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THE CANTON MAIL. On square, ten lines, one inserlion. . . .$ 1 fiO Eacb sabsequent insertion ? Pnblishfd Etctj Saturday Kamme, CliMb of oue squve oue yew 15 (JO Cards of two squares one year 25 00 One-fifth of a column one tau ak on One-fourth of a column one year...... 45 01 One-third of a oolanm one year. ....... 65 00 One half column one year 80 00 One column one year 15Q 00 EMM3GTT Hi. ROSS. Office, Ha S Ceatre-st, Mir Fostoffies. Notices in local columns inserted for 20 cent I per line for each insertion. Emmett L. Ross & Co., Proprietors. For forma of Rovorniuent I-t fooln contt ; Whatevt-c's bet athiuuistereii is best." Terms: $3 00 a Tear. No proof of publication of Wal advAt-tinA- TEBMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. meutd will be made until our foe in settled. Announcing candidates for state and district Vnr nu vrar. fa aetvaiaee. ..3.00 ' offices, $15; and for county oilier, K). Ini riages and deaths puUinheJ free. Obitu aries charged as ad rerti semen tH. r rear, II o l dli t-'or l luomlfes. In alne.. .. 3.5U . l.SO VOLUME X. CANTON, MISSISSIPPI, MAY 8, 1875. NUMBER 44. CANTON MAIL. AS ABRIVICimARY. Im a ehambir old and oaken, m In a fsisk aad faltering way, KTalf a dozu word wvre pokes. Jam elevMi yetvra tOKlsy. Wht wms bound and what was broken, a woman " conaoieooe say. H Uf a doccm words excited. Whispered by a lover' ide; Half delihtd, half l righted. Half in pMaaora, half In pride: And a maidea troth is pli bted, Aad a faLMion-knot Is tied. Has a maiden not a feeling ' Tbat can swell, and sln, H utii Cira not oVr her spirit ata Ttkunnliurf tbiiwsthat wtr bsltie In her ntart did no nreahns; TU her luvewas suuMhiot' mote i Uarvty bait a doawn tfaiiec, Half ia earnest, half in mirth Vive or stx. or sevcsi daaees- Woat Is sucb a woo ton worth T Conrtehlp tn whica no romance it, Cannot fire a true lore b-rtb ; Pj tow is a pate and power 8'o-rly KTowinc vnto mtftht, Mbc Tliiuot the Boor n Brieve ! st at nigbt ; ri a we4 : tls mA low -j Tnat arwei tm a a nl. Lhrbtir la the promise ... Ltchtlw Is ta iowe-k . -.-.. And the maid redeem th Lirinjr at her husband's side And her heart- it is not broken. Sot it hi not in its pride. jT WHh the years shall earn a feetiae, Never, may be, felt before ; Sbe ahall find her neart-conoeelinc t Wants K did not knew of yores Silently the troth rewhn Beal lows is somethlnc more. Ckmmber'm Journal. AUHT ELISOR'S EASTEB OFFERIXU. Sueh consteniaifba as' the -news of Nell Earle's -runaway marriage canaed the staid' inhabitants of Newton to be likened only jto the shock of a severe earthquake. It was social earth quake, shaking to the very foundation .all the old-timed theories sud beliefs in the wisdom of Solomon even, for does he not say, " Train np a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he shall not depart from it ? " There fore, when everybody in the whole town of Newton knew that, from a little child. Nell Earle had been not only traiaeoVbnt drilled to march through the straight and decorous paths young laajea an expeciea to promenaae, ana wih the sternest of captains at her head in the person of her Aunt Elinor when ever) body knew this, and then heard suddenly that Nell had " broken ranks" ungracefully (tfifgraoefully some put it), and that just on he ere of her marris&e to the grave, to the dignified oia rrolessor ol mathematics of the um ersity she had started off one blight May morning in m simple buff linen is, and taken the train for New York, where- she was met by the Professor's young son, aad thea and there married him instead of his father, and sailed - for Europe the next day this m the temoie anocK tnat made the .New- toniaas tremble. If Nell Earle, whom everybody thought the " prettiest be haved" and " best brought up " girl in that part of the country, would act in this outrageous way, what were they to tear rrom tneir own wild, wilful daugn- tars? Aunt Elinor was almost distracted when she read the letter that reached her the morning after Nell's departure. "I ana sorry,- dear auntie," it ran, " that I have been obliged to do, in going away from- you in this manner, what I feel to be a wrong toward one who has filled for me the place of mother. It is undatiful and unkind, but, anntie, yon have wronged me as - welL vWas it not "undutiful and un kind, in yon to insist upon my marry ing a man for wbom I felt only a filial respect t I told von I did not love Pro fessor Brier. I begged von to let me say ' no' to his repeated solicitations lor my hand, and I did hot ever say 'yes ; I answered him, you remember, Give me time to consider.' Ton both took it for granted that in time I would an swer affirmatively, and yon then, anntie, annonneed my engagement and ordered my trounemu without one word of enoouragement or acquiescence from my lips. I thought sometimes I would just let things go on it would please Jon. and I do owe yon a great deal, and wish I eould please you as well in the aiuereni cnotoe x nave made. I thought x wouia ie id wis po3d and make him haDzrv. let respect crowd out and kill the tinv feeds of love that lay in my heart, only waiting for a word from the rightful . lips to make them take root and blos som. And, auntie, the words were . spoken at last, and last night when Karl Boder met me on the rue tie bridge down by the brook, and told me all and asked me all then I answered all How eould I consent to become a mother to the man whose wife I gladly un r " I hope in time vou will f orcive nn I ask your pardon for leaving yon in this way. I saw no other. I had not the courage, after all the preparations vvu uao maae i or my marriage with the Profrssir, to announce to you my deter mine So i to marry bis son. We sail for Europe at noon to dy. Dare I hope tbat, if I ever return, yon will meet me wiiu m kiss oi forgiveness? We hsve forwarded a letter of exnlanatfnn tn th. Professor, which. I trust, will be re- ceivea in toe spirit with which it was written. Affectionately, your niece, j Euxon Easlk Boons." When she had finished reading the epistle, Miss Elinortook off her glasses, folded np her letter into four folds, ihen tote it np into four times four, sod threw the pieces oat of the window. where the fresh May breeze caught op ana wmriea tnera down the garden walk, e - - I will never receive her into my iiuivo again. A SHI HOT out Of my heart, as I toss her letter to the wind ; and Aunt Elinor sank back into the cnair. and went to rockunr fnnouslv. Professor Itoder was walking slowly up uw vmage street, aooui mat time, his head bent down in study, as usual. and a letter which he had just gotten at the postoffioe still unopened in his hand. Just sa he reached Miss Elinor's gate one of the little white squares of " -. w . . I nor tamiuu ui - vunuauituy, auu msnnAr u to lnflnra me flrrana oniect ou win loiwr uvuwa on ms Diaca gloved hand. He looked at it closely and read, "I did not ever say 'yes ;' I answered him, you remember, 'Give me time." The Professor recognized the writing and the words. He stooped then and pieied up one or two other bits that lay fJAis feet. "I told yon I did not love Professor waiting only fir a word from the rightful lips." " Could I consent to become a mother to the man whose wife I gladly am 1" Ah. Professor, only tinv bits of the mosaic, but the whole tablet of mys teries is understood now. Very slowly walked the grave Pro fessor np the garden path. Miss Elinor saw his approach; and met himot the , door, her face aflame with shame snd indignation. - " Before any explanations, madam," said he, "allow me to read this letter from my son, received this morning ;" and then be seated himself, and read through twice the announcement of his son's marrUge, and the little plea of love and snpplication for forgiveness - signed by both. After a long silence, in which the : eong of the young robins in the cherry trees outside sounded very sweet and near, the Professor arose, and with his bat in his hand, said : " Madam, I think we have both forgotten that spring time and jonng love go together. I remember it now. 1 conratnlate yon npon the gsin of a nephew. Karl is good boy. I in turn await your oongralnlations. I have a daughter, and one whom I shall always love dearly as such. Good-morning I" and taking his cane, the grove Professor walked as slowly down the garden walk and up the village street, and no one in iNewton ever heard him say another word on the subject. He answered one or two who questioned him, however, as to the whereabouts of his son. " My son and his wife are abroad on their wedding tour. I hope to see them npon their return. " Aunt Elinor was not so forgiving to the delinquents nor so retioent over her wrongs. She declared to every one she knew that she never wanted to see either of the runaways, and was so elo quent and inr.ignant over the whole af fair that it quite annoyed the Professor at last. 