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WnudorrroulliValowlr pathway, '
Thongh misfortune' lot you know.
Though vonr heart be sad and weary., . ,
Boldly op arid elaftu your birthright- .
toe of vast creation's heirs
What though Hhra bo beforeyon,
Vou've a right i great as theirs.
313 ehl by fcihor u4 etidnrauor, . . : ,'.
Onward still to work your way; -Rich)
to view through cloudy p:ccut,
FroinJ in the future day, ' -'
Itatht torummoa golden harvest
From the ever-wi Uing land.
Right 10 wage the war with (ortane ;
Htout of heart aud strong of baud.
Let not empty fc-srs Iwm yoii,
Calmly every (tauter scaa,
On ly rowrd fchriok. from idiadowB, -
lioldiy dare to be a man,
Iit l ot Rloth delay your progress
liCt not eriorlltn your eight,
' Irt, no nem at j-our endeavora
JEDrivc you from lhepa'h of right.
If at you tome wealthy witling, ' r 4
an . :...... nntf
lurn Ills MipKrci"""" -
Tlilnk that fifty iltry do" ..i.v.h.-i-Mnke
thediflerence In y"r,?,-5fuilood
Think, would you e x"!00'
And the hope tor vhlch you raj".
For UiH crt-ai ure' hold1!hI0,nsn,j!!'
Frown norland empty brain. - ,
' Tit though other tower above you
With ' the wealth thctr father, made,
Spreading ot like telre-st monarch. a .
Will voiiperl-h In their tbadet
No: continue your exertion.
lit not linear to despond. 1
Rai her burst lnU the (.unllKnt
' Waiting for you tax beyond.
Onward ! Cpward ! he yonr watchword.
Ict your pare be fixed on high , , , .
And on honor's brighi'ning pathway,
. Hope will bloom, and doubt khall die.
srx asd shadow.
- t . , . - b .
FT 0. W. HOLMES.
As I look from tho Isle, o'or its billows of
green, '; . .
To the billows of foam-cresled blue.
Von bark, that afar in the distance 1 seen,
Half dreaming, my eye will pureue ;
Now dark 1 liie shadow, ahe scatters the
Aschntiln the stroke of the flail;
Now, w hite is the sea-gull, she flies on her
yt " .
The sea gleaming bright on her sail.
Yet Iter pilot Is thinking of dangers to shun;
. Of breakers tnat whiten and roar ;
Ho wllule he cares If In shadow or nun .!
' They nee hlu who gaae from the shore.
He look to tho beacoa that looms ftom the
To the rock tW.it U under his lee.
As he drifts on the blait, like a wind-waft ed
leaf, ...... . -
O'er the gulfs of the dewiate sea. , ,
. -.-:.- . . ' V C
Thus drifted afar to the dim-vaulted caves
Where life and its ventures am laid,
The dreamers who gaxe while we battle the
waves . .
Mnv tee us In sunshine or shade: I
Yet tiue to our coarse, though our hadows
giowdaik,' . i
' We-ilUim our broad safl a before;
And stand by the rudder thai governs om
; r bark ' '. i . ,
Nor ak how we look from the shore.
; Kow Jobn WcslejWas bared. I
of Epworth, la the Lindaey divisiou ol
lincolnsbire, was disturbed . toward
midnight, on W dnesday, February 9.
1709, by the alarming cry of ' Fire!"
The ructory. an old building largely
composed of wood, was in flamei ,
.The calamity was discovered in the
hou-e by one of the- rector's children,
whose feet had been burned by Bpark
from the roof falling upon her bed.
She ran from her domitory to arouse
the family.- .Meantime hearing the cry
of 44 Fire!" from the streets, the rector
had started from liiscou:h, little imag
ining that iiis own residence was tlte
cause of alarm; but on opening hi
door he fotiud it full of smoke, and th ?
roof already burnt through, llis wife,
beinc then Ul, slept in a seperaU apart
ment, to which he flew, and bade her
and her two eldest girls shift for their
lives. Then, bursting open the nursery
door, be ronsed the maid, and told her
to bring the children out. She snatch
ed np tlie youngest and bade the rest
to follow. When they got into tht
hall, and taw themselves surrounded
by flames, they thought their fate seal
ed, for in his fright the rector had for
gotten the key of the doors. JJot an
intantwas to be lost; he rushed up
stairs and recovered them scarce a min
ute before the staircase took fire. When
the Btreet door was opened, the flam
were driven in by a strong east wind,
Willi BUCU 1U1CI1LC lllAfc UV1K? vvvtu
stand against them.' The garden door
was the next resort, out of which the
rector helped some of his children,
while the rwt got through the win
dows; but his wife was in no condition
to climb to the windows, neither coula
she get to the garden door. Three
times she attempted to force her way
to the street, but was as often beaten
bock by the fury of the flames; in a
fourth attempt, alter Invoking the Sa
viour to- preserve her from death by the
terrible element, to use her own ex
pression, she icaded through the fire,
naked as she was, receiving no further
harm than a tlight scorching of the
hands and face.
YVhile the rector was carrying his
children into the garden, he heard with
deep emotion the miserable cry for help
of a child in the nursery, a boy not yet
six years of age, who to that moment
had been overlooked. He rushed to
tlte burning stairs, but touud them to
Im ho far consumed an to be incapable
of sustaining his weight. Nothing re
mained but to commened the soul oJ
his boy to (rod, which the good man
did, kneeling in the smoking hall.
" Man's extremity is God's opportu
nity' The littlo fellow, seeing the
room illuminated with the flames, end
Mippowng it to le daylight, had called
to tlie maid to take him up ; but none
answering, he put his head out of the
curtain, and saw streaks of fire cn the
wiling. Ho ran to the door, but the
door outside being ablaze, he returned,
and mounting a chest which stood neai
the window, he ivas 6een by the crowd
in the yard. One proposed running for
a ladder; another answered there was
no time, but proposed to fix himsell
against the wall that a light man might
be lifted on his shoulders. They dkl so
and rescued the child in the instant be
fore the roof fell in, which trust have
buried him In its burning wreck. He
was carried in triumph to his father,
whe now, overwhelmed with gratitude,
cried out, "Come, neighbors, let us
kneel lown; let us give thanks to
Uxl. He has given me all ray eight
children ; let tlie house go. I am rich
enough." McttrxiiM Hora. , '
What I Have Sotlced. !
A miniver of the Gospel who has
-losely watchetl tlie operation of giving
. among our Churches, begs leave t
, note tle following as the result :
, , 1. Churches in which a tyrfati of
giving to tlie cause of Christ has I -eon
rriel out, contribute most liberally to
2. fcstich Cliurches make tlie most
sure ami rapid progress in evpporting
3. Cliurches who do little or nothing
for ouiers, uu tuts icasi ior menisci ves :
and those who do little or nothing for
. their own pastor's support, do little or
nothing for others, and are not likely
to become self-sustaining.
4. Churches which do most for Do
mestic Missions, generally do the most
for Foreign Missions; r
5. Those Churches which plead that
"tlie applications are too many,"
Witt ii.l l. nWmni not to have nun.
0. Churchc which plead that "char
ity begins ut home," are the hv4 tt.be
rtiii ii fijtiutrhm . -. ..
7. Churches which are always plead
itig that "the present is an unfavorable
lime to make an application," never
li ml a favorable time. .
8. Those people who do not give of
ten and cheerfully, do not know tlie
blessedness of giving. . -
M. Those who do not irive asthe
Scriptures teach, cannot expef'C ta re
ceive tne uieseine 01 ryripture pro-uii-cs.
10. One reuMHi why so many cive
Mi little, and with uiilt-fiiiding wht-n
they do give, i becttwse they give so
. 11. No t-vstcni f giving hit's in lU
Simplicity IIU l iuuci .'i"un nii
of tlie Aiwstlo Paul "On the iirvt day
of the week let every one of you lay by
Uiu in store as tJod hath prosi)ed."
li Tho adoption of that plan would
immediately Rive tho Ciiurcii all the
money it needs, and enable it to go for
ward "in th work of the Iml.
13. Ministers who do not instruct
tlieir iieople in tho duty of giving, and
urge it upon them, for foar their own
salaries w ill not be paid, arethcnost
xxrly cuppnrtel, und thin rrap fhot
thrg mm: Q nlrd IWnbiicrian.
