blod
gett Pres; G D Kinder. Sec
Richland Co Sept 19-22, at Mansfield; W S
Hickox, Pres; J W Myers, Sec
Ross Co Sent 10-I3,at Chillicotha; L G Delano,
Pres; PGGrirtln, Sec
Sandusky Co Oct 4-7, at Fremont; W illiam E
Haines, Pi-es; W II Andrews, Sec
Soioto Co--No organization.
Seneca Co Oct ; 10-13, at Tinin; Wm II Gibson,
Pres; U F Cramer, Sec.
Shelbv Co Sept 19-22, at Sidnev; J R Kendall
Pres; If Black, Sec
Stark Co Sept 96-8, at Canton; J II Bair,
Pres; J F Clark, Sec
Summit Co tic 3-6, at Akron; Jas. Hammoud,
Pres.; S. IT. Pitkin, Sec.
Trumbull Co. Sept 19-81, at Warren; Harmon,
Austin, Pres; H F Austin, Sec.
Tuscarawas Co Oct 3-11, at Canal Dover; S
Harinonnt, Pres; E S Sitiglufl', sec,
I'nioii Co Oi-ta-tf, at Marysville; Philip Sny
der, Pres; L Pijier, Sec.
Van Wert Co Sept 15-16, at Van Wert;X ll.it
terv, Pres: L It Robinson, Seo.
V inton Co No organization .
Warren Co Sept au-S, at Lebanon; Geo W
Carv, Pres; E Warwick, Seo.
Washington Co Sept Su-S, at Marietta; W F
Curtis Pres; J Palmer, Jr, sec .
Wayne Co Go -, at Woostcr: Corneliu
Smith, Pres; Johnson, Seo.
W illlanvs ('oSept 19-21, at Bryan; E I K yens,
Prss; U N. Patterson, Sec.
Wood Co OvU-ti, atTontogauy; Jas W Ross,
Pres; G Powers, Sec.
' Wyandotte Co Oct 11-13, at I'ppcr Sandusky ;
Mc.91 . D,. Carey, Pres ; A Kali, Seo.
Deceased,
MELANGE,
A social glass to which the ladies are
addicted the mirror.
You can't get blood from a stone, but
you can get money from a brick !
A lobster never comes ashore without
great risk of getting into hot water.
Motto for Darwin, improved from
Shakespeare "I could a tail unfold."
Babies aie- the coupons attached to
matrimony the interest is !due at ran
dom.
New York has twenty-nine miles of
water front and oyer seventeen miles of
saloons.
Twenty-five dollars is the average
price paid lor the manscript of a dime
novel.
It's your tall fellows who are luckiest
in love. The ladies are all in favor of
Hy-men.
Louisiana wants a thousand more
coolies. On account of the weather,
probably.
The woman that maketh a nudding in
silence is-better than one that maketh a
tart reply.
"The Hour of Need" You cannot help
knowing it, for when it does come it is
sure to strike one.
A Schoolboy's Aspiration "Oh. how
1 wish I weie a fountain, for then I
could always beplayiug."
A Georgia editor announces that he
will publish "original poetry" at the
low rate of "$9 per line."
I A French doctor Ima irriitm i lif nf
the devil, including his subject's essays
I on nonricai econom vr ami wiiut lip k nowc
I about waruii inr.
The pupils in one of our Western
schools are taught to apply the feminine
gender to all vessels except "men-of-war
and mail steamers."
Indianapolis has a merchant who lias
been iu business over fifty years and
never advertised a line. His profits
average about fifty cents a day.
'Auntie," said a little three-year-old
one day, "I don't lite my aprons tarchert
sp drefful. So much tardiness makes the
tiffness tratch my bareness."
"High, there, high !" said grandfather
I Hall to my little boy, the first Ave had.
you don't know where vou are." "Yes
I do, grandpa." "Well, where are you?"
"I'm here," was the reply.
When lovers in the starlight walk,
iiuw uo tney entertain, yet taut
.ui even 01 uie v, eaiuerr
How make the time s snil't elapse,
Vet open not their Perhap
By peemtihgthem ttiytthtr:
'Mother," said a bright little srirl. "is
hell a hot place?" Heing a little puzzled
what reply to make the mother answered,
'its. "lhen, said the little girl,
'why don'tthey turn the damper?"
