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% . VOL. IV. NO. 17. *' t } V t V ' ' ' i AUNT HANNAH. A Hery T*ld ! Rhyme by J. T. Trswbridse. She is known to all the town, in her quaintly, fashioned gown, And wide bonnet?you would guess it at the Jiat&nM Af t mile : \V?t her little sprigs of smilax, and her lavender and lilacs, Snowy napkins and big basket, and serenely simple smile, Sbo is jnst a little queer; and few gentlefolk, I fear, In their drawing-rooms would welcome that benignant, beaming face ; And the truth is, old Aunt Hannah s rather antiquated manners In some fashionable circles would seem eadiy out of plaoe. Yet there's something quite refined in her manners and her mind. As yon presently discover; and 'tis well enough to know, Everything last now so odd is in ths bonnst and ths bodioe Wis the very height of fashion five and forty years ago. 8he was then s reigning belle; sod Pre heard old ladies tell How st all the balls and parties Hannah Amsden took tne lead; Porfe :t bloom and maiden sweetness, lily grace of rare completeness, Though the stalk stands rather stiffly now the flower has gone to seed. She had all th&t love could give, all that makes it sweet to liveFond caresses, Jewels, dresses; and with eloauent appeal Many a proud and rich adorer knelt?in metaphor?before her; Metaphorically only doee your modern lover kneel. if she heeded, 'twas beoause, in their worship, their applaure, Her perfection was reflected, and a pleasing music heard; Bat she suffered them no nearer than her goldfinch or her mirror; An 1 the hardly held them dearer than her pier-^la b or her hisd. But at last there came a day when eho gavo her heart away? If that rigut'y be called girlag wlioh is neither choice nor will, But a eh iroi, a fascination, and a wild sweet exultationAll the frerh young lifo outgoing in a strange ecstatic thrilL * 4 At a city baU, by ohance, she first met bis ardent glaooo. He was i either young nor handsome, but a man of subtle parte, With an e>e of such expression as your lover by profession Fmds an excellent possession when he goee a-huntiog hearts. . It oould trouble, it could burn; and when first he chanced to turn That fine glance on Hannah Amsden, it lit up with swift desire. With a sudden dilation, and a radiant admira uvu, And shot down her soul's doep heaven-like meteor trailin^flr^. How was a:.v one to know that tkoee eye* had looked just so On a hundred other women, with a gaze as _ blight and strange ? There are men who change their passions even J oftener than their fashions, And the beet of loving always, to their mind, ii still to chango. Nay, it was not base deceit; his own couqaeet seemed oomplete They were soon affianced lovers ; and her opening life was filled With the fiosh of flame-lit fancies, morning's rosy-hued romances, All the dews of hope an<f rapture love's delicious dawn disti ed. Home the country maiden went; and a busy summer spent AH in bridal preparations, blissful troubles, happy woes; Fitting dresses, filling preesee, little croeses and distresses? Those preliminary prickles to th* hymeneal rose. Never since the world began, course of true love smoother ran; Not an oddy of disiension, nor the ripple of a doubt. All the neighbors and relations came with kind congratulations, And ahondrel invitations to the wedding feast went out All the preparations thrived, ani the wedding day arrived: Pleased but pens ve moved the mother; and tne iMuer wun a smue Broad atd genial as the summer, gave a weloomo to each oomer ; AU things turned on golden hinges all went merry for a while. And the lovely bride, arrayed all in lacee and brocade, Orange bloesoms in her tresses (strange as now the story seems), Quite enchanting and enchanted, in ber chamber blushed and panted, Aud but one thing now was wanted to fulfill her darling dreams. For the clergyman was there, to unite the ; happy pair, And the guests were all aeeembled, and the company sat dumb; Aud the banquet was belated, and the maid was still unmated,' And the wedding waited, waited, for ? coach i that did not come. Then a few began to sneer, and a horror and a fear Fell on friends and anxious parents; and the bride, with cheek aflame, All too ru lely disenchanted, in her chamber paced and panted ; And the one thing still was wanted; and the one thing newer came. Glassy smiles and feeble chat?then The parson took his hat, And the wedding guests departed, glad to breathe the outer air; Till the last farewell was taken, kind word offered, kind hand shaken ; A?d the greet house stood foreaken In Its chame and its despair ySTDA With a firmness justified less by hope, perhaps, thin pride. All her misery, all their pity, Hannah bore without complaint; Till her hasting mother met her, pale and breathless, with a letter, And she saw the superscription, and Bbrieked " Frederick!" and grew faint. With quick hand the seal she broke, and she neither breathed nor spoke, But a sudden ashy paleness all