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VOL. 22. Hindin? Wheat. Binding wheat and singing low, patching where the reapers go; >' atching where amidst the rest — Strong arms folded on his breast— Stands the noblest of them all, Stands the stalwart youth and tall, Stands the hamlet’s greatest pride, Stands the reaper eagle-eyed. atehing, singing soft and low. Binding sheaves with cheeks aglow ; Where in all the country old Are locks that burn to deeper gold— Brown looks that gather sun and shade Beneath the pointed mat of braid— And where in all the country-side 4’ould reaper find a son-browned bride With daintier curve of lip or chin. Or purer heart to give to him ? If, knee’ing by the sheaf she hound ™ ith tardy hand, her eye hath found Some hazy hill-top distant far, Or glimmer of the first dim star ; If, drifting on the tide of thought She dreams, and hath all else forgot, ho wonders that across the grain A figure turning, halts again— A stalwart figure broad and tall ith manly hearing over all— " hat wonder that his kindling eye Sees not the brown thrush fluttering by, Sees not the thousand forms of grace— Sees nothing b*.t the sun browned face. ■l’hita. Sat. Eve. Post. Experiences of a Somnambulist. For ton or fifteen years of growing life— Ray from twelve to twenty-four—l was so inveterate a sleep-walker that few nights passed without a ramble. .Since that time i have reflected often, and with interest, npon the well remembered facts, and feel convinced of several things in connection. Ist. In some instances somnambulism is not only akin to what is known as “ double consciousness.” bn* is identical with it. The somnambulist is not the same as the person awake, in his conceived antecedents, in his fancied relations, in his supposed duties and prerogatives, and sometimes even in his act ual tastes and capabilities. -M. In other instances the paroxysms are painlully like insanity— temporary, it is true, and lasting only until the moment of awakening, nevertheless painfully like it. I he controlling dream is as much a verity to the person's conception as is any circum stance of his real life; nor, so long as he continues to be asleep, can he be convinced to the contrary by any amount of evidence. Hie will attests the sincerity of his faith by engaging in the most desperate struggles, ami by enduring blows, falls, and bruises, and even blood-bringing wounds, sufficient to awaken a thousand other sleepers, but not himself, so long as these experiences come consistently with the tenor of his dream, i et, unlike insanity—we are glad to sav so unlike as to prove a generic difference—a <l>net remonstrance from a disturbed room mate. or a merry laugh from amused behold ers. will be sufficient ordinarily to dispel the fancy, and bring the dreamer to his senses. lid. there is no doubt, too, as the writer can testify, that at certain times the somnam bulist is endowed with muscular power far beyond what is possessed in his normal state, and there are well authenticated cases •in record, going to show that the mental powers are. under similar circumstances, ca pable ol a like increase. Taken all in all, there are few things in life more puzzling to psychologists than the phenomena of sleep-walking; yet, listing f we Wlldl is natural for us to behold the acts of a person not in his right mind, there are few scenes in life which, as a rule, are most intensely absurd, rendered so by the ridiculous gravity of the actor, who is 111 all earnest. My first recollected experience in this line is of no manner of interest or value, ex cept as it may serve to illustrate several points in the philosophy of the case, and I relate it for this purpose. A good-natured uncle, who occupied the same room with myself, was awakened one cold winters night by finding some one at his bedside trying to get in. “ What do want ?” he inquired. “ Mother told me,” was the shivering re ply, “that if ever 1 felt cold in the night 1 must get in with you.” “in with you then,” he said, without a question or a thought as to the real state of the cade. I he next morning on awakening, I was was surprised to discover the change of beds and asked him how I came there .“ Did not your mother tell you to get in with me if you felt cold?” he replied, inter rogatively. “Not that I recollect." was the answer: and then we had a hearty laugh over the scene, which gradually dawned upon my re collection, helped by the account which he gave. This incident is a trifle, but as has been said, it serves to illustrate several points: 1. Ihe dreams which issue in somnam bulistic action differ from ordinary dreams, in the fact that they are never confined to a panoramic in-tant. but are prolonged with out material change through the whole ac tion of the dreamer, whether that action occupies only a minute, as in this case, or is extended through many minutes, as in a case yet to be related. 