. The teacher inut lc divinely taught
to "know' the doc(rinr he teache.
-. i CCU-KErS STOBT. r
1 'r '
BV TAMAR ANXE KEBMOKE. , i
' From Oodey's Lady Eook.l I.-','-CHAPTER
I am acricket-r busy, brown, noisy
little cricket, and I assure you I've seen
a good ical of life in lay day; of its
bright, and of its dark side, too. I
will tell my story in a straitforward,
natural manner, for I'm a conscien
tious cricket, and can boast with some
degree of truth that I have a natural
antipathy to the by-ways, shams, and
blind alleys of life that is really (for a
little creature like me) quite remarka
ble. ' 4
1 am one of a large family bf crick
et, aud, although 1 am at present on
the American side of the water, I was
bora and raised on the English side, in
a very comfortable mansion, and many
nd manv a time I have . trilled rny
cheerful notes as 1 satin "a cosey comer
warming my little body by a rich Eng
lish merchant's parlor lire. His letters
were addressed: "Wm Harrison, Esq."
Wm. Harrison was his name, and a
fine, portly-looking gentleman he was
just the kind of man to go smoothly
along, with full sails, a fair wind, and
plenty of sea room.
I was attached to this wealthy mer
chant, for vou know, there is an Id
adage to the eflect that, if you love
a person, you must necessarily love
every tiling that belongs to that person,
aud I loved the old gentleman's daugh
ter most truly,' most sincerely. Some
body else loved her, too; a French gen
tleman, who called hlniself, a count
something or other (I nevet could mas
ter those French names well), and I
was very jealous of him. Now I know
it was exceedingly foolish for a cricket
to be jealous of a Freuch nobleman,
but, still, I couldn't help it, and when
his patent-leather boots glided over tlie
carpet, and bis soft, silky : voice said :
"How is my dear Miss Lucy?" I posi
tively hated him, and always made it a
rule not t' ting a single note while he
was in the house. . , '
Sometimes I had her all to myself.
Ah! those were pleasant evenings.
She would sit with some little trifle of
faucy work in her hands, working qui
etly h ur after hour, with such a look
of content in her sweet blue eyes, and
iter beautiful brown hair falling iu
curls about, her face and neck, bright
ening here and there into strands of
gold as the firelight played upon it,
that I quite doted upon her. My hap
piness on these occasions was wonder
ful, and I exerted myself to sing for
her to that cxteut that I was hoarse for
days after.' Sometimes the merchant
would come in and disturb her happy
thoughts (I know they were happy),
and she would turn her face towards
him, and kiss him, and give him such
a smile of welcome that I almost en
vied him. 1 was magnanimous enough
however, only to sing tho louder, and
then she would say: - ,
" My dear father, just listen to the
cricket. Surely, you're goiug to make
a very lucky speculation." (This is an
old English superstition, and not to be
relied upon.) , ' - -" v i '
Her father would say: "les, my
d ar, but I don't care anything about
crickets. I don't believe in them; in
deed, I'd rather not hear them."
" O father," she would say, " I love
them dearly, and this little singer par
ticularly, for lie seems to be ever sing
ing of a happy future. You know bow
happy we are at present; I should like
to think that our happiness will last"
I remember well the evening when
she 6aid these words. The old man
sighed, and a dark shadow came over
hit face, a darker shadow than I, had
ever seen there before.' Then the ser
vant brought in the tea, and the room
was brilliantly lighted, and Lucy sat
at the table, and chatted gayly, and
attended to her father's wants; but he
was strangely silent, and soon after tea
he weut to his room.
Then that odious Frenchman came,
and brought with him his odious gui
tar, and Lucy listened to his soft strains
and whispered speeches with such a
light iu her eyes, and such a glow upon
her cheeks, tjiat I longed to bite him.
She was an only child, and as her mo
ther had died many years before, when
Lucy was a little child, and her father
had remained a wiaower irom timi
time, she had long reigned the sole
mistress of the fine old -English man
sionits loving, merry, cheerful, light-
But a change was coming. I noticed
inrr littln bv little, bit bv bit. ev
er 6ince the night that the shadow came
upon the master's face and seemed to
stay there. Poor, innocent Lucy ! bIic
never dreameu wnat mat suauow
meant She did'nt see it grow longer
and darker as I fronf my quiet corner
did, and oue night shequ tartled me
by saying to ner lauier: " w uai can
be the matter with my cricket? I
haven't heard his voice for a week."
And her father said : "I cannot tell,
my dear," and then he looked sadly at
the fire, aud muttered something about
the wheel of fortune, some going up
and some coming down.
Lucy looked surprised aud anxious,
and said: " My dear father, is there
anything the matter t You look pale;
are you ill?"
' No my daughter, I am not ill- -Well,
well, fortune is a fickle goddess ,
we niav not trust her. Some go up and
some go doU n," and stooping over her
he softly smoomea ner sinning nair,
and then went to his room, and we
saw him no more that night
A day or two passed away with their
usual freight of Joy and sorrow, and
then the joy went from our home, and
the sorrow remained with us. Wm.
Harrison; Esq., merchant, wasa bank
rupt. Aud 1 heard him say, in a
strange, broken kind of way, to his
daughter: "You see, my dear, in my
old age I have come to beggary, and
there is nothing left to me, nothing.
Houses, lands even tlie very furniture,
all gone a ierfect wreck aud what
ami? A perfect wreck, too, drifting
auioiu the broken timbers." ( ; '
" My dear father, 1 am left to you,
mid I am vounff and strong, and we
Iimvp manv friends." '
" Yes, Lucy, I have "," he answer
ed, rather bitterly. "Do you think
that there is any satisfaction to me in
knowing thatoM must sutler through
m u mistake ? And as to many friends,
tluivuin iass from our., pathway, as
uuicklv 11 the clouds sail over the sura
mer skv. Friendship seldom keep-
eoninanv with novertv."
Lucv couldn't believe in that doc
trine, however, and she exerted herself
to rave hor,fathoi' drooping spirits,
and looked so bright aud blooming,
and there was so much tiiusic in her
voiee, that I became quite cheerful my
self, and managed to sing for full five
minutes ior hti ijeueht altiiougu niy
voice fhxk a good deal, and I was ul-
tnsi'ther out ol'snrbt.
Well." time passed on.' Tlie rich
merchant's allairs were almost wouutl
ui, and Lucy had plenty ot time to
think of her troubles, for verv few of
her - many friends had - crossed tlie
thrwbold of her home simv poverty
had touched its inmates. The count
came occasionally: and one eveninjr.
with a groat deal of fuW show of sym
pathy, lie asKea ivticy to name an early
day for their marriage, lie wished to
go to l'ari-; theyj'ould live there very
tmppily, and they1 would nevr come
back to England he didn't like it so
cold, fo gray. .
My p;wr Lucy actually ' loved this
man, anil , it i-i impossible for me to
tell you how I hated him. ' Kut, then,
you sop, I was only a cricket, and what
did it matter? There are very fe'.vper
Miirs, '.indeed, who' would piire1Tra
cricket. ' ;
. "Hut jny father," she faltered, "what
would become ot him I uldn't
leave my dear father in his great
trouble," and she looked earnestly at
him. , - ' ' i
" Ah! my angel,"1 he said, "you
father is old- enough; he ran 'care for
himself. , Let him do it,. He will get
a situation ; he wfll do very well." i
cannot leave my rauier," said
Lucy," more flrmlyfT" My pooYfatherl
I co uldu't be so ungrateful, ao wicked "
"Verry well," he said. "Ah ! I see,
you don't care for me.. You choose be
tween us ; you stay with your father.
I release you ; I Wish you joyI-Y'dildo
not wish to marry; you never loved
me. You English are like your cli
matecold, cold, nothing but frost and
snow not like sunny Franee. Once
more I wish you joy. I kiss ray hand
to tou; I! say farewell." Tlva ddor
closed aud he left the housed a fi.
Poor Lucy sat very still, looking at
the fire, and I crept out of my corner
to look at her. The bright firelight
played upon her, sad, quiet-looking
face, and lighted up her beautiful hair,
and tears were falling from her soft
blue eyes, and some of them fell up
on my little brown back, and I was so
grieved (you will, perhap, hardly be
lieve it, but I was indeed so grieved),
that I actually trembled, and shrieked
with paitu n ' ' .r. " ,Tu;r.