her fair face overspread; And a terror seemed to hold her, and her oheek grew cold and colder And her icy fingers rattled on the paper ae she read. In her oh amber once alone, on the floor she lay like stone, With her bridal gear about her?all that idle, fine array; And the white moon, white and holy, to her chamber bar climbed slowly, And looked in npon the lowly, wretched lady where she lay^ * Why the 1 tter was delayed, what the poor excuse he madep Mattered little there to Hannah lying on the moon-lit floor. Twas his heart that had miscarried; for some new toy be had tarried; In a fortnight he was married, and she never saw him more. Came the glorious autumn days?golden bills, cerulean haze? And s* J Hannah kept her ohamber with her shame and her despair; All the neighbors and relations came and offer od consolations. And the preacher preoohed np patience, and remembered her in prayer. Spite of all that they oould say, Hannah Amsden pined away. Camo the doll days of November, came the winter, wild and white;. Lonely, listless, hours together she would sit and watch the weather, Or the cold bright oonstellations pulsing in the pallid night For a twelvemonth and a day so poor Hannah pined away. Cams once more the fatal morning, came the dread hoars that had been : All the anguish she lived over, waiting, wailing lor her lover. Then the new dawn ahone about her, and a fweeterdawr within. All her soul bleached white and pure, taught by suffering to endure, Taught by Borrow to know sorrow, and to bind the bleeding heart, Now a pale and placid aiflter in tho world that .'itely missed her? Sweetly pale where peace had kissed her? patient Hannah chose her part. To do gcod was her delight, all her study day and night; And around her, like a fragance in the halo rouDd a saint, Breathed the holy exalation of her life and oocupatioD. But the rising generation eoou began to call her quaint. For her self-forgetfulness even extended to her drees; Milliner and mantuamaker never crossed her threshold more; But the bodice, and the bonnet with the wondrous bow upon it, Kept their never changing fashion of the faded vears before. So sb? f till goeu up &Dd down on her errands through the town ; Ac*. sometimes a schoolgirl titters, or an urchin stops to grin, Or avTlage our barks at her; but to her'tis little matter? You may fleer or you may flatter?such deep peaoe her soul is iD. Among all the sick and poor there is nobody so sure Of a welcome-and a blessing ; and who sees her onoe appear, Coming round some poor man's trellis with her dainty pots of jellies, Or big basket brimmed with bounty, soon forgets that she is queer; For her pleasant words, addressed to the needy aud distressed. Are so touching aud so tender, full of sympathy and cheer, By the time your smile is ready for the simple, dear old lady, It is pretty sure to tremble in tne balance > with a tear. ?Harper's Magazine. A Toothache Remedy. Dr. Duckworth, of St Bartholomew's j hospital, London, has recently success-1 fully used bicarbonate of soda as a j remedy for severe toothache, when ap-1 plications of chloroform, either externally to the cheek or to the ear, or placed on cotton in the decayed tooth, failed ; and when carbolic acid, applied as last mentioned, also proved inoperative. Pledgets of cotton, soaked in a solution of thirty grains of bicarbonate of soda in one fluid ounce of water, gave almost instant relief. Dr. Duckworth considers that very frequently the pain is due to +V>q rtf ai'iH Rftlivn with thft dp cayed tooth; and therefore it is important, in cases of odontalgia, first to determine whether the saliva had an acid reaction. If this be the case, then a simple alkaline application, as above stated, is the most efficacious eaus of cure. Cases of toothache are such common accompaniments to disordered stomach that there seems every reason for the trnth of the above author's conjecture. Doubtless on the same ground is due the efficacy of ammonia, so frequently recommended, but wkich, if applied : carelessly, is liable to produce more pain by burning the gum than already exists i in the tooth. Bicarbonate of soda is found in every ! kitchen, and hence no more handy remedy oould be devised, while it is destitute of any painful effects ; and the rationale of its operations and its simplicity make us wonder why it has not been thought of before. , The United States commissioner of Indian affairs wants Congress to give hiza an appropriation to enable him to end a large delegation of our aborigines to th? OonWnniaT exposition, POR RD A BEAUFORT, S. ( A RURAL ENOCH ARDEN. The Astounding Story of a Dead Farmer's Return?James Swingle's Mysterious Disappearance?The Midnight Cry of Murder?