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FOR THE BOYS AMD GIRLS.
To m Utile Neighbor. FT MIUK ON ITTK, From the pink*, and from the roeee, From all meet aud Uuy [mules. From the luraheams, from the a. on? The robin slag* when dsys ate long. From the wtlif-bee’a amber honey Made when days are warm and sonny, From the summer-heaven's azure, Fr"tn the peach’s pulpy treasure. From the strawberries, ripe ad red, Cream of white cow—clover-fed. From the aweeteet things I know In heaven alicve or earth Mow, All goorl things the Lord has taken And made you— dear Lilt Bacon 1 But because the best and fairest ('ling to this poor life the rarest — Aud because the angels know Where the sweeUet children grew Oh, I pray the years may glide, Many-snmmered, by your stile, Kre you leave our lives forsaken— Dearest little Lxlt Bacon I Hnlph'x Sunday. BY LIZZIE B . “Mamma, mamma, please can’t I go to rneetin’ to-day ? "cried our little boy as his father was preparing for church. “Yes, yes, mother; why not?” said Mr. B. “ He’s old enough, I’m sure.” “Yes, mamma, I’m real old this summer,” the bright-eyed darling pleaded, “and papa said I was a little aan yesterday when I fell oft’ that big pile of boards and did not cry." “ But, my dear, ” said Mrs. 8., “don’t you remember what a naughty boy you were when I took you with me last spring ? What little man was it who dented the pew with his boots and called the chickens during the ser mou.” “But J was only three then, mamma, and I’m four now, and wear real boots and have pockets like any man. I guess a boy with such things can behave well in church,’’ urged Bulph. “ Well you may go to-day,” con cluded Mrs. 11,, “but you must sit very still aud hear how many nice things the minister will say.” So our darling went to metin’ iu the family wagon, drawn by moderate, se date old “ Dolly,” and Ralph held the reins tightly in his chubby hands, looking up now and then to ask if lie could not “drive as well as 'most any man.” In vain the quick-footed squir rels jumped about, and the birds sang their sweetest songs; Ralph was not be guiled into inattention to the respon sible duties before him. They were going to church and hr was driving, therefore songs and gambols must be postponed or unnoticed. < >uoe there, he found attractive ob jects in the music, the people and, nicest of all, a little black dog that had followed an old lady and taken up a position in the aisle near by, where Ralph could watch him. Then ie got the hymn-book and fol lowed t Hues with his fat finger, politely holding if toward his mother, ft made no difference to him, that he held it w. mg side up, and wh"U mother smiled at him kindly, he t-'.i indeed “a little man.” 1 hen, when the congregation rose <i-.ring singing, Fido rose too, and stood as demurely as Ualph, listening to the music. He seemed pleased with it, for at its close he gave a low bark of approval. Ralph began to laugh, but remem-, beriug Ins age and Ids pockets, he quickly puckered up his mouth into a shape more amusing than dignified, shook his curly head at Fido, and looked up at mamma to see if she no ticed how well lie was doing. During the prayer he folded his two ‘Me hands and closed his dear eves as does nightly at his mother’s knee, ibe sure, his hands got tired and iiis eyes ached to see how Fido was Is'liuviiig, but he waited manfully till flu> long prayer was over, and then settled himself to hear the sermon. It was something about walking in the light, ami Ralph whispered to his father that he shouldn’t think folks would not'd telling to do that. And hen tin l minister spoke of some who livs, '1 the light of “gospel day," but, Hceu.v/ llot , groped still in the dark ness i-lt "jght, Ralph jumped up, quick in and cried in his mother's ear, "They reowls, ain’t they, mamma? Mamma *"' r head at him. and recalling his diK' m, A I"’ Sttt down, but found little more interest in the ser mon. At noon he "’cut with another little boy into the Sunday-school, and came back by and by with a happy face, to show to his mother a small book ami a paper full of pictures the teacher had given him. No Fnlo attended tu‘' afternoon ser vices. They lacked the charm of uov city m some degree. Au’d at length Ralph’s head found its way his moth er s lap, where he slept till the deacon began to pass the hats for the Collee.Mon for the poor. Then he put in the teO cents his father gave him with a great ' deal of satisfaction, though he did not quite understand the matter. Rut