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fp)g ffienn^ §tobt Hecarfo. JAMES W. LAUGHLIN, Editor and Publisher. Entered at the Poet-oflee at Peaa'a Brava, Salem County, H. I., for tranemleelon through the mailt at tecond-clate matter. VOLUME IV. TERMSOne Dollar per Year. 1’IUN’S GROVE, SALEM COUNTY, N. J„ SATURDAY. JANUARY 14, 1882. NUMBER 23. frinOR ATWOOD. A. Attorney & Counsellor At Law 619 Walnut St, Philadelphia. •S’- PRACTICES IN ACL THE COURTS OF NEW JERSEY. D' ^R. H. M. FLANAGIN, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, ■AM STREET, Penni|r*T«. jQR H. JOHNSON, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, fBDBICKTOWW, N. J. yy F. YEAGER, Tonsorial Artist. •haring, H*ir Gutting usd 8hampeoing Orer Laytonl MeM Market, MAIM BTBEET,.PBNNBGROV1. JAMES P. BUTLER it SON, Masons & Plasterers, MAIN STREET. abT CnleH Csrner, PENNSGROVE. M pj AH LON ADAMS, 'ANN eTRKBT, .bore Battel Ob are A. Groceries, Flour. Meal. AND MOTIONS QKUKRALLT. rue only place In ton where yon can KM PUKB WHITE WINS VINIOAA rp B. PAULLIN, WHEELWRIGHT AMD CAKRIAOE BUIIaDBl Corner Pan. and HaaMOXT streeta. PUNNSOROVA TORN HINIMIER, BOOT & SHOE MAKER, Repairing promptly attended to. FKNN BTKKET, adjoining Bethel Otourch, PRHFflUBOTB. JOS. A. ROBBINS, Manufacturer oi and Dealer In HARNESS, SADDLES, COLLARS, WHIPS, BRIDLES. BLANKETS, LAP ROBES, *0., JIAIN Street, PENMSGBOYE, Repairing Promptly Attended t% m~ Tbe Celebrated Tmi.b Oil larama Blacking lor Bala. LEMUEL COCHRAN. Black.' mi tU Horso-Shocr, PERN STREET. A^Ji.Inlng tic® Wiie.'lw.'fglit'. PKNSSOKOVK BOWKS & DKNSKY. Carpenlers k Buildert. (miimilM (|T«U ud (tpfflflratloii Uitile out free of chare*. root of HARMONY Street. rENI'SQROVK, IIENRY BARBER. CO A Lifii AND LIME DEALER Foot of Harmony Street, PENNSGKOVE. (5. P. SOMERS. PAINTER & GRAINER. HARMONY STREET, Pounsgrove. r*tli»ntec hicea fre*. H. H. DEGROFFT JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, REAL ESTATE AGERT, and Conveyancer. All collections at I toiled to and pay ments promptly made. OFFICE IN anil. STORY OFKUMMI BlILDIHa, MAIN STREET, PENN’S SHOVE, N. J* CHAS. AY. CABLE. House & Sign Fainter. Main Street, PENNSGROVE. Rejoioa. I. Prom out my deep, wlde-boeomed Went, Where unnamed heroes hew the way For worlds to folio*, with stern seat; Where gnarled old maples make array. Deep-scarred from red men gone to rest; Where pipes the quail, where squirrels play Through tossing trees with nuts for toy, A boy steps forth, clear-eyed and tall, A bashful boy, a soulful boy, Yet comely as the sous of Saul—• A boy, all friendless, poor, unknown. Yet heir apparent to a throne. II. Lo! Freedom’s bleeding sacrifice! Ho like some tall oak tempest-blown, Beside the storied stream he lies, Now at the last, pale-browed and prone. A nation kneels with streaming eyes; A nation supplicates the Throne; A nation holds him by the band; A nation sobs aloud at this. The only dry eyes in the land. Now at the last, I think are his. Why we should pray, God knoweth best. That this grand, patient soul should rest. III. The world Is round. The wheel has run Full circle. Now, behold a grave Beneath the old, loved trees is done. The druid oaks lift up and wave A solemn welcome back. The brave Old maples murmur, every one, “Receive him Earth!** la center land, As In the center of each heart— As In th»- hollow of God’s band— The coffin sinks. And with It part All party hate*! Now, not in vain He bore his peril and bard pain. IV. Therefore, I say,rejoice! I say The lesson of uis life was much— This boy that won, as In a day, The world's heart utterly—a touoh 01 tenderness and tears; the page Of history grows rich Irorn such ; His name the nation’s heritage. But O! as some sweet angel’s voice, Hpake this brave death, that touched us all Therefore, I say, rejoice! reloice 1 Run high the flags! Put by the pall! Lo! all Is for the best for all! —Joaquin Miller. Laburnums' Ghost. “ Wliy do you not ievite your hum ble servant to the Laburnums, Fan ?” aai ed pretty Raphael]* Fairlie. “ Because it is so lonely (here, Rae.” “ For that reason, 1 shall come ami keep you company fer a whole week, just ss soon ss cun get away from the city. I knew you and Phil were moping.” A sudden gravity went over Fanny Brudenel’s gentle countenance, yet her eyes brightened expectantly. “ I should love to have you there, of course,” she said. When the train time came, and Fannie had left Rae's pretty studio, and the city, the little artist still sat, daintily touching the photographs she was coloring, and evidently closely thinking of something else. She was not sure that Dr. Philip Brudenel would exactly approve of her going to the Laburnums, but she meant to go, for all that, for she loved him, and she could plainly see that