-Discovery of a Hkeleton? Marriage Complications. Tho death of James Swingle, two ' miles from Silver Station, Pa., says a letter from that place, saved his family from the consequences of most serious 3 business and social complications. The Swingle family is one of the 1 wealthiest in this section. James Swin- 1 gle was a farmer and had lived on the 1 farm where he died for thirty-five years. Twelve years ago his wife died, and a year and a half afterward, being sixty 1 years of age, he married a young woman 1 who had lived in his family for several 1 years. She was twenty-two years old. I He had six children, all older than his 1 second wife, and three of them married. She being an estimable woman, how- : ever, the match was acceptable to all. j Old Mr. Swingle was a prominent man in the township, a devout member < of the Baptist church and a man gener- 1 ally respected. 1 In the fall of 1865 Mr. Swingle^pur- 3 chased an addition to his farm for 1 $1,800. One rainy evening in October 3 of that year he left home with the above ' sum of money, telling his wife that he 1 was going to the station to pay it to ' Wiltsey. He did not return that night, 3 but the fact created no uneasiness, as he ] occasionally remained over night iu the 1 village. Not appearing the next day, < however,.inquiry was made for him at ^ Silver Station. He had paid the money for his purchase and received his deed, 3 and had been seen to mount his horse 1 about nine o'clock in the evening, and although it was very dark and stormy, I start toward home. At that time there was an organized gang of desperadoes ' * -_t _ 1 1 in tins region, whose exploits m noise ' and cattle stealing and other depreda- * tions had made them a terror to the 1 people. They were under the lead of a ! man named Jim Smith, and it was be- 1 lieved by many that they were gnilty of ' blacker crimes than stealing horses. ^ When it became generally known that 1 Farmer Swingle had mysteriously dis- 1 appeared it was stated by several that ' two of the worst members of Smith's ^ gang?44 Feeny" Gowan and a Frenchman named Dubois?had been seen at ^ the station that night, and it at onoe be- 1 came the general belief that the farmer had been waylaid by them, robbed and 1 murdered, and his body hidden in the 1 woods. This theory was given a still ^ stronger foundation by the statement of Mrs. Mary Mosher, a widow lady, who occupied a house in a lonely place on ' the road about midway between the sta- 1 tion and the farmer's. She appeared in ' the village in the midst of the excite- 1 ment caused by the supposed murder, * and said that some^hero about twelve i o'clock on the night in question she was 1 awakened by the sound of voices in the road in front of her house. She got up | and looked out, but it was so dark she could see nothing. As she was return | ^ it _ << if 1 ing to Dea sue neara tne cry "inurder!" repeated twice; then the sound of 1 groans, and footsteps hurryiDg away down the road. Afraid to go to sleep again, with the cries ringing in her ears, ( Mrs. Moeher awaited the return of day, j confident that it would reveal to her the mutilated corpse of a murdered man?a victim, no doubt, of Jim Smith's gang 1 of cutthroats. As soon as it was light she looked out, but saw no evidence of a murder. Going out into the road, however, she discovered signs of astrng- J gle, and several pools of blood. This story settled any doubt that might have existed ns to the murder of the farmer, and armed bodies of men hunted the woods for miles, seeking the supposed murderers and the body of the murdered man. The feeling of the public agai st the Smith gang was so in-* tense that the leader left the vicinity, which resulted in the breaking up of the organization, no member of which has ever been seen hereabouts since. The day after the disappearance of the farmer his horse was found tied in the woods near the road, about half a mile from his house. The search for his body was kept up for weeks, and large rewards were offered for any information that would lead to traces of his murderers, all to no purpose. The matter at Inst ceased to excite any interest in the community, and was almost forgotten aatra V.T7 liio familv mid lmmfirlifttfl friends, when a circumstance oocurred which brought it again forward as a popular topic. Some eighteen months after the farmer's disappearance a man named Gable, while fishing in Topee pond, on lands belonging to the Swingle farm, a mil or so from the house, discovered the skeleton of a man lying on the west shore of the pond. A cabin which had been long known as a rendezvous of the Smith gang stood hbout a quarter of a mile from the spot, in a dense part of the woods. Gable made his discovery known, and the remains were gathered up by the farmer's family, they behoving that they were his, although there was nothing found fixing their identity. ! They were buried in the family gravej yard, and a stone setting forth the cir ; cumstances connected with Swingle's I death was placed at the head of the ! grave. An administrator of the estate j of the deceased was appointed, and his ' property equally divided among the ! children. The homestead fell to the lOfc OI tue UlU intmtri o muvn, auu