1. Ihe primary cause of somnambulistic dreams is no doubt to be found in a state of morbid nervous irritability, but its proxi mate cause, giving form and tone to all the succeeding action, is usually traceable to some sensation ; for example, that of un comfortable cold, as in this case. 3. If the sleeper be roused to normal consciousness belore the dream or its result ant effect have passed away, it is oftentimes possible for him to recall the whole scene; otherwise it is totally lost. There is reason to Mieve that lar the greater part of onr dreams and sleepwalkings are unremem bered. A year or two after this incident—having in the meantime perpetrated many a wild act and incoherent talk, in violation of all the laws of good sleeping—there occurred another, much more highly characteristic of this singular condition. My bed-fellow at that time, and as a mat ter ol course, a sufferer from many a mid night disturbance, was a cousin of nearly my own age—a generous, affectionate, high spirited fellow between whom ami myself had grown a strong and lasting attachment. We were, boy like, passionately fond of the gun, and being as a rule very light pocketed, by which is intended not only a “state of inipecuniosity," but also the implied fact that the money.in those days was money, and not paper, and that a a few silver quarters and “ seven-pences ” (twelve and a half cent pieces) would make a boy’s pocket as heavy as it would make his heart light—we were sometimes annoyed at finding our selves. on Saturdays, short of ammunition. Many a time had we tried to compound the “villainous saltpetre’’ with its explosive mates, sulphur and charcoal, and although it was easy to produce a mixture which would do well tor slow fireworks, we never could produce gunpowder sufiiciently strong to kill a bird or squirrel. One night, however, during a scarcity of the kind, 1 had a glorious dream. By some lucky hit, the sulphur, saltpetre and charcoal had been worked together in such nice pro portions that the gunpowder produced was equal to Dupont's best. “ Aha ' ” thought I to myself, as in fancy, I deposited about a gun load of it on my pillow, and proceed ed to manufacture another like quantity, “ won’t we have a nice time among the birds and squirre’s to-morrow!" Just then, in my dream, Lorenzo caught sight of the little black pile, and while ray back was turned, touched it ofi with a live coal 1 heard the sadden whir-r, and on looking around saw a black stain upon the pillow where the powder had been, and the space above the bed filled with moving gray smoke. **o, Lorenzo!” I exclaimed, “I am so sorry you hurried that powder. It was as good as any you buy in the store, and I was keeping it to shoot with to-morrow." Lorenzo, I thought, made no reply, but gave me in return a mischievous look, which nettled me. I went on with my dream-work, made some more powder equal to the first, laid it also on the pillow—strange place for it—and a moment after heard the whir-r, and saw the smoke which proved its fate. “ Lorenzo," said I, now in wrath, all in the dream, of course, “ did 1 not ask you to let my powder alone ? If you do so again I'll—, 1 11. Take care, sir.” A third time the dream pictured the pow der made, a pile of it laid on the pillow, and a coal mischievously applied by my cousin. This was more than flesh and blood could bear; I drew back my left arm, the right being pinioned by my lying on it, and dealt him a blow— no fancied one now, but a real blow—hard as 1 could drive, right ou his forehead, as he lay sleeping face to face with me, on the very pillow where I had imagined the powder to have been burned. How the human mind, so long as it de serves the name of mind, can bo guilty of such an inconsistency as to believe that Lorenzo was walking about with a live coal in his hand, when I knew that he was lying down, or to believe that he touched off my powder on the very pillow where his head was lying, is more than I can now conceive; but that 1 did so believe, is manifest from the facts, and it is also manifest, from my dealing him a blow fairly and squarely in the forehead, that 1 must have seen him as he lay there. “ Take that, sir,” I said, “ and now let my powder alone Poor Lorenzo, awakened by the blow, and confused by the angry words, seized my still moving arm, and cried out, “ Frank ! Frank! what is the matter? What are you striking rne for ? ” “ Because you burned all that powder I laid on the pillow,” was my wrathful reply. “ I never touched your powder,” he pro tested, in amazement. But the fact was beyond denial. Three times had I seen it repeated at that very pil low, and during the past few minutes. The attempted denial of it to my face, and while the room seemed to be full of smoke, so ex asperated me that I freed my arm and struck him again. Of course we were soon in the midst of a fistcuff, in which 1 am glad to re member that Lorenzo had the advantage of using his right arm, as I had not. We ex chanced divers blows and kicks, he, in the meantime, denying stoutly his having burn ed the powder, while I as persistently as serted that 1 had seen him do it. The noise awakened my parents in a distant part of the building, and brought my father to our door, which he held ajar, while Lo renzo and I still grappled each other, and the words, “ You did burn it, sir! ” and “ I never tonched it, sir! ’’ were yet passing be tween ns. He remained there silent until the state of the case was perfectly compre hended, and then asked : “ Boys, what is all this disturbance about ?” “ Frank has been fighting me. uncle,” said Lorenzo. “ because he says I burned his powder, when he knows he had none to burn.” “ Father,” said I in return, “ I had made some beautiful powder, as good as any yon will find in the stores, and laid it here on the pillow, and Isirenzo tonched it off three times with a live coal from the fire.” (There was no fire in the