he had cares and pirplexities of which she knew nothing. And though they had been ngtiged over a year, he made no pro posal of marrying soon, but loiked moody when the subject was men tioned. Kae so enjoyed his company, that she could live with him in the black hole of Calcutta, she declared to herself, but probably Philip did not think so. Anyhow, she was going to the Laburnums, his home, at Low shore, because she felt that her love gave her a right to *;now what was disturbing him. Ten days later she locked her studio door and took the train to Lowshore, and soon the depot carriage had set her down at the door of a tiny cottage, bid in laburnums. Faunie kissed her affectionately. “ What a delightful apparition you are, Rae,” she said, and led her into a little sitting room. Everything was very plain and very tidy, Rae thought, accustomed to city apartments ; and, when Fannie had taken her hat and traveling-satchel, and gone to spread a lunch for her, Rae looked around and saw that the carpet was threadbare, and the furni ture extremely old-fashioned. (Sud denly a door opened, and an old lady, leaning on a cane, tottered into the room. Her face, bordered by a snowy cap, had a strange, puffy look, hut yet she showed signs of having been pretty in youth. “"What are you?” she asked Rae ; "a fairy? Do you think you can bet ter our fallen fortunes. No, no; that can never be. ” Rae's cheeks burned, under the strangely significant words, but she guessed, immediately, that the old lady’s mind was wandering; then Fannie entered the room. “ Come, mother, come and rest now,” she said gently, and drew her from the room. She came back, say ing to Rae, “ My mother is demented. Do not be troubled by anything she says." It was evening when Dr. Philip brought bis fine presence into the home. His start of delight, on seeing Rae, was succeeded by a rather sad smile. “ What pleasure did you expect to find here, dear child ?” he asked, holding her hand. “ Perhaps i did not come altogether for pleasure, Philip.” “ For what then ?" “ Profit.” “ V find very little of that here." | Two days passed. Rae saw, plainly, what lift was at the Laburnums—mo notonous, meagre; but ever since Philip first brought his sister to her studio, Rae had loved Fannie, who was older than herself, and patiently becoming one of the sweetest of old maids. 80 she enjoyed sisterly talks with Fannie. Philip was absent moet of the time. In one of these talks, Fannie said : “ You ought to havs come in tha early autumn, Bar; It is prettier here then. In November we have nothing attractive. I havie often expressed the wish to Philipp to have you visit us ; but he always speaks of the con trast between your life and ours : you in the city, with access to so much that is entertaining, and we shut out from the world. But because it is you, I think, Rae, I will show you the house in the hollow.” "The house in the hollow, Fan ?” “ Yes, our ancestral home; for Philip and I came of a prosperous race, poor as we now are, and the old house is full of wh-1 is beautiful and rare. Get your hat, and we will go now.” Through long lines of laburnums, across a tiny kitchen garden, along a decaying orchard, into a slope still green in the November sunshine. At one end of the valley, which opened toward the sea, stood a large and handsome house of painted brick, with oriel windows, aud other pictur esque effects. "It is not an old house," said Fan nie. “ It was built by my grand father, in his last days, as a wedding present to my mother. The old house, which formerly stood here, he had pulled down and this one built. He meant to reside with his only daughter, when she married Israel Beaucaire, a French Jew, whom he had chosen for her. But my mother fell In love with her music teacher, Ross Brudeuel, and eloped with him, and grandfather forbade her to return. But when Philip and I were father less, my mother came, in her great extremity, and begged her father’s assistance. Grandfather gave her this cottage we have now, and a small income, with which to bring us up, but never forgave her. At last he died, willing all his property to a dis tant cousin in India, who has never come for it. The house stands empty, with all its beautiful furniture, and the rich fields lie fallow, while Philip barely supports us, with his small practice. Lowsliore Is a most dis tressingly healthy place,” with a faint smile. mere are uiousanas oi aonars worth of silver in the bank, at Shore borough,” Baid Fannie, “aud rente accumulating which will be a small fortune. But we have nothing.” “ How hard ! how cruel!" eried Rae. “ I should not think your grand father could rest in his grave, to have you and Philip, with your refinement and culture, spending your lives in a hand-to-hand