tuc I youngest son, also named James, con tinned to live there and superintend operations on the farm. In 1869 he married the widow of his father, and the couple were living in unruffled ease with three children that had ! been born to them, when in the early part of last month the young father was I given a letter at the village post-office addressed " To any living member of the Swingle family." The letter was ! postmarked at Cleveland, Ohio. Open! rug the letter the farmer was astounded , to find that it purported to be written by I his father, long believed to be dead. It ! was as follows: Cleveland, Dec. 30. I am very sick and penniless among strangers. I was on my way home when taken sick. Some of you come to me at once and I will explain all. I am at a sailor's lodging house by the lake. James Swingle. i i'he letter was written in a cramped r iro lND < 3., THURSDAY. M I and trembling hand, but it resembled specimens of the old farmer's writing of years ago. The family was divided in their opinion of the letter, some believing it to be the work of some one who was playing on their feelings, and others were certain that it was gennine. All agreed, however, that, in the latter case, the return of the old man would result in consequences the end of which it was impossible to foresee and involve them all in complications it would be impossible to evade. The marriage of the son James would be illegal, and his children illegitimate; while the dispositions that had been made of the old man's property might lead to most disastrous litigation. It was finally decided, however, that one of the family should proceed to Cleveland and investigate the matter, and one of the sons started at once for that city. Arming there, he searoned the lodging houses?as indicated in the letter? and finally found one where there was a Lodger by the name of Swingle. The old man lay on a mattress on the floor of a meanly-furnished room, and, although greatly changed, was at onoe recognized by his son. When the latter made himself known the old man was aearly beside himself with joy. He was very ill with fever, and became delirious soon after the arrival of his son, and it was some days before he oould be removed to better quarters. Three weeks passed before he was in oondition to be taken home, and during that time he oould be induoed to say but little about fun at.ra.rure disannearanoe. He said that be left wLile under the influenoe of an impulse which he oould not oontrol, and ifter traveling about for a few days he (ma ashamed to return, and resolved to jo West with about $3,000 he had with aim and invest it in some wav, and after be had increased it sufficiently to return borne and surprise his family. He went bo California, and from there to Australia, where he made $115,000 in five fears and came back to California, tvhere he lost it alL Thinking that he eras drawing near his death, he determined to return home, and was taken rick with the fever at Cleveland. He refused to enter into anv details of his ben years' absence until he reoovered from his illness. The return of the supposed dead man bo his native place created a still greater sensation than his disappearance had. Be was taken at or.ee to his old home, ind the excitement again prostrated him upon a bed of sickness. The chauges bhat had occurred during his absence were kept from him. His unfortunate wife took her place at his bedside, and occupied the painful position of one striving by kind care and nursing to restore one whose convalescence would destroy her happiness and honor, and that of the father of her children.. The Tnmoo Svinorlo WflJl ftlmHSt J UUU^Ci VOUil/D MnujQ*v .. ?~ ? crazed at the situation of affairs, and it was for a time necessary to keep him under strict surveillance, as it was feared be would take his own life. So complicated were the family affairs that it is not strange, when the physician attending the old farmer announced that it was impossible for him fo recover, that they felt a sense of relief at the verdict. He died as stated at the commencement of this letter, and never* knew the agony and suspense to which his return had subjreted every member of his family. After the farmer ^as buried, the marriage oerepaony between his son and his widow was again performed, the sympathy of the whole community being with them. The skeleton that was found at Lake Topee again became a subject of speculation after the reappearance of Swingle. Ten years ago the section was a great resort for cattle dealers, who went through the country buying up stock. I A drover named Gibson made frequent visits here, and men with good memories say that he was here about the time that Swingle was missed, but has n )t been here since. The theorists have settled it that it was his cries of murder which the Widow Moslicr heard on that notable night, and that he was murdered by some of Smith's gang and his body carried to the pond and thrown in, it subsequently