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NORTHERN OHIO JOURNAL.
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WHOLE NO. 68. Transient advertisements must invariably be paid for in advance. Begnlar advertisements to be paid at the expiration of each quarter. A KAISV DAY. BT KObEKT K. WEEKS. A wind that shrieks to the window pane, A wind in the chimney moaning, A wind that trample the ripened grain, - And lets the tree Agi-oaiiiiig ; A wind that in dizzy with whirling play, A dozen winds that nave lost their way In suite of the others' calling. A thump of apples on the ground, A flutter and Hurry and whirling round Of leaves too noon a-dving ; A basing ami streaming like hair unbound Of the willow boughs a-Uying ; A lonely road and a gloomy land, An empty lake that is blistered with rain. And a Heavy sky that is Dulling. BY ROBERT K. WEEKS. Here is a thought which puzzles me. Whether the fruitless tree, Which shares the sunshine equally With all the rest. Feels like a bitter feeling burn. That makes the blessing half unblest, . . In that however be may yearn, ' He cannot make return, . Nay, more nan never prove His gratitude and love, . ,j v t , Hecause to him It is denied Like those more favored ones who grew Klse ail unenvicd at his side, J'.y wealth of golden fruit to show How he has caught the genial glow, And loves it with a perfect pride. Or Is he all content with this T To drink the sunlight, feel the bliss ; Sure that the sun above (Jlecause himself so full of love) . Knows all the love lis cannot speak, - That not his love, but be, is weak ; Anil though he only may receive, Can of his gratitude believe That it mav even greater be Thau that of gulden-fruited tree. A SOTSU OF A NEST. BY JEA N INGKLOW. There was onco a nest iu a hollow, . . . own in the mosses and knot-grass pressed, fcinf't and warm, and full to the brim ; Vetc.her leaned over it, purple and diin ' With butter-cup ouus to loiiuiv. I I pray yon hear my soug of a nest, For It is not long ; .,--, You shall never light in a sunnier quest The bushes among Shall never light on a prouder sitter, A fairer nestfitl, nor ever know - ,! A softer sound than their tender twitter, That wind-like did come and go. I hail a nestful once of my own, .', Ah 1 hamiv. haoov I : Right dearly I loved them : ; but when they were xrown. They spread out their wings to fly ; " O, one alter one, they flew away, Far up the heavenly blue, To the better country, the upper da', And I wish I was going too. . ' i . I pray you, what is the nest to me, , My empty nest ? And what is the shore where I stood to see " My boat sail down to the West V . Can I call that home where 1 anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed f Can I call that home where my nest was set, Mow all its hopes have failed V Nav, but the port where my sailor went. And the land where my nestlings he. There is the home where my thoughts are sent. The on y home for me . THE TIIIIEE LITTLE CHAIRS. They sat alone by the bright wood fire The gray-haired dame and the aged sire, Dreaming of days gone by ; The tear di-oD fell on each wrinkled cheek. They both had thoughts that they could not speak, as eacu iicari. utLcicu a siu. . . i tiitl ' For their sad and tearfid eye descried -' -Three little chairs placed s'ide by siUe Against the sitting-room wall ; Old lashioned enough as there they stood Their seats of flag, and their frame of wood, j With their backs so straight aud tall. Then thesire shook his silvery head, . ; f ' Aud with trembling voice he ftcntly said ' I Mother, those empty chairs, I They bring us such sad, sad thoughts to-night, i We'll put them forever out of sight, j In the small, dark room, op stairs." ' 1 : ' . . ! j But," she answered : " Father, no, not yet, For I look at them and I lorget That the children went away. t The bovs come bauk, and our Mary, too, With her apron on of checkered blue, And sit there every day. ' Johnny still whittles ship's tall 'masts, 1 And Willie his leaden bullets casts, J While Marv her patchwork sews ; At evening three little childish prayers Go up to God from those little chairs, So softly tbat no one knows, "' ; .Tohnnv comes back from the billowy deop, Willie wakes from the battle Ileitis sleep. To say good night to me ; , And Mary a wile and a mother no more ' But a tired child whose play-time is o'er, ; j Comes to rest again on my knee. ; , . . j Oh those chairs stand there.but though empty now. At the even time when alone we bow. To our Father God to pray ; That we in the lietter land above, May elasp our darlings which here we loved, In that bright land long over the way. IN AUTUMN. The vcar grows splendid ; on the mountain steep Now lingers long the warm and gorgeous light. Dying by slow degrees into the deep, Delicious night. The fatal triumph of the perfect year, ' v VI Uises the wood's magniltcent array ;. Beyond the purple mountain heights appear And slope away. The elm, with musical, slow motion, laves His long, lithe branches on the tender air, AV bile, from his top of gray, Surdello waves His scarlet huir. Where SDrin ir first hid her violets 'neath the fern Where Summer's lingers opeued, fold on foli, Tine oaorons, wna, rea rose neaa, now ouru . , The leaves of gold. : ,, , , , j , . The loftiest hillthc lowliest flowering herb The fairest fruitol season or ot dime All wear alike the mood of the superb Autumnal clime. Now nature ponrs her last the noblest wine Like some Bacchanta ; beside the singing streams lifelines enchanted day, wrapped in divine. Impassioned dreams. But where the painted leaves are tailing fast, Among the vales, beyond the farthest hill, There sits a shadow thin, and sail, aud vast, Aud lingers still. And still we hear a voice among the hills. , A voice that moans among the haunted woods And witn tne mystery oi sorrow mis The solitudes. For, while gray Autumn gilds the fruit and leaf. Ann uotll licr lairust icshh ihciiw v tr.nt, X,o! Time, all noiseless, in his mighty sheaf Binds up the year. The mighty sheaf which never is undound The. reaper whom your souls beseech in vain The loved, lost never, which nevermay be found, Or loved again. The Lady of Linden-w-old. A STORY IN I'OTTK PIUTS. BY MRS. K. B. EPSON. PART II. ?E advanced leisurely toward her with extended hand, and a triumphant glitter in his yel low-brown eyes.-.' "I never expected this happiness on earth. Olive, lias the grave indeed given up its dead, in pity for my great woe.' She retreated a step, scorning his of fered hand with a superb gesture of eontemnt. "Admirable ! You have not forgotten your favorite role at the Jiuyal, 1 see, am glad to find that prosperity has not changed you. But, really, Oliyj,:" are you not going to take my hand, when I liave 'crossed the stormy deep' in search ot your nave you no heart to appreci ate such upurallclled devotion i , "Geotl'ry Livingston, I had prayed God never to set eyes on your face .-Again!" she said, vehemently, facing . about and flushing the lull measure of her scorn upon him.. , "Vraternal, ulon my word ! If you ..only Knew how 1 liave mourned lor yon !' -"Geoffrv. I will not listen to your in- -suits! 1 honed that I had Uied forever to vow, and to the old lite as well," she added, bitterly. "You were very clever. I will admit and no oue but a tragedy queen would ever have conceived such a unllian niece of strategy. Even I. with all in shrewdness, was deiicived for awhile by the reports ami lamentations in tne pa pers. By Jove! iL's not a bad way, after .all, to fliid out what the world will say of yu fter -you've left It. It must be exceedingly, pleasant to have the pleas ure of reading; one's own' obituary. I womler what the world would say of me" "That it was well rid of a low, pitiful scoundrel." Thanfc: you. Yon are disposed to be complimentary .'But your partiality pro bably blinds you." "My partiality ?" 