The old gentleman never missed the
count, and never asked, any question
about him, and I could see that Lucy
was glad that it should be so. And
when everything was settled up, he
and his daughter found that there was
enough left from the wreck of their
fortunes to take them to a foreign land.
" We wilt go to America, my dearj"
said Mr. Harrison. "We will begin
life over again; everything is so chang
ed with me, I cannot stay here." 1
" Yes, father," was Lucy'8 cheerful
reply, "we will go whenever you
please. In that glorious land, so noted
for its plenty and its hospitality, two
strangers, such as we shall be, may
make an honorable and perhaps suc
cessful effort to retrieve our fortunes."
And so Lucy began to pack up her
little treasures (gilts of affection which
had been presented to her from time to
time), and her own and her father's
wardrobe. , She brought these articles
into the parlor, and knelt upon the rug
before the fire as she arranged them and
put them all in order. ou may be
sure that I sang for her, and gave her
all the encouragement I possibly could.
One night, as she was kneeling there
she picked up a newspaper that her fa
ther had been reading (he bad dropped
it on the floor), and she read iu it an
account of her lover's marriage. The
count had married an English lady of
fortune. He had been dividing his at
tention between her and my Lucy from
tlie time that Mr. Harrison's wheel of
fortune took its first turn in the wrong
direction. Well, he was a quick ob
server, and he knew as soon aa tlie
merchant did when tlie first, stroke of
misfortune came. ; : - v '
My Lucy's face was a study as she
read the little paragraph. There was
the deepest crimson in her cheeks I
ever saw. and such a look of Brief and
scorn in her bright eyes, I really didn't
think they, were capable or taaiug mat
expression. ' I never saw them look
like that before. .."And so, she said
' he has married, and gained ten thou
sand pounds.' I wish Aim joy,w and
then sue laugnea, out mere was v
music in her laugh; I didn't like to hear
it. And then, after a while, she cried
a little, but not for him. I'm quite
sure the tears fell not for him.' They
dropped silently and heavily for lost
trust, and hope and faith. She knew
that these had eone back to her happy
childhood, and would never brighten
her life again.
Well.' we sailed. I couldn't think of
being left behind, and so I snugly set
tled myself in one of the folds of Lucy's
traveling aress.: ' we sauea; anu 1
must sav that 1 never saw an English
sky look nure beautiful than it did on
that morning wnen we siowiy 6ieameu
down the Mersey. Thp soft white flee
cy clouds were pure and lovely, as.
taking many a fantastic form, they
floated gracefully beneath thedeepdark
blue. And the air was fresh and
balmy, and had that wonderful prop
erty in it of bracing and brightening
everybody Up to that degree, that even
, a poor, sorrowful little cricket felt
its influence, and almost betrayed my
self to Lucy by. quite unconsciously
chirping out a little. The Mersey itself
was a beautiful sight to see, with its
ships of every size, all outward bound,
nd with their white sails gliding along
all shining in the sunlight Ah I it
was well for each and every one 0 us
that we couldn't know all the sorrows
of the heavy hearts, over which smil
ing eyes kept watch and ward, as the
bhores of England slowly receded from
our sight , , , , , .
"' CHAPTER II.
Wc settled down very comfortably
in a small house in' the city of New
York, and were very well pleased with
the house and with the city: though 1
may say with perfect confidence, that
the bouse was a little too small, and
very inconvenient, and was situated in
a rather out-of-the-way place ; but then
rente were high, and as our means
were really very limited, we had to put
up with tnese little drawbacks, and be
satisfied. ' - ' '
Lucy declared that she was more
than satisfied; that it was a perfect lit
tlo Kindbdx Af . Dlacd. aril that she
didn't. e Uowv any, perm reouklT feel
anything but glad alter 00m nig aaieiy
over the great ocean-and enduring all
tlie anxieties f ita .Uncertain perils;
" indeed," ' she? continued; ,' I don't
think, such ingratitude impossible; and
reafiy ur house IM -ver niee,and tne
bustle of the great city i cbeenugraud
the bay is magniflcent
" Yes. mv love, you aro quite right
to make the best of everything," said
her father, rather despoudingly.
I listened ' to Lucy's '-'remarks aud
thought that In speaking of . the place
as a bandbox, she had done it justice;
although for my ownjpart I don't like
bandboxes. Hot that fm at at ATI par
UcuUtfbout myself a cricket can be
as cozy iirone ehimney corner as'ano
ther and if f-liadnf quite as much
hearthstone tov walk upon asI had
been accustomed toy J couldnt' blame
n v bod v Swtkal and if I was a strap-
irer in a strauee laud, I becaine one of
my wri 'free will; and there was one
ntfura ta infl in tho small
room, 1 could cauW a perfect. floou' of
melodv to fill It Without straining my
voice 111 the least. .But.t.inyjtuor
Luev I I fancied that she mtlly dHn't
lifce'rt tlmt slie tais.ed the handsome
parlor, thr well-filled llbrarj' ;the
broad ftaittva ra4 J?feQnd
laxuries of lief English liome; aud
that ft I licr cheerful ways and pleasant
words were only to use a homely
phrase make believe. . .. a
v..u if thnv were. I never sawya
person abl to do up that kind of thing
to such ' perfection as she did. She
nnfta ininoaed unon her father; he be-
1 1.1st that his failure had been
a blessiug to her, and that its ill con
sequences had passed harmlessly over
her head. I kucw better, Uian that;
but then,- as she said, she was young
and strong, and I hoped sle would be
to liear the burden she
had taken uin herself. . '; . - -'
A mv Harrison, he sank iuto a
tin,! .if iothiirirv for a while, and then
he suddenly awoke to the lact Jhat it
was necessary that he should make an
eflort One morning after breakfast,
he said: "I am going out, Lucy, to
i,w.t- fr.r ft situation. I miffht take a
clerk's situation for awhile, until some-
U!nr M.tar nflArfHl."
. mill hrtohtlv. and told him
that she- was very glnd, and that no
doubt that It would be a nepping-srons
to something better,' and her ' dear fa
ther would to 'prospered in the future
as he had been in the past- ; . , , , . ;
Ami then, when the door closed, and
f-lie hail removed the . things from tlie
lireakfast-taUo, and put tlie little par
lor In order, and had given -hear atton
: -, t u C4 .1
tion to all the matters belonging to bet
lime nousenoid.v she drew: tier worK
stand tip to the fire; and. sewed away
Very steadily ; and as she worked I no
ticed that -he. face, wore yervpobe
exprejpu H VHJK ur i(uiui iuuukuu
The brightness had all gone out of it,
and she was pale and sad, and the room
looked dark and comfortless ; .and al
though I chirped out one of mv best
strains, at its conclusion I became quite
melancholy ana JhomesieK a very un
pleasant feeling; I can assure you. ' ;
- At : one o'clock Mr. Harrison came
home in a desponding state of miud.-v
"You seeioy. dear," .lie said"hasi
ness Is unsettled at present ; merchant
are, discharging their old clerks, instead
of taking in- new ones: and I didn't
bring lettert of introduction ; there are
many difficulties Jjr.Tftyway. .'Strang
gem are looked upon with suspicion
our Chances are small, and I really
don't know what to do." jpf t
" Well, never mind," said' .Locy.
" You will have better fortune next
t;me; and in the end you will mr
mount all difficulties." ;" ' '
" It may be so," said the merchant,
doubtfully.1 -4I dont't see It in that
light myself, though ; but still it. may
be so, and as I'm very tired, Lucy, I'll
take my dinner now." ;
She; brought the dinner,. and enter
tained. him while they were at he ta
ble; but he told her very little of his
morning's adventures; he was weary,
he thought he would rest ; and, spread
ing a silk handkerchief over his head,
he was soon, in his dreams, at the head
of a prosperous business, and had ships
of his own, heavily- laden with 'mer
chandise, dancing over the blue waves
to foreign.. ports, where, they would
leave their wares, and then hurry back
with the merchant's gold. '
Well, : somebody has said that
" dreams are but echoes of our waking
thoughts." These dreams were not
certainly likely to be realized, and Mr.