on the way home his father explained it. and Ralph thought no more of the nuts and candy that would keep intituling themselves into h;s mind before. He felt Ins heart throb with delight as he thought of poor ragged tuimuij R, rloii in anew pair of boots or a tidy coat. • “And bow dots lather's man like go ing to meetings ! " asked Mr R. a- he held Ralph on his knee after supper “First rate, father, and 1 mean logo ever; Sunday till I’m an old ms grandpa and can't ;o “That's right, my sou; it’s a good place for little men or large one,-; :■ mi Mi B kissed in with a prax ll that lkul would keep him pure and loving, with a duo iv; .ad tor His house and His day. “Ami 1 went to Sunday-school too. papa, and said a verse like the rest, added Ralph. “What was it, my and father. “ * Lui'v had a little lamb yon know it, pupa and the teacher patted uiv head and said I"a g -s y i Then mother came and read the pretty | atories in his paper, pausing now and I then for a kiss or a loving word, or to let the little boy hold the paper in his own hands to see the pictures better. Last came the story of poor ragged Tim, who toiled early and late to help Ids widowed mother and send his little i sister to school. Ralph listened eager | ly, and when Tim could not get quite enough money to buy his mother the nice warm shawl he wished, the tears stole down his plump cheeks, and he whispered, “Oh, mother, if Tim would come here I'd give him all father gives me for candy. ’ Hut when a kind gentlmau gave Tim a dollar for catching his horse, Ralph's eyes glowed with delight as he hugged his mother in his gladness. “ What would you do, Ralph," asked Mr. 8., “if you had no father to buy anything and your mother was poor and sick? Would yon work like kind Tim to keep her from being cold and huu gry ?" He pondered this question for some time. He knitted ins little brows, and looked as sober us if he were deciding the destiny of nations, but soon his face smoothed out, and he answered promptly, “I co vld work, papa; bnt you know it would be easier to pass arouud the hat.” His father smiled as if to say that was satisfactory, and Ralph run for some milk for himself and kitty, as the hired man was just coming in with the pails full of the frothing liquid. Afterward he leaned Ins head on the table, anil remarked that it was “ hard work for a man to go to church all day,” so mamma heard the childish prayer, which the great God above heard too, and laid him to sleep iu his crib. Hhe watched his blue eyes close, and kissing bis fair cheeks, she left him to the watchful care of the good angels. So ended Ralph's Sunday. —Child mi's Hour. Suit liny. The alt medows am a strip of land from seven to eight miles wide, stretch ing for a distance of many miles along the coast of New Jersey. It is over grown with short grass, from which the salt hay is cut. So low is this strip of country, that the tide runs over it for a distance of several miles ; and this Mow and ebb of the tide has made it as level as a floor. The soil is so thin, that in walking over it, yon sec and feel it shaking and quaking beneath your feet. Thickly scattered over it are openings in the earth - many having a depth of six or seven feet, and measuring four or five feet across. They diminish in size till they become as stnall as an ordinary sized water pail. They are full to the top with water, while floating on the surface, is a covering of dried grass or sage that the tide brings in. So uncertain is the depth of soil be neath the salt meadows,'that it is only fora distance of a mile and a half, or two, that a carriage can venture, with out running the risk of going to a slimy and watery bottom beneath. Many of the old people relate, that the part of it which will just hear the weight of a light carriage now, has been ns unsafe as that portion nearer the sea. Undoubtedly it is all settling down, to become just as firm as the in land. It is conjectured, that what is now the salt meadow, was once the bottom of the sea, and irom the comparatively short time in which the outer edge has become stable and firm, it is probable the sea has receded within the historic period. When the grass on the salt meadows readies its maximum growth, which is about September, the farmer watches, not tlie prophetic cloiula that he may “make hay while the sun shines,'’ but he must be on the field to take advan tage of tho ebbing tide. No sooner has it (lowed oil’ from the meadow, than they fall to their work of