room, except in my fancy, and this my father could plainly see.) ’• I did not touch it, uncle; I never saw it.” Lorenzo resolutely added, while my grip : upon him lightened, and my arm twitched nervously for another blow. “Frank, you foolish fellow!” said my father, who had been pondering the best mode for arresting the difficulty, and whose voice quivered with scarcely suppressed laughter; “ yon foolish fellow! wake i/p, and go to sleep.” This oddly worded command was exact ly what the case required. My father knew that before Lorenzo could have any peace that night, it was necessary that I should be awaked, and he knew also that the tone in which he spoke—so quick, so merry—would certainly waken me. * With out waiting to see the result, he returned to his room, and as his footfalls died along the stairway, my grasp gradually loosened upon Ixireuzo. who lay panting from the struggle, and halt-sobbing from mortification. “ Lorenzo—old fellow,” said I, in a con fused yet coaxing way. “ there lias been ; some trouble here to-night. What is it?” 'I bis was too much fur the poor fellow, who had been most unwillingly fighting me in sell defense, and whose every blow had | hurt him quite as much as it hurt me. I here was an almost boo-hoo. as he stam -1 mend out: “ \ ou have been fighting me ever so long I because you said I burned your powder.” 1 he whole dream now Hashed upon me with its ludicrous absurdities. 1 could scarcely find time or breath to say, “ ’Twas all in a dream ; do forgive me!” when I found my-elf in the midst of a haw, haw, so merry, that L trenzo soon united in it. and we enjoyed a long and hearty laugh togeth er before going to sleep. Many other pranks quite as whimsical, SHASTA, CAL., SATURDAY, JULY 19, 1873. though seldom so serious in character, rise up to memory, sufficient in number to fill a little volume, but of them all I prefer to close with the following, for two reasons : Ist. Because the case approaches so nearly to being what I suppose is usually intended by the phrase “ double-conscious ness.” Certainly the sleeping person was as different from the person awakens can be imagined under cover of the same integu ments —totally different in name, character and rank: in ancestral and personal history, and in the relations consequent; in the country inhabited, and even in the age of the world in which the scene was cast. It is difficult to imagine a more perfect isola tion of one person from another, excepting the fact that in both cases the same mind did the thinking, and the same flesh and blood did the acting. 2. Because it illustrates the fact that in such cases the mind can ignore previous knowledge as perfectly as though it had never been possessed, and can cling with such tenacious faith to mere imaginings as to hold them in opposition to the clearest reason, and even in defiance ol the testimo ny of the senses. I was then about seventeen or eighteen years of age. The village in which we lived boasted of three physicians, one of whom, a Dr. Jones, was our nearest neigbor on the same side of the street, while nearer to ns, but on the opposite side, was the house in which the scene occurred with Lorenzo and the gunpowder. Of course, the neighbor hood, and the names and residences of our neighbors, were as famliar to me us A, B, C. My room was in the second story, overlooking the street, at the end of which we lived. My father had taken me as a companion on week's tour of travel, and we just return ed home. The last night of our travel we had been the guests of Dr. H., a physician of note, and a warm personal friend of my father, whose society he seemed greatly to enjoy. Dr. H. was a man of marked physi ognomy and of fine appearance, whose intel ligent conversation 1 also should no doubt have enjoyed, but for the fact that he so perfectly ignored the presence of his young er guest as to seem inhospitable. This was only seeming, it is true, yet the effect was to create for the time a hearty dislike. On reaching home, jaded with riding a rough-gaited horse, I retired early to bed, and to sleep. Had I then the experience of after years. I might have pretty certainly predicted a somnambulistic paroxysm, for 1 have often observed that after more than usual irratation of the spinal column, especi ally by rough riding, if 1 tossed long and restlessly on the bed before getting to sleep, I would sleep the rest of the night in quiet ness, the nervous irritability productive of sleep-walking having spent itself in those tossings; but if, on the contrary, 1 went quickly and quietly to sleep, with all that irritability larking in the system, woe to the person who should that night share the room! Midnight found me in a queer predica ment. A loud halloo at our street gate ronsed me from sleep, and carried me in stantly to the front window. No doubt that halloo was the proximate cause of the dream that ensued, although the sound ap peared to be ushered in by a long and by no means agreeable prologue. The scene was Germany, somewhere amid wild lonely mountains. The time was centuries ago. when men, more generally than than now. and with less compunction, lived like Rob Boy. according to “ The good old rule—the simple plan— That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.” 