Harrison's thoughts before he went to
sleep could hardly have been of such a
character as to justify them ; and as to
Lucy; I don't think that if her thonghts
were echoed to her in her dreams, they
would have gven her any pleasure at
all, for she had a faculty of trying to
look ahead on the sea of life, and, just
then looking, shecouldn'tsee anything
but breakers; and as those breakers
were heavy and rough, and beat against
a rocky coast the dim, uncertain light
that struggled across the waste of wa
ters from the lighthouse, gave her but
little comfort: for it only served to
show her the dangers of the coast, and
that coast was poverty without point
ing out the means by which she might
escape from it '
must see wliat can do," ishe said,
as she stopiied sewing for a few min
utes, and looked at the fire. VQur
money . is nearly all gone, aud $if I
should sell m watch, and the few arti
cles of jewelryl have, the iittle I should
get for them would soon go, too. 1 We
must find the means to live ;" and then
she sighed. J . ".I might get a situation
as daily governness, or give music les
sons;", and then she read carefully
through the long columns of advertise
ments in one of the daily papers, and,
after cutting out two or three of them 1
and putting them in her purse, she
sewed on steadily till the light began
to fade in tlie west, and then she light
ed a lamp, anu stirred up the fire to
make the room look cheerful and plea
sant, and her father, awoke quite re
freshed with his nap, and they had tea.
A stranger looking in upon them
would have thought that they were
very happy the old man and his
daughter that they were in whit is
called middling circumstances, and
that they hadn't either of them u sin
gle' thought of care to sadden their
lives. In fact they looke 1 so cheerful,
that I was almost deceived myself ;
and as they seemed determined to
make the best of everything, I assisted
them to my utmost ability Dy singing,
with great power, my sweetest strains,
and filliug the room with melody, that,
in my humble opinion, rivalled any
opera English or Italian.
The next morning the merchant went
out again, and Lucy prepared to follow
his example. 'As I had determined al
ways to be with her, I quietly climbed
into her watch-pocket, aud we set off
very comfortably together. She walk
ed a long way, aud then rang the door
bell of. a handsome villa in a retired
street - " ''.'. ': ' " ".
! After wnitiug 'a few minutes in an
elegautly furnished parlor, a lady en
tered, dressed 111 a nowing wuite wrap
per, from which floated a quantity of
trimmings of lace aud ana ribbons;
nd, looking languidly at her young
visitor for a few seconds, said : " Ah ! I
suppose you have come after the nur- J
sery maid's place 7- it nras.nneuiomy
satisfaction yesterday! 5 1 don't think
you would have suited in any case."
v j 1 1 .
Ijucy, very mucu surprises ana tiis
tressed by her reception, said she must
have been mistaken in the number of
the house r tho situation she was ap
plying for was that of governess."
" lioverness 7 au : yes ; 1 ao want
a governess; out, reany," ooserveu me
lady, "1 siiouiu not nave supposed
that you were fitted for that from your
appearance. I, require a great deal
from my governess ; my daughters are
almost young ladies. They have some
knowledge of music, and French,, and
fancy needlework, and a great, many
things 'Can- you - teach mnsie,TUid
singing aud French V"
Lucy thought she was capable of giv
ing satisfaction. , ,
" Well, give me your referewe-i. But
really I don't think you will suit me ;
I should prefer a much older person.-r
As to salary, it will be time enough to
talk about that if I engage you."
Lucy said that as she and her futlie
were strangers in the country, she could
only refer to her father; he could satis
fy her as to their respectability." :
" Your father for a reference ! Pear
me, I never heard of such a thing; and
strangers, too ! I couldn't think of
taking you ; I could not even be sure
that you were honest How could you
think for a moment that I would trust
my dear girls with person without a
character?" " - i
She was still talking in this strain
when Lucy closed the front door and
walked quickly down tlie street, pull
iug her veil over her face to hide from
passers-by the indignant color that was
burning hi her cheeks. She made one
or two other applications which were
also unsuccessful. : I could see by the
expression of her countenance, when
we came home, that she' had utterly
failed. I didn't hear the conversation
that passed at tho other houses, for I
cried so much, and felt so cramped up
in the watch-pocket, that a slight deaf
ness, acco.npanied with a strange sen
sation ui my head, attacked me, and I
dkin't recover my usual spirits and
powcts of observation til) I had been
settled for some time iu my corner by
the fire, aud then 1 noticed that Lucy
had taken off her - bonnet and shawl,
had arranged her hair, and was getting
her own and her father's dinner ready.
Mr. Harrison came in soon; and his
daughter looked quickly at his face,
aud, as if not satisfied with what she
saw there, looked away again.
" Well, my love," said the old gen
tleman, slowly, " this business of look
iug for a situation is very discouraging ;
in fact I've a good mind to give it up
altogether. You see there are a great
many persons wanting employment,
and any one of them would have a
better chance tlian an old man and a
stranger like me. I will try again, if
you like, but it's only trouble. thrown
away." 1 x--
l think yt-u'd better try ngaiii,"
said .' Lucy, soberly ; " perhaps if we
keep ou trying-we. rnay succeed at
last" - . . - - v .
"I almost lielieve, Lncy, that it would
have Ixvn lietter if von had pursuaded
me to stay in cyir own country ; I was
well known there ; you ought to have
done so. My liend wa not very clear
at the limp, and I certainly think you
.v 1 ' ,' -V
TENNESSEE, FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1570.
ought to have 'taken'- more thought
about the matter; yon should, Indeed,
my dear, yooabould, indeed," be said,
irritably. . ; 1
"Well, father." said Lucy, -'wediij!
the best we could under the circum
stances ; let us hope that our prospects
Wilt4 brighten fter while.' ' (She
didn't tell him tha because .Tir was
well known1 there' he' didn't Wish lo
stay.) .: - , ' : i
Well, the time passed on; day after
daj .week after JweektoouUi after
months, 'and yet iheh; nrospects didn't
brighten; ud iIthokrgh Lucy, made
many more applications, and met with
much kindness,' and was not rudely
treated assha-was when aha made her
' first effort, yet she failed to get employ
ment, ana mere aia not seem to tie any
work in the great city fbsithr father
or daughter,. - . f
Lucy's wa tali, had gone, and her
bracelets and rings were going; even
such articles of her,, wardrobe , as she
could do without Were" ready for sale,
and she thought with dread that the
time must 'shortly come' Jrhen there
would be nothing more to sell. Her
father's health, too. had been for some
time failing, and his mind, weary with
the struecle it had cone through with
poverty, and sympathizing with tlie
frail - hodft was laQlngi- tooi an he
wbft. almost childishly.
M3 - s'-I i
.. tPoor (Lucy Lor .her trials very pa
tiently. 'Jt was sad 'to think that the
only friend the dear girl had waa a poor
little ')jrown ""cricket, utterly, incapable
of doing any muig lbr her . relief ; al
thouglfshe was kind enough to say to
herself sometimes, that he , loved to
hear me sing, it reminded her of hap
pier hours.- j-t-T wi.i f fc-'iV
v WelL we were all three sitting quiet
ly in the parlor one day thinking over
our future plans, when -tlie' potman'8
rap startled ns.- Lucy went to thfe door
and brought back with her a letter
edged with black, and sealed with a
large black seat "From England, fa
ther," she said, and for me."
Her father nodded in a bewildered
kind of way, and watched her as she
opened it f a bank note flitted out and
fell 'to'1 the fioot.S Tti obi rgenfleman
picked it up and straightened it out
Fifty pounds," he muttered ; "I hagl
plenty of these once," aud then helooP
ed at Lucy. !
;V,Father,7 she aaid,"dojon remem
ber my mother's aunt,' Mrs. Horace?
She lived, in Devonshire, you know?
She was deeply offended with me when
I was a child, and we havn't seen Iter
8'uce. This letter brings the intelli
gence of her death, and she has left me
a fortune of fifty-thousand pounds." ;
My story is almost tolu. Another
letter came this morning containing
money enough to take us home, and
we expect to sail next week for Eng
land. The -merchant has improved
wonderfully under this going up of the
whel of fortune, and my dear Lucy is
her happy, blooming self again.
. I don't believe that she ever really
could have cared much for that French
nobleman, and I hope to see the day
when she will be- tlie mistress of her
own cheerful home. I'm quite sure
she will make me welcome to the best
corner by her drawing-room fire. i
THK sniWLS OF CASHMEBE.
H. J .
There is-110 " camel's hair shaws,"
uor can I learn, by much searching of
many authorities, that shawls are or
ever were made of camel's hair at all.