mowing. I’lte grass is so hard and tough, that it requires the exercise of strong arms to bring it to the ground. When it is cut, they immediately begin raking, and prepare to stack it. not waiting for it to dry, for in a few hours the return tide would give it a soaking, carry it out into the ooean, regardless of the hungry cuttle that would be wanting to mil it the next winter; but the hay makers anticipate the return of the relentless tide, and immediately fall to work and carry the hay on poles to the place of stacking. The tirst thing done by these jolly hay-makers is to draw cuts, and see who is the unlucky one whose lot it is to go belaud the load, for great is the fun of the foremost one, who at last succeeds, by much contriving ami twisting, to b .-.guile his unwary com panions into the treacherous salt holes. The hay being stacked, it is left un til the next winter, when .lack Frost will congeal, in his icy lingers, the tide water, before it has time to get out of his reach and return again b. the sea. The meadows will be frozen over. The waiting farmer then comes with Ins horses and wagons to gather homo his hay. He drives on to the ice, which, judging from the appearance of it. is strong enough to be secure. It is hollow beneath the ice, and the rumbling of the wagons over this great drum of nature, sounds like the rolling of thunder. The wagons are racked, like those used in hauling barrels. Hie tilling up of these goes ou briskly. It :s exhibit ting work ; occasionally, lu-weiMi-. it - interrupted by the tlouu derm;, iif u horse, which has gone through the ice into a salt hole below. I he attempts of the uutortmiMte animal to get out, only sink him deeper into the hole. He soon quietly submits himself t<i his fate, and ho then tiuds hi- owner coming to the rescue. A rope is taken,' a uoos is made at otic i end, and it is slipped over the head. Hie ansi wu . lot hope eit er to coax or lead him out. It is a question of life ar death. The rope is fastened to another horse, whose work I it is to draw out the unfortunate an imal. He seems to comprehend it all, and begins pulling with all his might. His companion at the other end of the rope for a moment moves not, but soon the rope begins to draw tighter and tighter around his neck ; he is beginning to choke : Lis eyes are ready to start from their sockets, but the determined rescuer pulls on : and, in the agony of death, the horse begins to flounder, makes one more effort, jumps out and is saved. Sometimes, during a whole winter, the water is not frozen sufficiently to venture on, and the gathering of the hay must then be deferred until the more favorable next year When the f inner gets his salt hay home, by feeds it to his horses and cattle, and his surplus he spreads over his farm for manure. —Little Corporal. influence of flood Models. Reading the achievements of great men, and listening to brilliant oratori cal efforts, have an elevatinar influence. The talents and culture wh.ch are dis played, strikingly contrast with our own, and stimulate us to now resolves and efforts, to the that we may grow out of our littleness into more perfect men and women. Thus it is that we leave a public Hall, recalling talertr. unimproved, opportuu ties lost, and preciousjjtimo squandered, and re flecting that we, too, might have held audiences spell-bound as has the orator of the evening, had we but willed it. Then follows the determination to com mence work at once, and make up, if possible, for lost time. The lives of great men are perpetual reminders of what we may become while the imme diate presence of those achieving great ness imparts a direct stimulus to us. When brought in contact with high bred people, persons of gentle birth and refined, agreeable manners, we instinctively modify our own manners. From this we may know how beneficial it is to keep models before us, and to seek us much as possible the society and companionship of our superiors, those whom we know will exert a healthy, elevating influence upon ua. The character of children is very much determined by moans of this kind. Those born in poverty, nud living in squalor, have their ambition aroused by reading the labors and exploits of persons who have distinguished them selves in one way and another. Es pecially is this true in a Republic, where in caste or lineal distinctions coniine people to the conditions of life in which they are born. Benjamin Franklin i used to maintain that ho was prompted when a lad