'Certainly. ; I'm your brother, and of course sisterly aQection would lead you to see my virtues in a clearer light than others les interested." VYour virtues? Would to Heaven you had any !" "Did you ever try to look for them, Olive? On the contrary, have you not always loathed and scorned me, driving mo furtlier towards- jjerdition by your bitterness aud unnatural treatment?" he asked, with some sliow of feeling. "Did I teach yon gambling amiilruiik eness," and -every Tow and disgusting crime of which you have been guilty? it is your own acts tnatare driving you to perdition,' and which, have aliuot't driven me to distraction." "Kut, Olive, that is of the past. You caitie to Uieuew. world aod began, a new lile, leaving tne obi- as .utterly- as 4i u had never been; - Why canyon not give me aji equal chance with you ? , Try me once, Olive. I may not be as utterly bad as you think. Let we, at least.have one more chance," he SAid pleadingly, dropping bis bitterness and sarcasm. "Ttou mean tlr.it I snare tne Ldnnen- wold estate with you, and acknowledge you as my brother?" " w ny iKt, Clave r itM asmucurnine as yours. You cannot prove tnat it is." But 1 ask you to admit. I liave al ways defied you before, .now I ask your favor." " 'Suppose I refuse it?" she said coldly. 'I will proclaim the truth, and take my rights." ' - xou would expose me ir i aenea you t . This, then, is your boasted relor mation?" she said, sneeringly. "By Heavous,' Olive, you are enough to drive a man mad ! "Once more I ask you, will you acknowledge roe and give me a cnance to begin a new lire?" Does beginning b new life depend on your . obtaining this property? Your conditions of repentance are as admira ble as your imprudence. I will not ac knowledge you, for you. would only be as you always have been, it hindrance and disgrace to me." "Very well, I will assert my claim, then." IndecKT ! - Perhaps you have proofs to establish tbafe-eUioa ?" - - 'Perdition!-mo, and yon know it. and gloat over -it." s. , - - - . "l certainly know.it. -iur name, by some mistake was not in the family rec ord which I brought with me. . I do not wish to cast any nnfilial reflections on our mother but perhaps your name had not a legal riglit-there, -believe the marriaga-of our parents only dates a few months prior to ray birth. - But you know the truth of the cir cumstances, and, know that I was as much the acknowledged child of 'John Livingston as yourself." "Hut suppose 1 do not choose to know it? The property is legally mine. It is under my control: I have taken oath that I am the only child and heir to it. J. do not intend to go back on that state ment, that you may liave the privilege or dissipating it in profligate living. will . allow you,., nowever, a Hundred pounds annually, if you will return to England and never let me see yon, or near or you again." "Curses on yonr money! do you think I will touch it? I did not come here to beg ; if I had, I would have gone to the rltjntlul owner I Olive Livingston turned a quick. frightened glance tovard him. "Did he know? Impossible And her thoughts new instinctively to a yellow and laded tetter tnat sue knew was sately locked in her writing-desk, and the key was in her bosom. She always carried it there. ot late, sleeping or waking. "YTiiat uo you meanr" sne demanded. "I mean that the the true heir is liv ing, and in this country.'- wnor" she whispered, hoarsely, her eyes burning like coals. lie bent over and whispered soine- uung in tier ear.' ircposterous !" she exclaimed, in surprised, incredulous tone, a look of re lief coming over her face, however. l tea you it is so. And more I Jfcnoio. the man!" .. She looked at him sharply a moment ana men saiu, siewiy : "Uteotiry Livingston,-1 believe this is one of ,yoor contemptible falsehoods. with which yu think to frighten me into compliance wiui your demands, xou know that they were never heard of after they . left England. And, beside. tbere is noproor to confirm anything. f Are you willing to let things take tneir course n i ten nun ?" "Tell who?" "The heir I spoke of." "He is not the heir!" she said, deci sively, a strange light burning in her eyes. . i :' "I tell you he is.: I happen to know all about it." "Where is he this man ?" "That is my secret. . Accede to my de mands, aud I will keep it; refuse, and will inform the person most interested.' "Jeottry, give me three months to de cide. Here is fifty pounds ; if you want more come to me again ; only keep away lrom idntienwoia, ir possible." "You need not fear," he replied, bit terly; "the attraction is not of a very overpowering nature. Remember, in just three months." "I will remember," she -said, closing the door upon him, and hastening to her room, and immediately taking a faded letter from her desk, perused it for the hundredth time. ; CHAPTER VIII. It was a plain, poorly-furnished cham ber iu which Amy Clair sat at her sew- ngcastmg ever and anon hasty glan ces at a thin, delicate face, lying wearily against the back of her chintz-covered easy chair. Presently the brown eyes peued suddenly and detected the look. "Amy, darling, you are worrying ourself too much about me. Why do you, when Dr. vray says i am so much more comiortaDie. Ann my cough is reallYia great deal better." smiling a wan sort ot smile, tnat was meant to De very hopeful, but which sent a shiver of terrible apprehension over ner sister. Oh Alice l i when -1 see you lading away so like a beautiful flower, my heart is wild with pain, .remaps ir we naci never left dear old Lancaster you might have heen strong and bright, instead of looking so pale like a Christmas rose. wish sometimes that we had stayed-there. Oik Alice ! I long so for a sight of those graves under the daisies " Amy, Amy, hush, dear. They are not there. They are lust as near ns now and here. Indeed, I sometimes fancy they are very near me. And such times 1 feel so iiappy, aud so con tent to Dear all tins pain and weariness, because I know it is, somehow, best and that it is only for a little time." "Oh, Alices How can vou talk so calmly! I cannot bear it! You jniistgct well! How could 1 live in tins strange land alone and friendless." "No, not alone, Amy; we are never Unit. There is alway one true friend very tender and very pitiful., And then dear, vou forzet kind Mrs. Vanstone who has helped and befriended us so much since that terrible night when we came near perishing in the flames. And then, Mr. Russel, Amy ; could one give stronger proofs of friendship than lie uki, though we were comparative stran gers?" There was a brisrht flush now on the pure check of Amy, and a tender sweet ness hovered around the grieved mouth "I thought he would be here to-day,' Alice couuqucu. "Perhaps he will, darling, brightening lsibly. "lou know lie is to bring jliss Livingston to see us sometime." "es, 1 know," was the rather rueful reply. "They s:iy she is very cold aud haughty." .Mr. Kussel says she is the most ele gant lady he ever saw," Amy replied, with a little unconscious sigh. There was a low rap at the door, and the sisters started nervously, lialf expect ing it to be the very persons they were speaking of, but were sensibly relieved when the broad, good-humored lace ol rim in y Bryne appeared instead, with a mysterious covered basket on his arm, which he solemnly uncovered, and re vealed a score of great srolden wars. flanked by twice their nninber of amber aud crimson apples as big as one's two sts, while on one side, hall hidden in glossy green leaves, were long purple aud white clusters of the most delicious grapes you ever saw. Amy uttered a little cry or admiration, aud Alice's pale ips quivered and her great brown eyes filled with tears. "Oh Timmy!" they both said, in a breath, "why did vou bring all these nice things here? You ought not to do Timmy. lou are always bringing us someUiing nice, and we can never do anything for you." it s pay enough, and more than such an ugly fellow as I am deservin', to get a smile from your sweet faces," was the gallant reply; and Timmy protested toutiy that a friend of his had so much of such stufl lying about, that it was an actual privilege to give it away. He did not mention that his friend was a fruit dealer, or that he gave him five bright shilling pieces for the privilege! But they understood and appreciated his del icacy and generosity, and after'he had gone, Alice said, Jwith a feeling of self- reproacn : We never mentioned limuiy among our friends." And yet I doubt if