( On the highest Inhabited table-land
of the earth,- the average height , of
which la about; 14,000 feet above the
level of the sea, lives and . thrives the
Thibet goat..,' .., '- "
Nature has supplied this go-it with a
covering the warmest and - softest that
is known to exist ; aud every attempt
to remove tlie animal from it high
home lias been a failure, for nowhere
else will the supply of wool remain suf
ficent to reward tlie labor of keeping.
The animal ha a' coating of Jong,
coarse hairs, underneath which Is
found the exquisitely soft substance that
is almost without a name, it being too
fine for hair, and to straight for wool.;
The fleece is conveyed from Thibet
a month's journey ere it reaches the
Vale of Cashmere the Vale of Cash
mere in Northern, India, where tlie
women are beautiful as no other wo
men are, and where the men have at
tained to the perfection of the Asiatic
physical man.- Who has not heard or
dreamed of this valley where , the
shawls are made? V ' '
'.Hie date of the manufacture of (he
Cashmere shawl has not been learned,
nor is it positively known of what ori
gin the Cashmerians are - They appear
to be of Hindoo descent ' ?
Arrived in Cashmere, from Thibet,
the wool is slowly, carefully, and pati
ently collected, fibre by fibre, , tlie
choicest being selected for the costly
shawls - (probably, tho fifty-thdusaud-dollar
shawls.) - . c - :.. . f '
The color is gray as received. It
bleached by the aid of a preparation of
rice-flour, after which it isdj-ed. It is
then given to women to spin it . It is
estimated that one-half the weight is
lost in tlie preparation of the article be
fore it is woven - - ts i
. The yarn is next given out to the
weavers by a 1 merchant, who enters
largely into the t-hawl trade, and em
ploys a number of shojtt in which the
men work for him, or else he supplies
a. certain . number of overseers, with
yarnv delivering fo them at tbelsame
I111 e instructions as to the quality, col
ors and patterns, and these men carry
on the manufacture at their own houses
with the aid of ordinary weaveis. The
overseers receive sis or eight piee a day
fop their: wages i common workmen
from one to four, or about three and a
half pence A remarkably fine aud
elaborate shawl will sometimes occupy
a shop for a whole . year, four persons
being employed on it:-; - ,n 1 1
' Plain and Inexpensive shawls are
made with a long and heavy shuttle,
but the shawls . of . many colors and
wondrous patterns are worked with
wooden needles iusteadof a shuttle,
there being a separate needle lor every
color, and the more tlcts there are in
a shawl, the greater Its cost. In the
fine shawls,' scarcely a quarter of aa
inch is completed by three or four per
sons in a day. , 1 - ' . v ; V ", . r
., In order to hasten the process, many
of the shawls are woven ,- in separate
pieces in different looms. : They are af
terward so dexterously joined together
as to evade ordinary scrutiny, and
sometimes it is Impossible to discover
One object in dividing tlie work upon
a sbawlf M to avoid loss by Insects and
time, as it would require three years to
complete certain shawl?, If made en
tire. - ' : --' r 1 '
The worker puts hi tlie pattern on
tlie wrousr side of tlie shawl, aud, if it
.is new, or eieciaUy difficult; un over
seer directs every movement wmi me
pattern before him.
The shawls of cashmere are alwavt
made with lioth sides alike, althougu;
in the weaving, one side, is callul the
rough side. - ' ,.'..!' i ... - ''V i
tiueeu Victiria receives by treaty five
Cashmere shawls each year, or did a
brief time ago. ' .
In Cashmere, the shawls (not the
finest, which are almost fabulous in
price, and which find , their way into
Turkey and seldom thence) are worth
from five to eight hundred dollars.
They pay duties at vcry step of the
way thence, so tliat, arrived in Lon
don, they are worth, $2,000: . .
There are but few real Cashmere
sltawls in tho United States, the articles
known to commerce and republican
shoulders, being tlie French and Eng
lish imitations. - 7
The English have praflishcd manu
factories at Delhi and Ihore. Tlie la
bor is carried on by native Oa-dimer-Ian?,
and altiiough thp-material Imi
cjuftV the. samp,. th- fabrics have a
cult to account for.
. There is a mystery about the shawl
of Cashmere.. ,
It may be some peculiarity of the
watw ff.tbwatfulr-nr; p-jrring
dpv:4 tiuiJhA lK.gb.tW moun
tains ; it probably is the tedious pro
cess of arranging the fibres, hair by
hair, just as they grew ; or it may be
the special education of sight enabling
the workers to weave tints separately
that our blind eyes could not distin
guish ; or it mifr be many little things
combined certain it is, that France,
With all her proud looms, has not yet
made one shawl to i outvie the. soft,
yielding, wonderful creations which al
most float ?ut f th, valley of, Cash
mere. ' ' " . ;
Physical Treatment or Children.
- The physical treatment of childreBb
important, but simple, if one wishes to
make it so. The main points are bath
ing, regularity of eating and sleeping
hours, simplicity of food, and out-of-door
The habit of daily bathing should not
be suspended when a child is a few
months old. It is very little trouble,
and done handily ,ta kes very little
a i - r 1 A.t m. .
cold water. When he is put for the
first time in a bath-tub, the water
snouid be or suen-a temperature mat
he may not perceive the transition of
the air to the water. There are, ordi
narily, bqt two causes for, this, either
that the child wae not introduced, to
the bath-tub early enough in his exis
tence, or that tlie temperature of tlie
water was such as to shock him. .When
your baby is thoroughly aeeustomed to
the tub, you can gradually reduce tlie
temperature of the water until, after a
few months, you can wash hhn in al
most cold water. , .... ,r . . - ... j -.
A child gboukfeat regularly and sun
ply, but should have some variety of
food. I have found that a child soon
tires of one article if confined to it ( .
. Bread and . milk,, bread and butter,
different forms of toasted bread boiled
hominy, India mush, cracker panada,
simple preparations of corn starch, rice
boiled in milk, ad roasted tootatoes,
makes a sufficient Variety. ' Give your
child plenty, of exercise in the open air. ,
If you live in the city, all I can say is
do the best you can ; but if yon. live in
the country with space about yen and
gate well secured, pnt your child out
of doors and let him wander about af
his will. In summer, leave him out all
day if, he eujoys it In winter, wrap
him up, and send iiim out in moderate
and puasant weather. 1
Let him iret as dirtv as he uleases.
fHis face will be kept pretty clean if he
spends enough time la . the open air to
prevent his taking bad colds, aud if
you do not allow him to eat between
meals. 1 - " - ' 1
It is somewhat trying to sec your lit
tle boy or girl reveling in the midst of
a pile of dirt, etqiecially when you re
member that Mrs. C, whose children
always look as if they had just issued
from bandbox, retirement, may possibly
call and gate with virtuously reprov
ing eyes ; but never mind that You
are living for your child ; you know
what is best for its health and happi
ness, and do not allow yourself to. be
moved - from the course which ; you
know to be right, by the false fear of
false pride. Herald 0 Health. -
A few Maxims for Young (dr!) '
. Jieven make your appearance in the
morning without, having Atst ,larlied,
if only with a sponge and quart of wa
ter, brushed and arranged your hair,
dressed yourself peatly and completely.
Keep your clothiug; especially your
underclothing, in perfect order. 2ever
let pins do duty as buttons, or strings
take the place or proper bands. '
Examine every garment when it
comes from the wash, and, if necessa
ry, mend ,it with neatness and precis
ion. Do not sew up tlie boles in your
stockings, as we have seen some care
less, untidy girls. do, but, take in a
broad margin around the hole, be it
small or laree, with a fine darning-
needle and darning-cotton, and cover
the fracture witn an interlaced stitcn,
so close as to be as strong as the body
of the stocking, ami fine enough to be
ornamental. . i, v .
Stockings mended iu this way need
darning but a very few times in 'tlie
course of tlieir existence.' ; u
Never carry coa.se embroidered or
laced handkeiXihiefs. Fine plain ones
are pinchi more ladjvlike. T y
i Avoid .open-worked stockingif and
very fancy slippers. Fine plain white
hose, and black kkl slippers, with only
a strap or rosette iu front, are more be
coming. j i:.J w.! " 1
Train yourself to useful occupation.
Remember it is wicked to waste time,
atd nothing glves such an impression
of vanity and t absolute silliness as a
habit of idling and never having any
thing to do. I
' t If you are In your father's house tike
some department of household labor
upon yourself, and a part of the sew
ing, and make it your business to at
tend to it. Do not let a call from this
idle girl, or a visit from that, or an in
vitation from tlie other, interfere with
the performance of your duty. o.