scramble for bread.” “ They say he does come back, and wander uneasily about here.” said Fannie, carefully closing the shutters and door, and coming out into the sunshiue. ” But, of course, such sto ries are told of all such residences. Philip says he does not believe a word of it,” with a marked emphasis which made Rae turn and look at her. “ But you do, Fan.” “ Twice people have tried to sleep there, and declared that grandfather appeared to them. 1 should not dare to try it, for I am a timorous thing at best, and—” The intensity of Roe’s thoughts made her quite deaf to what further her companion was saying. No won der Philip was sad and hopeless of their marriage, as he was situated, and seemed fated to continue to be. “ The will was made immediately after mamma’s marriage,” said Fan nie, standing under the laburnums, and looking up at the great house. “ Poor mother says he told her, on his death bed, that he made another will, perhaps in her favor. But what she says goes for little. Her state is a very strange one, smut; a itver sue bad, just after Philip became of age, yet she seems to understand some things, in our aifairs, that we do not understand till afterward. It is almost uncanny, to think over the strange knowledge she has had during these past years,” said Fannie, musingly. They walked back to the tiny cot tage. Itae's vein9 thrilled with ex citement, but Fannie went soberly about getting tea, for they kept no maid, this poor, disinherited family, and Rae learned that Philip’s own hands tilled the little kitchen garden, while every labor of the household was performed by Fannie. Bhe could not sleep that night, after she had gone to bed. The moonlight seemed to disturb her, and make her brain wildly active. What influence strung her nerves? For, when all was still, and the night far advanced, she rose, and dressing, donned a warm sealskin cap and sack, and came out into the hall. She took a bunch of keys from their nail, and selecting one, which she had seen Fannie take, held it tightly In her slim, white fin gers, as she went out into the night. In the moon’s white light, she went on through the long line of labur nums, across the tiny kitchen garden, into the hollow. Bhe stood a moment, before the great still house, listening to the roar of the sea. Btrangely enough, she did not feel afraid. If she thought of the presence of an un seen spirit, it was to appeal to it pray erfully for help. Another will. It must be. At least it would do no harm to search, and that is what she had come for. She left the hall doer open, and the moon light flooded the tiled hall. It streamed through the chinks of the shutters, which she open cal one by one, as she fitted keys to drawers of all kinds. But there were no papers anywhere. Many things which must have been the property of the old ’squire, she found, but not his will. “Oh, if I only could; if I only eould, it would restore Philip to his inheritance,” she said, in a sad voice. Rat, tat, tat—the sound of a cane on the floor. Ra# turned— for the first time her eyes wide with fright. The enthusiasm with which she had tertained her purpose, had made her utterly forgetful of herself. Now some one was coming. The door Rwung slowly on Its tarnished silver hinges. A quaint, bent little figure, leaning on a cane, came into the room, and paused beside a handsome, carved armchair which stood before a table. Lifting the cane, the bent old woman knocked smartly, thrice, on the seat of this chair, filling the room with a hollow sound, then resuming her fee ble walk, shepasBed out *f the apart ment by another door. Trembling. Rae approached the aimchair. The blows of the cane seemed to have broken the seat, for it was awry, plainly revealing a cavity beneath. Turning the chair to the light, Rae looked within, and saw distinctly a folded paper. It was a large sheet, yellow, and thick as vel lum. Her hands trembled, as she un folded it and read : “ My last will and testament,” and It dropped to the floor. Snatching it up. she ran swiftly out of the house, and flew to Fannie’s door. “ I have found it; I have found it!” she cried as she threw her arms around the amazed, white-robed figure that admitted her to Fannie’s cham ber. “Founu what? Are you sick? Areyou crazy?” asked Fannie. “The other will—in an old arm chair, in the house in the hollow. A ghost showed it to me!” said Rae, holding the paper up. There was a knock at the door. “Sister, what is the matter? What disturbs the house?" It was Philip’s voice. “I have found the will! Come in and see it!” cried Rae. 8he lighted a lamp, and gave him the paper. He was forced to read. 81 niggling for calmness as he pro ceeded, he read to the end. Yes, late, but r ot too late, the precious docu men: was found, the