we have one other so utterly devoted and unselfish. I never see the brave fellow but I think how grand he looked as he went steadily down that ladder of flame, never shrink ing a hair though the cinders were searing his flesh and scorching the hair trom his uncovered head. I could think of nothing but the pictures I have seen of the old martyrs, and, to my eyes, there will always be a sort ot halo about bis scarred face, for he saved your life, darling, and " well-known step on the stairs sent the quick color to Amy's face, and inter rupted her speech. "She knew it was Mr. Russel's step, and half suspected the clear, silvery tones, that mingled with his deejer ones, were Miss Livingston's. She was correct in her impression, and the elegant lady, clad in rich and costly roues with jewels on ner hngers and at ner throat, came gracefully and cordi ally into the humble chamber. She was social and courteous.but with a little air of condescension that made Amy glad when the call was over, and the last rustle ot her silken robes had died away on the stairs. And beside, she could not help seeing how eagerly Paul Russel watched every movement of the gracelul figure, and, though he ev idently tried to appear as usual, his in terest in Alice s spiritual condition was plainly eclipsed by his interest iu Miss Livingston's material one. Amy, dear, I am afraid it is very wrong, out 1 think I don't like Miss Livingston very well." Amy did not reply immediately, she was thinking; by-aud-by she said ab ruptly : Alice, where have 1 seen Miss Liv ingston ?" "She was on the Bermuda with us voii know." 1 don t mean tbat. I was ill. you know, nearly the whole voyage. I do not remember noticing her once, and do not think 1 saw her. . But somewhere I have seen that face. It seems a great while ago, as everything does that hup- peueu m those oiu nappy uays, oelore we knew how long, and weary, and hard it was possible for them to be. It was in a crowd that 1 saw her, and I distinctly remember that Harry was with me, and he has been dead near three years. I recollect, because he called her some sort of a queen ah! I have it now. ! Alice, don't you remem ber when Harry and I went to the Royal" to witness the debut of Made. moiselle Olivia? and how you were ill and could not go? Well, there is where 1 saw that race. 1 should Know it among a thousand." "Oh Amy, you must be mistaken. It is not at all likely that Miss Livingston was ever an actress. There may be a strong resemblance such things happen unaccountably sometimes but it Is only a resemblance, he sure ol that." "I tell you Alice, I know! Xow, that I have the clue, every tone and gesture comes back to me perfectly, and I know there are not two women u the world so entirely and utterly alike in look,tone, gesture and carriage. But, Alice, Oh how white you are ! I am so thought less ; 1 might have knowu so much ex citement would tire yot". Lie here on the lounge let me arrange the pillows, There, that :s right, pet?' stooping clown and kissing the tuin, white Hps, A faint smile flickered over the was- ted face, as with an air of utter exhaus tion she lay back among the pillows, whose snowy whiteness scarce rivalled the pure, shadowy face pressed against them. When Miss Livingston stepped into her carriage she ordered the driver to make the tour of the principal streets, ucluding Carmarthau street; adding, by way of excuse, that having seen the main characters in the drama, it would be in keeping to end by visiting its lo cale. Perhaps the fact that Mr. Van stone's office was in that immediate neighborhood had some slight influence in her decision. Certain it was, a visible nervousness possessed her as she neared that locality, in which Mr. Russel attrib uted to her quick sympathy with suffer ing. But he did not note the deepening crimson in her cheek, or the softened light in her eyes, when, a moment alter. she bowed, .with one of her brightest smiles, as a bughtful student faee,with clear, truthful gray eyes, looked sud denlv up from their writing at one of the little dingy windows. They rode leisurely through the uroau streets, pausing occasionally to admire some fine view. Perhaps it would have been difficult for Paul Russel to analyze the peculiar feelings with which Olive Livingston inspired him. mat sue at tracted him powerfully he did not at tempt to denv. Her presence overpow ered and intoxicated him, and her volup tuous beauty held his senses in thrall But the very intensity of the attraction tired and exhausted him.,, He did not realize it while the spell was on, but after he had left her presence a sense of nerveless languor and a sort ot restless dissatisfaction oppressed him. It was so different from the feeling of rest and sfl-ength, the earnest longing for greater purity and holiness ot thought ana lite, that burned in his soul when he-sat in that humble chamber on Germain street. and, while he taught, learned himself, of heaven from one who had already tasted its joys. And then he loved the sweet faee at the window, with its shift ing lights and shades, its flushing and pahug, its tenderness and its pain. Unit ing like ripples across the surface of some pure woodland lake. lie loved to watch the pretty, changeful face and busy lingers, that were always stitching. and think how much better and purer a man might be who had such a sweet faee and true, earnest spirit always in his home. But some strange glamor was upon him while witli Miss Livingston a sub tle something which he could not, or at least did not, resist, drew him towards her. Aud that day, as she sat beside him in her splendid carriage, her mag nificent beauty enhanced by the richness and elegance of her attire, lie forgot, while looking into her glowing face, all Joftr thought, all noble work, all pure aspiration forgot in short everything I but the passionate, bewitching face of I the woman beside him. CHAPTER IX. Olive Livingston had had too much experience wkIi the world not to under stand the symptoms which Mr. Russel exhibited. But while it gratified her vanity, it woke no answering sentiment iu her bosom. The only love that was worth anything to her the only eyes which she eared to have loot their pas sion into hers worshipped at another shrine. What was all her wealth, and position, and beauty worth, so long as this Mordecia failed to bow down belore it. And like another Hamau she began the construction of a gallows for the ac complishment of her desires. Quite un expectedly she found a workman to her hand one who had served a long ap prenticeship with his master and was very ready at his work. It happened in this wise. One evening after she had sat at her window and watched, with burning eyes, the figures of a youth and maiden, sitting in an unmistakably lover-like attitude under the little vine-covered porch of the Wallace cottage, she was measurably relieved, by the announce ment of Asa, that a man was at the door who wanted to speak with the mistress. Bring him in here !" she saidharnly. Into the drawing-room, miss?" "Certainly. What is there remarka ble about that?" "Xothin', as I know of, only the man :" "What of him?" "He's rather a hard looking chap. I should'nt want to meet him in an out of the way place. He looks 'villain,' whether he is or not. 1 am not afraid of Satan himself, to night! Bring him in." Notwithstanding her assertion, a sud den shiver ran over her when the man, who came in with a stealthy, cat-like tread, lifted a pair of bleared, blood-shot, deep-set gray eyes to her face with a cu rious, continued gaze. He was a large. muscular man, though evidently -worn by dissipation. He was coarsely dressed, and his unkempt hair of heavy iron gray fell low over his dark, lowering brow. Take him all in ail be was not exactly the man for a lady's boudoir ,but he sat down, however, with an air of quie assurance that annoyed Miss Liv ingston exceedingly, and she mentally resolved to get rid of him as speedily as possible. 