Let your pleasure come iu as a recre
ationnot as tlie bwlness of your life.
If- you can ; cultivate sonie art by
which you -ran gain , au independent
livelihood. I Do it whether, there I ne
cessity for it or uot- Do it quietly if
you will, but do it Them is no telling
wheu or uuder wnat circumstances you
may need it l)wncrel.
Cost of Loafcrism.
1 I 1
Does tlie yo'tiiig uiaii wIk pvrsists in
being a loafer ever reflect how much
less it would cost to be a decent, re-suet-table
hfe'thatloaferisiu is more economical
than gentility? . Anybody can lie a
gentleman, if he chooses to be, without
much cost, but it is mighty expensive
lieing a loafer. It costs time in the
first place days, weeks, mouths of it
iu fact, about all the time he has for
no man an be a first class-loafer with
out devoting nearly his entire tini to
it The occupation, ; well i followed,
hardly aftbnls time for eating, sleeping;
driweitad almost, said drinking but
011 reflection wbiwill except that' vThe
loafer findsjime to drink,wbeueVfr in
vited. It ''-costs -frieadk.ri)nce fully
emliarked on the sea of loafenlom, aud
you tdl fareweir to every friendly "tail
that floats under an. lyue-st and legiti
mate flag, -'our cousorti will tmly be
tlie buccaneers of siety. It costs mo
ney or' though tho Xuafer .' may. not
earn a cent, or liave one .for months,
the time lost might have produced him
much money if devoted to industry in
stead of sloth. s It -costs' health; vigor,
comfort all the true pleasures of liv
ing, honor, dignity; self-respect, and
the respect of tlie work! when : living,
and finally, all regret Or consideration
when dead.'. lie a geu'tlemaU then, it
fc ikr cheaper; tit X'-t V'' 1
'" During the examination of a wuim4
as to the locality of stairs in a bouse, the
counsel a ked bf nl r which wiy do the
stairs run ? " .The -witness very inno
cently replied: "oneway they run up
stairs, but the other way they rtui down
stairs." The learned 'Counsel winked
both eye, and then took a look at the
- At a temperance mcetinjr, in Buffalo,
a few nigliH ago, a lady declared it ber
firm belief that it'was grave sin for
parents to allow their children to use
condiments d inveighed against tlie
lonir category of sin aud chine' winch
I may lie traced back to theiinlnodenirp
it .i 1
use 01 iiie siiiuuiuiiii-iiiufutm. ,
"Jarta Carolina Stratbt Driok. i
Some years since, when they were
buildin the' locks on Coal River, I was
over thnr.at Pcytona, an' I stout in at
pr. Kelhun'8.vl f it ij
There waa a famine just then, and
great eurTeriu among men, women
and children, for the waut of the nec
essaries of life. . . , ,
' -Leastwise it was about the safue
thingl There waa plenty of meat, an
abuudance tf corn, and 00 skarcity ot
chickens bat the livers were dry, au'
whiskey mn entirely short. Some
prudent people bnd lain- in sufficient
stock; but more had not, and the suf
fering was enormous, c, , , .
v- Dr. .Helium was in trouble, too he
sympathized with his neighbors; but
be bad a half barrel of ninety-fire per
cent ileoliol in hu office, aud as tar
as he was concerned, he man aged to
fix up with sugar an' water, air gum,
an' ether, an' sich truck, until he made
4 purty fair; drink. ' beein' I was a
friend of his, be invited me to sample
it Well, it kinder filled the ; room
with tha smell, and just then a man
from the Mud River country came in,
on his way to Raleigh cote honse.
lie smelt, the smell, aud says, I're
been nigh two days from home, aa'
I'm almost starved. .
Ohsays Kellum, piisiiir'Mo the
cask,. that it. , Help yourself.
The chap brightened up, au' he
dratted a level tumblerful of that al
cohol, n' afore ypitcoud ssy Vat, you
beast,' down it Weiit
Keliuni he turned pale.
. Ssys the man:;-" - : 1 "
'I'm much Obleeged to you, that's
sarchin !' an he turned ' and walked
OOf. ' '" ' " ' ' ' ' - - i
f, Kelluiu ad as if he'd bin f hot, ami
then jumped up.. : - ; 1
V"That won't do,' says be. That's
enough f 0 to pizen a crowd.' Ill call
Mia back and give him an emetic' i
i.'.W 1 1 but lit, went to the door. He
wnsn't iu eight. I run up to the crick,
Oi' Kelluiu, lie run down the road,
butlt wasivt iio hue. " i (
'I shotikhrt woudei, bats Kelluia,
ef that chap liau'tgoue an dledsome
whii by himself. ' Tharll be a corpse
fpntMrdifuctlr, an lots of Irouhre.' f ; '
"'WeU, we soLthar for.aboutau hour
talking about the poor fellow's mel
ancholy falc.whui all to wonst, iu
walks the chap himself, as pert as a
wild cat. 1 - '.- '
5 'Doctor says he, 'I'm a gwiue a
long way up the rivcr,: and liquor is
fckeei ceand if it's all thcsaiiHi toyonj
could jpu spar, iuc another tumbler
ful? it's the most snttsfyin . liquor I
ever drank. !
A GREAT KICK.
- Tlie Evening Keictt, of CJold Hill, Ne
vada, contains the subjoined account bf
a great race against time, on the Car
son City Course, by Johnny Fay lor, for
a stake of 51,000, or $500 to $5,000 that
he conjd ride fifty miles in two hours:
f Afrjuct twelve o'clock Fay lor made
m.f appearauce. mounted, ana reauy
for the tray.1 He is a lMit-Uiilt. dark-
complexioned young man, and weiehs
118 pounds, y After a few minutes' pre
liminary arranging or anairs, away tie
dashed on - the Urst heat . We have
never seen a better rider. Terfectlv
erect and steady, he rode firmly in his
stirrups, and : seemed no impeding
weight for a horse to carry, but on the
contrary, light, lively, and anything
out a ueau weight. Joiinny Knows just
how to" ride a horse, that's certain.
We did not time all the heats separate
ly; as that would be too lengthy a mat-
.1.111 I.... . 1 . J ..
i iuuiuiueui, uui tut; siiorresi
was made in two minutes and to se
cond?; the average was about two
minutes and eight seconds, fcjome of
the horses he rode twice foXiud. at a
single heat, and one three times; most
ot tine ni. however. ; he rode onlv bnpp
LoC tine 111, however, ; he
H litwl i K ilia Fnf -A...t
iwiiiii. ...m fc.'p hu liiti 9H.ifi win iraVA,
near the half-mile pole, he liad placed
horses also waiting, and had to change
at that point on two or three occasions.
When coming in on the home stretch,
if the horse he rode was observed to be
failing, a fresh horse was taken out to
meet him, and exchanged ; this was
done also two or three times. One
very interesting feature to notice was
the extreme rapidity and facility with
which he changed horses at the stand.
A fresh one ready saddled and bridled,
was held there, and when he rode up,
two or three men would seize his horse
aud assist him to leap down aud Into
the saddle of tlie other horse, these
changes thus occupying far less time
than it takes us to write about them.
Indeed, the last dozen or twenty heats
he was not allowed to touch the ground
at all, but was simply picked off one
saddle at.d placed Into tne other, with
a slap bestowed 00 his horse's rump in
order to start him off at a hurry. It
was little the livlJest horse navigation
most people ever aw. About the
twenty-third mile round blood was dis
covered coming from Faylor's mouth
and one ear, being subject, to bleeding
at the lungs on such occasions, under j
me k?anuuy severe exercise, wit as he
kept a "still' upper lip," and about 1
that time ao shouted for- some one to
get his watch aud bet it 011 tlie race,
we felt assured' that he would live
through itand lie did. About two
o'clock, p. m., he finished . tlie race :
time, one hour, fifty-tight minutes aud
thlrry-threesccontls within two hours.
As he rode In from the concluding
heat,' looking' still ?quite Vigorrew, and
anything but- exhausted, he was taken
from the, saddle, amid loud cheers of
triumph, and hilariously parried on the
shoulders of his friends to the front of
the judges' stand, from which the re
sult Was ' announced immediately.
