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J Q. STITELY & SON, LIBERTY ST., WESTMINSTER, MD. Having associated with me in business my son Oliver, the business will now be run under the name and firm of J. Q. Stitely k Son, where you will constantly find on hand a full and select assortment of Agricultural Implements and Ma chinery of All Kinds. The Champion Cord Binders, Reapers and Mowers, Oliver Chilled Plows, Lebanon Wrought Share Plows, Bench Cultivators, SPRING-TOOTH HARROWS Both riding and walking; Evans Check Row Corn Planters, the Wyard Hand Planters, Corn Shellers, Peed Cutters and Mas ticators, Thomas Hay Bake, The Bullard Hay Feeder, Empire Engines, Separators And Clover Hullers, The Empire and Bick ford A Huffman GRAIN AND GUANO WHEAT DRILLS, Wheat Fans, Single and Double Shovel Plows, Single Trees. Also a PULL LINE OP REPAIRS. The Buckeye Iron Pump Cucumber Pumps and Tubing Of all kinds. We now call your special at tention to the celebrated Emerson k Fisher BUGGIES AND PHiETONS. Have just received a fresh carload of them, and are now ready to accommodate our many friends and customers with the best Buggies in the State for the money. *AN UNRIVALLED COMBINATION Of cheapness, durability and style. Extra ordinary success! OVER 100,000 CARRIAGES SOLD And perfect satisfaction given. Come and see the newest styles, with latest improve ments, and select a Buggy, Phteton, lamily Carriage, Cart or Spring Wagon, made by the Emerson k Fisher Company expressly for our trade. J. Q. STITELY k SON, Liberty Street, opposite Depot, feb 16 84:tf Westminster, Md. WESTERN MARYLAND COLLEGE. FOR STUDENTS of BO TII SEXES ur SEPARATE DEPARTMENTS. Organized under the auspices of the Methodist Protestant Church, ISG7. WSf~lncorporated by Act of Assembly, ISGS. Occupies one of the most beautiful and healthful sites in the State. Receives annual appropriation f.om the Legislature for the Free Board of one student from each Sena torial District. Provides a comfortable room for each two students. Has a full corps of competent instructors. Course of study ample and thorough both in the Preparatory and Collegiate Departments. Discipline strict, but kind. Terms very moderate. A Schol arship for Three Years Tuition for SIOO, and (to students having such Scholarship) Board, Room, Washing, Fuel and Light at the rate of $166.67 per year. Has been in successful operation for 16 years. The Thirty-Fifth Annual Session begins September 2d, 1884, and ends January 30th, 1885. For Catalogue, and further informa tion, address J. T. WARD, D. D., President, July 5 Westminster, Md. ESTABLISHED 1826 FFFF A L L V AA I. I; FF A A L I. F AAA I, L ¥ A A LLLL LLLL Q Our stock is now complete for the autumn season. We have a big variety of SCHOOL SUITS FOR BOYS, to which, together with OUR GENERAL ASSORTMENT, we would call attention, as well as to the fact that we offer our goods at such prices as will prove satisfactory to our patrons. All of our goods are properly shrunk be fore being made up. NOAH WALKER k CO., 165 and 167 West Baltimore Street, oct4-tf Baltimore, Md. FLOUR! FLOUR! Westminster Flouring Mills, W. S. MYER k BRO. Proprietors. Manufacture and have on sale the following brands of Flour: Oriole Family 1 • > Patent Process. A No. 1 Family) Westminster Family New Parr’s Ridge Family ■ Process. Westminster Extra Above Brands Flour on sale at Barrel Prices, in Half Barrel Sacks, (98 lbs.) Quarter “ “ (49 lbs.) Eighth “ “ (24J lbs.) Sixteenth“ “ (12) lbs.) Have constantly on hand and for sale Bran, Middlings and Offall in general. Agents for Standard Brands of Fertilizers. For sale at Manufacturers’ Prices, feb 4 1882-ly (JIGARS, TOBACCO, SMOKERS’ SUPPLIES. CHANGE OF PROPRIETORSHIP. Having bought out the stock of L. C. Trum bo, on Main street, near Court, I have re arranged the store and increased the stock. Patrons will find at all times Cigars of all kinds, the various brands of Tobacco, Snuff, Pipes, &c., &c. Persons in need of anything in roy line will find a fine stock. JOS. P. ALLGIRE. nov 1-ly Westminster, Md, )|j)* Ormorralif Aduncate. poetical. THINGS THAT NEVER DIE. All the Year Hounrt. Tbc pure, the bright, the beautiful, That stirred our hearts in youth; The impulse to a wordless prayer. The; dreams of love and truth— The longing after something lost, The spirit’s yearning cry, The striving after better hopes— These things can never die. The timid hand stretched forth to aid A brother in his need. The kindly word in grief’s dark hour That proves a friend indeed— The pica for mercy, softly breathed, When justice threatened high, The sorrow of a contrite heart— These things shall never die. The memory of a clasping hand, The pressure of a kiss, And all the trifles sweet and frail That make up life’s bliss; If with a firm, unchanging faith, And holy trust and high. Those hands have clasped and lips have met, These things shall never die. The cruel and the bitter word That wounded as it fell, The chilling want of sympathy We feel but never tell— The hard repulse that chills the heart Whose hopes were bounding high, In an unfading record kept— These things shall never die. Let nothing pass, for every hand Must find some work to do; Lose not a chance to waken Love— Be firm and just and true. So shall a light that cannot fade Beam on*thee from on high, And angels’ voices say to thee These things shall never die. Select J^tOl’L). A FADED LEAF. From the American Queen. I can hardly believe it even now. If there was one person in this world whom I should have thought safe from the remot est chance of matrimony, that person was Aunt Hetty—dear, placid middle-aged Aunt Hetty. And yet I have just seen her drive away from the door, hand-in-hand with her handsome husband, and looking as sweet and bonny as any young bride of 19, notwithstanding her silver hair. It has all happened so quickly and in such a wonderful, fairy tale kind of fashion, that I feel as if it had taken my breath away and as if I must really sit down and rest a bit and think the matter over. I have lived with Aunt Hetty ever since mother died. When I came to her I was quite a little tot, and now I am six-and twenty, so you may imagine it is a good many years ago. Auntie must have been a young woman then, but somehow she has always seemed middle-aged to me. She was always so calm and gentle, and did everything in such a quiet, business-like way that I regarded her as a different kind of being from my restless, excitable self. I have had my little flirtations now and then but Aunt Hetty seemed too grave, too wise, too good altogether ever to have been mixed up in anything