second will of Paul H'-amcomb, bequeathing all be had 10 his grandchildren. In the exciting talk that followed, no one heard a slender cane go rat, tat, tat, past the door, but when morn ing dawned, and Fannie bestirred b rself to get breakfast, she went, first, to her mother's room. “ Philip,” she said, coming bad;, “ mother has had one of her bad nights again. She has been up and away. I must have slept more soundly than usual ; she never eluded me before. She is very much ex h listed.” Philip went, instantly, to attend hie n other. When, the next day, she seemed res'ored to her ’wonted condi tion, and Rue had minutely told her story, they questioned the invalid, and tried to discover if she had any knowledge of the hiding place of the will. But nothing could be gained from her disordered mind. “ How dared you go on such an ex pedition, to that lonely place, at such an hour, Uae?” asked Philip, the next day, when, embraced by his arm, she had talked over with him the prospect of their immediate union. “ I was inspired,” she answered, laughing; but a look of awe came into her beautiful eyes. Then, as she remembered that strange night, she gently embraced him, adding : “All for love, Philip. It was done all for love.” Scent of Dogs. Dogs not only smell odors in an occasional way, but they likewise seem to extract a recognizable odor from almost everything, as Professor Groom Robertson also suggests: Anacharist knows me when I am dressed in clothes he never saw before, by his nose alone. Let me get myself up in a theatrical costume, and cover my face with a mask, yet he will ree ognize me at once by some, to us, undiscoverable perfume. Moreover, he will recognize the same odor, as clinging to my clothes after they have been taken off. If I shy a pebble on the beach, he can pick out the identical pebble amongst a thousand. Even the very ground on which I have trodden, re mains to him a faint memento of my presence for hours afterward. The bloodhound can track a human scent a week old, which argues a delicacy of nose almost incredible to human nostrils. Similarly, too, If you watch Anach arist at this mement, you will see that he runs up and down the path, sniff ing away at every stick, stone and plant, as though he got a separate and distinguishable scent out of every one of them. And so he must, no doubt; for If even the earth keeps a perfume of the person who has walked over it hours before, surely every object aliout u must have some faint smell or other eitber of itself or of objects which have touched it. When we remember that a single grain of musk will scent hundreds of handkerchiefs, so as to be recognizable even by our defective organs of smell, there is nothing extravagant in the idea that passing creatures may leave traces, discoverable by keener senses, »n all the pebbles aud straws which lie across the road. Thus the smells which make up half of the dog’s picture of the uni verse are probably just as continuous and distinct as the eights which make up the whole picture in our own case, and which doubtless coalesce with the other half in the canine mind. —A fashion magazine says: “Steel trimmings are no longer the style.’ That settles it. Lay aside your bowie knives. Laugh More. Mothers do not laugh enough. The housekeeping Is so onerous, the chil dren, so often, trying to nerves and temper, the servants most exaspera ting, and even John, kind, good hus band that he is, cannot understand ail our vexations and discouragements, and so wearied do we often feel, that it is too much for the household to depend on us, in addition to all our cares, for social sunshine as well. Yet the household does, and it must. Father may be bright and cheery, his laugh ring out, but if the mothei’s laugh fails, even the father’s cheer fulness seems to lose much of its infec tion. In the sad but forcible lines of one of Joanna Baillle’s dramas Her little child had osugbl the trick of grief, And Ighed amid its plaything*— we may catch a glimpse of the stern repressed life at Bothwell Manse, where “ the repression of all emotions, even the gentlest, seems to have been the constant lesson.” I remember well, hearing a lady say: “When a child, I used to wish so often that my mother would look cheerful.” Then laugh, mother, even if you do feel almost too weary to exert the fa cial muscles, and you have to make a pitiful effort, which comes nigh bringing tears instead of a laugh. You will feel better for the effort, and so will the children. The little ones, unconsciously to you aud themselves, are catching the very phases of coun tenance, which will go far to brighten or cloud some future home. Then laugh,mother; parlor, nursery and kitchen ail feel the effect of your smile or frown. The cheery laugh of t mother