'If yon will allow this matter to rest, madam," said he one day, " I will for get the offense, and forgive the offend ers :" and as the Professor was quite well eff in this world's goods, and Karl his only child. Aunt i.unor thought maybe it would be best to say no more. The summer and winter that followed her niece's departure seemed very long to Aunt i.Unor. Sue had time to think now, and to feel that maybe she had done wrong in urging Nell's mar riage to the 1'rolessor. " lie is an el derly man," thought she, "and Nell was young enough to consider him 'old,' snd I need to think Karl liked Nell After all. mavbe Nell made the wisest choice ; only she need hot have done it in such a disgraceful manner running awav 1 No, 1 cannot forgive her. If the Professor chooses to philosophize over it, let him. I can't overlook the affair !" and Miss Elinor always ended her soliloquies with a warmth of manner that forbade argument, cut as me winter's snow melted away the resent ment and unforgiving spirit in Aunt Elmor s heart toward her niece gradu ally thawed and crrew softer and milder. It may be the Professor's "philosophy" heloed temper ner anger : at any rate. he continued his visits at Miss Elinor's iust as usual. In spite of the uncom fortable recollections one wonld suppose the place held for him he went regularly, until at last the village people began to liianjl. 4Iiaiv mrlrf VlVin T1 fl words that usually foretell a change in the spine of middle-aged dreams. And, therefore, no one was very much famished to hear the annouscement at last, that after Lent the Professor would take no his abode altogether at Miss Elinor's, and that Miss Elinor in that case would sit in the Professor's pew in the church, and preside at her table as " Mrs. Professor Boder." Easter Sunday oame early in April that year, and the old robins in the cherry trees were just beginning to twit ter about building their nests, when late on Saturday evening, as Miss Elinor and the professor sat in ner little sitting-room planning their short wedding trip, which was to be taken the follow ing week, s timid knock at the door was heard. Miss Elinor arose and opened it and beheld before her on the door step a little oval-shaped basket. What is it 7 asked the Professor coming forward with the lamp. " An Anril loke. I suppose. "Oh, no. An Easter ; offering, " read Miss Elinor from the card attached to the basket. "Some one has sent flowers for the church, I suppose," she continued, kneeling down to open the basket as she spoke. The lid came on then, and there lay the sweetest, conmngest little babe. who opened his great, brown eyes and smiled np into Miss Elinor's face. " What does this mean ? gasped the Professor, nearly dropping the lamp in his astonishment. It means, dear father and Aunt Elinor, that we have brought you our .easier onenuir. klu uvk im iur uu child's sake you will forgive and bless us ;" and with these words Karl Boder and his wife stepped ont of the shadows and stood before the Professor and Miss Elinor. Sumnse and loy. laughter and tears. explanation and forgiveness all followed these words, and very soon the little sitting-room was very carnival of mer riment and happiness, of which baby is the king ! "And a little child shall lead them, heartily kissed her niece and nephew in token of her forgiveness. And to think we are grand! atner and crraniimother I exclaimed Jtlrs. Professor Boder, as she tied her bonnet strings before starting on their tour. " We are a very suitable match, my dear," answered the Professor, "old and old together, young and young to gether, both then contented ana nappy together I " And behold here the ' new genera tion ' the ' coming man,' " cried some one holding np the baby, who laughed and crowed loudly. "Yes," replied Nell laughing. " Baby represents a great deal, bnt in no char acter that he has appeared has he met with more decided success than in that of Annt Elinor's Eister Oflering 1" Hearth and Home. Fnsny Men of tbe Press The clowns of journalism are now legion, and a recognized constituent of the fourth estate. Every now and then a new one jumps into the ring with a " here I am 1 cap, bells, and motley 1" and proeeeds at once to the prosecution of his department of "funnyman of the staff." He performs by dint of every abuse of language, by every distortion of phraseology, by every perversion of the true line of thought, by every con ceit of fancy that suggests itself to an imagination warped by malpractioe in his line of business. He ll catch a quaint idea roaming loosely through his hair brain, and set it agoing for the amusement of his readers, as if it were a cur with a tin kettle at his tail. Hell set off a fire-work of an idea, snapping and sparkling on its way, to be seen and wondered at for a moment, but to end in smoke and fizzle played out and forgotten after its transient mission. Sometimes his cur won't perform won't run with the kettle ; and sometimes his firework does'nt sparkle: in fact, his fun falls flat, and he's miserable ; he is a disappointed artist, and feels that he is a failure, and everybody considers him a failure, especially his employer or his subscribers, if he is a publisher. Onr clown is become an essential to the press as the jester is in the plays of Shakespeare, to relieve their darker shades, as the lights contrasting the shadows of a picture, that both may stand ont in clearer relief. His jokes oome into the column as the neigh bor paragraph to the chronicle ol a mnrder most foul. He airily disports his rattle-brain fantasies on the same sheet that sets forth the conclusions of the grave and reverend seignors of cbnrch and state in the journalistic record of events. His jest is in tbe interlude, like the sardine in the sand wich, that eomes between the more bulky and substantial : that relieved the labored, artistic feats of the hip podrome. Cactsksop Apoplexy. A blood ves sel of the brain has lost some of its elastic strength; food is abundant, digestion is good; blood in made in abundance, but little is worked off in exercise; the tension on every artery and vein is sta mnximnm rata, tbe even circuitous flow is temporarily impeded at some point, throwing a dangerous pressnrn on another; the vchfcI wlm-li lias loft its elastic t-tn-ni tli. imvi-h wav. hlod is poured out, a Hot ih formed, which, by its pressure on the brain, pro duces complete unconsciousness. This is the apoplectic stroke. I a noted the Professor, as be pat the all arrflnanl with rAfprAnnn LKXlNUTUX. IiX Ol IVtll VEXDEU. HOLME. Slnwty tbe mint o'er thr mmdow wm creeping. nrtgbt od toe dewy tmcifl gustraea tne una. When from hie coacb, while hie children were sleep ing. Roue the hoM rebel, snd shouldered hie gun. WsTing her golden veil Over the silent dsle. Blithe looked the morning on cottsge snd spire ; Hushed wss his psrting sigh, While from his noble eye Flashed the Isst sparkle of liberty's fire. On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is spring- lnfi-. Oslroly the first-born of glory have met ; Hark the rieath-vnllev amnnd them is ringing ! Look ! with their life-lilood i he young grass is well Faint ia the feeble breath, Mnrmnrlns low in death. "Tell to our sons how their fsthrs have d!ed ;' Nerveless the iron nana, Kalsed for its native land. Lies by the weapon that gleams at Its side. Over the hill-sides the wild knell is tolling, Fmn their- far hamlets the veonianrv come: As through the storm-cloud the thunder hurst roll ing Circles the beat of the mustering drum. . Fsst on the soldier's path fisrsen the waves of wrath. Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall; teed glares tne mussel- naeu, Kharn rlns-s the rifle's crash. Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall. Oavly the pltrtue of -the horseman was dancing. Never to shadow his cold brow again ; Proudly at morning the war steed wss prancing, lieesing ana psnting ne aroops on mo rnu , Pale is the Up of scorn. Voiceless the trnmnet horn. Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high; Many a belted breast Law on the turf shall rest. Ere the dark hunUrS the herd have passed by. Snow-irlrdled crave where the hoarse-wind Is raving. Uocks where the weary floods murmur and wail, Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving. Reeled with the echoes tnat roae on tne gmie , Far as the tempest thrills Over the darkened hills. Far as the sunshine streams over the plain. Boneed by tne tyrant Dsno, Woke all the mivhtv land. Girded for battle, from mountain to main. Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying ! Shrondlees and tumbles, they sunk to then- rest- While o'er their ashes the starry fold flyir-g Wraps the proud eagle they roused rrom nls nest. JMH-ne ou ner noriuern piu Lous o'er the foaming brine Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun lieaven seep ner ever tree. Wide as o'er land and ea Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won Insects and flowers. In the ninth of a series of valuable papers, communicated by nermann Mailer on the fertilization of flowers by insects to nature, he shows that butterflies effect the cross fertilization of Alpine orchids. It seems that from 12 to 15 per cent, of the orchids of the lowlands are fertilized by ijepidopters, while from 60 to 80 per cent, of. Alpine orchids are fertilized by the same kind of insects. This corroborates, he says, his view that the frequency of butter flies in the Alpine region must have been influenced by the adoption of Alpine flowers. Mnller has also shown tne wonuenui - .. . . .. . , modification brought about in the legs and mouth part of bees by their efforts in lertuizing nowers. Xjnbbock s charming little book on "British Wild Flowers Considered in Relation to Insects," has just appeared, He says that while from time immemo rial we have known that flowers are of trreat importance to insects, it is only comparatively late tbat we have realized how important insects are to nowers. or it is not too much to say tnat it. on the one hand, flowers are in many cases necessary to the existence of in sects, insects on the other hand, are still more indispensable to the very existence of flowers. There has thus been an interaction of insects upon nowers, and ot nowers upon insects, resulting in the gradual mod ification of both." In another place he adopts the start ling and probably correct view tnat to bees and other insects " we probably owe the beauty of our gardens and the sweetness of our fields. To them flow ers are indebted for their scent and color nay. for their very existence in their present form. JNot enly have the present shape and outlines, the brilliant colors, the sweet scent and the honey of nowers Deen gradually developed through the unconscious selection ex ercised by the insects, bnt the very arrangement of the colors, the circular bands and radiating lines, the forms. size and position oi tne petals, tne relative situation of the stamens and whioh effect." Lubbock has also continued his ob servations on the intelligence of in sects. He confirms his conclusions presented lsst year to the Linnwan society that the bees can distinguish colors. He then recounts some experi ments on the sense of smell possessed by bees, on the power of recognizing their own companions, and on the dif ferent occupations of different bees. mentioning observations which seem to show that the bees act as nurses during the first few weeks of their life, and only subsequently take to collecting honey and pollon. He alse records a number of experiments on ants, whioh certainly seemed to show that whatever may be the ease with bees, ants do possess the power of communicating detailed facts to one another. ' Easily Understood. Every booby knows that it is rude to take another person's seat as soon as it is vacated, and that it is an unpardon able offense to sit in one chair and - put his feet in another. The subtle philos ophies of the rudeness of those actions he probably would take a lifetime to learn. Even after he had received such indignities many times he would be pnzzled to know why they gave him suoh offense. Chesterfield - himself probably never analyzed the actions, or resolved them into their elementary significance ; the first meaning, ' I pre fer your room to your company : the second being equivalent to saying, " I regard the ease of my feet and this comfortable position more than I do your tired limbs, or your offended sense of propriety. I do not care if it is dis agreeable to you to look at tbe dirty soles f my boots." Let us analyze ac other common rnle of good, society : On entering a house or room, always speak first to the lady of the house, and always take leave of her first." Why should we do so ? Because the bouse and room are for the time hers. She gave the invitation or permission to enter. You are for the time her guest, and nnder obligations to her. She is entitled to yonr first and last act of respect and attention. Having paid her that attention, be sure not to monopolize her time and conversation, because sho has other guests to enter tain as well as yourself. Several lady correspondents have asked if it was proper to invite a gentleman escorting them from an evening part7 to oome in. Ask yourselves, " Why should I ask him to enter?" Has he not been with you all the evening, and walked home besides ? Can he not call some other time, and unless he has been agreeable, why should yon ask him even to call again ? It is as much his duty to ask permission to rail as yours to invite him to do so. What right have you to disturb your parents or the members of yonr family at a late hour with a casual acquaintance who has accompanied you home from a party ? This JJkath op Dan Bbvast. Daniel Webster O'Hrien, butter known through out the country as "Dan Bryant," the most popular comedian that ever played under a mask of burnt cork, died of pneumonia in his residence in Now York at 20 West Sixtieth street, on Sitnrduv. Ho wits horn in Troy in IR't.'i. in IH.i ho limdo Inn fii tt fiiear.me on the stage as a dancer in Vauxhall Gar den, the occasion being a benefit toVliin brother Jerry, and from then he fol- UlBSt) YIDlbS sua uoauuou w lowed his profession of comedian almost constantly, and with ever-increasing popularity. In 18!7 he acd' his brothers, Neil and Jerry, organized the troop Known as tne "Uorkomans. and opened juecbamos Uali,4i2 liroaaway. In tlnly, 1H6J. be essayed the Irish char acter of Handy Andy in the Winter Garden Theatre, and so successfully that he changed his line of acting and figured as an Irishman until 18f8, trav eling as a star in this country and Edit land. In 1868 he returned to minstrelsv. and in 1872 his snug little theatre in Twenty-third street was opened. He leaves a wife and five children Odd Cures. Graham, the once famous quack, was wont to exhibit himself plunged to the chin in mnd, a mud-bath taken regu larly being his specific for insnring a century 01 health, Happiness, and hon or. Every physician at the time treat ed mud-bathing with ridicule, but in tne present day the celebrated mud baths at a certain German watering- plac: are among the recognized means ot ameliorating several disorders. Gra ham was not wrong: he only -took quackish way of announcing his theo ries. There is apparently a curative power in earth. Not long ago, a man employed at some iron-works near Melksham managed to get himself fixed in the narrow part of an iron tube, and when he was extricated, was to all appearance dead. His mates dug a hole in the ground, put the uncon scious patient into it, and filled in the earth, leaving only a small hole for him to breathe through, should he draw breath again. In a very short time he showed signs of returning life, with his own hands cleared away the earth. and dram of brandy set him once more on bis legs, little the worse for hut mishap. Joaquin