so frivolous as a love affair. It only shows how we may live with people in the same house, yet know little or nothing of their feelings, I re member, almost as if it were yesterday, fancying one day about a year ago, that auntie was dressed more carefully than usu al. I don’t know what the difference was —only an extra bit of lace or ribbon or something of that sort, but I said to her in fun: “Why, auntie, dear, how smart you are! One would think you were going to a wedding.” “No, dear,” she said, “I going to a wedding, but this should have been my own silver-wedding day.” And the dear lip quivered for a moment and a tear came into the soft gray eyes.” “Your silver wedding, auntie! Forgive me! I didn’t know” — “No, dear,” she said, “of course yon could not. It is a very old story now.” “But how was it, then, that you were not married after all, auntie?” I inquired. I But perhaps I ought not to ask. Don’t tell t me if it pains you.” “No, dear,” she said, “it pas a painful story once, but the pain has gone out of it now. And I think I should like to tell it to you. Perhaps some day it may save you from making such a mistake as I did. It a very simple story —just a lovers’ quar rel, a few hasty words —all said and over in five minutes, but they altered my whole life.” “A lovers’ quarrel, auntie! Then lam sure the fault was not on your side.” “You are wrong, dear. The fait was on my side. I was proud and angry and obstinate; a word would have given me back my lover, but I would not say it. We parted in anger, and we have never met again!" “You, auntie!—the most patient of liv ing beings—you proud and angry and ob stinate! I can’t believe it.” “Yes, Ruth, it is true, nevertheless. Sit here on the hassock at my feet and I will tell yon my story. It won’t take long.” I sat down accordingly, and with her hand resting on my shoulder, and now and then wandering lovingly over my hair, she began; “It happened when I was only eighteen—• younger than you, Ruth, and full of life and spirit—very different from the faded old maid you have always known me. I j was engaged to be married. My lover was four years older than myself; he was a mate of a ship, and a fine, dashing young fellow named Edward Rlake. We had been engaged six months, and were to be married a month later. The day was fixed, and Edward had arranged to give up the sea and take a situation on land. We were as happy as any two young people could possibly bo, but, unluckily, just a month before the time fixed for our wed ding-day, a pic-nic was gotten up by some of our young friends, and Edward and I were of the party. There was a handsome young fellow there named Percy Sandys, the son of a neighboring clergyman. He was fresh from college, and full of fun and frolic. I chanced to be placed next to him at luncheon, and not knowing, as I after wards discovered, that I was engaged, he was specially attentive to me. I did not care for his attentions in the least but T was in high spirits and only bent on the en joyment of the moment, and I did not check him as, perhaps, I ought to have done. Presently I caught sight of Ed ward’s face, and saw that he was looking very cross and angry. Foolishly, I thought it rather good fun to make him jealous, and on purpose to tease him, I pretended to take all the more notice of Mr. Sandys. When we had finished luncheon the party scattered and strolled about the woods in various directions. I naturally expected Edward to accompany me, but ho rather rudely, as I thought, held aloof, and to punish him I paired off with Mr. Sandys. When the party got together again Edward looked so savage that I thought it better not to provoke him any further. I shook off Mr. Sandys, and, walking away with Edward, began to scold him for WESTMINSTER, MD., SATURDAY, JANUARY 24, 1885. his unreasonable jealousy. Of course I did uot think I myself was in fault; nobody ever docs. A loving word would have made me penitent directly. Unfortunately he was white hot with anger and began to reproach me in away that roused my tem per, too, for I was quick enough to take offense in those days, Ruth, though I have learned better since. I can remember as if it were yesterday the nook in the woods where we stood, the. sunshine glinting through the trees and lighting up Edward’s flushed face and angry eyes. He re proached me bitterly —more bitterly I think, than I deserved. He called me a heartless coquette, and I called him little minded ano. told him he had made himself ridiculous by his unreasonable jealousy. We got hotter and hotter, and finally he declared that if I did not admit that I had been wrong, and promise to behave differ ently for the future, all must be over be tween us. I did not care a straw for Mr. Sandys, and would fifty times sooner have had Edward with me, but I would have died sooner than told him so then. So I gave him a bitter answer, and we both grew angrier still. His last words, uttered with all the intensity of passion, ring still in my ears. I can tell you them word for word: “Hetty, if you let me go now, understand clearly you will never see my face again.” I did not quite believe him. Perhaps, if I had, I should still have let him go. At any rate, I was far too angry to give way then. “Go by all means, if you wish it,” I said, and in another moment he was gone. I had been tearing to pieces, in my passion, a little spray of hawthorne he had given me earlier in the day. I had pulled off the leaves one by one, and when he left me the bare stem was left in my hand, with one leaf only remaining. See, here it is, the last relic of my first and last love. God grant that in your whole life, my Ruth, you may never weep such tears as I have wept over that one faded leaf. Aunt Hetty took from her desk the little prayer-book she always carried, a quaint little red-covered book with a gilt clasp, and showed just within it a tissue paper pocket attached to the cover This she opened and showed me the faded leaf. “This little book,” she said, “was Ed ward’s first gift to me; and this old dry leaf is my only relic of the day when we parted in anger in the wood never to meet again in this world. Stay, I have one more treasure; see!” She drew from her bosom a quaint old locket and put it in my hand. It was a miniature painting representing a young man in an old-fashioned naval costume. It was a handsome face, but stern and proud looking; and I could well believe that the original would have behaved as Aunt Hetty had described. “But did you really part like that, auntie ?” I said. “Did you never see him again ?” “Never. He did not go back to the pic-nic