being washed up where it was found. Ancient and Modern Prisons. Most Americans who have traveled in Europe have seen the dark cells built in the foundations of the Doge's palace at Venice, or those pecnliar boxlike structures in the town halls of Ratisbon, Nuremberg, and other places, where prisoners were formerly penned in smaller quarte than the dens of animals. They are entirely dark, with but one small opening, a ceiling only six or at most seven feet high. No bed was supplied the prisoner, and no one entered his oell for any purpose whatever. What confinement in such a pen must have been can only be imagined from a i port made by the surgeon-general upon the hygiene of the United States army. The cells in the guardhouse at Madison barrack, Sacketts Harbor, JN. I., are nine feet six inches high, and eight feet eleven inches by four feet in area, and he describes them as follows: "The cells have no ventilation whatever, and there is no light, except a narrow spot that appears at an aperture near the ceiling, twelve inches by three inches in size. They are dark, cold, damp, and gloomy, and in them a prisoner is smothered and punished in a chilly stony den in a style worthy of the dark ages. The exhalations of a man in a single night accumulate in sufficient quantity to nearly extinguish a lighted candle set on the floor. Jn them a man is not only deprived of his liberty, light, and his life's breath, but his own effluvia turn upon him as a poison. Happily they are seldom occupied. A Bloodthirsty Jndge. Recorder Haekett, of Ne v York, used the following singular remarks in passing sentence upon a criminal: "You have also declared your readiness to kill all who interfere with you, and go armed for that purpose. I would like to meet you some time when in your lawless moods you are fixed for killing. I'd teach you a lesson you would not forgot as long as you live. I now sentence you to two years, with hard labor, in the penitent) Domiv ARCH 30, 1876. BATHING AND BURNING. Bennren. the Holy City of the Ganges?Ita Funereal Pyres and Monkey Temple. I The correspondent of the London Telegraph writes as follows : In view at this moment are thousands of natives bathing in the water, lapping it, washing their clothes?if a waistcloth can be called " clothes"?and taking up a ves- 1 selfol of the sacred water for the benefit 1 of their friends. The water is not bright 1 or clean. It might, were it not so sacred, j be called very dirty. And there are just J now, at any rate, some thousands of ] people bathing in it continually. But it ] is the holy river, and the worshipers of 1 the Ganges fill their mouths with the j water, lave in it, drink of it, quite hap-, pily. Every dip they take, every drop 1 they swallow, washes off moral unclean- 1 liness. To us strangers the sight is amaz- \ ing. Under the shadow of temple and mansion alike, troops of men, women ] and children are coming down the steps. 1 A short prayer, a momentary uplifting ' of the hands, a certain, or rather uncer- ( tain, rolling of the eyeballs, a id then a plunge into the river. All along the 1 bank, huddled together against the land- ' ing stages,. in the stream up to their I necks, clinging to the bamboo posts to 1 which boats are fastened, every devotee 1 is happy, each ready to pay for a garland ( of yellow flowers, each ready to make 3 the most of a liberation from the ill I deeds of the past While thinking about this unwonted 1 scene, the boatman attracts attention by ] a touch on the arm, to say we are opposite the burning ghaut. To be burned ] at Calcutta or Bombay may be a sati&fac tory contemplation for the dying native; 1 but to be placed on the funereal pyre at 1 Benares, to be first of all washed in the Ganures. and then to have his ashes ' thrown into the sacred river, is indeed a ! happiness. As we look on the shore, ] the Doat being drawn close to the edge, ' a cnrious sight meets our eyes. In a 1 little space, fashioned somewhat after : the shape of an amphitheater, are three ' burning heaps of wood. Looking down upon these, quite thirty feet high above the pyres, and enveloped in the smoke, 1 are some forty or fifty men and women, 1 perched on the steps like so many rooks, looking complacently down while the remains of their relatives are being consumed. Down at the water's edge, partly in the water, indeed, are two human bodies. 1 One is that of a woman, the other of a 1 man ; each is wrapped in white linen. 