goes down through genera tions, as well as her frown. And when the mother’s eyes are closed, aud lips and hands forever still, there is no sweeter epitaph, which children and friends can give, thau: “ She was always bright and cheerful.” Superstitious. In many portions of England, the old superstitions are still in vogue. A friend, now traveling abroad, sends us some instances. One of his companions, a lady, who was temporarily staying near Pen zance, Cornwall, attended a funeral, and noticed that, while the clergy man was reading the burial service, a woman forced her way through the pall-bearers, to the edge of the grave. When he came to the passage, “ Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, duet to dust, ” she dropped a white cloth upon the coffin, closed her eyes, and apparently said a prayer. On making inquiries as to the cause of this proceeding, this lady found that a superstition exists, among the peasants In that part, if a person with a sore be taken secretly to a corpse, the dead hand passed over the sore place, and the bandage afterward dropped upon the coffin, daring the read ing of the burial service, perfect cure will be the result. This woman had a sick child, who had a bad leg, aad she had followed this superstition, with a tirm belief in its efficacy. The peasants also, to the present day, as we have been informed, wear charms, believ ing they will protect them from sick ness and other evils. The wife of the clergyman of the parish referred to, was very charitable in attending the sick and dispensing medicine, and one day a woman brought her child, having sore eyes, to have them •‘■•harmed,” having more faith in that remedy than in medicines. She was greatly surprised to find that med icines only were given to her. The Secret of Longevity The means known, so far, of pro moting longevity, have been usually concentrated in short, pithy sayings, as, “ Keep your head cool, and your feet warm,” “ Work much, and eat little,” etc.; just as If the whole science of human life could be summed up and brought out in a few words, while its greatest principles were kept out of sight. One of the best of these sayings Is given by an Italian, in his one hun dred and sixteenth year, who, being asked the means of his living so long, replied with that improvisation for which his country is remarkable: When hungry, of the beet I eat, And dry and warm 1 keep my feet; I screen my head from eun and rain, And let few cares perplex my brain. The following is about the best theory of the matter. Every man is born with a certain stock of vitality, which stock cannot be increased, but msy be husbanded. With this stock he may live fast or slow; may live extens' vely or intensively; may draw uls little amount of life over a large space, or narrow it into a con centrated one; but when his stock is exhausted he has no more. Ue who lives extensively, who drinks pure water, avoids all inflam matory diseases, exercises sufficiently, but not too laboriously, indulges no exuausting passions, feeds on no excit ing material, pursues no debilitating pleasures, avoids all laborious and protracted study, preserves an easy mind, and thus husbands his quan tum of vitality, will live considerably longer than he otherwise would do, because he lives slow ; while he, on the other hand, who lives intensively, who beverages himself on liquors and wines, exposes himseli to inflamma tory diseases or causes that produce tnem, labors beyond his strength, visits exciting scenes, and indulges exhausting passions, lives on stimulat ing and highly seasoned food, Is always debilitated by his pleasures. Ouk lives should be like snow fleldi, where our footsteps leave a trace, but not a stain. A Remarkable Star. Heveral correspondents have lately inquired about a reappearance of the »o-called starof Bethlehem. Home have mistaken the planet Jupiter for this phenomenon. It seems to tie thought that a reappearance of this star must tie one of the wonders of the year We once told tlie story of a star that astronomers sometimes call Tycho Brahe’s star, and which has been ancifuily dut bed the Htar of Bethle hem. In the year 1572, Tycho Brahe, the most famous astronomer of his time, on going out to walk, one evening, was astonished to see a splendid star blazing in the constellation Cassiopeia, where he knew no such star had been before. It was first seen by some wagoners driving their teams along the country road at night. For three weeks it outshone all the other stars in the sky, and exhibited, by turns, a variety of brilliant colors. Then it began to fade, aud in sixteen months disappeared. It has never been seen since, although a small star was dis covered, about fifteen years ago, near the same spot. In looking over the