party, but joined an outward-bound ship the very next day, leaving a brief note for my mother stating, that we had fortunately found out in time that we were unsuited to each other, and had, therefore, by mutual consent, put an end to our en gagement. “But that was very cruel, auntie.” “I thought so then. Perhaps it was a little; but afterward I blamed myself far more than him. I had given the provoca tion; and I knew in my heart of hearts that one word of regret on my part would have made all right between us. But I was too proud to say it. I let him go with my eyes open and I have been justly punished.” “But have you never heard of him since, auntie ?” “Once or twice in early years; but only indirectly. He had no relatives in our part of the country. I know that he gave up the sea and obtained a commission in some Indian regiment. When I last heard of him he was a captain; but that is many years ago, and I do not know whether he is alive or dead. So ends my poor little romance. There is one thing I should like to ask, Ruth, and that is partly why I i have told you my story. You have seen my relics. They have been my greatest treasures in life, and I should like them put in my coffin when I die. Will you | remember this, dear?” I could not answer for tears, but I kissed her hand and'she was content. Two months ago, tired of our humdrum country life, auntie and I resolved for once to visit foreign parts. Accordingly we went to Boulogne and took up our abode in a quiet boarding-house in the Rue des Viel liards. Our domicile was a quaint old house, said to have been originally a nun nery, and afterward to have been occupied for a short time by the great Napoleon when meditating a descent upon England. A broad gateway, flanked on either side by disused field-guns, planted upright in the ground byway of gate posts, led into a pleasant courtyard, with seats under the shade of a spreading tree and made musical by the plash of a modest fountain. There were a good many visitors staying in the house, but they were mostly in families or parties, and we did not amalgamate much with them. Our vis-a-vis at table was a tall, elderly gentleman of soldierly appear ance, who was always spoken of as the Major. He had evidently been a very handsome man—indeed, he was handsome still. His hair and mustache were perfect ly white, forming a marked contrast with his complexion, which was extremely dark, as if tanned by long residence under a tropical sun. 1 think I was first attracted j to him by noticing that his French was even worse than our own. When he ven tured, as he occasionally did, to address an order to the white-capped waiting maids in their own language the difficulties he got into were dreadful, and he generally ended by getting rather angry with himself and them. Once or twice I ventured, very timidly, to help him out of a difficulty of this kind, and in this manner a slight ac quaintance had sprung up between us. It had, however, proceeded no further than a friendly good morning or a casual remark across the dinner-table. With other visi tors the Major fraternized even less. After breakfast he regularly smoked one cigar under the tree in, the court-yard; after which he started off for a solitary ramble and did not reappear till dinner-time. So matters stood until the first Sunday eve ning after our arrival, when we went, as in duty bound, to the little English church in an adjoining street. We were ushered into one of the pews appropriated for strangers; and a minute or two later the Major was shown into the same pew, and sat down silently beside us. The service proceeded in the usual course, and the sermon was nearly over when the Major, by an acci dental movement of his elbow, knocked down auntie’s little red prayer-book, which was on the sloping ledge before her. He stooped to pick it up, and was about to re place it, but as it came in view iu the full glare of the gaslight his eye chanced to fall upon it, and he started as though he had seen a ghost. He laid down the book on the desk before him, but it seemed to fas cinate him. He looked from the book to Aunt Hetty and from Aunt Hetty to the book, as if trying to satisfy himself on some point, but without success. The service came to an end at last, and the benediction followed; but I fear the major had little share in it. He took advantage of the moment when all heads were bowed to do a very unmannerly thing. He slyly put up his eyeglasses, and-, opening auntie’s prayer-book, took a rapid peep at the name : inside. It was very quickly done and : might have escaped notice; but I was watch ing him closely. I could even read the name myself. It was in a bold, manly handwriting. “To Hester, June 28,18 —.” i I stared aghast at such an act of imperti nence, and glanced at Aunt Hetty to see whether she would resist it; but she had probably not noticed the offence, for she made so sign. ’ The congregation began to disperse, and we passed out in our turn, the Major close : behind us. We were scarcely fairly in the street when he spoke to auntie. “Madam, I am going to ask you a very singular question, hut let me assure you that I have a deep personal interest in ask ing it. Will you tell me how you came by that red prayer-book that you use? ” “I shall never forget auntie’s answer, given as quickly as if it was the most com monplace matter, though I could tell by the faint roseflush on her usually pale cheek how deeply she was moved. “You gave it to me yourself, Major Blake, six-and-twenty years ago.” The major’s face was a study. Surprise, delight and incredulity seemed struggling for the mastery. He took off his hat and stood bareheaded. I hardly know why, but that one little gesture seemed to tell me, better than the most passionate protes tations would have done, that the old love had been kept a treasured and a sacred thing. And I tliink, from the faint, sweet smile that gathered round her mouth as she looked up at him, that the same thought came to auntie. “And you are Hetty I” he said. “Yes, I know you now.” “You had forgotten the six and twenty years, Major Blake. I knew you from the first.” “And would you,really have let me go without a word or a sign ?” he asked. “Why not?” she replied. “How could I know you would wish to be reminded of old times ?” “Reminded! 