4 W hat is your business with me, sir ?" she demanded, haughtily, stepping back as he approached. "I am iu want ot some money." A beggar!" she ejaculated, contemp tuously. .Not exactly, my proud lady, ion are the owner of Lindenwold?Z' I am, sir. Did you come here to ask that? Any countryman could have told you thus much." "Lvery countryman doesn't know quite as much about it as you and I," he replied, with a leer. Did you come here to insult me? ' she cried, with flashing eyes. "On the contrary 1 came here to make a bargain with vou." "What sir?" "A bargain, ma'am ; which, if I mis take not, will be for your interest full as much as mine." You are drunk!" she exclaimed, turning to the bell rope. He put out his hand his black; grimmy hand and ac tually laid it on her white, dainty shoul der, bhe taoed suddenly round, trem bling with passion at the indignity. "How dare you?" she demanded, Uer eyes flaming. Uy heavens ! miss, you'd make vour fortune on the stage. If anything hap pens, you can try it, you know." Her nrst thought was, "this is some miserable trick of Geoffry's to extort more money lrom me," and she smiled to herself to think how little she cared tor Ueottry's secret. If she only suc ceeded in her plans and she would suc ceed if she perilled her soul in the attempt she could defy Ueottrv and his secret. "Come, now," said the man, "don't he so hery. 1 did not come here to quar rel with you; on the contrary 1 am in want ot a little money, and thought perhaps 1 had something you would like to purchase." 'ion! Perhaps you would conde scend to inform me," she said, scoru- tully. "certainly, bilence." "Silence! are you insane ? What can you know that will affect me, if you pro claimed it upon tne nouse-tops?" "i Know who is the heir ot Linden- wold," he said, coolly, looking at her trom under his shaggy brows. She paled perceptibly, but still kept up a show ot bravery. Jtteally, vour knowledge is not so very wonderful, since it is a commonly estaonsnea tact." It is not an established fact, but it is in my power to make it so. 1 hold in my posessiou certain papers, that once given to the true-heir, would turn you lrom rests with you to accept my offer or re ject it. I do not bear the man who really owns .Liindenwold any good-will; but money 1 must have, and it you are not willing to pay it, probably he is." ioq are mistaken," she sai J, with an effort to be calm ; "the mother and child never arrived here ; they both perished on the passage, if indeed they ever left there at all, ot which there is no proof." The mother died, hut the child did not. He lived, is still living, and you know htm." "I do not! You think to extort mon ey from me by threats. I tell you that there is no prool that they ever lett Liv erpool." "Liverpool I Who said anything about Liverpool? You are on the wrong track altogether. 1'erhaps it would be worth your while to listen to what I have to propose." t amt and giddy with a suspicion of the truth, Olive Livingston sank into a chair and motioned to him to proceed. 1 he man told his story in a low, bitter tone, watching his listener steadily with those keen, deep-set, gray"eye3. But all lie could see was the white pallor of her face, which was turned toward the win dow. She did not speak until he conelu ded, then she said, without moving or turning her head : "Well!" ' What do you think of the story?' "I am ready to pay for it." "You do not doubt it, then?" "No, I know it is so. I knew it be fore. I thought I held the only clue; it seems 1 am mistaken. How much will satisfy 3'ou ?" It is a large property, l expect," lie said, with a disagreeable smile. That is not the question. Aame your price or stop, ion say you do not like this man r" "I said that I hated his parents, and hated him because he was their child!" he said, in a tone of compressed passion. "Well, if you could do something to injure him I don't mean bodily injury it must not be that, mind' but some thing to strike at his heart, to make hin sillier as vou have sutlered." His eyes fairly blazed with excitement, and liis bauds clenched nervously at the table by which lie sat. Miss Livingston so far overcame her repugnance as to take a chair beside the table where her strange guest sat, for the purpose of forming this singular alliance. If 1 hail as much faith in a personal devil as some people have, I should say, unhesitating ly, that he came and completed the party ! TO HE COXTIXUKD. Bev. Ray Palmer, D. D., has written a poem ' Home; or, the the Unlost Para dise." which Randolph & Co.. will pub lish soon, we anticipate something pure and beautiful lrom this well-known poet, whose hymns are part of the snugs oi uie cnurcu universal. WATCHING FOR JOHN. BY OLIVE THORXE. Nervous when John don't come home? Well, yes ; I am a little. ierhaps rou would'nt think it now; but if vou had seen uie when I was a young married woman Why, if he did'nt come home the minute 1 expected him, l began to worry aud lancy what might have happened to him until iu an hour 1 would nearly drive myself frantic. And when he came in, cool and composed, and in reply to my anx ious inquiries gave me some slight rea son for the detention, it fell like ice on my excited brain, and 1 thought he was cruel and hard-hearted. Still I got no better of my weakness until oue night shall I ever forget that night? It cost five hours of suffering, but I learned the lesson thoroughly. it Happened thus : John was a f ree mason, and went every week to lodge. From my window I could see the row of lighted windows of the lodge-room, and when the lights went out, about ten o'clock, I began to shut up the- house, aud by the tune 1 had finished John always arrived. Well, that night-he lett after tea tor the lodge as usual. 1 got the baby to bed and sat down to read. When the clock struck ten I shut up my book and went to set by the win dow to see when the lights went out in the lodge. Soou they vauished, and I- went mv rounds of locking , up, closing blinds, bolting doors, and fastening windows. But John did not come. Then -1 sat down by the window again. He. must have stopped to talk at some; neighbor's gate. i . . The minutes rolled on into halt an hour. Still no: John! I began to feel worried. Could he have fallen and hurt himself? There was a sidewalk,: 1 re membered, where boards were taken up to put in gas pipes. Could it have been left and he fallen in ? It was not far off, and I almost resolved to go and see. But there was baby! And how vexed John would be. if nothing had hap pened, that I ran after him as though he was a child ! No, I would wait. Then a neighbor went by who must have come over the broken walk, and would certainly have seen him if he was there; besides such a little fall would not have stunned him: he could liave made himself heard. Still the minutes rolled on, and the clock struck eleven. Still I sat by my window waiting. Few went by at that hour. If I caught the sound of a step a long way off, I held my breath and listened until it caine nearer and nearer, md oh: how 1 prayed that it might stop at my gate ! But uo. They all went by to gladden some other watching woman's heart, 1 thought and tried to be glad. Finding myself stitt with cold I left the window and replenished. my fire. I tried to think of something oheerful. I tried to think of something that might have taken him down town, and I thought I would not worry until the last car went np, which was at twelve I tried to sew, but somehow baby's dress had no interest for me, and there's no aid to anxious thought like the needle, I took up the evening paper. The first item I saw was a brutal murder in our own city. I turned from it, shuddering, only to read of a suicide and an acci dental drowning. My blood seemed ireezing. l turew away the paper and took up a book. It was one ot 1'oe's: and though l was intested in the story I read it filled my mind with horrors. The clock struck twelve ! I went to the window again to listen for the last car, which ran through the next street. In a short time it came lumbering along with its jingling bells, Opposite our corner it halted,and a man's step came ringing aeross the block. It was he, ot course, and 1 started up to listen for the click of the gate-latch. But the step went by ! Then a panic siezed me. men. I Knew something dreadful had happened ! Per haps he had started for town and walked off the