Miller s earth cure experience had a more ghastly ending. Traveling with a mining-party in ualifornia, six of them were sudden ly struck down with scurvv. and there being none of the usual remedies at hand, an old sailor suggested the trial of one, which had saved a ship's crew in some land in the tropics. This was simply to bury the men upright as far as their chins, nntil the earth drew the poison out of their boaies. Six pits were quickly dug in the warm alluvial soil, and when the sun went down, the men were placed in them, and the earth shoveled in aronnd them. It was a beautiful moonlight night : ' and the operation completed, the invalids chat ted gaily together ; their shaggy heads just bursting through the earth in the hum moonlight, made them look like men coming np to judgment ; their voices sounding weird and ghostly, as 01 another world. After a while, one by one they fell asleep, and all was still. Their comrades then stole away and sought their cabins. When they rose in the morning, and went to see how the buried men fared, they found that the wolves had come down in the night, and eaten off every head level with the ground 1 , The Boy on Labrosne Street. When a Labrosse street boy is play ing " hop-scotch'' on the walk and his mother eomes to the door and asks him to split some wood, he replies that he will be along in just one minute. At the end of ten minutes she opens the door and says : " Wilyum, 1 want that wood I "I'm coming right now," he replies. and then goes on hopping here and there on one leg. Another ten minutes nies away, and she opens the door and says : " Wily am, if you don t get that wood you know what your father will do !" " Just ten seconds I" he calls back, and he enters npon a new game. The next time she calls she says : " Young man. it's almost noon and I can't cook dinner without that wood !" I know it I'm coming now," he replies, and he stands- on one foot and holds a long discussion with the John son boy as to whether the game of hop-scotch" is as good a game as base ball. He has just started to hop when a boy whispers : " Hi, Bill I there's your old dad !" "Great snakes t" whispers Bill, and he goes over the fence like a flash, grabs the ax, and during the next two minutes be strikes two hundred blows per minute. He gets into the house ahead of his father, and as he drops the wood he says : " Mother, the boys were iust a savin' that I had the handsomest and best and goodest mother on Labrosse street, and I want . to kiss yon !" Detroit Free- Aa Unfortunate Debutante. A sad accident occurred to a yonng debutante at an amateur musical enter tainment in Washington a few nights ago. The beautiful creature walked to the foot-lights with the grace of a queen and the ease of a professional. She warbled the first stanza like Nilsson. The accompanist struck up the inter lude, and of course this was the time when the fair singer should raise her lace-kerchief to her face. With a regal curve of the left arm she did bo, her eves fixed on the admiring audience, when liorribile dictu, a most delicately constructed silk stocking displayed it self ih wavy folds. It seems that her maid in her excitement had placed a stocking in the place where the other article ought to be, and nenoe ner ludi crous mistake. She stood transfixed, resembling an auctioneer of hosiery at a bankrupt sale. The audience roared. The buttons flew, and stalwart men f rasped their sides in fearful agony, ashionable ladies forgot their propri ety, and just screeched. Of course the best thing under the circumstances for Mile. Blank to do was to faint. She did it as well as Clara Morris could. Up rushed Senator ; he seized a pitcher of water and soused the pros trate form of the unfortunate singer. This bad the desired effect, and so it would any female when her $500 dress was ruined. With a whizzing sound she left the platform; the entertainment was ended ; the fair singer has taken herself to a nunnery. What tbt. Sctbo Tunnel Is. The Sutro tnnnel, of which so much has been said in connection with the Corn- stock mines of Nevada, is a gigantic undertaking only partially complete. The Comstock lode is a fissure several miles long and of unknown depth. To reach the ore. shafts are sunk all along the vein, some to the depth of two thousand feet. The lowest mines are the richest, but the air in them is so vicious that laborers can work bnt a few mo ments at a time, and only after long intervals of rest, thus rendering the lauding of the ore highly expensive. Hutro'a plan comprehends a tunnel from the foot of the mountain, meeting the lode at right angles, and then following it fur eight miles. This would make a highway into the bowels of the earth, draining arid ventilating the mines. The tunnel is only about a third done. It is fourteen feet wide by ten in height, and will cost eight millions of dollars. The builder's compensation is to be the tolls charged on ore raised through the tunnel. A Pobthmopth (Vs.) man, after two years' useless labor in trying to raise the frigate Cumberland, sunk by the confederate ram Merrimao, off Newort IN ews, in lHliZ, lias sold out for $r,(MH to 1'etrou, (iviicri.) parlies, who tiro now trvinft to get lip Mie safe, which said lo eohtitiu $'200,HM) in gold ami II first issue of greenback currency. This is the fifth firm that ban engaged in the enterprise, ADVESTIIIors. Walllno; forthe Crack of Boom Healing the t-kv Feet Wsxliing-The Last Stiip- pcr-WslcbiBH the Bllrtniulit Clock slitter Uisappoililnteial Wceoinsr nt W ailing Irn.K-fltnsry Heenes. Chicago Tribune, April 21. The Tribune gave yesterday a neces sarily brief account of the collapse of tne Adventist tony at midnight. The thunder storm, which came up early in the evening, and which brought snoh dismay to many who were secretly pur turbed, carried the assemblage to an es tatic pitch of feeling. They eagerly peered through the windows, and be came j abilant as the storm swept along and the lightnings flashed. It was during this excitement that a woman. who had sought out the AJveutists and joined herself to them that day, asked Elder Thnrman to heal her of a neural gic complaint that was affecting her with great pain. Xjsying his hands on her head in a reverent way, he said I say unto vou in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, be thou made whole." And immediately, acoording to the woman's profession, the pain left her, and she began praising God. At o clock, the table being sot and all made ready, they sat down. The ceremony of feet-washing was first in order. The chairs were placed with their backs to the table, so that the gaze of the men and women was turned away fronie one another. As these ceremonies antecedent to the supper had reached until after . 9, the Advent- lsts were pretty hungry, and fell to with a good will. . Little children who had fallen asleep during the foregoing exercises awoke, and betook themselves to active exertion, and the assembly put on a picnic appearance. Under the nineteenth head Some interesting conversation with those who love Jesus" each, beginning with the man sitting to the left of Elder Thnr man, rose, and made- some remarks. They were all characterized by a tone of depression and a nervous assertion of continued faith: When it came to THT7RM.VN S TIME, it was not yet 12 o'clock, bnt despair was visible on his face, and his voice was deep and solemn. He began by speaking of the ardent longings he had cherished for tbe coming of Chnat. Even if he himself were lost he wanted to see God's elect. His voice fell into the measured sing-song in which he in tones his prayers, and became inexpres sibly mournful as he went on. I confess that I begin to feel sad. and my heart sinks within me. I have no time fixed at which I expect to see the Lord, except midnight. Bnt I did expect that he would appear at Jerusa lem when it was four o'clock in the afternoon here, and then I expected the sign of the Son of Man. I will not despair to the rising snn. bnt how can I extend the prophetic dates longer than midnight, I cannot see. It has been niv studv for thirtv-two vears.and. again and again, and yet again, have I examined all the prophecies to see whether there oonld be any mistake, but 1 could hnd none. The same prophecies that show that Jesus is in deed tbe Christ point to His second advent to-night. St. Paul says : ' But ye, brethren, are not left in darkness. tbat that day, should overtake yon as a thief. let. if this night fails, l am unable to see for my life, after much mature deliberation, how mortal man can ever find it ont. I have not followed the traditions of men. I have proved Dy enronoiogv, by astronomical obser vation. I am quite unable to see how I have been mistaken. " If, after all, I have deceived you will you pardon me ? Will yon forgive me f L have done the best x could. God knows. 