records of astro nomical observations, it was found that a new star had suddenly ap peared, near the same place, in the year 1264. The theory was then formed that this might lie a variable star, with a period of over 300 years between its maxima. Further re search brought to light records of the appearance of a similar star iu that part of the sky in the year 945. There is a discrepancy of eleven years between the two periods, but this did not prevent somebody from calculating the supposed series of appearances back, and thereupon, an nouncing that the star must have ap peared at the time of the birth of Christ. Jerome Cardan, the astrolo ger, was one of the first who sought to identify this phenomenon with the star that served the wise men of the East as a guide, to the manger in which the Haviour lay. It was called the Pilerim. The constellation Cassiopeia, at this season, is nearly in the zenith early in the evening. It occupied the eauie position when Tycbo Brahe flrBt caught sight of the wonderful star. The constellation may he recognized by its five principal stars. They form a figure resembling the letter W. The new star appeared opposite the right-hand opening of the letter. The observer should not be mislead by some small stars, in that ne.*gh bor hood, which are easily seen with the naked eye. The star that is said to occupy nearly the place of the phenomenon of 1572, is only visible in telescopes. If this is a variable star, with a period vary ing between 308 and 319 years, it may be expected to blaze out again, at any time between now and 1891. The Universal Language. A literary journal of New York, re cently had this paragraph : The English language is no w spoken by over 100,000,000 people, while neither the French nor German can claim 50,000,01X1. Mr. Walter, edito of the London Timet, concedes that the United States will have a popula tion of 200,000,000 in the year 2000 A. D., and this estimate is in accordance with those of other statisticians. Eng lish certainly has a good prospect of reaching the preeminence once occu pied by the Latin or Greek, as an uni versal language. From the standpoint of the English speaking race, all this appears well founded. But it is vehemently dis puted by the French and German— by the former, on the score of collo quial excellence of their language, which has constituted it the medium of diplomatic communication all over the world, and by the latter, on the ground that the language of Luther, Goethe, and Humboldt, is the cos mopolitan vehicle of all philosophical and literary expression. To this it may be replied, that the English language is emphatically the language of commerce. It has been asserted, without contradiction, that a man may transact business in the English tongue in every trade-centre in the world. All large business houses In non-English countries have an English-speaking clerk or corres pondent, as a necessity. As a matter of fact, it is further affirmed, that no one speaking only English, can “stop at” any hotel in the civilized world, of any consequence, without finding some one who can understand and interpret bis orders for service.—Phil adelphia Daily Day. Vera Cruz. & City Where Grace Growe la the Street!. W. H. Bishop, writing of the City of Vera Cruz, says- The elty itself, compart and solid, with a line of domes and steeples blackened with time, roofs of substantial tsd tiles, plentiful balconies, and bits of wall tinted blue, green and pink, is a little like Venice. A large crane hangs out from the end of an iron pier, and the fancy hooks on to it at once, the ter minus of the English railway which is to bear us away up the extraordi nary slopes, from the hot lands, the tierrat calientet, to the mysterious Interior and the capital. In an existence of going on four hundred years, Vera Cruz has arrived at a population of seventeen thousand. The interior view of the place does aot belie the promise of the first glimpse. Tke churches are of Irregu lar, picturesque shapes, with nice I bells. The principal one, In a little shaded plaza, has a dome of colored mosaic tiles, which shine in the sun: a style we shall see plenty of farthei on. The principle shops have a well furnished air, especially in the branches of groceries snd heavy hard ware, and the custom-house square is stuffed to repletion with cotton bales, railroad iron, and miscellaneous goods waiting transportation. The princi pal street is cal led de la Independencia, and leads to a short concrete prome nade, l(ordered with stone lynches and palm-trees. It is early discovered that (lie Mexican is very patriotic. He names his streets after his battles, as particu larly the Cinco de Mayo, fought at Puebla against the French, and even has a way of joining the