bridge when it was open. Many people had done so, and some had been drowned in this very city. He was al ways in a hurry, too, and never waited for a bridge if he could run over. But then he could swim ! Yes; but he might be strangled in the first dash of that horrid river aud go down like lead, as I had heard people did sometimes! Or, if he did swim how could he ever land? Each side was a high wall to the docks nothing to climb up by, nothing to hold on! Per haps he was there now, hanging with the grasp ot despair to some cracK in tne wall! With the the thought I sprang to my feet. I walked the floor, cried, and wrung my hands in my agony. The clock strucK one! If not drowned he might have fallen. They were always fixing the streets somewhere, and I often read of people falling through and being nurt. In many places the walks were quite high above the ground, as the grade bad been raised, and a fall through such a place was dangerous. Or, he might have slipped on the walk and fallen against the curb; and it someDody picKea him up he might be senseless and not able to tell his name: He might oe caned to the station house and lie tor hours un known ! His clothes were not marked I could not think of any way he could be identified. He might be suffering for care. He might be lying on some hard bench, or he might be lying under some sidewalk stunned, dying for want of care ! O God ! how could I stay there and smother iu the house and leave him out to his fate? 'The drops of agony stood on my face. My fire was long dead, but I was burning with excitement. The clock struck two! With the sound came a cry ot an fuish. Now I had done expecting him le had never stayed out so late o course something had happened. What should L do? bhould 1 rouse the neighbors? What should I say Where should I send them to look? Per haps oil ! the dreadful thought would come perhaps he nas oeen struck down by a robber or garroted I Jrerhaps he lies cold and dead on a bench in the station house! Perhaps thrown into an alley out of sight! There may be life in him, but if not helped he will surely die or ireeze. Perhaps probably I shall never see hiin again alive. O Heaven ! can it be that I am a widow now ? I believe that thought brought a cry, for my baby woke, frightened. I smothered her to sleep, though the blood seemed to dance through my head, and I felt myself go ing mad. If so, what will become of us ! Sup posing I could get used to living with out him, how could I earn my bread? My health was delicate, and there was baby! We had nothing but John's salary. 1 did not know how to work. 1 could not teach. 1 had no father's house to go to. Horrible visions of suf fering, of freezing and starving came up betore me; ot soeingbahy pine away and die; of coming at last to die iu a garret myself. There was a step at the door ! It was his, and 1 sprang to open the door. "Well, Nellie!" he began gayly, but quickly Changed. "Why, Nell! up and dressed? Havn't you been to bed?" aud as he came to the light and saw my face he grew instantly serious. "My dear, what's the matter? Are you sick? Is baby "' "Matter!" I gasped, leaning helpless and taint against the wall. "1 thought I was a widow!" His sympathy vanished ; he was vexed "Nonsense, my dear! You do make yourself most absurdly miserable about nothing. Now. I'll allow it's rather late to-night, but I'll tell you just how it was." "When I started for lodge 1 met a country customer to whom 1 hoped to sell a large bill of lumber to-morrow. He was coming for me to help pass away his evening. 1 turned and went with him down town. We went, to hear a political speech -.at Bryan Hall, which kept us until about eleven - o clock. When we came out he proposed to go into Kingsley's and get a lunch before he went to his hotel. There we met another party,' and before we knew it it struck twelve, aud I knew the last car had gone. When I did start for home it was about one. I found one bridge open and broken, so I walked over to the next, and found that one just opening. I stood there while a dozen or so slow canal boats were poled through, and by that time it was nearly two. 1 was the first man oyer the bridge, aud I walked straight liome." "Now how foolish all vour borrowed trouble! I supposed, of course, you'd go to bed at ten oclock, as you' know I could come in with my night-key." , He was very much vexed ana started off to bedVbnt I sat there a few minutes thinking. it was snort, ana tne pang was snarn, but it was a cure. I. thought of his pUsasant, careless evening in contrast with my hours of suffering. It had done no good 'he was annoyed and I felt as if I had lived years of sorrow. Then -and there I made a vow, by the memery of that night," never, never to borrow a moment's trouble. And I never have. If he Is out late. and I begin to feel anxious, I remember that nighf-l refuse to thinfe-of the pos sibilities. I bury myself-in1 ft book, if I have one ; if not I persistently think of something; else. I will not worry, i will not suffer from any imaginary trouble. Time enough to suffer -when trouble comes. Years have rolled away. He has often been out late, but never have I suffered from any real trouble as I suffered from that dreadful night from -terrors of my own imagination. And he has always come safely home. SAKA PAYSOS WILU8 PAKTOS . This writer, so widely; known for the last twenty years "as "Fanny Fern," died on4 Thursday of diffused cancer. Mrs. Parton has been a sufferer from this fatal, and terrible disease for some time past, and her-death was not . unex pected by her friends. Sara Payson Willis was born at Portland, Me., July 7th, 1811. She was of Puritan extrac tion on both sides. Her father removed to Boston six weeks after Sara's birth and founded a religious paper called the Puritan Recorder: He- subsequently edited the Youth's Companion., He achieved considerable reputation as an editor. Sara's mother has been de scribed as a woman of more than aver age mental endowments, and as being blessed with most enviable qualities. All her children Nathaniel P., Richard, and Sara exhibited remarkable clever ness, which at times approached genius. The subject of .our sketch was sent to a school in Hartford, Conn.; kept by Cath erine E. Beecher. In it the future Mrs Harriet Beecher Stowe, of "Uncle Tom's cabin" celebrity, was a junior, teacher. Miss Sara was recognized as a clever girl, whose scholarship -was good, but whose deportment was not what the teachers thought it should be. She was very high-spirited, and put down then as a "little eccentric" which seeiss to mean that she- had a will of her own. She was fuU-of animal spirits, and some comical stories of her escapades at school have come down, to us. Even to the very last, though she suffered most ex cruciating agonies, her -spirits ; never abandoned her. - In the intervals : be tween her most violent attacks she was not only cheerful but witty. She mar ried-early in life Mr. Charles Eldridge, cashier of tho Merchants' Bank, Boston, with whom she lived for a number tof years in happiness and affluence. - On Mr. HJdridge's death bis wite ; was sud denly called upon to provide -mainten ance for herself and two children. She turned her attention in several, diree tions without finding an opening. She made two or three unsuccessf ul attempts to obtain a position as a teacher. Asa, last resort, and when she was in rather, straitened circumstances, she prepared a short essay. She ottered it to several iioston newspapers, by the editors or which- it was rejected in turn, bhe found a purchaser .at - length for it for the sum of 50 cents. This little paper was signed ''Fanny Fern," and enjoyed an immediate popularity. Other sketches trom the same pen followed. They were extensively copied. Mrs. Eldridge coiieotea these little poems into a vol ume, entitled "Fern leaves,": which ap peared in 1852 and had an immediate sale of 70.000 copies. A few. mouths la ter she published "Little Ferns for Fanny's Little Friends." In the fol lowing year she published .u -new -edi tion of the "Leaves" which had a large sale. In 1854 Fanny published a novel one of the two romances she ever wrote. "Ruth Hall" was unfortunately marred by the exhibition of great asper ity towards some members or the au thor's family. In 1857 appeared "Rose Clarke." which on its own merits en joyed a more extended popularity than even the notoriety of the other had drawn to it. She. published "Fresh Leaves" and "Play Day Book" in 1857 touDsequentiy sne wrote almost exclu sively for the New- York Ledger. She has lately collected under the title of "Ginger Snaps" some sketches from her pen, which have appeared in that paper, "Fanny Fern" removed to JN. x. 1852, shortly after her advent into the field of literature. She lias resided there from that time until the day of her death. She married Mr.