1 have mushed my course, 1 have kept the faith. 1 thank my God for that. I have done what I could, I can do no more. I have felt the burden of you upon my- heart, for I felt that I carried you in the arms of my admonition. Here his voice faltered and trembled. 1 I wanted to present you to Jesus. I can bear the burden no more. I leave you in the hands of God." While he was speaking, sobs and groans went np continually from the assemblage. Many of the women wept bitterly. Mast of the little ones. wearied with the protracted vigil, were asleep lying on the shawls and wrap pings that had been placed in the cor ner. The men looked wistful and tad, put it was not yet 12. and some hope still lay in the narrow circuit that the minute hand of tbe clock had yet to traverse. A tall, gray-haired man be gan to speak in a tone of encourage ment, and expressing the love and ven eration which they all cherished for Urotner Thurman. Tburman, wno, in his desolation, still kept on by sheer in ertia in the groove in which he had moved along, announced mechanically "And when they had sung a hymn, tnus i dioating the time when it was necessary to sing in order to imitate the Last Supper of Christ. The hymn, " Long we've been waiting for Christ to come, was then sung in a dolorous way. The clock still lacked a minute or two of 12. and it was watched as a criminal might watch the approach of the hour of his execution. THE MINUTE HAND TOUCHED TWELVE, and a deep groan ran through the assembly. 'The disappointment seemed to strike into Thurman's heart for too deep for tears. There was a self abasement in his manner as he rose, and in the same monotonous intonation, but with a tremulous voice said : "Brethren, lean on my arm no longer. My reckoning is all up. I leave you in the hands of God, It is as much as I can do to struggle on for my self. I will try to do the best I can. If there is any more light to be had, I will search for it. I bid you all fare well." Then followed a pitiful scene. Wo men wrung their hands in bitter angnisb ; strong men buried their faces and wept and groaned. The violent descent from ecstatic joy to terrible disappointment bruised and crushed their spirits. Thurman sat still and murmuring as if dazed and stupefied with the greatness of his calamity. The work of his life time had fallen to nothingness. The firm footing of his faith had suddenly slipped from under him, and the horrors of darkness encompassed him. Of dif ferent calibre from his followers, his grief could not find vent in demonstra tion of feeling, and nothing assuaged the bitternessof disappointment. Some of them tried to say kind and comfort ing things to him, but he seemed to heed nothing. Still adhering to the programme as the fixed thing that yet remained to him, be rose to pronounce TnE hbnrpiction. Continuing with a tremendous voice he said : Oh Lord, wo came according to Thy word. Hast Thou not said that 'in the time appointed the end shall lie?' O Holy Parent, hear the prayers of Thy people. Oome, O Lord Jesus, come quickly. All will come to desola tion uuIosh Thou return again. We have taken Thy word in all the sim plicity of little children. We have tried to dp our duty. ) Jesus, Thou knowest. onr heart, that we have tried to do Thy will. We can do no more. We give ourselves into Thy hands say ing, 'I-iord save or I perish.'" Jfe then sat down again in moody silence, while his followers wont on groaning and weeping, 'i'ho Tribune reproHiietative approached him, and, after milking some expression of the renpect which Klder Thiii-man's conduct had excited in liim, RHked the older concei -mug his future jiIuiih. "I have none," find he, "my course is run." Reporter Won't yon continue the publication of your paper? Thurman (slowly and mournfully) "There is nothing to publish it lor ; my work is done. I do not know what I shall do, where I shall go. It was the harmony of those dates that convinced me that Jesus was the Christ, and now I do not know what to believe." TBR SCENBS attendant npon the break-np of the meeting baffle description. Some tried to cheer the more broken-spirited by suggesting various possibilities of the prophetic dates extending for some time longer. Foyen, whose joy and happi ness in anticipation had been boundless, stood up and said, in a voice broken with sobs : "It is no use! It is no nse ! We are either disappointed or we are not disappointed, and if we are not . disap pointed then we did expect Jesus with faith. Nothing but Jesus can cheer our hearts to-night. My heart is broken. I never expect to see my home again, or do another stroke of work. 1 feel bit ter, bitter, disappointed. 'The tears poured down his cheeks, and his grief seemed to be intolerably great. This is the feeling of my heart. Nothing can satisfy me bnt the coming of J esns. I don't know what I shall do if Jesus don't come. Lord, help me ! I hate to go to my home again." They wept and fell on one another s necks. Many of them did not know where to go or what to do. as they had relinquished their lodgings, and given away their furniture and everything. In the extremity of their distress, their affections still clang to Thurman. The men all came to him and gave him the kiss of peace, according to their fashion. One of them pressed him to come and stay with him. Thurman said, sadly 1 don t feel like seeing anybody now. I wish I could sink into my grave." The women gathered aronnd him, and he shook hands with them, for Thurman varies from ministerial usage by never kissing the women, reserving that en tirely for the men. A nnmber of people had to remain where thev were. Others went to the houses of those who were fortunate enough to retain homes. One man named Miller, who had disposed of over $6,000 of property, asked permis sion of a brother to sleep on his floor that night. An old, white-haired wo man said that she had a place to go to to-night, bnt what she should do next God only knew. Tbe children were crying, babies squalling, and women wringing their hands in anguish, as at about half-past one the assembly dis persed, pursuing their melancholy way to such quarters as they could go to. Thurman accompanied Foyen to his honse on the corner of Clark and Wis consin streets, bnt what his movements in the future will be he does not know. A Love Chase. I am a detective, acute as Argus, high- souled as Bayard, impressionable as Bo rneo, white-gloved and massive-booted as the best of Sootland-yard ! If Miss Jttraddon could only see me she wonld be sure to put me in a novel. I a-n just the active and intelligent to suit her. I love an angel ! and rapture I she is not indifferent to me I She is fair haired, like Lady Audley as I saw her at the play last time I was off duty. She came in her carriage to the station, for all the world like the qneen or the chief commissioner. She is wedded to a wealthy wretch. How shall I get rid of him ? Stay 1 He must have com mitted bigamy. They generally do. I will find out all about him, and then claim her hand and her handsome lointure, as Jim Gyves does in that beautiful story in the Bobby's Budget. Let me set to work at once. Where are the handcuffs ! , n. I was not deceived I never am. He has committed bigamy. Bigamy, did I say? Trigamy, qnodrigamy, polygamy! She shall be mine ! I have the proofs of his guilt, and now I await him round the corner, by his favorite public-house, where he seeks to make a still further victim of the beauteous barmaid. I loved her once, but she despised me. Never mind ; I will save her and seize him. He wants to take a theatre for her I Ha I ha! He leaves that bar only for the dock. He approaches. I grasp him and close the handcuffs. Cusses ! they are too large ! He eludes the grip and knocks me down, hails a passing hand- som, and disappears. I hear him say to the cabby, "To Charing Gross." He will escape by the channel tnnnel. Not so not so. in. I recover. I rush to the police station and provide myself with smaller brace lets. 1 hurry to the railway station. Horror I the train has gone ! He will be in Franco beyond my reach. I faint before the ticket ofUoe. When I revive I am in the hands of Mr. Scott, of Leeds. He takes me to the refreshment room and gives me brandy. I tell him my sad story. " Cheer up, he says, "you will soon overtake him. I have in my pocket one of my patent flying machines, by the aid of which I have traveled a hundred miles in ten minutes. Monnt and fly 1 When you see the steamer beneath you release the spring and descend ; seize the culprit, and ascend with him into the air. as the roc did with old BinDau. 