Faylor being called upon lor a speech,
replied, thanking his friends for their
effort In his behalf, and expressing the
hope that he would be as successful in
the gruut race he is to run of 3J0 miles
in ten i hours, at Jerome Park, New
York, in May next. Faylor had pro
cured fifttHtn horses for his race of yes
terday, but he had to use three more on
account of some of them getting lame.
Inother-Trus. Dog Story.
' A physician near tbL city has a fine
Newfoundland. Calling the otlier tlay
with tlie dog, in a locality entirely new
to him, a mile or more from his house,
the doctor was questioned . as to the
pup's sagacity. .He proixwed io leave
ifci TstJckln tlie roonifnAvhich all three, !
EjCSfr SSnl the animal
horned S him Uck ti ?U hoS! I
Atte?UdcS h?d left w?th
tte&m teJw i
er vl) the liouse to which lie was sent I
back, treaclierously clored all Uie win-
nH relit th house 111 rpniarkahlv i
- - - . . . .
or two of French wimlow-gfiw awl a j
sash with it, and had eteel. the stick ;
from the corV where hlt master luul :
left iLr He made no delay fi any tri- ,
vial opening of doots. The r;int of!
cxtraiK-e wa gooil nuwigh for hhn ; ;
though tlie t!ek in hi mouth left me-
thing of a wiilrT iwath in Tbr window '.
after his exit. P.-itun r-uir, 'f ..
. i..: 1 r- v.-. cl 1..
good time, n uoor ana .window ; . miWit5..;. i. 1'
question, proved a puzzle at first, but ; - YiiyCZi
lifter circulating round the Ja,.,e antl hS-. tofS S hk. "indtS
ground a few minutes he ch a win-
dow of the room where he had bci ,ui,,i JZ1..2. " .,. . . . ,
VOL: XV. NO. 33.
in KxfraYagaat Kailread Storj.
. , Kroiu the Milwaukie Wlitouira. .
Certainly the most singular escape
from accident the II7cotW has . ever
been called upon to record, took place
Ax' the Union depot yard, near Green
wich street' A train of fiat-cars loaded
with unow taken from the yard was
moving out at the rate of five miles per
hcur. A German,' upon whose hands
time hung heavily, and who had no
doubt been drinking, came down
Greenbush street, smokiug a cigar. He
saw the train, and the idea struck him
that he would take a ride. . Selecting
the fifth car from tlie end, he made a
jump and landed flat on the rail fair
ly across It, between the fourth and
fifth cars The wheels struck his head
and pushed it oft against the snow, but
turning the man so that his head come
on the track. ' The wheels of the next
car struck the head, throwiug that oft
and turning the feet on again, and so
on until every set of wheels under tlie
cars liad spun the body around, throw-1
l-jg urst um ueiu uu men utv it-ri ui
the unfortunate man upon me track
and into danger.
Captain Callaway and his brother,
who were near, the spot at the lime,
saw the affair, and say that the man's
body, by the action of the wheels, kept
going aoout , ujko a top. iney got 10
the spot as soon as they could, expect
incr to find the man cut to pieces. Lift
ing him up, we may judge of their sur
prise to find that he was only severely
bruised. Carrying him to a saloou, the
German soon came to himself, ana only
complained of feelinjr sore and bruised.
How be escaped death Is certainly ft
miracle, and cannot be explained. All
the time, and until he was taken to tlie
saloon and recovered, the man clung
to hia cicar. hen fully recovered
and questioned as to his feelings while
in so dangerous a place, tne man saai
he realized it fully, and" expected the
next nair of wheel that reached him
would cut OfT his head or his legs, but
after a little while he got accustomed
to it and believed there was no danger.
He sakl he thought he iu under the
train about three-quarters of an nour,
and would : scarcely lielieve tliat the
whole thins occupied but a few seconds.
However, short as was the time, he
does not care to be placed iu the same
When the bridesroom is presented,
the whole house is in confusion; all the
relations, friends, and neighbors, on
both sides, are invited to the house1 of
the bride, w nen an tne expecreu com
pany are assembled, the match-maker
" . 1 1 a 1 j .. 1
comes in, leaaiug ute unueijrooui iv
the hand, and going straight to the
head of the house, nreseuts him. The
father first then the motherkisseshim.
The bride's father then leads the young
man to a table covered with a white
cloth: ou the table i& a silver salver
with a loaf of bread on it, nut on
the bread a salt-cellar with salt Two
rinsrs one of cold, the other of silver-
are placed on a small silver tray lfore
a goiuen image ui ww iriu iuarjr
holdhiir the Child Jesus in her arm
With this Image they bless the future
couple. All the company stand; ' the
mother holds the bride, completely
dressed in white, by the hand, surroun
ded by all her dearest friends and con
nankins. All . bow before the image,
The father takes the image, the mother
the bread and salt; tne young couple
then kneel under the image, and are
first blessed by the father; the latter
then takes the bread and salt from the
hands of the mother, and then gives her
the image, and the same ceremony Is
reneated. Alter mw ine iarner ana
mother of tho bridegroom do the like
Th n comes the fcivinjr of the rins,
The bride's father gives the golden ring
to tlie bridegroom, and the silver one
to the bride, uney are now amanoeu
to each other, and give each other tlie
first kiss. , When the ceremony is over
the company enjoy themselves; they
cliat, laugh, eat, and drink, and sepa
rate, after having nxeu me uay ior tne
marriage. During the interval be
tween this ceremony and the marriage
the bridegroom spends all his evenings
with his bride, often td n tefr. The
marriage ceremony follows. It Is also
called the coronation, because, dunne
the ceremony, a crown w placed on the
beads of the anianceu. . xnen me priest
offers them a cup of wine, of which
they both drink, a a sign of the union
they have contracted.- A solemn pro
cession is led by the officiating priest,
the bride and bridegroom Allowing
him, round the desk placed iu the cen
tre of tlie church, upon which 1 laid the
Bible. This li meant to represent tlie
joys which await them, and the eterni
ty or ttese ties, uunng me puoiic cer
ebration of tlie marriage, the rings
worn bv the young couple are exchang-
eth the husband now wearing thesilver
one, the urme tre goiuen. r rom tne
church all the company invited go to
the house of the tridegroom's father.
A week after they return to chnrcli,
when the priest lift1 the crown from
their beads. This Is the final consecra
tion of marriage. ;.. '
About ten years since, I was laid up
with au excrutiatiug headache, which
seemed to encircle the ear of. that side
ot the head aloue affected. Th idea
that the headache had something to do
with the ear as a center occurred to me,
although iu tlie ear itself there was no
pafu. I itau a little almond oil, aud
also spirit dropped Into tlie ear, but
without any good effect; "when the
thought suggested itself that a little of
the antesthetic ether (not the nitric)
might do good by deadening the nerv
ous pain. I had some drops of rectified
sulphuric ether, therefore, put into my
ear; and in too course of lutlf au hour
my headaclie was entirely gone.
I have since found, both from my
own occasional experience and that of
other, that ether so applied is, iu near
ly all cases, ah effectual cure of these
very painful headat-hes, faeeaches,ja
aches and toothaches, which are com
monly known as neuralgic ami rheu
matic. ' .
If in a very ever cane, two or three
days may clai during which the pain
may lie apt to recnv, especially from
now and even .slight 'exiio-wre to
draught); but repeated applications of
halt a uocu urop or less f ether at a
time seem certain to subdue the luot
violent attack, sometime- , hi -.a very
few minutes. A drop or two ot almond
or olive oil afterwards put into the tar,
I have tliotight, tended to protect from
a new attack. As the ether sometimes
gives pain In the ear for a moment
while lieing 'applied, a Mingle drop
should, first of all, be eareiuly put in,
1 .1 . . . . 1 . . .. -1 1 1 1
L TV- ..-!.CTT," ' . ,T
effwt iihr ia "V bariB 4r "ther
wls' from tLe io w
,M,r lwve 1 uenl au-v froul thM wll
,l J rectmimeiKlatioii.-
r "f,U ':.- . . . ;
.... ,.. . " 1r.-nl-. w,l
.."v..... ,11.1-7. r.u iki.-vs'
" sV- '
. . , '',... ' " '
. u'; iii"1"- " wtdl 1
l"l' or. foal. .- l:c philosophy of
fwli:ir out farm stock haa been but
I"t'' altudcd to by fanners ; yet it is
field f inqniry' that" will pay as
r'clily f'r in ventilations "as any lite
f.iriuer .can explore.. ; - v
Ia the gray of the trWght and glow Of the
. flr, '
V litUe frtrl sat on Uie nut. " ' ", '
Siie wm warming a slipper; and powviat
nlKh her, -- , .