1 have never forgotten. ’ I tried my hardest to forget and couldn’t. Although you preferred another.” “Another! What other?” “Young Sandys. Did you not marry him?” “I have never seen him since.” At this stage of the conversation it : struck me that I was decidedly de trap. Major Blake had replaced his hat, and, side by side with auntie, was walking slow ly homeward. I had hitherto been follow ing behind; but reaching a convenient street corner, I let them proceed alone and went off, without beat of drum, for a stroll in an opposite direction. When I reached the boarding-house, half an hour later, I found auntie and the Major sitting in the courtyard under the shade of the great ■ tree. The Major courteously lifted his hat at my approach and said: “Miss Danvers, your aunt and I are very old friends: indeed, many years ago we were engaged to be married, but an unfor tunate misunderstanding separated us. We have lost many happy years of life to getbef, but I hope some may still remain , to us. I trust we shall have your good wishes.” I looked from one to the other. “You dear, darling auntie, then you really are going to be married, after all! . Of course I wish you joy, and Major Blake, too, from the bottom of my heart.” “I don’t know” said auntie, shaking her head doubtfully. “I’m a little afraid we are two old fools.” “Nay, dear,” said the Major, raising her hand gallantly to his lips. “Perhaps we were young fools, but that is six-and-twenty years ago. Let us hope we have learned true wisdom now. I don’t know how the secret oozed out, i but before twenty-four hours were over , every one in the boarding-house, even to the white-capped Adele and her assistant maidens, knew that the handsome English Major had met an old love in the gentle little lady with the sweet smile and soft grey hair, and that after a separation of six-and-twenty years they were again en gaged to be married; and they were pro moted to the rights and privileges of en gaged lovers accordingly. And lovers they ’ unmistakably were, though in a very quiet way. No lover of twenty could have been more devoted than this weather - beaten warrior to his faded bride; no girl of seven teen more proud and happy in her lover’s _ devotion than dear old auntie. They ought i by every rule, to have been ridiculous, hut L somehow nobody seemed to think them so; and I really believe they had the heartiest ’ sympathy of every one in the house. . I must pass over the homeward journey, ’ and the astonishment of our friends at , Fairfield, when auntie returned engaged to I be married. Some few of them had known , Major Blake as a young man, but to most ’ of them he was a stranger. Many were the questions, and long the explanations, before everything was accounted for to L everybody’s satisfaction; but it was done at last. And then came the preparation of . the trousseau, and at last, this very morn ’ ing, the happy pair have been made one, . and auntie is oft' to the Isle of Wight to spend herhoneymoon. And last night, just , before wo went to bed, she called me into her own room, and, taking out the little red \ prayer book, she said : [ “Ruth, dear, lam going to give you this . little book as a parting remembrance. You know how I have treasured it, and you ! won’t value it the less, lam sure, for hav , ing been so dear to me. And if, when Mr. t Right comes, Ruth, you are ever tempted [ to be wilful or wayward, or pain a heart [ that loves you truly, think of you old Aunt . : Hetty, and don’t forget the moral of the \ f faded leaf.” b It is said that Chief Justice Coleridge t first obtained notice as a lawyer by the following simple incident, while he was pleading the cause of a man on trial for r murder. In the course of his long argu r ment a candle in the jury box flickered and r went out, leaving the court room in dark , ness. He stopped speaking, and the si l lencj in the court for a moment was op pressive. The scene, with its dark shad i ows, its grim faces, the scarlet robes of the , judge, and the haggard face of the murder j cr, was worthy of Rembrandt. The usher ■ replaced the light and Coleridge resumed s his address. “Gentlemen of the jury, you , have a solemn duty, a very solemn duty, to 1 discharge. The life of the prisoner of the . bar is in your hands. You can take it— by a word. You can extinguish that life [ as the candle by your side was extinguish -1 ed a moment ago. But it is not in your * power, it is not in the power of any of us . —of any one in this court or out of it—to 1 restore that life, when once taken, as that 1 light has been restored.” A thrilling cf j feet was produced and the case was woe. Sleepers and languid worshippers in o church imperil their souls, if not their b bodies. Though the services be ever so e dull, God is present to hear and bless, and e is not to be dishonored by indifference and a listlessness. ©ur ©lia. MANAGEMENT OP HUSBANDS. A Woman of Experience Gives Her Opinion on the Important Subject. “What arc you going to write about this week?” said my most particular lady friend, and I have only very few of that order. “The Management of Husbands,” Ireplied. “Well, that’s done in a very few words,” she said laughingly; “Give him the latch key, kiss him good night and tell him to come in when lie likes, as you are going to bed, and that man will bo in leading strings forthwith.” I agree with my friend that hers is a splendid recipe; still I have an idea that I can give one quite as good, and one hav ing more nobility of purpose. There is nothing living so easily managed as the average man, but then the wife must un derstand diplomacy and be a tactician to the tips of her fingers. What violence or tears can never accomplish tact will. I have always thought there is something radically wrong in the marriage tie, but what it is becomes a difficult matter to de fine when searching into bottom facts. Men, as a rule, marry women for love, yet we see every day these one-time happy doves drifting apart and acting as though separation would be the happiest end for both. To marry for love simply is absurd. Unless there is a large amount of respect on either side the flame of love soon dies out, leaving a barren manor for the dwel lers thereon. I really think those mar riages are the happiest where there is less flame and passion and more quiet respect in the first place, since there is always a certainty of love following in the aftertime, for we must respect first what we finally love. However, supposing you have a husband whom you wish to twirl around your little finger, you must first love him, “with all your heart, with all your soul,” etc., and the love you feel will make it possible to put up with all those little discrepancies which crop out in man’s nature when you come to live with him, for the best of men become monotonous after a while. In the first place, should your husband be a man in business, who comes home tired to