1 am afloat and going at lightning speed towards the south coast. I see the lights of Dover and the steamer just leaving the pier. On the deck 1 per ceive mv man. 1 prepare to desoend. Just as 1 near the masthead the escape funnel gives an awful roar, the pent-np steam blows mv flying machine to smith ereens, and I fall into the water and am drowned. And being so, I must per force conclude. Jin. Crncl Trick on a Prima Donna. Tuesday night, during the perform ance of "Mnie. l'Archiduc," at the St. Charles theatre, in this city, Henry Gallagher became so charmed with Mile. Soldone's singing that he could not re sist the temptation of throwing her a bouquet. Mile. l'Arohiduc did not see it at first, as she was singing with her back partly turned to the audience, but as soon as she tor. ed to make the usual bow in acknowledgement of a round of applause her delightful eyes fell upon the nosegay, and she gracefully Btooped to" secure it. Just as she did so the seemingly enchanted flowers moved a few feet from where they had fallen upon the stage. The Diva paused for a moment aud then made another attempt, when lo ! the flowers again drifted away from her grasp. The idea now flashed across her mind, "the thing has got a string to it," and, suiting the action to the thought, she made a desperate rash, pounced upon the flowers and sent them whirling back into the face of the mali cious spectator. Then striking a ma jestic :ose, sho cast a contemptuous and withering look npon tbe discom fited Gallagher, who at the same mo ment felt the heavy hand of a policeman resting upon his shoulder. The Sol- dune's tormentor was taken to the first precinct station, charged with dis turbing the peace, and Monsieur l'Ar- hidtic, upon hearing about the matter. declared that he rather liked it "It was rather original." New Orleans Ice two inches thick will support a man : at a thicknos of three inches and a half it will support, n man on horseback ; live inches of ice will sup port an eighty pounder cannon ; iirht inches, a Imttcry ol it 1 1 lory, with cinriiigen and horses attached ; ami. finally, ico ten niches thick will sup. port an army an innumerable multi tude, I Flower Thoughts and Fancies. Somebody says that flowers are the "fugitive poetry of nature; "and to wild flowers most eminently be longs the remark. Our cultivated flowers cannot be called " fugitive poetry : we do not hnd them scattered along the roadsides, smiling to the brooks, nodding on hills to every breeze. Not they I They are collected and placed in our houses and conservatories. labeled, and surrounded by the oostly accessories which belong to all vol umes of collected poetry. Bnt with wild flowers it is different. We come npon them, indeed, as npon scraps of poetry tucked into the cor ner of some newspaper of every-day life, and in the one case, as in the other. exclaim in a sort of patronizing surprise " Whv. how pretty that is 1 " One cannot, however, be very well acquainted with the woodlands, with out quickly losing any feeling of patronage he may once have had, There are so many dainty wild blos soms to harmonize with any mood in which they may be approached, beheld or gathered. We find all sorts of poetry speaking irom them ; paieet of blue hare-bells, which suggest a dainty poem, fnll of tenderness without strong passion. which indeed, they, as well as people, are better without. Then there are violets, blue and white and yellow, like little ballads, tales of unconscious hero ines ; gill-c rer-tbe-grouod, immediately reminding one of scores of verses he has seen in the neglected corner of some oountry paper ; with blue bits of pret tiness scattered here and there, but so small that one doesn't care for the trouble of hunting them out ; and be sides, like those scraps of verse, there is so much of it that it can be had at any time. But nowers, also, tell us other things; they are vivid reminders of people we nave known, or faces we have seen. hearts we have learned to love and trust. Who can ever see a valley-lily, with- ont a feeling of tender greeting, or f to go from the pretty to the absnrd) who can look at one of those sancy Jack-in- the-pnlpits, peeping up out of its green sheath, and not expect it to speak, and in an oration as long as a country min ister's, tell of its relationship to the regal cttlla? oor relations, truly I How indignant the calla would be ! Then there are the lovely blossoms of the spring-beauty, at which one feels as much surprise as at finding a Perdita in a shepherd's cottage. The nowers of the mnlhen are like families in a tenement honse, pretty enough individually, but collectively well, they'd be rather unpleasant guests. to say the least of it. Autumn nowers are like Btones of the tropics. Their very names are snc- gestive golden-rod, flaming punster, trumpet-flowers. And water-lilies I what shall we say of them? Lovely, tearful Undines, gifted with souls through nnavoidable wretchedness. And, by the way, what a beautiful allegory that is, and alas I how true to life. Bnt if water-lilies have souls, wood land vines certainly have no conscience. Running along the ground, climbing np trees, clinging to fences, making nse of anything and everything, without so much as "by your leave," and to be shnnned like parasitical friends, which, like them, once given afooting, can not easily be removed. It is quite a pretty amusement to trace in flowers resemblances to one's friends. We have often heard people say that every human being it like some animal, (if bo, some of them are cer tainly only fossil remains, which, by the way, has nothing to do with the sub ject). The resemblance of every one to some flower is qmte as easily traceable. Bright, insipid verbenas, queenly lilies, royal japomcas. The readers of ro mance are familiar with heroines who are like them all, and can find among ti .11 fnanfla tha onma nh n wm aa a their friends the same characteristics. How people s dispositions show forth in their favorite flowers I Some care only for roses, seeing no beauty, smell ing no perfume in anything else. Such people are apt to be singularly pure in life and actions, tender in all loves and friendships, but exclusive in everything. Hosts of people prefer pansies. and are justly indignant with the writer who said that they always reminded him of monkey faces. Love-in-idleness, hearts ease, thoughts, certainly there never was a nower with so many pet names. People of liberal tastes have, of course, their favorites, bnt like nearlv all flow ers. There certainly is nothing which contributes more to tbe beauty of a home than flowers, and nothing so full of pretty fancies. "YSpake full well in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine. . When he called the flowers, ho blue and golden, Stars that in earth's firmament do eniae. The Aldine. A Terrible Balloon Adventure. Galignani's Messenger says : M. En gene Godard made an ascent last week at Bayonne in his balloon Saturne. He had with him in the car Vinson, keeper of woods and forests ; M. Julien, a pyro technist of Algiers, and the editor of a Bordeau journal. The start took place at half-past 5 in the afternoon. At a quarter to 6 the party f onnd themselves at the frontier, tbe cold being exceed ingly keen. At night, the travelers, who had got among the mountains, were obliged to throw out all their bal