1 dreamed that 1 had been sleeping upon a pallet, on a stone floor, and that 1 had been waked by a slap upon the side, and a rough imperious voice commanding me to rise. By the dim light of a taper in the hand of this person, 1 could see that the face bending over me was Dr. H’s, intensely expressive of hatred and of deadly revenge. Alas! 1 knew that my fate was sealed. That man with the familiar lace of Dr. H., was my ancestral enemy, a baron, with an unpronounceable name—Hochen-strachen stem, as near as I can recollect, lie had long been wishing to extinguish my family by my death, as I was the only representa tive remaining of an old and once numer ous line. By what means I, Count Udolpho (but Udolpho what, my dream never reveal ed), had been spirited into the gloomy cas tle of Baron llochen-strachen-stein, I did not know; it must have been by magic. But there I was, and 1 knew that death in some shape was bound to follow. On being roused from sleep, the baron or dered me to follow him, and led the way, taper in had. For a moment I meditated resistance, but I was unarmed, and a look at the strong walls, and a knowledge that 1 was perfectly in his power, caused me to yield, and to follow hint with all the grace possible for a captive knight, knowing that he was led to the slaughter. We passed through one long corridor af ter another, and down several flights of stone steps, by which I knew that wo were below the surface of the earth. All along this dismal tramp I had noticed that the doors opened voluntarily on his approach, and dosed after we had passed. But at last, the door through which he went closed with a crash, before I had tune to pass it, and so here 1 was. with my doom plainly declared, a lone-ly death by starvation, in a subter ranean prison. Of course my first act was to explore, as far as possible, the circumstances of my dun geon. The walls were very coarse, solid and damp. Their touch made me shiver. ( Up to this period, the dream had been wholly a dream, but now it began to be strangely mixed with fact.) Scarcely had my survey begun, ere 1 heard a halloo. My heart beat high with hope, for however deep underground, 1 was not beyond the reach ol human voices, and possibly of help. The halloo was repeated. I looked in the direction of the sound, and saw that a win dow had been opened in the rough wall, and that, somehow, a dim starlight was strug gling through it. I went to the window, raised the sash, looked out. and saw a man ou horseliack. close betide a gate that look er! verily like the street gate of a house that was very familiar to me. The confusion of mind, induced by this sight, is vividly remembered, yet past de scription. It may be imagined by keeping in mind that I was conscious of looking down from the sashed window; of a wooden house, while 1 was as perfectly convinced, as though sense corroborated fancy, that I was in a stony dungeon under ground. The halloo had come from this man. Hearing the sash raised, he looked up, and said in a polite tone: “ Can you tell me where to find Dr. Jones ? There is a man in the country, very sick, and I wish to get the doctor to hint as soon as possible.” This question added painfully to my con fusion. The man’s pleading lone excited my sympathy, the more deeply perhaps be cause 1 was myself in desperate circumstan ces. 1 hud a sort of guilty feeling in being so totally ignorant, but- of course I could not help it; for was 1 not in Germany? In a strange place? entrapped a moment since into a damp dmjgeon, far underground ? How could I know anything of Dr. Jones? So I sadly answered : “ I am sorry, my friend, that I can give you no information. I am a stranger in this place, where 1 never was before, and where 1 sincerely hope never to be again.” The man started, and no doubt gave a scrutinizing look, for I could percive by his quick motions and by the tone of his voice, that lie was surprised and somewhat impa tient. ‘‘ Can you tell me who lives yonder ? ” he inquired, pointing to the “ Lorenzo and Gunpowder ” house, clearly visible in the starlight, as indeed was Dr. Jones’ also, though doubly as far. “No, friend,” I replied, “ I do not know a family in this place, for I have never been here before.” “ Who lives at this house? you surely can tell that,” he inquired in a tone partly imperative, but evidently uneasy. I would readily have given the name of the fierce baron who had captured me, but never having trained my throat to its gut turals, and in fact having but an indistinct recollection of the tamo itself, I answered in a sad despairing tone, that this also was more than I could do. The man hung his head, as if pondering what to do next, then turned 'towards the window and said, “ Will you not, please, tell me your own name?” Now my German name was Udolpho, but Udolpho what, 1 was puzzled to remem ber. Moreover I was a count— Count Udolpho. and the man’s tone began to as sume a degree of sauciness which ill-com ported with my dignity, so 1 answered part ly in anger, partly in doubt, “ I cannot tell you. Ido not know.” This last piece of ignorance—affected, no doubt it must have seemed to him—was more than the man could stand. He gave his poor horse a dig into the ribs with his heel, and a cut across the haunches with a switch, and cantered away, muttering loud enough to be heard all over the yard. “ Well, you are the biggest fool that I ever saw.” As the clatter of the horse’s hoofs came “ fast and furious ” from the street, there is sued from somewhere inside the, castle the sound of unmistakable