- James Parton the brilliant essayist and biographer, in lsou. Airs. I'artoti nad a bright, paiK. ling style. She was genial on congenial themes, but rather inclined to be harsh when persons or things were not to her likiug. bho was witty ana pointed She had said some very clever thing. but she lacked the "faculty divine" that would have given her creations immor tality. AN OLD PHYSICIAN ON DIRT. Old Dr. Cooper, of South Carolina. used to say to his students : " Don't be iitraid ot dirt, young gentlemen. What is dirt? Why, nothing at all offensive when chemically viewed. Rub a little alkali upon the dirty grease spot on your coat, and it undergoes a chemical change and becomes soap; now rub it with little water, and it disappears. It is neither grease, soap, water, nor dirt, That is not a very odorous pile of dir you sse yonder; well, scatter a little gypsum over it, and it is no longer dirty, Everything like dirt is worthy our no tice as students of chemistry. Analyzi it; it will separate into very clean ele inents. Dirt makes corn, corn makes bread and meat, and that makes a ver sweet young lady that 1 saw one of yon Kissing last night. So, after nil, you were kissing dirt, particularly If sh whitened her face with chalk or fuller earth, though I may say that rubbing sueu stun on tne ueautuul skin of young lady is a dirty practice. Pearl powder, 1 think, is made f bismuth nothing but dirt. Palmcrston's fine definition of dirt is. ' matter in the wron place.' Put it in the right place, and we cease to think ot it as dirt. Rev. S. F. Kennedy, of Delaware, Ohio, Financial agent ot the Ohio Wes- leyan I nivcrsity, com in it ted suicide i the cellar of his own house in Delaware. Sunday, the l.'ith l list., by shootiug him self through the head with a revolver, the was recently Presiding Elder in the Northern Ohio Conference, and also member of the committee charged with the investigation of the New York Book Concern diillciilties. The late loss two daughters by deatli is supposed have brought on insanity, lie leaves widow. BBLIGIOC8 NEWS. T.PAVfc f-ninnfliiT' whpn -t-nn find rrtnr. you lose by it, and see that you cannot improve ' it. - While the people of Rome, with great enthusiasm,' were celebrating the anni- ersaryoi the occupation ot Koine by the Italians, and the liberation of the people from Roman or: Papal tyranny, the Pope was receiving at the Vatican visits of condolence on the same event; so difterenUy does their liberation strike the Pope and the people. We all of us complain of the short ness ot time, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our lives are spent either in doing nothing at all, or doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that-we ought to do ; we are always complaining our days are few, and acting as though theffe would be no end of them. Seneca. A large mass meeting held at Cooper Institute the other evening, at tiie call of the New York City Council of Politi cal Reform, appointed a numerous com mittee to co-operate with oUier reform organizations in obtaining from - the dominant political parties good nomina tions for the Assembly and city offices, or (if necessary) to make such nomina tions. The remark attributed to President M'Cosh that the time is coming when no man will be found willing to be worth $100,000 without making his gift to the eause of education seems about to be fulfilled, so frequent and and so - princely are . the gifts. The telegraph announced last week that Ed ward Tompkins, .Esq., has given the California State University land valued at $50,000, as an endowment of an Agasiz professorship of oriental lan guages and literatures. Whose hundred thousand snail we record next r "The clothes question," accordiug to Vhuroh and State, is agitated with con siderable zeal in ritualistic circles. It says; " W hile making little of preach ing, and other aspects of their calling, they are ever ready to expatiate on ' the lotttes question,7 aud even hold lairs lor the exhibition of fancy dresses, orna mental altar-cloths, book-marks, and other varieties of ecclesiastical millinery. And in Loudon these fairs often attract large crowds of ritualistic clergy and their teminine loiiowers." rue ques tion, if they would but think of it, " W hat shall we do to be saved ?" is ot much greater importance than " Where withal shall we be clothed.'" There are vacant pulpits to be filled iu some of the most important churches in Boston, including St. Paul's among the the Episcopalians, the Arlingtou Street Church among the Unitarians, and .the Warren Avenue, the Harvard Street and the Bowdoi n Square churches among the Baptists, while the resignation ol Dr. Blagden will create a vacancy in the Old South. The Episcopalians are also under the necessity of electing a suc cessor to Bishop Eastburn, whose re cent death , after a long term ot service creates a vacancy in the ranks of our lo cal clergy not easily filled. ' The coming year promises to bring most important changes to some of our churches. Trav eller. Rev. Simon Parmelee, D, D., now iu his ninety-first year, preached, Septem ber eth,in the church in vvesttord, vt., iR.OOmjiiejnoration of the sixty-fourth anniversary ol ins settlement at west ford. -Dr. Parmelee, although feeling the infirmities of age, is still in excellent health, and preaches quite vigorously He is the last, says one, of the old minis ters of Vermont. He began ins ministry as a missionary ot the Connecticut Mis sionary Society. W hen he was installed at Westford, the services were held in a barn, Rev. Lemuel Haines preaching the sermon. Dr Parmelee remarked iu his commemorative discourse, that no mem ber of -the congregation on that day is alive,- to ins knowledge. M. Thiers, the head of the French Government, is a wonderful man. Al though an octogenarian, he is manifest ing all the enterprise and energy of youth, and seems to be tne oniv rencn- man who is able to keep the French iu order in the present state of affairs. In the midst ot the cares ot State, and in the midst of other occupations, he has been engaged in writing a book against Materialism. To an oliicer of govern ment he recently said : " For twelve years I have been engaged in this work ; during all that time I have been de- maiiuiug lrom uuiuuy. oicuuaut, wm natural history their arguments against the detestable doctrine which leads hon est people astray. I am a spiritualist, an impassioned one; and I am axious, I repeat, to confound meterialism in the name oi science and good sense." The Rev John Inskip, who is coming down South on a camp-meeting expedi tion, has drawn down upon him ttie se vere animadversions ot the jxortnern Methodist press for his injudicious mode of propagating sanctification, and for his slanderous allegations against Methodist ministers that- oppose- the doetriue, Nashville Chrslian Advocate. It takes all sorts of people to make up a -world, aud quite a variety to make Church; but when we have seen and heard this Mr. Inskipconductmg a meet ing, with refined and cultivated gentle men around him, we have wondered whether the civilization of the Metho dist Church had not advanced so far as to justify the suspension of the said In skip's peculiar services in the work of promoting holiness, we make no com plaint, but we do indulge the nope that after fifty or a hundred years more of such sort of work as he does, it may not be deemed essential to the sanctihcation of the Church that this man should con tinue to go np and down the country, showing theettectsot "pertect holinesB It strikes us outsiders that his work works the other way. A learned Swiss writer (Jean de Mid ler)- was deeply engaged in historical studies at Cassel, in the year 1782. In defatigable in research, he wrote to his friend, Charles Bonnet, that lie had studied alt the ancient authors, without one exception, in the order of time in which they lived, and had not omitted to take note of a single remarkable fact. Among other works, it occurred to him to glance at the New Testament, and we give in bis own words the un pressiou it produced upon him : " How shall I express what I have found here I had not read it for may years, and when I began it I was prejudiced against it. The light which blinded bt. i'aul in ins jourucy to Damascus was not mon prodigious, or more surprising to him than what I suddenly discovered was to me the accomplishment of every hope the perfection of all philosophy, this ex plauatiou of all revolutions, the key of all the apparent contradictions ot the material aud moral world, ot lire and immortality. 