names of his heroes to those of cities. Thus Puebla is Puebla de Zaradozn, commandant in the same great battle of the flfih of May, and Oaxaca is Oaxaca of (Presi dent) Juarez. Grass grows in the joints of the stones in the minor streets, and open gutters run in the centre. The zojti loles, of which travelers have written, sit on long, straight waterspouts pro jecting from the houses. They are large, raven black, dignified, and aloft there against tfce deep blue sky, have an appearance of carved architectural ornaments. There are street-cleaning departments elsewhere which are far less ornamental at any rate. Notices of a bull fight for the com ing Sunday are posted on the dead walls. A tram-car of a peculiar pattern runs out iu the open fields, where there is a dancing place and ball ground. There is a view, In passing, of the cemetery, which should be a leading institution indeed at Vera Cruz; and yet when one is on the ground, as is apt to be the case, there are mitigations to be found, even of the terrors of yellow fever. Pall-bearers in gloomy weeds are naturally expected to form a consider able part of the population, just as murderers and kidnappers of all sorts are expected to abound elsewhere. But an American resident assured me that in four years he had known but one of our countrymen to die of the vomito, as it is called, and very few to have it. Its chief havoc is among the poor and badly nourished. The American Consul, himself a physician, and a resident of twelve years’ standing, is strenuous in his views as to the harm done to the com mercial interests of both countries by ignorance and misrepresentations on the subject. It is certain that the locil authorities do not regard the disease as contagious, putting those afflicted side by side with surgical patients in the hospital; fxpm which it seems that if the case were r< ally looked into, there may be as little need of the annoying quarantine against yellow fever, at least of this variety, as if it were simple ague. A Test of Innocence. A poor, pale seamstress was ar raigned for theft, in Paris. She ap peared at the bar, with hsr baby of eleven months on her arm. She went to get some work one day, and stole three gold coins, of ten francs each. The money was missed soon after she left her employer, and a servant was sent to her room to claim it. The ser vant found her about to quit the room, with the three gold pieces in her hand. She said to the servant I am going to carry them back to you.”, Nevertheless she was carried to the Commis ioner of Police, and he or dered her to be sent to the Police Court for trial. She was too poor to engage a law yer, and when asked, by the Judge, what she had to say for herself, she replied: “The day I went to my em ployer’s, I carried my child with me. It was in my arms, as it is now. I was not paying attention to it. There were several goiu come on uie mantel piece, and, unknown to me, it stretched out its little hand and seized three pieces, which I did not observe until I got home. I at once put on my bonnet, and was going hack to my employer, to return them when I was arrested. This is the solemn truth, as I hope for Heaven’s mercy. The Court could not believe this story. They upbraided the mother for her impudence, in endeavoring to palm off such a manifest lie for the truth. They besought her, for her own sake, to retract so absurd a tale, for it could have no effect, hot to oblige the Court to sentence her to a much severer punishment than they were disposer! to inflict, uj>on one so young and evidently so deep in poverty. These appeals had no effect, except to strengthen the poor mother’s per tinacious adherence to her original story. As this firmness was sustained by that look of innocence which the most guilty criminal can never coun terfeit, the Court was at some loss to discover what decision justice de manded. To relieve their embarrassment, one of the judges proposed to renew the scene described by the mother. Three gold coins were placed on the Clerk’s table. The mother requested to as surne the |>osition in which she stood at her employer’s house. There was a breathless pause in Court. The baby toon discovered the bright coins, eyed them for f moment, smiled, and then stretched .orth its tiny hand and clutched them in its Angers with a miser’s eagerness. The mother was at once acquitted. —A pugilist should And no difficulty in boxing the compass. How a Poor Girl Captured a Millionaire. There in a very pretty romance about the marriage of William H. Vander bilt, Jr., to Mins Alva Smith, the story of which is often told in upper tendoro. While at school, Miss Bmith sud denly received word * hat her father bad made an unlucky venture, that liis fortune had gone up in a balloon, and