merriment. Baron Hochen-strachen-stein was actully laughing. This unexpected mirth in the midst of such dismal circumstances, did more to rouse mo from sleep than all the proceeding lialloos and talk, yet it succeeded only in part. I looked around the room, recognized the fireplace, the study-table, the bed and other articles in the room, and began to question, in ray own mind, whether I was not at my quiet home in America instead of being a prisoner in a German castle. But sleep still held so strong a grasp, that I was in bed and lost in unconsciousness, before be ing able to appreciate the queer scene which had just occurred. Most likely the whole would have been lost to memory had not my father—from whom, and not the baron, had come the merry laugh in the night, that seemed to issue from the castle —asked me with assum ed gravity, at the breakfast table next moru i‘igf “ My son, did not something very foolish happen last night, with a man at our gate? ” For a moment 1 paused in doubt; then the whole scene flashed into my mind, and so convulsed me with laughter, that it was several minutes before I could give a con nected account of it. The reader may rest assured that these scones are not fictions. They hjppened, just as they have been described, without the addition or subtraction of one material point.— Our Monthly. Termini Troubles. When we were all snugly tucked up in our berths in the gaily-decorated sleeping saloon, one of the new comers began dream ily to tell stones of termini troubles. “ Not much as when it was when we were here and at Muskogee in 1870,” he said. “Three men were shot about twenty feet from this same car, in one night, at Muskogee. O! this was a little hell, this was. The roughs took possession here in earnest. The keno and monte players had any quantity of tents all about this section, and life was the most uncertain thing to keep you ever saw. One night a man lost all he had at keno ; so he went around behind the tent and tried to shoot the keno-dealer in the back ; he miss ed him, but killed another man. The keno man just got a board and put it up behind himself, and the game went on. One day one of the roughs took offense at something the railroad folks said, so he ran our train off the track next morning. There was no law here, and no means of getting any. As fast as tlie railroad moved on, the roughs pulled up stakes and moved with. We tried to scare them away, but they didn't scare worth a cent. It was next to impos sible for a stranger to walk through one of these canvass towns withont getting shot at. The graveyards were sometimes better pop ulated than the towns next them. The fel lows who rnled these little terrestrial hells —where they came from nobody knows. Never had any homes—grew np like prairie grass, only ranker and coarser and meaner. They had all been terminuses ever since they could remember. Most of them had two, three and four murders on their hands, and confessed them. They openly defied the Indian authorities, and scorned Uncle Sam and his marshals. They knew there was money wherever the end of the road was, and they meant to have it.” “ But bow long did this condition of af fairs continue? V “ It went on steadily until the Secretary of the Interior came down to see the Terri tory and to examine the railroads, lie went down in this same car. and he was carefully informed of the lawlessness and flagrant outrages which decent people had been obliged to submit to. One night while they were on the road, the superintendent in-chief pushed on a little ahead of the train to gt-t a physician, as a gentleman in the special car was taken suddenly ill. The roughs captured the superintendent and pro posed to shoot him, us they fancied him some local emissary of the general govern ment. He begged off, however, and ex plained who he was. They hardly dared to shoot him then ; so he succeeded in getting a physician, got back to the train, and next day he took the Secretary of the Interior to inspect this choice specimen of railroad civ ilization.” “ And what did the Secretary see? ” “ O, all the ruffians flocked to hear what he had to say. They had killed a man that morning for a mere caprice, and he was laid out in a little tent which the party passed by as they looked around. One alter an other of the rough fellows was presented to the party ; and each one spoke very plainly, and said he had a good right to stay in ‘ the Nation,’ and he meant (with an oath) to stay, and he’d like to hear any one hint that he had better go away. Then they told stories of their murderous exploits, practiced at marks witli their revolvers, and seemed not to have the least fear of the Secretary.” “ What was the result ? ” “ Well, the Secretary of the Interior took a bee-line for the nearest telegraph station, and sent a dispatch to Gener d Grant, an nouncing that neither life nor property was safe in the Territory, and that the Indians should be aided in expelling the roughs from their midst. So, in a short time the Tenth Cavalry went into active service in the Ter ritory.” “ Did tho ruffians make any resistance?” “ They got together, at the terminus, armed to the teeth, and blustered a good deal; but the cavalrymen arrested one after another, and examined each man separately. When one of the terminuses was asked his name, he usually answered that it was Slim Jim, or Wild Bill, or Lone Jack (with an oath), and that he was a gambler, or a pounder, as the case might be, and, further more. that he didn’t intend to leave the Territory. Whereupon the officer command ing would say; ‘Well, Slim Jim, or Wild Bill, or Lone Jack, I’ll give you twelve hours to leave this town in, and if you are found in tho Territory a week from this date. I’ll have you shot!’ And they took the hint.” “ Where are these men now ? ” “ Some of them are at Denison, at the end of this road. They are secure enough there, because when they are pursued on a crimi nal process, they are only four miles from the Red River, and they can escape into the Territory, beyond the reach of United States law, and recross the frontier in some other direction. You will see them at Denison. Good-night.” A moment afterwards, the voice added: “ By the way. at the next station, Musko gee, a man was shot before the town got there, and the graveyard was started before a single street was laid ont. Yon can see the graveyard now-n-days—eleven men are buried there with their boots on. Good night, again.”—“ The Great South,” in Scribner's for July. Counting a Hundred. A Danbmy man named Reubens recent ly saw a statement that counting one hun dred when tempted to speak an angry word would save a man a great deal of trouble. This statement sounded a little singular at first, but the more he read it over the more favorably he became impressed with it, and finally concluded to adopt it. Next door to Reubens lives a man who has made five dis tinct attempts to secure a dinner of green peas by the Ist of July, and every time has been retarded by Reubens’ hens. The next morning after Reubens made Lis resolution this man found his fifth attempt to have mis carried. Then he called on Reubens. He said: “ What in thunder do you mean by letting your hens tear up my garden ? ” Reubens was prompted to call him a mud snoot, a new name just coming into general use, but lie remembered his resolution, put down his rage and meekly observed : “ One. two, three, four, five, six, seven eight—’* Then the mad neighbor, who had been eyeing this answer with a great deal of sus picion, broke in again, “ Why don’t yon answer my question, yon rascal ? ” But still Reubens maintained his equa nimity, and went on with the text: “ Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, four teen. fifteen, sixteen—” The mad neighbor stared harder than ever. “ Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one —” “You are a mean skunk,” said the mad neighbor, backing toward the fence. Reubens’ face Hushed at this charge, but he only said : “ Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six—” At this figure the neighbor got up on the fence in some haste, but suddenly thinking of his peas, he opened his mouth : “You mean, low-lived rascal, for two cents 1 would knock your cracked head over a barn, and I would—” “ Twenty-seven, twenty-eight,” interrupt ed Reubens, “twenty-nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty-two, thirty-three—” Here the neighbor broke for the house, and entering it, violently slammed the door behind him ; but Reubens did not dare let up on the enumeration, and so he stood out there alone in his own yard, and kept on counting, while his burning cheeks and flash ing eyes eloquently affirmed his judgment. \\ hen he got up into the eighties his wife came to the door in some alarm. “ Why. Reubens, man, what is the matter with yon?” she said. “Do come into the house.” But he didn’t let np. She came out to him. and clung trembling to him, but he only looked into her eyes, and said : “Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety nine, one hundred—go into the house, old woman, or I’ll bust ye.” And she went —Danbury News. loving heart and a pleasant counte nance are commodities which a man should never fail to take home with him. They will best season his food and soften his pillow. It were a great thing for a man that his wife and children could truly say of him, “ He never brought a frown or unhappiness across his thresh old.” ANECDOTES. Scaring a Yankee. —The following story is told by the Boston QammerciaL Bulletin: “Say! You! Mister! Look here!’’ said a specimen of the genus American Yankee, the other day to a-slightly built citizen who was hurrying past him at the southern part of the city. ‘•Well, what is it? be quick—Pm in a hurry,” replied the citizen. “ Wall, I spose you kin stoppV arnser civil question, can't yo ? ” “ Certainly—what is it? ” “ Is there much small-pox naow ? ” “ I think there is p you had better avoid crowded places, and ” “Yaas, I know, that's what our doctor told me, so 1 got aout at the Roxbury depo' instid of ridin’ into the Boston one where there's a crowd. I’m pesky ’feard on it, an’ I’m daonn because ” “ But, sir, I’ve answered your question, and yon must excuse me from stopping any longer.” “Shan't do no such thing,” said Jona than, “ what in thunder's the use of your gettin’ huffy about it ? ” “ Sir, you are evidently from the country, and don’t consider——” “ Consider be darned 1 It’s your city peo ple that consider themselves so confounded stuck up, you can’t speak to common folks.” “ I was about to say,” remarked the citi zen, “ that you don’t consider the risk you run in stopping a stranger ” “ Resk ? ” said the man, forgetting his small-pox scare, and misinterpreting the caution. “ Resk ? why there's a fist,” doub ling one that looked like a flitch