And aito her friend, Mr. Pug.
And th aoog U the Un of the glad little
A!Jhe W th 11 re Played over ch earl,
Wa, "rather in votiudk, hamuli fcarnUi f
.uici jsvumiuy, aura
She lid rwwd oat his soft wuoteu gowa oa
the chair, .
With he lacing of heantlfol bluo . ' v '
Hfti nioktvt BA lll-TklikVtlilnM thai l..l.
' And n.xoa uungs as well as nhe kaw."
M For tho ron niunt be tidyaad yrettrand
sne m herself. " when he comes every
night, . .
- Anil noon ha 1h comlne, hurrah ! borrah !
' Father in coining, huriuh .'
How rosy her cheek, antl how spartlinn her
How dimpled her soft little hand !
" hlUf Pay and Pag look at aolentn and
A if the whole vm tbey bad planned.
But you never wouM taluk, no demar are
That the little mukl's heart could- be siMinz
Father uteomin, hnrrnhf hurrah ? "
Father U coiu.ag, Uurruli ! " . -
- .. t . "... - 1. .
The suulisht hat vanished, and bleak Is the
And b?sars are dreading the night. ' -The
pavement U noisy with houie-speciUng
And only the windows are bright ) J
When quickly the little maid aprlng from
. 1 . . . . ..... .
ruany iiuii Meepmg, nairouowed by
Father is coming, hurrah ! liar rah! ' .
Father is coming, hurrah! ,
H0MT JIAKBLES" ARE I1BL
Nomehiajr for the Beija.,
The chkf place of the manufacture of
"marblea," thone little round pieces of
8tone whieli contribute so largely to the
enjoyment of " Young America," ia at
Oberstein, on the Xahe, in Germany,
where there are large agate mills and
quarries, the refuse of which is careful
ly turned to good paying account by
being made into the small balls em
ployed by experts to knuckle with,
which are mowtly scut to the American
market The sultarce used In Saxo
ny Is a hard, calcareous stone, which is
first broken into block, nearly square,
by blows with a hammer. These are
thrown by the one hundred or two hun
dred into a small sort of mill, which ia
formed . of a Hat. stationery slab of
.ituia, m 1111 m uuiuult ui CACvuinu IUX
rows miii it; face. A block of oak, or
other hard wood, of the same diamet
ric size, i placed over the small stones
and partly resting upon them. This
block or log w kept revolving, while
water flows upon the stone slab. - In
about fifteen minutes the stones are
turned to spheres, and then, being fit
for sale, are henceforth called " mar
bles." One establishment, containing
only three of these rude mills, wiU turn
out full sixty thousand " marbles " in
each week. Agates are made into
" marbles," at Oberstein, by first clip-
Eing the pieces nearly round with a
ammer, handled by a skilful work
man, and then wearing down the edges
npon tlie surface of a large grindstone.
A Wondcrral Jfachlie. '
- The pin machine is one of the closest
approaches that mechanics have made
to the dexterity of the humau hand. A
small machine, about the height and
size of a ladies sewing machine, only
much stronger, stands before you. Ou
the side at the back a light belt descends
from a long shaft in the ceiling that
drives all the machines, ranged in rows
02 the floor. On the left side of our
machine hangs, on a small peg, a small
reel of wire, that has been straightened
by running through a small compound
system of small rollers. The wire de
scends, and the end of it enters the ma
chine. This is the food ivinmmi hv
this snappish, voracious little dwarf
He pulls it in and bites it off by the
inches incessantly 140 bites to -the
minute. Just as he seizes each bite, a
saucy little hammer, with a concave
face, hits the end of the wire and "up
seta" it to a bead, while he gripes It In a
counter-sunk hole between his teeth.
With an outward thrust of him tongue
he then lays the pin sale ways In a little
groove across the rim of a small wheel
that slowly revolves just under his nose.
Bv the external pressure of a stationary
hoop, these pins roll in their places as
they are carried under two series of
small tiles, three In each. These files
grow finer towards the end of the se
ries. They lie at a slight Inclination ou
the pins, and by a series of cams, lever .
and springs are made to play like light
ning. Tims the pins are dropped in a
little hower in a box. Twenty-eight
ponndi are a tlay 'a work for one of
tnese jeraing nttie automatons. Two
very intelligent machines reject every
crooked Pin. even tha slifrhost lrraru-
larity of form being detected. Another
automaton assorts half a dozen lengths
in as many boxes, all at once aud un
erringly, when a careless operator has.
niixeu tne contents or boxes from va
rious machines. Lastly, a perfect ge
nius of a machine hangs tlie pins by
the head In an inclined platform
through as many slots as there are pins
in a row of paper. These slots con
verge into the exact pace spanning the
length of a row. I nder them runs the
strip of pin paper. A barb-like part of
the machine catches one pin from each
of the slots as it falls, and by one move-
uivud oiivno iai.ui u wutuU UJo '
rugated ridges in tlie paper, from which -they
are to be picked ty taper fingers
in boudoirs, and all sorts of human cu "
The greatest cataract in the world is
the Falls of Niagara, where the water
from the great upper lakes forms a riv
er of three-quarters of a mile in width,
..l ti,nn l;n.. ..! 1.. . . 1
aui. uteris- ucuiu nuuucuir uumrocieu.
plunges over the rocks in two columns,
to tlie depth of one hundred and seven
ty feet each. ;
Tlia imiataut wvu Em ll . 1 .1 I.. B ..
TUamnioth Cave in Kentucky, where
any one can make a voyage on the
water of a subterranean river, and
catch fish without eyes.
liie greatest river in tlie world is tlie
Mississippi, four thousand one hundred
miles long. -
1 he largest valley in the world is the
Valley of the Mississippi. It contains
nve hundred titousand suuare miles.
and is one of the most fertile and pro
fitable regions of the glolie. '
The largest lake in the world w Lake
rMipenor, wuicn is truiy an inland sea,
being four hundred and thirty miles
long, ami one thousand feet deep.
The longest railroad in the world h
the Pacific Railroad, over MJOU miles in '
The greatest natural bridge in the .
world the Natural ISridge over Cellar
Creek, iu Virginia. It extends across
a chanm eighty feet in width, and two
tiuuured and fitly feet in depth, at the
bottom of which the creek flows. ' .
The greatest ma of r!id iron in tlie
world is th? Iron Mountain in Missou
ri. It h tli'vejittwdred and flfty feet
hfcr h, and two miles iu cigtuit.
- The bet 'specimen of tlrecian archi
tecture in the world U the (iiranl Col
kgc for Orphans, Philadelphia. .
. ' Peace and Harmony.
A Morons Lodge U the temple of
peace, harmony and brotherly love.
N'otliinir is allowed ti tiitr u h'u.h l.-
the remotest tendency to disturb the
quiet ude of its pursuit-'. . A calm Inqui
ry into tlie beauty of wisdom and vir
tue, and the study of moral geometry,
may be prosecuted witltout cxeitementr
and they constitute the chief employ
ment in t'c styled recesses , of the
Lwlgc. Hie lessons of virtue which
prueeed from the Kast, like ray of
brilliant light streaming from the ris
iugsmi, illuminate the West andgouth,
and as tlie wurk proceed. ar tArefulfv
........ n.. 1 1 iv. .wnuivik aiiiiis,
Wisdom coneeive- the Jan and in
structs, the workmen, ; Strength ami
lieauty adorn.-s it with curimis und cuu- .'
uing workmauiiii. Ail this Ls-coui- -plishetl
without tlie n-e f eitlM'i' axe, '
liainmer, or any other tiwl of brass w'
iron within tl:e precinct of tho Tem
ple, to disturb tlie pfui-eful sais'tity of
that holy place. .
lmh!lifil Kl,tli.i .-..l.tiv,..,. n.l.il..
A wealthy citizen of a certain town
in Maine died ix---itiy, and LU latt
wonls to bis kt were: '.' ilaulr:e oh
whi'io.n i uiitHifil, and tlou't curt el-b
,i round f.r a vj?o k!i.W. Jit bo ' ". :r
tValNtdy." Hi afi.UMvl aeon ti
his rcpuet. ,