1 Very little ceremony is needed, but that ' little is observed. The fire pile has been prepared for the reception of the corpse to be burnt. The body is therefore placed by the side of the river and then dipped into tho water, so that all the sheet is covered. Lest there should be any doubt about this, however, a vessel of water is twice emptied over the head of the corpse before it is removed, and then the two men in attendance, lifting the body, plaoe it upon the pyre ; logs of wood thrown to them bv assistants are laid on it; light, dry chips placed beneath ; a torch is fetched, and the light applied ; there is a blaze, and?of the rest nothing need be said. Benares is a holy city ; it is notable in many other respects. Were nothing more to be seen, the observatory, its golden temple, its sacred well, and its strange bazaar would give it the title to | be ranked among the most notable places in the world. But it has, in addition to all these, and the most holy point of the Ganges, long groves of treesorange, citron, plantain, and palm?and the most singular monkey temple in the world. On arriving at the temple we were supplied with a plate of parched peas and a number of white sweetmeats, of which it was said the monkeys had many times signified their approbation, and, thus furnished, we entered the temple. Up in the neighboring trees, on the walls and the roofs of houses, in the roads chasing luckless children, and on the front* of the shops, these creatures seemed to bo everywhere. That they were mischievous was also undoubted, for now and then they would hurl stones or pieces of wood at passersby with an aim bv no means to be deaniHAfl nr wmilrl lean over the wall and quietly snap off the turban of some thoughtless pedestrian, who might shout and call not only the monkey, but the monkey'8 sister and mother?the approved style of abuse here?all kinds of unpleasant names ; but his turban might be considered as gone, all efforts of its owner notwithstanding, and the best thing he could do would be to buy another puggaree as quickly as possible. Our entry to the temple was a signal for a general assemblage of these pleasant animals. They tumbled down from the minarets of the temple, they came over the walks by scores, they wriggled through holes and crevices, and rushed in at the doorways. Fortunately, they were peaceably inclined, and as the stock of sweetmeats and peas was large, and their hunger not great?for they are fed on an average fifty times a day by pilgrims and worshipers?they wore content to take what was thrown them, and, filling their cheeks as full as possible, make off. Suggested by James Parton's Marriage I married a widow who had a grownup step-daughter. My father visited ! my house very often, fell in love with my stop-danghter, and married her. So my father became my son-in-law, and my step daughter my mother, because she was my father's wife. Some time after my wife had a son; he was my j father's brother-in-law, and my uncle; j for he was the brother of my step-daughj ter. My father's wife, that is, my step| daughter, also had a son; ho was, of ! course, my brother, and in the meani time my grandchild, for he was the son i of my daughter. My wife was my grandmother, because she was my ! mother's mother. I was my wife's hus| band and grandchild at the same time, | and as the husband of a person's grandmother is his grandfather, I was my own grandfather. " Ain't it pretty?" said Mrs. H., holding up'her new bonnet. "There's some charming ideas in that, I can tell you." ; i " Qlad of it." said John. "It's just as j well to have ideas somewhere about your i head, you know," and he paused to \ catch a hair brush on th? fly, IERC1 $2.00 per Character in Handwriting. Many people laugh, says a writer in on English magazine, at what is called graptomancy, or the art of judging characters by handwriting, and yet all acknowledge that handwriting does indicate something. Every one allows a difference between a man's and a woman's hand. We hear people speak of a vulgar hand, a gentlemanly hand, a clerkly hand, and so forth. I had once, said Archbishop Wheatly, a remarkable proof that handwriting is sometimes, at least, an index to character. I had a pupil at Oxford whom I liked in most respects greatly. There was but one thing about him which seriously dissatisfied me, and that, as I often told him, was his handwriting. It was not bad as writing, but it had a mean, shuffling character in it, which always inspired me with a feeling of suspicion. While he remained at Oxford I saw aothing to justify this suspiaion ; but a transaction in which he was afterward engaged, in which I saw more of his character than I had done before, convinced me that the writing had spoken truly. But I knew of a much more curious case, in which a celebrated graptcmancer was able to judge of character more correctly by handwriting than he had been able to do by personal cbservation. He was on a visit to a friend's house, where, among other guests, he met a lady whose conversation' and mannys greatly el ruck him, ind for whom he oonoeived a strong friendship, based on the esteem he felt for her as a singularly truthful, pure minded and single hearted woman. The lady of the house, who knew her real character to be the very reverse of what she seemed, was curious to know whether Mr. Blank would be able to discover this by her handwriting. Ao cordingly she "procured a slip of this lady's writing (having ascertained he had never