to try and accomplish some thing in the world by reading Cotton Mather’s Easays to do Good. And Samuel Drew declared that Franklin’s example, in turn, animated him to choose the life upon which he entered. Smiles very truly observes that our ' character and careers are, to a great extent, determined by the models j I around us. “We mould ourselves tin-, conciously after the characters, man ners, habits, and opinions of those who are about us- Good rules may do much, but good models far more; for in the latter we have instruction in action — | wisdom at work. Good admonition and example only build with one hand to pull down with the other. Hence the vast importance of exercising great care in the selection of companions, especially in youth.’’ Discomfit ii n 1 of the “Medium” Home. An official account given by the St. Petersburg Gazette of Mr. Home’s ,o (tact in the Russian capital, fully confirms the narative of it which re cently found its way into the English papers, and a letter published in the same journal from M. Zion, the profess or who took such an active part in the proceedings, shows that the discomfit ure of the medium was even more com plete than was reported. M. Zion de scribes the preliminary conditions sent in by Mr. Hope, and acceded to by the scientific committee appointed to in vestigate Mr. Home's marvels, as being totally different from those which are usual in similar cases and rather re sembling the precautions taken lv a conjuror to prevent his tricks being discovered. One of them was that not more than eight persons should be present, and that two “witnesses for Mr. Home” should attend. Notwith standing, M. Zion continues, the un scientific character of Mr. Home’s conditions and the facilities they af forded him, they were accepted prin cipally because the majority of thecom mittee considered Mr. Home to he rath er a poor prestidigitator. In their opinion his whole power lay in being able to bring those on whom he acted into that peculiar psychical condition in which a simple trick appears a mys terious phenomenon. After the failure of the first trial, another day of meeting— the 22d of March was fixed. ().: Uie evening of that day Mr. Home sent word that he could not come on account of illness ; on the 24th he requested that the meet ing might be fixed for the 2bth: but on that evening h< again pleaded indispo sition. On the evening of the 27th M. Zion met him at the theatre; he appeared perfectly well, but stated that he could not give any more ■>•>'< t/<•*, as unfier the influence of the weather be felt a diminution of the spiritualistic powers. On the 2m hhe left for Lon don. His discomfiture, M. Zion adds, was, therefore , complete. r : New V-.... 8 . say aa m u ing the name of Roberts has been ar resteel for swindlimr railroad companies bv 'trans of ci v;t. i-feit tickets. (Her sUH),obil worth f the spurious tickets di [I is dimated that om SPECIAL ADVERTISEM ENT. TA fin nrn niy Men, Women, Boys and Girls who VV IU vIU rCn Un !■ engage in our new business make from five to ton dollars per day in their own localities. You can engage in tliis business during your spare lime, or devote your whole time to it, as yori may please or as may be convenient. W e send full parti nlars and instructions free by mail. Those who sec this notice, who are in need of permanent, profitable work, should address, at once, GEORGE STINSON & CO., Portland, Alftiue, P. S.—We guarantee those who take hold in earnest Two Hundred Dollars per month as long as they work for us. See Complimentary Editorial Notice in another column, headed Okokok Stivson & Cos. REMISCENCES OF AI HER. Ill* Penuna) Peculiarities. Auber was but a poor sleeper. He actually took leas sleep than Napoleon I. He retired at oue in the morning and rose at four in the summer and live in the winter. He then went through I the important operation of dressing, which ho preformed entirely without the aid of a valet, and with the greatest care : for he was very particular about his linen and the general appearance of his person. He dressed simply, in sober colors, but there always was about him a touch of the past beau. His toilet accomplished he would sit down at his piano and Compose until six or seven o'clock, at which hours his doors were open to visitors. He receiv ed all those who asked admittance to his presence. Then for a couple of hours or so he went through the very tedious and fa tiguing task of listr ing to the applca tions of parents desiring