death, 1 cross and worn out, do not at once enter tain him with the troubles you have gone through during the day. Do not rehearse the shortcomings of the servnats or the disobedience of the children. Meet him with a smile, kiss him, take his hat and overcoat from him and let him severely alone until he has toned down his irritabil ity with a good dinner, after which he will be in a good position to listen to anything you may have to say ; but I always found it an excellent plan to hide disagreeables entirely from a husband’s notice. Men don’t want to have a repetition of annoy ances at home, when they have so many in their daily path outside, and, believe me, the effect of keeping household squabbles out of your husband's knowledge wonder fully enhances your value as a wife. I have seen so many arrant fools fly at their husbands the moment they enter the house; and there and then give a detailed account of the troubles of the whole day, even tak ing to tears as an argument on their side— and O ! how men hate tears; how they detest household details —and, being natur ally selfish, in fact hate anything that puts them out at home; and they are right. The bread-winner ought to be relieved from domestic jars. Of all things when your husband comes home, see that his dinner is well cooked. Don’t make a row because the meat is un derdone or burned to a stick. Rather go into the kitchen yourself and see that everything is comme il faut. You don’t know how a man appreciates a loving wel come and a good dinner after the toil of the day. Put yourself in his place, each woman who has to toil for a fatherless flock. You don’t like to come home to a cloudy atmosphere and an illcooked meal. You think you are at least entitled to erene comfort at home, and if you don’t get it you rebel. Why not men also ? Nothing on earth fetches a man like a good dinner and a well-dressed wife pre siding. The husband who can look forward to such a state of things every day of his life will never tire of home, and the wife who studies his comfort will have little dif ficulty in managing him according to her will. Men are gregarious animals, and will wander in spite of all allurements; but they are selfish enough to remain where they are best treated, and by taking a little trouble for a year or two of married life the years that follow will, as a rule, find the husband always glad to go back to the pretty home where smiles await him and the dinner I spoke of. There are so many women who object to being “bossed,” as they call it. My dear ladies, you can always be boss if you take the trouble. By giving in you get your own way as you never would by fighting for it. And, after all, it is better to feel you respect your husband so much that to give in to him is not a difficulty. Of course I am now speaking of the right kind of man. There are some men such perfect brutes that no kindness has any effect upon them. When you are unfortunate enough to catch such a one, divorce him at once, and take care how you choose the next. Nine men out of ten are manageable, if you go the right way about it, and one great point is to act after marriage exactly as you did before. Argument and contra diction are vital enemies to married peace. Should you wish for anything particularly, don’t insist upon it after refusal. Of course you must have it, but bide your time. Some women are persistent and ask: “Why may I not? Why won’t you do as I ask you ?” and irritate the man. Rather bide your time, make an extra good dinner of his favorite dishes, put a bow on of the color he likes, make home and your self sweeter than ever. You’ll get it sure, even if you have to wait. Also, when you want him to do any particular thing which you know will be for his good, for heaven's sake do not say “do it.” Rather drop a hint that you think so-and-so would be a good thing to do. Get him interested, and then let the subject drop. I venture to say in a short time that man will do pre cisely as you wished ; he will never permit you to think he has traded the least bit on your common sense. Now, some women under such circumstances would crow over the husband with “I told you so, and now come to my way of thinking.” Absurd, ladies absurd ; never let a man know you rule him, yet rule him iu all things, if you can. I believe that it is perfectly possible to keep your husband so perpetually in love with you that he rather likes to ho ruled than not. Never ask for a new dress till after dinner, and never press your husband to buy what he can’t afford. How many men are brought to ruin through the ex travagance of a silly exacting wife. The reason that I say postpone requests till after feeding time is because man is so par tial to good food that if it is good, and lu has enough of it, his temper will be so heavenly afterward that in very gratitude he will be prepared to do anything in the world for you. Never be jealous without cause. To be jealous of the young ladj whom your husband sees home, inwardly wishing her at the devil and himself in bed, . is simply putting thoughts into his head which would not have entered otherwise. ’ At the same time, remember the prayer, . “Lead us not into temptation,” and do not, on any account, trust your husband with any one who has not a great respect for > herself. I may say, trust no woman, but , trust your husband till you find him out. If any young woman goes for him, take the ■ three-legged stool to her, and make your self so doubly agreeable to the man that 1 h“ will never dream of looking at another. > O, what an easy task it is to manage the > man you love; and really they all want 1 managing. When I hear men say: “I have the 1 sweetest little wife in the world, but she is - not very affectionate,” or “she don’t care to * go out with me,” etc;, then I see there is ! a screw loose somewhere, and he goesflirt ■ ing around while-she stays passively at ■ home (for the most part miserable) and 1 not knowing how to remedy the evil. But ■ if wives go out with their worse halves, and ■ take their stand in this way, there would ; be fewer heartaches and less use for divorce '■> laws. I should like to see my husband (if I had one) go out every day driving a ■ splendid team alone, while I sat at home. - I should just like to see him try it. I ’ would never, in the first place, let him get i into the bad habit of leaving me out of his ' pleasures. I would make myself so agree * able that he would always make me his fast t companion, and believe me, ladies, if you * would be companionable to your spouses, ■ feed them well, dress for them, make your - self indispensable