of bacon, “ that would knock you into the middle of next week.” “ Xo doubt of it,” replied the other draw ing back, as it flourished in dangerous prox imity to his nose. “ Vaas, my little feller,” continued Rusti cus, laying both hands upon the lappels of the man's coat, and drawing him close tow ards him, “ 1 could throw you clean over my head if I had a mind tew.” “ Take your hands off me, sir. You don't know what you are doing! You don't know who I am.” “Don’t know who yon be? AVell, who are ye? Governor, or the State Constable?" “No, I’m one of the nurses from the small-pox hospital over yonder, and I’m go ing to get some medicines at the doctor's office, and you are stopping me and running something of a risk in doing so.” The Yankee, evidently, was of the same opinion, for he let go the lappels of the other’s coat collar as if they had been red hot, and stepped aside as if he had sden a locomotive coming for him at a mile a min ute. Then casting a hurried glance at the “ hospital over yonder,” he left in an oppo site direction, and was last seen in a chem ist’s shop negotiating for a pound of chlo ride of lime, and a quart bottle of disinfect ing fluid. Yon and X can’t Dead. —A gentleman of ample proport ions and rough exterior, who evidently came from the rural districts, yes terday called upon a noted dentist for the purpose of having his capacious jaws meas ured and fitted with a set of artificial teeth, lie explained that his others were lost bv his shaking and shivering during the recent cold snap, and evidently entertained firm convictions in regard to the model on which the new set should be constructed. He finally inquired the probable price of the set, and was informed that a full and fine set would costal least $l3O. “One hundred and fifty dollars,” repeated the surprised stranger, “darned if I don't hires boy to pound my grub for mo ’fore I pay it. Why, you don't know, boss, that that’s the price of a couple of fine cattle. Yon and I can’t deal. Good mornin .”— Si. Louis Democrat. Jack in Pokt.— Probably those who most thoroughly comprehend his nature are the hoarding-house keepers, who, however desperate on occasion, invariably try to ca jole before they venture to force. As soon as a ship arrives in the lower bay the tout ers of these worst of men board her, if, un der the new shipping law, they can evade the deputy-commissioners, and stealing into the forecastle, demand the sailor to tell where he intends to lodge while in port. A burly confederate stands near the touter, and if a ready answer is refused, the sailor receives an unexpected and stunning blow in the face. When he recovers he finds the principal remonstrating with the confederate for his brutal interference, and. appreciative of the timely sympathy. Jack surrenders himself to the tender mercies of the wolf, one of his best qualities thus becoming a means of his own destruction. Perhaps be fore the ship is fairly moored he is enticed ashore, and driven to one of the gloomy dens in ('berry, Water, or Roosevelt Street, where he has no more hope than a school boy in a gambling house. His stay in port may be a week or a month, according to the amount of wages due to him ; but his treat ment will be the same as long as his money lasts, and when it has gone he will as surely be cast adrift. Formerly he seldom touch ed his own pay. The boarding-house keep er made a trilling advance when the sailor landed, and as seven or ten days elapsed be fore the ship owners paid off their crews, a heavy bill against him for food, lodgings, and raiment had been run up. The money accruing, therefore, from a winter voyage around the Horn or across the Atlantic fell by power of attorney, or a less legal instru ment, into the hands of the boarding-house keeper. If the bill represented a larger amount than the wages. Jack was shipped off at once, an advance note, payable sever al days after the sailing, having also been extorted from him. At present, under the beneficent shipping act, the sailor is paid in person before the Commissioner at the end of his voyage, and the boarding-house keep er can fleece him no more directly than by extortionate charges. But that our seamen are unconscionably bled in boarding-houses is not the most telling charge that can be brought against these wicked institutions. More vital importance attaches to the fact that a sailor within their doors is far remov ed from every agency of physical and spirit ual good, and that with each successive voy age he becomes less able to perform his du ties on shipboard, more nervous in the per ilous moments when life and treasure de pend upon his courage, and further behind the comprehension of the many recent sci entific discoveries tendinsr to simplify ocean navigation. — Harper's Magazine for July. HOUSEHOLD. Unwisb Parents. —Every one has, some time in life, committed little acts of thought lessness, or foolishness, which are not al ways pleasant to recall later in life, when one has learned a little wisdom. Yet, there are always some people, who not only do not improve themselves as years pass on, but dislike to see any progress in others; and these envious persons are just the ones who delight in humbling us, or “ taking down our pride,” as they call it; by frequent allusions to the awkwardness or foolishness of our youthful days. AA'hat young lady, who, by frequenting good society, has be come graceful