1 see the most astonishin things effected by the smallest means. see the connection of all the revolutions in Europe aud Asia with that sull'eriug people to whom were committed th promises; as one likes to entrust manuscript to those who, not knowing how to write, cannot laisuy it. 1 see ligion appearing at the moment most favorable toils establishment, and in the way less likely to promote its reception The world appearing to bo arranged solely with reference to the religion of the savior, 1 can understand nothing if such a religion be not from God. 1 have not rend any book about it, but In study, tug all that happened before this epoch 1 have always found somelhiujj wanting and since i nave Known our Lord all 1 clear to my sight; with him there is no problem that 1 cannot solve. Forgive me for thus praising the sun, as a blind man, who had suddenly received thegi of sight." Ernest Xaville. CniltlES AK1 CASUALTIES. A middle aged man by the name of William Sands, living nearllilliard Sta tion, was committed to jail Friday, Oct. 11, for twice committing a rape cin his aughter. A horrible story conies from Omaha. A dead man was sent east from Ogden in a cask of spirits. Certain railroad employees, ignorcnt of the contents, bored a hole in the cask and drank lib erally of the liquor. Accidentally the fact was disclosed that they had been drinking the spirits of a corpse, and they suddenly disappeared and have not been heard of since. A horrible and unnatural tragedy oc curred at Hickman's Mills on Thursday. Wm. and Harrison Young, sons of Sol omon Young, a wealthy farmer, quar reled about a proposed marriage of their sister to a man named Clemens, which William favored aud Harrison opposed. Weapons were drawn, but the parties were separated by friends. Harrison rode home and. got a shot gun, and re turning met his brother riding with Clemens and another man, shot him, nflicting a mortal wound, and killed his horse. Clemens turned and rode off, when Harrison fired again, severely wounding him in the back. The assassin then fled, but was arrested at Independence. There is great ex citement over the affair. Henry A. Armstrong, formerly one of the proprietors of the Marine Railway, came to his death about 11 o'clock last night under mysterious circumstances. Hie evidence before the coroner's jury howed that Armstrong had not lived amicably with his wife for some time past, and that during the last two weeks le had been at iew Albany. Keturn- lig to Ins home, at Madison, last night, and . divesting himself of his boots, he went up stairs to his wife's room,-when, as she says, he beat and abused her and iragged her down stairs. When at the foot of the stairs Mrs. Armstrong screamed and her husband released his hold, and she then went up stairs, very soon afterwards hearing a pistol shot. Armstrong was found by a neighbor lying outside the back door, with: a bullet hole at the corner of his left eye, his forehead covered with bruises, aud one of his hands somewhat lacerated, showing that the deceased had been en gaged in a violent struggle. The jury have not vet returned a verdict. The details of another sickening Indi an massacre reaches us from the Kansas Pacific Railway. A gentleman who reached St. Louis Friday gives the fol lowing facts: It appears that several weeks ago two men named Jordan, with the wife of one and a hiredi man, left Fort Wallace for a Buffalo hunt. They did not return at the anticipated time, and fears were entertained that they had met with some disaster. Parties were sent out to find them, if possible, and after much diligent search the body of the hired man was discovered on the plains, much mutilated. They contin ued the search and, finally found the body of one of the Jordans. Under his head was discovered a woman's apron, giving evide.nca that, after being wounded, his wife had nursed him until torn away. In the body of the man were sticking seventeen Indian arrows, imd from their shape, it was the opinion of those versed in Indian warfare that they were made by the Pawnees. This was strengthened 'by the knowledge that a small band ot fawneeshad been roam- ng about tbat viciuity tor some time Within- a short distance of the above mentioned unfortunate man was fouud the other Jordan, also mutilated. They had with them, when they left Wallace, four mules and five horses. None of the animals were to be found. Troops have been sent out to scour the country. This sad and hellish deed was committed about forty-five miles south of Monu ment, pn the Kansas Pacific Railway. It is thought that the woman was cap. tured, aud is now with the Indians. A short time ago a sailor went to the city hospital from the British bark Geor- giana, who was supposed to be sutlering trom a sore leg. The man had been ailing for near three months, but none of his shipmates supposed that there was anything serious the matter with him. Accordingly, when, a few days before his removal to the hospital, he declared himself unable to walk about, the captain of the ship supposed that he was endeavoring to make an excuse lor getting away from the vessel that he might he lett m port, tne snip Deing prepared to sail in a few days. When removed to the hospital, the man s right leg was very much swollen, and main tested all the symptoms of erysipelas, for which malady his aftection was at first mistaken. At the end of a few days, however, an abscess formed upon the inner side ot the ankle, trom which, after it had burst, protruded about three inches of a white, membranous-looking substance, about an eighth of an inch n diameter. This singular mamfesta. tiou induced a careful examination of the leg, which developed the fact that the man was afflicted with the aracun- culus, or Guinea worm. This is a hoi ri ble parasite, found only along the shores of the Iudian Ocean, Red Sea, and cer tain portions of the Mediterranean. It infests damn and muddy soil, and im pure water, and generally attacks the feet and legs, but sometimes other por tions of the body. At the time that it forsakes its native eliment for the more luxurious habitation of flesh and blood, it is scarcely larger than a common flea; but, having once buried itself beneath the skin, it grows with alarming rapid i ty, and will attain a size varying from six inches to six feet in length by one- twelfth to one-eight of an inch in diain etcr. It lies dormant until it reaches the age of maturity, after which it com mences a series of wanderings and me- andermgs about the muscles and bones, which cause intense pain to the unsus pecting victim. It always travels down ward, and with such rapidity that it will sometimes travel the whole length of the human frame in twenty-four hours. It will sometimes come to the surface and lie under the skin like long, white cord, but should the surgeon attempt to extract, it with the knife without first securing it with the nipper, it will elude his grasp and scamper awav with the agility of an eel. If a portion of the worm is removed, the re maining portion will not die, but con tinue as gay aud lively as ever. The