to their comfort, you * could manage them as easily as a baby, and t withal withhold not a portion of that soft flattery which is so dear to every man’s , heart. Man thinks himself strong; hut ' 0, how weak he is in the hands of a wife possessing tact. Hoping my xecipe will I beat that of giving the man the latch-key i and going lonely to bed, I conclude. —San I Francisco News-Letter. I ) The Mole. 5 [ The mole is a splendid architect and i sure builder. It constructs perfect subter ; ranean galleries. The nest is a wonderful i building, bearing immediately above it as much earth thrown up as would fill a mod . erately sized wheelbarrow. The soil roof ; of the nest is so strong that an ox may 3 with safety stand on it, in spite of its being j surrounded and intersected by runs, by i which the family can separately escape in 1 case of sudden danger. In one I saw there j j were at least, within a foot from the nest, . four main runs, and these main runs again 1 had three immediate branch runs toward r the nest from the wheat field, making 12 5 within two feet of the nest, while there s were many escape runs toward the surface j for hiding. A favorite place for nests is . about old broad hedge roots, where the i moles have plenty of room, and where their I nests are concealed by the undergrowth, B which again protects their surface runs . from being trampled by the hoofs of horses [ or cattle. And the moles nesting on either r side of the hedge stick religiously to their ■ own side of the find. Between the nest t and the water there is a main run, and to . an inexperienced eye its only distinguish . ing feature is that it is somewhat more di f rect than the other runs. But the mole . catcher observes it in an instant, and he g catches most moles there at the time when the moles are returning home from their j food or water. It is wonderful how the moles find their long ways home, and it is s remarkable the distance they travel every twenty-four hours, in the ins and outs and . confusing number of intersected runs. 3 i Moles multiply very fast; they pair for the t season, and breed four or five times every t year; and they are among the few animals . which have preponderance of males. Their f young run about shortly after they are i born, and are taught to run in the main g I run first, the parents leading the way. 1V The mole is said to be affectionate, and to brave death for its offspring or its mate, e and to be found sometimes starved to death t beside a trapped mate. It prefers dry loam or sands soil, and does not much fre x quent stiff clay soil, which is both wet and . cold and difficult to burrow in. For every 1 one that is to be found in clay soil ten will g be found in dry loam. And it is a note e worthy fact, if true, as it is said to bo, that there are no moles in Ireland.— Good r Words. Animals and Electricity. B The latest application of electricity is an B invention made in the interest of lion-tamers, 2 which consists of an apparatus of great B ! power, shaped like a stick, about three feet j : and a half in length. M. Rauspach, the inventor, is a lion-tamer, himself, who has been “a good deal worried,” during a long 0 and successful professional career. He has r already experimented with it upon the e denizens of the cages of his menagerie, and r relates the different effects upon the brutes. 1 Three of his lions receiving the shock im * mediately showed signs of the greatest 3 I terror. They were seized with trembling e and growled fitfully. The tiger was more * quickly subdued, became stupefied, and * crouched in a corner of the cage. Bruin 11 was more refractory to electricity, which 1 seemed scarcely to affect him. He would r growl and show his teeth, and was subdued ■ only after repeated discharges. ‘ The most astonishing effects, however, e were perceptible in the boa constrictor. 7 On receiving the discharge, the specimen ’ from Cayenne, nearly twenty feet in length, ” became at once paralyzed, and remained > motionless for six hours afterwards. When he recovered, he showed, signs of numbness •; for three whole days. Finally, the elephant “ on being electrified by a touch of the stick u upon the tip of his trunk set up a sjries of ■ wild cries, and became so strange that the 13 trainer feared the brute would break its 1 heavy iron chain. M. Rauspach is said to intend addressing a paper upon the exper iments to the Academy of Sciences. His 3 discovery in time will be applied to human 1 beings, and a flash of electricity will be 9 prescribed as a certain cure for a bad tem a per. What would we not give to silence a some people for six whole days ! —Fall I Mall Gazette. The First Thousand Dollars. t n The first thousand dollars a young man n earns and saves will generally settle the r question of business life with him. It is i the fruit of personal industry. He gives I, his time and his labor for it. While he is a thus earning and saving it, he must earn if two, or three, or perhaps four times as much to pay his current expenses. He is conse o queutly held sternly to the task of industry e for a considerable period. The direct con d sequence to him is a steady, continuous and II solid discipline in the habits of industry, in d patient, persistent, forecasting and self-de y uying effort, breaking up all the tendencies to indolence and frivolity, and making him ie an earnest and watchful economist of time. 11 He not only learns how to work, hut he •- also acquires the love of work; and, more te over, he learns the value of the sum which o he has saved out of his earnings. He has le toiled for it; he has observed its slow in ic crease from time to time; and in his esti it mat ion it represents so many months or ly years of practical labor. MODES OP MASKING TIME. The Calendars. Harold Van Sanlvoord, in N. Y. Observer. New Year’s Day has been so long identi fied with the first of January that it will be a matter of surprise to many readers of the Observer to know that our forefathers were .accustomed to celebrate the day near ly three months later in the season. In deed, less than a century and a half ago, when George 11. was King of England, the 25th of March was observed throughout the British Isles and in our own country as the first day of the year. In 1751 an act was passed by Parliament regulating the commencement of the year and correct ing the calendar then in use. The act read as follows: “Preamble— Whereas, The legal sup putation of the year of our Lord, accord ing to which the year beginneth on the 25th of March, hath been found by experi ence to be attended with divers inconve niences, “ Enactment —That throughout his Maj esty’s dominions in Europe, Asia, Africa and America the said supputation, accord ing to which the year of our Lord begin neth on the 25th day of March, shall not be made use of from and after the last day of December, 1751, and that the first day of January next following the said last day of December shall be reckoned, taken, deemed and accounted to be the first day of our Lord, 1752, and so on from time to time. The first day of January in every year which shall happen in time to come shall be deemed and reckoned the first day of the year,” etc. In tracing the origin and growth of the calendar it is curious to note the change that have been made in the divisions of time. The first makers of calendars were the Phoenicians, but it was Solon who “coined time” into synodical months. Then came Meton, with his calendar, which was engraved on a golden tablet, and Cal lippus, who declared it false and set up a standard of his own. “Yet did these vain distinctions now forgot, Bulk largely in the filmy eye of Time.” King Arthur, of the famous Round Ta ble, marked time by burning candles. The first clock was invented by Ctesibus, 250 B. C., and was run by water. It must have been a poor clock to get up by in the morning, for its hours were of unequal length, and it required more regulating than Captain Cuttle’s watch. As to sun dials, it was during the first Punic war that the first of these useful inventions was set up in Rome. The day was then divid ed into twenty-four hours. Instead of striking a bell to proclaim the hour, an officer called assensus, with stentorian lungs bawled out at regular intervals the time of day. Julius Caesar invented a new alma nac that met with favor, and was so bold as to crowd fourteen months in one year. But it was left to Pope Gregory XIIL to adopt the system of time-measure, invented by Aloysius Lilius, now in use. It is doubtful whether we can improve upon the Gregorian calendar and our present system of measuring time. But serious objections have been made to “leap year.” A few years ago a repre sentative in Congress from one of the Western States proposed to abolish by an act of the legislature our present system of time-measure and substitute a new calendar in which the intercalary day in February should be set aside, and the leap year be made to die an ignominious death. The plan was as follows: Beginning with the first day of January, each year was to con sist as now, of 3G5 days, except every fif tieth year, which was to contain 377 days, and to be called “a year of jubilee,” until the five hundredth year should arrive, which was to be known as “the great jubi lee,” and was to contain 378 days. The second section provided that the third, sixth and ninth months of each year should each contain 35 days, and the other months 28 days each, except in the years of “jubilee,” when one day should be added to each month, and in the year of “great jubilee,” when the last month should have 38 days. The third section prescribed that the 12 extra days of “the great jubilee” should be Sundays, and that in these years every month should begin and end with a Sabbath day. By the fourth section, the Gregorian calendar and all laws relating thereto, and all laws inconsistent with the act, were to be repealed. It is unnecessary to say that Congress did not pass the act. Our law-makers were of the opinion that the present age had not outgrown its jacket; that it would be unwise to change its tailor, or forfeit its leap-year pocket for a holiday attire many of us would not live to see. What a Cent Grows To. A cent seems of little value, but if it is only doubled a few times, it grows to a marvelous sum. A young lady in Port land caught her father in a very rash prom ise by a knowledge of this fact on her part. She modestly proposed that if her father would give her only one cent on one day, and double the amount on each successive day for just one month, she would pledge herself never to ask of him another cent of j money as long as she lived. Pater famil ias, not stopping to run over the figures in his head, and not supposing it would amount to a large sum, was glad to accept the offer at once, thinking it also a favora ble opportunity to include a possible mar riage dowry in the future. On the twenty -1 fifth day he became greatly alarmed, lest if he complied with his own acceptance he might be obliged to be “declared a bank | rupt on his own petition.” But on the thirtieth day the young girl demanded only the pretty little sum of • $5,368,789.12 ! The astonished merchant was only too happy to cancel the claim by advancing a handsome cash payment for his folly in allowing himself to give a bond, for his word he considered as good as his bond, without noticing the consideration therein expressed, and by promising to re ' turn to the old custom of advancing smaller sums daily until otherwise ordered. Our arithmetical reporter has been “fig- I uring on it,” and says that if the old gen tleman had fulfilled his promise, his daugh ter would have had, upon the receipt of the thirtieth payment, the snug little total of $10,436,517.43. ; An exchange says: “Did you ever stop s to think what a tireless letter writer a good i local paper is? Week after week reaching ; into year after year, it goes on telling of the marriages, births, deaths, and comings i of the people of the town, of business suc cess or failure, accidents, crops, improve ments, meetings, revivals; in fact, events of . all kinds. All is a grist that comes to the 1 hopper of a good local paper. M hy, if i you were to undertake to write a letter . each week to your absent friend and tell i half the news that your local paper gives, you would soon give up in despair. The supposed pleasure becomes tiresome, the : letters grow shorter, farther apart, and - finally quit. 1* # * s No good man is doubted or persecuted - except by those who are condemned by his - good spirit and deeds. r If every year we rooted out one vice we should soon become perfect men. VOL.XX.