last to surmount the Pyrenean peaks. The wind then began to freshen, the speed of tbe ballon became extreme, and toward U o clock tbe snow com menced falling. Tossed about by dif- ferent currents, and incapable of de-1 icrmining tne situation, tueir anxiety i was extreme. After fonr hours of suf fering, toward 2 in the morning, M. Godard thought he saw some lights, and prepared to descend : bnt the valve, be ing choked np with snow, could not be opened ! He then told his companions tbat they had but one chance for their lives, namely, to cut a hole in the silk, and get down at all hazards. The op eration was effected, and the Saturne descended with such great lapidity that all four were stunned by the fail ; M. Vinson, who was the first to recover. saw his friends lying senseless by his side, and, calling for assistance, was fortunate enough to make himself beard by two persons, who aided him in reach ing Pampelnna, whioh was not quite two miles off. He immediately gave notice to the authorities, and an alarm having been sounded, tbe inhabitants of the place went ont in quest of the other three, and found them in a state of consciousness, but incapable of mov ing. They were all conveyed to the town, where every attention was paid them. M. Godard appeared to have suffered most, as his legs were much swolled ; the others had only Bome se vere contusions. Whatever there is of terrible, what ever there is of beautiful in human events, all that shaken the soul to and fro and is remembered while thought and flesh cling together, all these have their origin from the passions. As it is only in storms, and when their coming water is driven np into the air, that we catch a sight of the depths of the sen, it is only in the season of perturbation that we have a glimpse of the real in ternal nature of man. It is thou only that the might of the.-e ornptioiiH, shak ing his frame, dissipate till the feeble coverings of opinion, and rend ill pieces that ooii-web veil with which fashion hides the feeling of the heart. Sidney fiinith. Job Bowling's Funeral. S. S. Cox writes the following : Many years ago I was one cf a party in Wash ington city, when south and north vied with each other in convivial life. An other of the party was Gen. Dawton, member from Western Pennsylvania, whose homestead was Albert Gallatin's old home. He was an admirable story teller. I recall somewhat sadly, now that he is gone, how well he illustrated the laziness of a class of Virginians. The story was a part of his congres sional canvassing. On one occasion he got across the Pennsylvania line into a little village of Virginia. He was in the midst of a group around the tavern. While treating and talking, a procession apprcacbed which looked like a funeral. He asked who was to be buried ? "Job Duwling," said they. "Poor Job I" sighed the general. He was a good natured, good-for-nothing, lazy fellow, living on the few fish he caught and the squirrels he killed, but mostly on the donations of his neighbors. "So poor Job is dead, is he?" "No, he ain.t dead, zactly," said they. "Not dead not d Yet yon are going to bury him?" "Fact is, general, he has got too infernal, all-fired lazy to live. We can't afford him anymore. He's got so lazy that the grass began to grow over his shoes so everlasting lazy that he put out one of his eys to save the trouble of winkin when ont a guunin'." Hat" savs tje general, "this must not be. It will disgrace my neighbor hood. Try him a while longer, can't you?" "Can't; too late coffin cost $1.25. Must go on now." About this time the procession came np and halted, when the general proposed if they would take Job out he wonld send over a bag of corn. On this announcement the lids of the coffin opened and Job lan guidly sat up: the eents dropped from his eyes as ha asked, "Is the corn shelled, general?" No, not shelled." Then, said Job, as he lazily lay down, 'go on with the funeral 1" A ".Blasphemous Jt'iCTTTBE. Hpeak- j ing of the Cocoran Gallery in Washing ton, a writer says: "Especially is it to be hoped that advantage will be taken of the earliest excuse to remove from these walls Cabanel's 'Death of Moses,' a piotnre which the people pass by with brows contracted in horror, as if they listened to blasphemy. For here in dull color and unattractive form the artist has insulted the beanty of holi ness, and angels and greater than angels have not been spared the sacrilege of his touch. Jt is time that the world should know the bad taste of attempt ing to portray any higher being than man, for snoh delineation can be noth ing better than gross caricature, it mat ters not how brilliant and reverend the imagination that conceives it. In re ligion is there no resort between the painted angels of superstition on the one hand and the blank of skepticism on the other, and wonld not a slight infu sion of pantheism elevate the former and win to it souls from the ranks of the latter? What wonder that we are becoming a raoe of unbelievers, when we consider the nature of the Sunday school books forced npon the children, and the gloomy shapes which the beau tiful people and stories of the Old Testa ment assnme in onr pictures. Sham Bouses. Charles Warren Stoddard writes : There are houses in Florence, many of them, that look as if they were built of the stage scenery of some dismantled theatre. X saw one this morning, a snug modern affair as severely simple in its proportions as a packing-box, yet it was so touched np by the brush of some scenic artist that a balcony with six pillars seemed to start out from the front of 1 1. Thnrn vsrs two rlonrs nnrl four windows introduced to complete ai 1 I xi . 1 vr-i. II I me uarmouy oi me lacaue. xe& tuese i were all deceptions ; the bouse pre tended to be of stone, with a plaster that had peeled off in spots, exposing dow a mere piotnre, a eat sunned her- I - - - - . I tbe rough-cut walls. In an attic win- self, and a little way from her sat two pigeons billing, but not cooing, for that was beyond the art even of a Florentine house-painter. A rake leaned against the wall, and cast a palpable shadow that unfortunately ran against the snn for it was late in the day, and the shadow was stationary ; two towels flut tered froni the balcony ; a pail waB turned over in the corner part, and a bush that might bewilder a botanist bloomed forever in blossoms of yellow and red blossoms as gross and un savory as cabbages. Was this all ? No; one of the irauauient winuows was open ; a fair and most substantial virgin leaned forth, and with her arm extended like a statue she waves night and day, year after year, a nanus:ercuii no uie passer by, be ne inena or stranger. This sort of thing is oiten seen in Flor ence. Sometimes two lovers --spoon nnblushinglv in a sham window. One is half inclined to ask if the inmates sat for thispioture.but the questions of that nature would be too frequent. I have almost lost confidence in everything Florentine. I am never quite Bure that it is a house I see before me, or only the rear wall of somebody's gardun. I am ouite convinced that I shall some day hnd myself knocking ;at a iaise aoor ... . . , ... i and waiting impatiently for the descent of the flat-faced young woman wno sits week after wetk smiling upon the world from the window overhead. Ihe Ladies' Ncw-Fanaled Demi-Trains. The "latest novelty" in woman's attire does not sound comfortable. She has. it seems, adopted a garment in which it is almost impossible to walk or sit down, or to enter a carriage, and whioh can onlv be worn bv throwing the body in the most paint nl contortions accord- ing to instriiotionB specially given by the uressmaaers wno muuuiacLiire n. The Paris correspondent of the Queen gives the following account of this now ..finla nf iInhUI lllllTlli tri"'U " Rft,o the correspondent, "are inconvenient for the street and even for getting into a carriage, and they are so tied baok aud banded with elastic that walking and, above all, sitting down are not the easy, careless movements oi yore. Some dressmakers give instructions as to the management of these demi-trains. The best manner of gathering up the train is to turn to the right, bending slightly backwards, and to take hold of tbe dress as low down as possible witu the right hand. When you straighten and stand upright again the skirt will be slightly lifted, and thus become no longer than a short costume. When you wish to let the skirt trail again you must throw it back with a sweep oi the right bund. This will be found a mnoh more graceful way preserving the train from contact with the streets than bv lifting it each side with both hands. Man dressed in a coat or pair of trousers involving so much trouble and agony beea tno ,jeBpair c( Bn other peoples, t would hardly feel up to performing hn(J tUeir manners the Btandard of those duties wnion woman Kinuiy pro pones to take on her own hands; she is. however, very strong-miuiieu, nun de lights in a life of active occupation. Pall Ma'l Gazette,. A okkat reduction of wages has taken place in Germany the past winter. Two thalers, or $1.50, has been the wages of oity laborers since the war; before the war it was one thaler, but thin winter it has leeu cut down to two thirds of a thaler. Dull and stringent times are said to be prevailing through out the empire, and if this be true it will le impossible for the authorities to restrain emigration as soou hh busi- iickh revives in America. Orpek is heaven's first. law, and it has never been repealed. 