to obtain the admittance of their children to the Conservatoire of Music, of which he was director; or hearing the complaints of the pupils as to the mode of singing they were forced to adopt by their pro fessors; or again giving his attention to the demands for changes of classes; ,or listening to the singing of those who wanted to obtain his opinion and his advice. In the hitter case he often accompanied|the applicant on the piano himself, seeming rather pleased if the pieces chosen were from his own operas. When the clock struck nine his doors were closed to the public. He then generally went to the Conservatoire to see for himself how things stood there. Then after driving about town in bis brougham on his business calls he would hasten back to his piano and w’ork at his compositions. In summer on tine afternoons, at the fashionable hours of four or live, he could be seen in the Champs Elysees, seated in a “Due’’—a kind of light carriage—driving a pair of high step ping black English horses, two beauti ful animals with swan-like necks and limbs as line as those of antelopes.— His English groom was on the box be hind him with his arms folded and as stiff as English grooms usually are. On the seat to his left sat a little black and tan terrier, very small but a great pet of his master. This turnout had a stylish but quiet and genteel appear ance which denoted the refined taste of its owner. Auber knew and was known by all persons of distinction in Paris, and, consequently, when going round the lake of the Reus tie Boulogne constant salutations were given and returned. If the occupant of an equipage passing by proved to be ot the fair sex, the gal lant old gentleman passed the ribbons and whip from Ids right to his left hand raising gracefully his hat; if of the strong sex. he acknowledged the bow . with his whip, and all this he diet with 1 as much ease as chic, his fiery team 1 pracing and snorting all the time. When the “D’Aumont” of the sover eign passed by, the Emperor and Em press bowed and waved their hand to him. Auber was a great favorite at the Tuileries and dined frequently there, though he often confessed to his in mates that the distinction annoyed more than it pleased him ; for it interfered with the regularity of his habits. He sometimes would go to the halls given at the palace, and now and then assist at Divine service in the Imperial Chap el of the Tuileries, with the Emperor and Empress, the principal dignitaries of the court, and a few privileged friends. At half-past five he took his only meal of the day, his dinner. He neith er breakfasted nor lunched, hut simply partook of one repast, and that a very light and simple one. After his dinner he would regularly go to the Grand Opera, from which he returned at one o'clock in the morning alone and quite unprotected. Ho always very much patronized the ballet corps, assisted in its selection, and was a great favorite with the ladies who composed it. Auber was, in the full sense of the word, a finished gentleman. His man ners were affable, and his politeness, particularly to women, proverbial. lie would often, when visited by some grand lady, her down to her carriage, descending a flight of step* as easily and gracefully as any young man. and reascending them at a quick pace, incredible to one of his advanced years. He was very fond of female society. Often in looking through the panes of some well known milliner's mayaz'm , on the Boulevard des Capuciues, Auber could he noticed choosing and giving to his lady friends his opinion on some pretty bonnet. He hud also a great love for horses, and devoted a great deal of attention and time to his stable. He was, moreover, a great amateur of pictures. He had a cabinet where he I kept a rare collection of pictures and | marbles. One last remark will prove once more I how wonderfully this extraordinary man retained all his vital powers to t their full extent. Until the very and y of his death, Auber was never seel to ■ glasses; his evesiyat "as k'-en and ii - tr exceedingly acute, .s 1 ,!u ‘. v must ■ w 1 be nided at all the yearly coneours of the Conserratoire. The great composer enjoyed an in come of a hundred and fifty thousand francs. He was humane and generous, and always ready to oblige. The nu merous applications for help which were made to him were always listened to and granted. All his ‘attendants were old people who waited on him, some for about thirty years, others twenty or twenty-five. The porter of the lodge was at least seventy to sev enty-five years old. Auber had inhab ited the same honse in the line .St. George for thirty yeass or more. He never left Paris, which he loved, even once during the last twenty years of his existence, not even in the sum mer. Now and then In' would drive down to Pussy to spend a few hours with his friend Rossini, who had his residence there, quite near the Bois de Boulogne.