seen it) and gave it to him one evening as the handwriting of a friend of hers whose character she wished him to decipher. His nsoal habit, when ho undersook to exercise this power, was to take a slip of a letter, cut down lengthwise iso as not to show any sentences, to his room at night and to bring down his judgment in writing the next morning. On this occasion, when the party were seated at tlio breakfast table, the lady whose writing he had unconsciously been examining made some observation which particularly struck Mr. Blank as seeming to betoken a very noble and truthful character. He expressed his admiration of her sentiment very warmly, adding at the same tima to the lady of the house : " Not so, by the way, your friend," and he put into her hand the slip of writing of her guest which she had given him the evening before, over which he had written the words : " Fascinating, false and hollow hearted." The lady of the house kept the secret, and Mr. Blank never knew that the writing on which he had pronounced so severe a judgment was that of the friend he so greatly admired. In Ihc Household. There is a pretty story of a French country family, which every mother should read to teach her the true practical method of charity. She would learn how, in the careful pious French # .1 .il; woman's menage, no scrap 01 ciouung or fcod is suffered to go to waste ; and how the value of old garments is doubled by their being cut and altered to fit the poor children to whom they are given. We propose that every housekeeper who reads this shall begin to make of this year a prolonged Christmas. Let her first find one or more really needy families who are willing to work, and therefore deserve such help as she can give. This is a much safer outlet for her charity than any agency or benevolent society. In every household there is a perpetual stock of articles?clothes, bedding, furniture?too shabby for use, and which in the great majority of cases are torn up, thrown away, or become the perquisites of greedy servants already overpaid. As soon as the housemother has some definite live objects of charity in her mind, it is astonishing how quickly these articles accumulate, and how serviceable they beoome by aid of a patch here, or tuck there, sewed by her own skilled fingers. Our children should each be allowed to give away their own half-worn clothes or toys. The shoes or top given in the fullness of their little hearts to some barefoot Marv or Bob whom they know, will teach them more of the spirit and practice of Christian charity than a dozen missionaries boxes full of pennies foi the far-off heathen. The same oversight should be exercised by the^nother of a family in the matter of food. Enough wholesome provision, it is safe to say, is wasted in the kitchen of every well-to-do American family to feed another of half its size. Very few ladies will tolerate regular back gate beggars, and the cold meat, bread, etc., go into the garbage cart, because nobody knows precisely what to do with them, A woman ol society, or one with dominant sesthetic tastes, will very likely resent the suggestion that she should give half an hour daily fco the collection and distribution of this food to her starving neigh bors. But if they go unfed whal apology will it be for her in the time oi closing accounts that her weekly recep tions were the most agreeable in town \ If she would establish, for instance, e o/inr? Hicrpsfcpr on the back of hei l/i6 07 range, and insist that all bones or ecratx should go into it, her own hands conic serve out nourishing basins of broth t< many a famishing soul the winter round, and really it would be r s fine a deed ai though she had conquered Chopin 01 the ivory keys.?Scribner. The Winslows. The pastor of the church to which thi family of WinsJow, the forger, belonget has written a letter in which he deniet that either the parents or relatives o the criminal were of bad character, a has been reported. The father of th< : forger is spoken of as a person of feebl< health and of upright Christian charac ter, while the mother was noted for he strongly sympathetic and religious na ture. "They came," he says, "fror the town of Barnard, Vt., and are no of the family of Winelowa from Barre Haw. AL. K > Anunm. Single Cop; 5 Cents. Items of Interest. Motto for a yeast factory?" Early to bread and early to rise." In England thirty-nine per cent, of the population are married, in Ireland thirty per cent, and in Germany only nineteen per oent. Country boys in England average an inch and a quarter more in height and seven pounds more in weight than, city boys. The friends of a Boston lady tele- , graphed from Paris that she was "no worse," and the cable said " no more." She was mourned as dead for nearly two days. The world is a looking glass and gives back to every man the reflection of his own faoe. Frown at it and it will in turn look surly upon you; laugh at it, and with it, and it is a jolly, kind