8AY15US AXD D0IXGS. " How Few !" One of the great Quaker poet's sweetest motrical gema. School Daya." is devoted to showing the regret of a brown-eyed New England girl at having "epelled down the little dov Her childish favor singled. " " " I'm sorry that I spelt the word, I hate to go above yon, Because" the brown eyes lower fell " Because, you see, 1 love you." "Still memory to a gray-haired man That sweet child face is showing ; Dear girl, the grasses on her grave Hare forty years been growing. "He Uvea to learn in life's hard school How few who pane above him Lament the triumph and his lose Like her because they love him.' Some of the statisticians who are in vestigating negro life have found that tbat raoe, above all others, abhors sui cide. Only two cases have been re corded on the police books of Kichmond, Virginia, for several years. The British house of lords consists of five princes of the blood, twenty-eight dukes, thirty-two marquises, one hun dred and seventy-one earls, thirty-seven viscounts, twenty-six prelates, and one hundred and ninety -two barons. San Francisco has the champion religions idiots, who dress as children, act as children, and play marbles and leap-frog, because they believe " Ex cept ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter the Kingdom of Heaven." There's nothing kills a man so soon as having nobody to find fault with but himself. It's a deal the best way of being master to let somebody else do the ordering, and keep the blaming in yonr own hands. It 'nd save many man a stroke, I believe. George Eliot. . A osarrLKMAS in Europe writes : " I seo ii- the American papers notioes of bank bills altered from one denomina tion to another. This is impossible in this part of the world, though the very simple device of having bills of different values made of different sizes." Considebino that there are half a million words, more or less, in the Ger man language, it's a fortunate circum stance that the spelling of each and every one is exactly indies ted by the pro nunciation, rendering spelling matches unnecessary, if not impossible. A luodtjeious lookino 1 individual, approaching a musician, asked him in earnest and melancholy tones, "Friend, do yon know man's chief end ? " The innocent fiddler oheerfnlly replied: " No. sir ; bnt if you'll whistle it 111 play it." The Indianapolis News says without mnoh exaggeration : " Advertising has created many a new business, enlarged many an old business, revived many dull business, rescued many a failing business, and preserved many a large business, and it insures snooess in any business." Ik some of the colder states the saloon business has ceased to be profitable. The four saloons of Hntchins, Iowa, have been closed beeanse the wife of man who froze to death while drunk on their whisky went into con it and got a verdiot of $2,800 against each of the proprietors. Commenting on the comparative suc cess of compulsory eduoation in New York oity, nine " truant agents" having captured 335 street Arabs, the World suggests : Whether or not it wonld be wise- to appoint "agents" to see that children were properly and "adequately scrubbed and spanked is a quostion to be commended to the advocates of tbe oompnlsory system. A conddctob on the Union Pacific railroad put a "dead beat" off his train nolitelv once: kicked him off three times; then finding the impecunious in 11. AAW nnain innm.Q.i - "WhflrA in Where in mo u 8f"ui .u-...- blazes are yon going, any way? "Well, said the not-to be-got-nd-or, "I'm going to Chicago, if my pants hold out, but if I'm going to be kicked every five minutes, I don't believe I'll . .. ' .1, mi . 1.1 make the trio! Tbe conductor let him ride a little way. Out day a lady came in a carriage to ask Corot, the famous French painter, who has just died, for 1,000 francs with which to pay her rent. "She is well dressed," said the maid who had seen her. " I can't understand how anybody with suoh clothes can borrow money. If I were you I t.ould refuse." "Take that to her, my child," said the artist, offering a bank note for the required sum, " and remember that poverty in silk is the worst kind of poverty." We need to labor with onr minds and hearts, as well as with our hands, in order to develop what is within us, to make the most of our possibilities and to enable us to live nobly and worthily. We need a careful balancing of eur dnties and relations in life and a dne allotment of time and energy to each, that we may not develop into one-sided and nnshapely characters, bnt attain the symmetry and beauty of true excel lence. Pbesident Pobteb, of Yale, recently gave the following laconio advioe to the students in the course of an ex tended address: "Don, t drink. Don't nnev. ljiru diuuui, -' - - -- - - - chew Don't smoke. Don t swear, Don-t deceive. Don't read novels. Don't marry until yon can support a wrifa R nsmwit. Be self-reliant. Be generous. Be civil. Bead the papers. Adveai.se your business. Make money, and do good with it. Love God and your fellow men." A French chemist has so far suc ceeded in his experiments as to have reasonable hopes of producing at least black diamonds, if not colorless ones, from sugar. He has already obtained a carbon cylinder hard enough to out glass by exposing the perfectly burned sugar to a temperature of 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit, in a closed vessel without access of air. It will be an interesting development, as far as regards the pro duction of sugar-yielding crops, if this experimenter shall succeed fully m his desigus, and cane and beets come to be grown with a view to their final trans-' formation into diamonds. Truly, we are living in a wonderful age. The French nation from the earliest period of history has been the leading nation of Europe. Its original races long disputed the supremacy tf the all conquering Bomans. They gave to . Boman literature some of its most elegant writers. Cicero learned elo- qnenoe from one of their teachers, and. . Cicsar acquired in Gaul new arts of war. All through the middle ages, in the crusades, in the great national -wars, in the religions commotions of the sixteenth century, their gallantry , was the conspicuous splendor of the -times. Their writers have since elec trified human thought ; their brave deeds have revolutionized modern '' politics ; their more elegaut arts have . whatever was polished, courteous, graceful, and pleasing in address. -.Longevity. There are frequent and remarkable instances of longevity among the Russians. A man born in 1760 has just died. ' 'He was six feet five inobes in height., and wan possessed of immense streugth up to the time of bis death, which resulted ftom a fall. Another man born in the same year is Btill living. Among the notabilities at conrt are a nnmber of octogenarians, and one lady, a nonagenarian, who reads without, spectacles, and walks without a stick. Her eyesight must always have been remarkable, as the liusHian alphabet looks as if it were drunk, and must be a Iwrd thing to keep the run of.