— J\ r . K J'osf. Floating Islands in Victoria, Gippsland is a province of Victoria. It is bounded by the Australian Alps on all sides except on the south, which the sea washes for over one hundred miles. It may be called the Piedmont of Australia, rich fertile plains inter , aected by rivers flowing into a lake sys tem extending all along the coast, and separated from the sea by a samlv ridge, with one navigable opening. A local paper, the Gippsland Times, con tains the following description of “ floating islands ” on the lakes : “As one of the Gippsland Steam Navigation Company’s steamers was recently crossing Lake Wellington, the man at the wheel suddenly observed , land right in the track of the steamer, : apparently only a short distance from , the straits separating Lakes Wellington and Victoria. He called the captain’s ' attention to the strange sight, and on i coming up close, the laud was discov ered to be a small island, about thirtv | yards in length by twenty broad. It was covered with a rich coating of lux uriant grass, and small trees, tea tree, and bush shrubs appeared to be growing in profusion. The only occu pants of this remarkable apparition were a few pigs, feeding away content edly and apparently enjoying their novel ’ journey by water. A second island of the same description, but much smaller, was noticed a little farther on, but this had evident ly detatched itself from the larger piece of land, or most probably had been separated by the rooting depre dations of the porkers. From what portion of the main laud this floating island came is, of course, a matter of conjecture, but it is known that por tions of the soil at Marloy Point, on the southern shore of Lake Wellington, became detached recently, and floated miles across the-lake with some twenty or thirty heads of pigs aboard. As long as the wind drove it in that direc tion, the island drifted towards M Len nan’s Straits, but a change of wind brought it back again, after a three days’ trip, within a mile of the spot from which it had broken away. ” NATCHAir Perfume fob a Boom.— A small, wide-mouthed glass jar, such as used by museums for specimens of natural history, should he tilled with 1 ether, and closed with a glass stopper dipped in glycerine to thoroughly ex , elude the air. Fill this jar during the season with the fresh blossoms of any fragrant plant, cut after the dew is dry, and stripped of leaf and stem as well as calyx. The petals alone of roses, vio -1 lets, tuberoses, or pinks should be used; heliotrope should becut close to the panicle of bloom. Of course a jar is a Doted to each kind of blossom. The ether has the property of taking • up the fragrant particles from flowers, and when evaporated leaves the essen tial oil of the plant behind, a very tew ■ drops of which in deodorized alcohol gives a delicious extract. (Quantities i flowers arc required, and the petals ■ in the jar should be changed for fresh i ones every day. Only skill and pa tience will succeed in the perfumer's art ; but one success is worth many failures. Tin: Trapper in Cnnuit.—An old, weather-beaten trapper was sauntering along the main street of one of our Western villages on a recent Sunday. Passing in front of.a meeting-house, for a moment he went in and took his seat among the congregation. The preach er was discoursing on the text of “ The sheep and the wolves, ” and had evi dently been drawing a contrast between the f"i> subjects Says he; “We who assemble here from week to week, ami d‘> our duty, and perform onr part, are the sheep : now, who, then, are the wolves ? A pause, and our friend the trapper rose to his feet. " Waal, stran ger. rather than to seethe play stopped. L will be the wolves ’’ A sit.-ikh- f<>r 11 ■. cure of cancer has been discovered in Ecuador. It is a plant her'! foie considered poisonous. y l ' I ' i ■ oi if*, of the period gave hci lu. bund , "thereof, so as to ox* P* ditc her acquittal at the hands of an Ii iot. in lit: mI jury. 11" had been • ■ and with cancer of the -I 'ltm 1.. Hi is low a hale a. and uncau - ■ : Wid wi r.