companion. Much distress still prevails among the laboring classes in Canada. Over 1,000. men, all heads of families, have applied for work on the improvements of the Lachine canal, where only 100 men will be employed. A young person, describing the looks of a newly arrived M. C. from the far West, as he appeared at the Washington depot, says : 44 He looked as if he had oome all the way across the continent on the hurrioane deck of a mole." In Manchester, England, two fine horses attached to a brougham took fright, dashed through a restaurantfwin* dow, and forced their way to the middle of the room. They were badly cut, and the damage altogether is estimated at ?200 to ?300. At Logansport, Ind., while several children were playing together, the four-year-old daughter of Eliaa Wag oner thrust her tongue tnrougn ue crack of the room door, which one of hor playmates instantly slammed to, cutting off nearly one half of the member. An editor received the following : " Dear sir?I have looked carefully and patiently over your paper for six months for the death of some individual I was acquainted with, but as yet not a single soul I care anything about has dropped ofT; you will please to have my name erased." A Chinaman in San Francisco was rudely poshed into the mud from a street crossing by an American. He picked himself np very calmly, shook off some of the mod, bowed very politely,. and said, with a mild, reproving tone to the offender : " You Christian, me heathen; good-bye!" When the sultan of Turkey goes to the opera he is followed by servants, bearing a load of edibles. This is not a bad idea. When some of our young men go to the theater or opera they should be followed by servants bearing * a keg of beer. This would obviate the necessity of said young men going oat between the acts to get a dove to chew. It may be laid down as a safe rule that you should always know whom yon are marrying. A Cincinnati man married a woman the other day of whom he knew nothing except that her name was Mary, and he is not sure that she did not lie "" * * # L-m about tliat, ts slie Has since leu ior put us unfcnow - taking vrithher all the household goods, including even her husband's spare clothing. Person with cold in his head to person opposite (referring to open window in railroad car): "Say, wid you shud up that wi'dow t" Middle-aged woman in weeds, who has been talking for the last half-hour, turning around indignantly: "What do you mean, sir? It is a pretty how-de do when a woman can't open her mouth! I'll have you to know you can't shnt me up!" A case that puzzled a London magistrate was that of a woman who had assailed her husband with an ax, If he sent her to prison, the husband would have to hire somebody to care for her children while she was incarcerated. If he fined her, the husband would have to pav the sum. If he put her under bonds to keep the peace, the husband would be responsible. She was discharged with ah admonition. He was a Washington boy, and, wo ; are sorry to say, it was his first visit to ' church. As ho came down the steps, the little fellow that had accompanied i him asked : " Bill, how d'ye like it ?" ; " Putty good," was the reply. . " 'Twasn't good as Buffler Bill, but I tell yer, Sam, I was sorry for that feller. "Sorry for him; why ?" " Why. he cum out there, dun 'tall by nisself, ; and didn't get nary clap." A Rich Engineman. , The Jersey City Argus rays: Lloyd t Clark, an engineer on the Long Branch J division of the Central railroad, is probably the richest man holding each . a position in the country. Por several r years he ran an engine on the Central ( Pacific road, during which time, becom, ing seized with the speculative fever, Via lannehed out. buying and selling gold and stocks, always with success, until at * . the end of five years he o*me East, the , owner of between $75,000 and $100,000. . He established himself in New York I with a view of living in a manner con. sistent with his meaus, but such a life f was too irksome, and after several att tempts he gave up the experiment, and , securing a position on the Central went 5 to work at his favorite business. Mr. I Clark is one of seven brothers, all of y whom are railroad engineers in different parts of the world. I "Couldn't Fool Him." They tell this story of a Maine greenhorn, who recently made a visit to Boston: Seeing a hotel sign, he entered and inquired the price of lodging. 9 "One dollar," said the obliging cierk, 1 handing him a pen and pointing to the a register. '"What am I to do with this f here pen ?" said the rustic. " Why, s put your name on the book," said the b clerk, "and I will assign you a room at 9 once." "Not as you known on," said i- the voung man from Maine, " you don't 9 catch me. My father signed his name onct onto a book, sich as those 'ere a patent right fellows carry round?not t nigh so big as that? and he had t- pay i, $1,000. No, sir, 'ee, I ken pay my way, but I don't sign no note, you bet I"