-NO.ll. Rare Porcelains. Prom the New York Tribune. The French war of 1860 with China was an original cause of benefit to American amateurs in porcelians; for in the course of that war Prince I Wang-ye fell into dis grace with his government, and was be headed. His family was ennobled at the close of the Ming dynasty over two hun dred years ago, but the execution of the head inflicted a stigma upon the survivors. Their circumstances grew more and more straitened until the present I Wang-ye was forced to part with the family porcelains, the gifts and purchases of two hundred years. Such is. the story of Mr. Robertson, who secured these porcelians for the American Art Association, by whom they have been recently received. And as every consign ment of old and really beautiful Chinese porcelains is likely to be the last, owing to the manner in which the country has been ransacked, we have thought it worth while to call attention to these excellent exam ples of the most skillful potters that the world has ever known. Let us look at the shades of red, for apart from their beauty, these reds present secrets which no mod ern potter has ever been able to penetrate. At the head of the scale is a stately sang de haeuf vase, twenty-two inches high. So large a specimen of this color is rarely seen, indeed, we know of but one companion for the vase in this city. On the body of the vase the coloring is of wonderful richness and strength. There is the effect of the finest mahogany or rosewood polished and covered with crystal. Towards the foot the coloring has been less successfully ap plied and the heat of the furnace has changed it to a hue duller and darker. After this rich “bullock’s blood” comes a small “peach blow” vase. The former illustrates the exuberance, the latter the delicate self-re pression, of Chinese coloring. Like most “peach blow” vases, this delicate piece of porcelain jewelry is flecked with brighter spots of a color approaching crushed straw berry. A rather short body and long neck make up an outline of considerable grace, and the gold serpent coiled around the silver metal work of the. rim is a feature not to be ignored aside from its utility. Yet it is the softness of the vase, the fine ness of the paste beneath the lustrous glaze, which will make the strongest appeal to the collector. The coloring we find far preferable to that of a tall ashes or rose vase, dotted with small “bullock’s blood” splashes, which is included in this collec tion. Those who have visited the Walters’ , Galleries in Baltimore will remember his rare examples of “mirror black.” Here is a “mirror black” vase twenty inches high from . the palace of I Wang-ye, not so fine in color nor so admirable in shape as Mr. Walter’s vases, but yet an excellent example of one of the rarest varieties of Chinese porcelains. We have chosen these vases as examples of the solid colors in this collection. AH are of the Khjing-hi period, 1662-1722. 1 Two other more novel products of Chinese potteries are an egg shell lantern and a royal vase in imitation of bronze, both of the Keen-lung period, 1736—1795. The : six panels of the lantern are reticulated, with painted medallions in the centre and enamel borders. The large vase is a por . celain imitation of bronze, almost perfectly like the original to the sight and touch. No piece of this curious ware approaching this in size has been brought to this coun ' try. Of pieces whose chief feature is the 1 decoration we may call attention to a large, 1 gourd-shaped Keen-lung vase, of the egg shell white, with processions of children and scenes at a festival painted on the sides. A well proportioned jar is decorated with figure painting of the Khang-hi period. A 1 celadon vase of excellent quality illustrates raised decoration beneath the glaze in a ! series of graceful designs well carried out. ! We cannot refer to the blue and white and Chinese white vases in the I Wang-ye col lection, and we have necessarily chosen for ’ special mention only a few examples of the solid colors and some specimens of decora tions which have seemed to us representa ! live. Lacquers rare and old, and bronzes , of imaginative design and cunning work manship, accompanying the porcelains, give 5 us additional reason to be thankful that the * jealously sought-for products of the best J periods of Oriental art linger for a time in ’ this city, and that we enjoy if not possess i them. A Mohammedan Elopement. 3 A singular case of murder is reported to 1 have occurred the other day at Habiganj. 9 in Assam. A respectable Mohammedan, J it appears, eloped with the wife of a Mu nipuri gentleman of Assampara. The ag grieved husband, on becoming acquainted with the circumstances of the affair, pro ceeded immediately to the Mohammedan and demanded the instant restoration of his spouse, but on an explanation from the seducer he was induced to return with a present of Rs 300 instead of his wife. This dubious transaction came to the knowl r edge of the husband’s fellow-villagers, and ’ they, acting under a stronger sense of wrong than appears to have actuated the j. husband, proceeded in a body to the Mo hammedan’s residence and murdeied him. The murder in due course was reported to j the police, who, on investigating the matter, found that the Munipurecs, some 200 in number, were anxious to take upon them selves the responsibility of the crime. They stated that they all killed the man; p that no one took a more prominent part than another, and that they were all equally guilty. Under the circumstances the police had no alternative but to arrest the wlmlc I body of villagers, and the case is now under f investigation. A Bengalee paper, in nar rating the above circumstances, says ; “What a strange unity. We are afraid in ' r a Bengalee village the Queen’s evidence would have been forthcoming as soon as the ’ investigation began. Butin a whole army of Munipurecs not a single man could be 1 found out as Queen’s evidence.” Alas for the degeneracy of the Bengalees! —London r Globe. Petrified Wood. —The petrified wood which is so abundant in the United States p Terriotories of Arizona, Wyoming, and ] Rocky Mountain regions, is rapidly becom ing utilized by the practical Americans. In San Francisco there is now a factory for cutting and polishing these petrifactions J into mantel pieces, tiles, tablets, and other architectural parts for which marble or slate P is commonly used. Petrified wood is saib g to be susceptible of a finer polish than 8 marble, or even onyx, the latter of which it is driving from the market. The raw p material employed comes mostly from the forests of petrified wood along the line of P the Atlantic and Pacific Railway. Sever r al other companies have also been formed I to obtain concession of different portions of these forests. Geologists will regret the destruction of such interesting primeval re mains, and some steps ought to be taken to j preserve certain tracts in their original state. — Engineering. , Modesty is to worth what shadows are to painting; she gives to it strength and S relief. e Gratitude is the throwing out of our hearts in the light of another’s kindness.