that she and her sister must, at the end of the term, then near its close, go at once to the home of their grandmother, In Virginia, there to re main un'il their father could summon them North again. This was not suited at ail to the tastes of a 'demoiselle conscious of hsr own attractions, and she determined to make a venture on her own ac count. She borrowed some money from her teacher, and made an ar rangement with her to go to Richfield Springs for a few weeks, so that when she appeared there, she had as a duen na, a well-known instructress, and this piqued the curiosity of the young men about the resort. There was a coterie ofJNew York girls there, a Miss T-, daughter of a broker, a Miss O—, daughter of a rich brewer, and several others, who knew of the misfortune of the Smiths, and who also tried to make it appear that the young Mies Bmith no longer deserved a place in the ranks of the nouveau riche, as her father had “gone up.” Mr. William Vanderbilt, Jr., came to the Springs to attend a ball, and the New York girls were all in a flut ter, beoause each one desired to cap ture the son of the millionaire. Miss Bmitli took in the situation at aglance, but she had nothing to wear, and she had only forty dollars in her purse. She propose* to Miss T., to buy a dress, and Miss T. having a big stock of dresses, and but a small amount of pin money, was ready to oblige her She wasn’t, however, inclined to part with anything that would be becom ing to Miss Bmith, and accordingly she selected a yellow silk with a wine spot in front, and offered to sell that for Miss Smith's forty dollars, being assured that Miss Bmith, being more of a blonde than a brunette, would look “horrid” in yellow. But Miss Bmith paid the price, and the fair dealer in second-hand clo’ ohuckled over the bargain she made. Her pleasure was changed to cha grin, that evening, when Miss Smith appeared upon the ball-room floor, a queen of beauty, and in that yellow silk, too. Instead of putting white upon her face she had made her com plexion brown, and, having borrowed a lace mantilla from her teacher, ;yid a big black fan, she came out the pic ture of a bewitching seuorita. Her coy glances shot into the Vanderbilt heart. She tossed the soft ends of the man tilla over her shoulder, as she strolled the piazza, and used that fan most bewitchingly. The New York girls stood aghast, and Miss T. shed a tear over the loss of her yellow silk, and felt that she had been cheated, for she neverthought that the dress looked m well. The result was that Vanderbilt fell desperarely in love, pressed his suit, became all the more ardent because of the lady’s studied hesitancy, and was the happiest young millionaire any where, when he gaiued a kiss, and the privilege of putting on the finger of the seuorita a diamond engagement ring. Mrs Vanderbilt at once visited Richfield Springs, was charmed with her prospective daughter-in-law, and invited her to go and spend the sum mer with her. The smart young girl, however, pleaded.that she had a dear, sweet grandmamma in Virginia, to whom she owed a duty visit, and she must go there first. Thither she went, anti taking ac count of stock, Unproved her ward robe, as a smart girl with a little money only can, and then, she aeoept the invitation of her prospective mother in-law. Hke confided to her the story of the bitterness of the fash ionable New York girls, who were so anxious to get her expected husband, and the result was that the mother had her pride touched, and she at once cut the T’s and O’s, much to the consternation of the families aforesaid. Well, allwent well The millionaire married the pretty girl of the yellow silk and the black lace mantilla, and they are now living happily upon the avenue. Borne years ago, there were a num ber of army officers stopping at a hotel in Washington. Amoug them were a Capt. Emerson and a Capt. Jones. Emerson and Jones used to have a good deal of fun together, at the dinner-table and elsewhere. One day, at the dinner-table, when the diuing-hall was wall filled, Capt. Jones finished his dinner first, got up, and walker] almost to the diniug-hall door, when Emerson called to him, in a loud voice: “ Hailo, captain! see here. I want to speak, to you a minute.” The cap tain turned, walked back to the table, aud bent over him; when Emerson whispered: "I wanted to ask yon how far you would have gone if I had not spoken to you.” The captain never changed a mus cle, but straightened up, put his fingers into his vest pocket, a>d said : “ Capt. Emerson, 1 don’t know of a man in the world I’d rather lend $5 than you, hut the fact is, I haven’t a cent with me to-day; ” and he turned on his heelund walked away. Emerson was the color of a dotua rainbows, but he had to stand It.