flrst symptoms ot the Uuinea worm are a disagreeable itching and irritation of the infected parts. After it begins to move about us paths are followed by external abscesses, and when the paths lie along the stomach, internal abscesses also. It always ultimately endeavors to leave the system by working its way through the skin, generally near the ankle; but this is only tilV'r it has left from teii to fifteen young behind. The usual number of worms that are found in one person varies from one to fifty. There is one case on reconl, however, of a man dying from the effects of the Guinea worm whose body aud skill were nothing but a network of these horrible creatures. Death rarely results from the ravages of this worm, aud when it does it is generally the result of some disease produced by the inflammation and other effects of "the worm's wander ings. The Guinea worm docs not con fine Us ravages to man, but will attack dogs and horses. The sailor in question made a voyngo to the eastern coast of Africa about six mouths ago. and while there received the parasites into his sys tem. One of these worms has already been extracted from his right leg, but another has made its appearance in the left. He is doing as well as can be ex pected under the circumstances. . This is probably the flrst case of the kind ever known in Charleston. MEI.A.NGC, Dututh is laying a foundation for na val prc-emnence in a birch bark canoe factory. Story, the sculptor, has sold two re duced copies of his "Semiramis"' at ?S,00U each. The art museum at the Paris Hotel de Ville has been enriched with the scep tre of Marie Stu-art. . Jfearly three thousand women show that their soles are. not above buttons in Philadelphia gaiter factories. The Iowa man who has been indict ed for feloniously appropriating abridge must be an "arch otiender." "Smoked nigger" is what the Western folk call Barnum's precious Eygptian (warrented genuine) mummy. Cape Cod is called the "right arm" of the Bay State, probably because its right handy" to the Bostonians. Why is a person who becomes inordi nately corpulent like a Scotch mendi cant? Because he's getting au awmous. Gunsmiths are offering "thunderbolt rifles and shot-guns" for sale. He who invented must have been an electric spark. An Indiana gentleman lately endeav ored to swallow a mouthful of beefsteak three inches square, and perished in the attempt. By the constant use of tar-soap an eminent base-ball player finds that he has immensely improved his hand for pitching. A colored rag-picker prevades the wes tern steets of the city, much to the dis gust of the foreign chiftoiiniers, who re gard lii in as a black sheep. ii,lir..l..rr.il viaYxr fr a mfvlfirn mill. der trial lloral insanity at thebar, acute mania in counsel for the defence; and amentia in the jury-box. A n.unsuoccssful attempt is said to be on foot in Maryland to produce a "cor ner" in oysters. In fish, now there might be a chance for an angle. A. G. Catlell has recently undergone a surgical operation upon his jaw which will oblige him to hold it during the rest of the political campaign. An incoherent gentleman residing near the upper end of the island has built a shed over a sun dial in his gar den to protect it from the weather. ' The unfortunate convicts in the Mich igan State TTison are condemned to listen to lectures on English literature by Professor Tyler, of the State Univer sity. "Hign Dutch" and "low Dutch" we have often heard of, but Jlet Spiritsch Tydschrift, an organ ot the Holland Spir itualists, is probably published in medi um. Dugone oil is declared by British phy sicians to be as efficacious as cod-liver oil, while it possesses the the advantage of having "an actually agreeable fla vor." Wisconsin marshes are yielding al ternate crops of intermittent fever and cranberries to the extent of from two hundred to three hundred bushels to the acre. ... The latest medical mania iu France is an almost exclusive diet of water-cresses ; perhaps with an idea of carrying out the injunction, "cress-cat-yc et muitipii- camtni. 1 Legal proceedings are on foot in Lew- iston, Me., against sundry grocers who keep refrigerators in their shops. The natuae ot their onence is apparently an ice question of law. Imitation poodles and other pet dogs, on velvet cushions, are the newest freak in "ornamental" furniture. The real dogs are said to be very much depressed at the introduction of these. A Loudon critic speaks of Miss Sophia Eckley, a Boston poetess, as "a Chrisian Heine." This is manifestly a Bowbell transcription of the German phrase, (H;etne gottesrurchtigc uichterinn. M. Louis Blanc has been forbidden to lecture in Italy; he is troubled with caeocthes loqnendi, and at the same time is so dogmatic that it is feared he will inoculate others with the Blanc mange. The eminent American tragedian has a full-length, life-sized photograph of himself, which our art critic character izes as "a good bit of landscape a For est with a couple of calves iu the fore ground." In a show-case on the east side, there is displayed a very ingenious model, in cork, of Lismore 'Castle, an Irish pos session of the Duke ,of Devonshire. Al though it is in cork here it is in Water- ford over there. An old lady of uear eighty having re cently hanged herself in Kentucky, the coroner's jury was divided in opinion concerning the nice psychological dis tinction between temporary insaipty ana a "fit of hanger.', Fort Wayne Ind., boasts of al talking monkey. Naturalists are not quite agreed whether it is an improved devcl- ment of an ape into an average Indianlan or an average Indianian on the wane to Darwinian first principles. A junk dealer who has a turn for mu sic and reads Shakespeare says he can no longer run his hand cart through the streets afflicted with cobble stone pave ment, because the jolting makes his sweet bells fangled harsh, and out of tune." Buffalo hides are to be utilized by be ing turned into leather, and several bales of them liave just been sent to England. Still, on the plains where he once was plainly seen playing, now the buf falo hides, and not many of them can. betaken. A female railway contractor in Iowa, Mrs. Catherine Strang, has graded two miles of the Brownville and Nodaway Valley Railroad. The work can't have beenvery difHeult' however, as Xod awaymust have been a good place to lay "sleepers". Animated by the principles set forth by the great Boston hygienist, a resta urateur of this city is about opening a branch establishment, the fare provided in which iscojconsist jexelusively of beans and vauegar. Motto for the concern: "Fiiiinus "we have bean. A gentleman residing near Central Park is making extensive arrangements on the roof of his house for observing tho showers of meteors that may be pxipc tedto arrive in a few weeks. Being a sportsman, ho maintains the season for siiooting-stars may always bo looked for soon after the opening of the season for shootiug game. It appears that the Baltimore clothiers have warned their cutters that, they must withdraw from the "Order of the Sons of Adam," become pro-Adamite or Ada mite as it wear, and, so far as iu them lies, make other folks send about like cutters under bare poles. "Wassagtder schneideude Scheneider dazu?" if the questiou bo German to tho subject. The Apaches, who are now whooping and kicking up their heels, and murder ing their white brothers In Aracona with the imminent deadly breech-loading rifle, have for their chief a profound student of Shakespeare who, when un der the influence of Ids "Great Fath ers" favorite beverage, talks enthusias tically and incoherently about tho glory of bein g "a king of siich-eh- Reds audi Pachef." Tho negroes of Kaiiklu County, Miss., do not appear to live together in broth erly love, five of them having been murdered bv persons of their own color within the last fourteen weeks. A few days ago one Wash. Williams shook his fists and pistol iu thp face of an Injured husband, who thereupon "split hia skull-bone" with an axe with so littlo etl'ect that Mr. Williams got on his horse rodo home, got his shot gun, returned and murdered tho husband. Murders there are as plentiful as black-buryinga