At North Hatfield, Mass., it is stated
that, iu the early days a road was laid out
which was described as "running: troin
I'ochaug meadow to the stream where
old Mr. Doolittle's horse died."
AVhen a person gives a wedding: pres
ent it is the correct thing not to have it.
marked, so that iu case there are many
duplicates of it it can be changed for
some more needed article.
The Louisville Leaner says: "Mrs.
Picket, of Jenersou, recently gave birth
to triplets, all girls." That woman lias
had her share of picket duty, and they
ought, to put. her on detached service for
a year or two.
A fanner in AVestern Xew York wrote
to Greeley to know how to apply mature,
to which the philosopher answered :
"About the best way is to turn it on ac
count, or forward it on subscriptions to
the A. 1. iribune.
A reckless jwitato bug went through
the Stole of Khode Island last week, and
when last seeu was mounted on a wind
mill by the seaside weeping for fresh
worlds to conquer and wiping his tear
ful eves with the sails.
.The other day at Saratoga John G.
Saxe was leaning over the railing of the
grandstand. "Vou look like the mon
arch of all vou survey," said Fernando
Wood, patting him on the back. "Ko, I
only have a lean on theproperty," replied
the jrenial Saxe.
At a Sunday school in Ripon a teacher
asked a little boy if he knew what the
expression "sowing tares" .meant?
"Oourth I does," said ne. pulling tne
seat, of his little trowsers round in front.
"There's a tear my ma sewed ; I teared
it sliding down hill."
A Yankee In England being annoyed
by the constant boasting as to the supe
riority of English girls, finally silenced
laudation by declaring that "they had a
gal in Boston only eleven years old who
could chew gum in seven different lan
guages with her eyes shut."
A California genius has invented what
he calls the eureka boot-puller, which
consists of a leather belt having two
hooks attached to it. He places the belt
over his right shoulder, adjusts the hooks
111 the boot straps and then leans back
ward, and the tightest boot is conquered.
A bright-eyed little fellow in one of
the Brooklyn private schools, having
spelt a word, was asked by his teacher :
"Are you willing to bet you are right,
Hennie v rne ooy looked up witn an
air of astonishment and said : "I know I
am right, MissV., but I never bet."
It is related that when Beecher was in
the country last summer he lost his hat,
and found it in about a week iu a barn
where he had left it, but witli four eggs,
in it. This is as it should be. Beecher
had just written a eulogy 011 the hen ;
why shouldn't the Hen-re-wfird
Beecher r
A school teacher asked a new boy
"who made the glorious universe t" but
the boy couldn't tell; so the teacher cot
a rawhide and told the Ikiv if he didn't
tell he would wltiphim. The boy looked
at the whip and sniveled out, "1'lease,
sir, 1 did; but I won't do it again!"
The teacher fainted.
During a fine staVlight evening lately
a tnree-year-oiu philosopher, alter a
silent anil apparently profound scrutiny
of the heavens, asked his mother, abrupt
ly, where the stars came from. Mamma
replied, "I don't know, Willie: 1 don't
know where the stars came from." "Well
you bet 1 do. Te moon aid V m."
Henry IVad is the fastidious editor of
the Martin Comity Iferaltt. Upon a lata
electioneering tour he slept iu a farm
house, with two others in the same bed,
and the next morning the lady of tho
house inquired how they slept." "First
rate," answered one ; . "I slept behind.
Bill slept before, and Henry Pead in th
middle' "Did he:" exclaimed the old
lady.
The latest and best thing on Homcb
resulted from a correspondence with a
Texas editor in regard lo the culture ot"
tobacco. To a letter from the editor
Greeley replied : "Fine cut. toktcoo will
not ripen well unless the tin-foil is
stripped from the growing buds early iu
the spring, and plug tobacco should bt
knocked otf the tree's with a club instead
of belngpicked off by the hand." This
the Texan said was nonsense, ami
Greeley challenged him.
A few weeks ago at baby was taken
into a church to be baptised,'and his little
brother was present during that rite.
On the following Sunday, when baby
was undergoing his ablutions aud dress-,
Ing, the little brother asked mauima if
She intended to carry Willie to be
christened? "Why, no," replied his
mother, "don't you know, my ou, that
peopleare not baptised twice 1"' "What,"
returned the young reasoner, with the
utmost astonishment in his earnest face,
"not if It don't take the first time?"