and easy of manner, likes to be told of the days when she was the most awkward girl in the village? AV hat young man, who, from contact with bnsinos men and men of learning, has acquired good judgment and pleasant manners, can bear, without emotions of anger, the taunts of those who refer to his verdancy on bis first visit to the city ? We can ascribe such remarks as these, from persons who have no interest in our progress, to envy; but when parents, by way of pleasant (?) conversation with visitors, discuss the youthful foolishness or awkward ness of their children, I know not to what to ascribe it, unless it be a lack of wisdom. AVhat person can appear at ease before visi tors, if he every moment expects to hear discussed some fault ol his past life, that he is heartily ashamed of, and has long ago corrected ? No child can place confidence in a parent who will tell such things; and if a parent will not respect the child's sensitiveness, who will regard it? Such parents are un wise, unkind, unnatural! Parents, if you would have the respect, the confidence, the love, ol your children, I beg you to respect their rights and their feelings. For their sakes as well as your own, do not rouse their worst passions, by “making fun” at their expense.— The Rural New Yorker. A Xobi.e Art. Once 1 remembered among my friends a lady who had known many afflictions, cares and heart-griefs, and yet whose brightness of demeanor and cheerfulness were unflagging; whose very presence was a sunbeam. This lady talked often of her art. AA r hen praised for any striking course of action, she would reply with a touching simplicity, “ Yes; I learn ed that from my art. ” As a child, I often wondered what this art could be; growing older, I set myself to find out. It was not the art of music, pas sionately fond as she was of that divine art, and on so lofty a pedestal as she placed it; for, being somewhat at home with its magic realms myself, I knew that she was not sufficiently skilled therein to designate it as her own ; nor was it the urt of painting, nor yet of sculpture. “Miss Margaret.” I inquired one day, “what is your art?” A sweet smile flitted across her face, as she touchingly asked, for reply, "And have I so poorly exemplified it all these years that you need ask ? ” “ I am sure now,” cried I, “ that it is after all, what has often suggested itself to my mind: ‘The art of making the most of life.’ ” “ You are right,” she answered, very well pleased ; “ and this I consider the greatest of arts; all others are sent to earth to aid us in perfecting it.” Bad Milk and Butter in AA’ister.—P, is said, when cows are allowed to eat litter which is thrown out of horse stables, im pregnated as it is with liquid manure, their milk and butter will be tainted with tho taste, in the same way that the flavor is in jured by eating turnips, but to a more dis agreeable degree. If litter is allowed to he eaten, it should be only given to other cat tle, and not to milch cows, which should have nothing but the sweetest and purest food. Potato Soup. —For a family of six, grate five good-sized potatoes, add two quarts water, and place over the fire and boil slow ly half an hour before wanted for the table; ten minutes before taking np add half a cup of sweet cream, a large spoonful of butter, and salt and pepper to taste. To those who are fond of onions, a small one grated with the potatoes adds ranch to tho flavor ol tho soup. Tapioca Pudding. Soak three table spoonfuls of tapioca in water over night; pour off the water, put tapioca in one quart of boiling milk and boil ten minutes ; beat the yolks of four eggs, a cup of sugar and three tablespoonfuls of cocoanut; stir in, boil five minutes longer, pour in a pudding dish. Beat the whites to a stiff froth, with three tablespoonfuls of white sugar; put this over the top, and brown five minutes. Frozen Custard.— One quart of cream, two quarts of milk, one and a half pounds of sugar, yolks of four eggs. Mix milk, eggs and sugar, put on the fire, and let them scald; just cook enough to take away the raw taste; when cold, add cream ; flavor when partly frozen. If lemon is used, one large one. rind and juice, is sufficient for this quantity. For a Cough. —Roast a large lemon very carefully, without burning it; when it is thoroughly hot, cut and squeeze it into a cup, upon three ounces of sugar, finely pow dered. Take a spoonful whenever your cough troubles you. It is as good as it is agreeable to the taste. Rarely has it been known to fail of giving relief. Sweetened Doughnuts. —One pintof sour milk and seven tablepoons of sour cream ; soda to sweeten; one teaspoon salt; one coffee cup of sugar ; one egg; one egg well beaten with the sugar; nutmeg, or other spice*, to suit, the taste ; flour to knead well and hard. AV’ill make a heaping six-quart pan of doughnuts. China Pie.— Make crust short, roll out thin, and put it in a deep pie plate. Put in a layer of thin sliced apples, a layer of sugar and spice, so on until full; put on the top layer sugar, spices, and little lumps of but ter. No top crust. Bake from three-fourths of an hour to an hour. Chicken Cholera.— A little sulphate of iron in the drinking water of chickens, and a change of food, is said to prevent the spread of cholera in a flock, but does not hurt the well ones. To Remove AVartk. —Simply apply car bolic acid a lew times for a few days. There is no pain. NO. 17.