Newspaper Page Text
"LET US HAVE PEACE."
VOLUME V. ALEXANDRIA, LA., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1873. NUMBER 37. TILL D AI ... a _,. .... . . I. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __-_ . . . . TILL DEATH. Wa met amid the yellow sheaves, When both Were young and both were fair; We plucked the scarlet poppy leaves, And cast their peals t toth air. We had no thought of all the woes The morrow's sun might haply bring; The perfume of youth's heyday rose Was to our senses ravishing. The glamour of life's early love Was on our souls and in our eyes; We turned no passing glance above To look for storms or darkened skies. Ah mel long garnered are the sheaves The poppy flowers are sere and dead And withered have the summer leaves And clouds are gathering overhead. Yet still our trust is Arm and true, Still each leans on the other' arm; The sky is black thatouce was blue, But we have still love's golden charm. What be life's ills If they be shared By aoe true heart we know our own ? If true Love ne'er the rough ways dared, He never would ascend a thr, ne. -Harper's Baser. CHUBBY RUFF'S DREAM. A Charistmas Story. BY OEO. HUNTLNGTON. Runr was his real name-R-u-ff, Ruff. Chubby was an honorary title, given him by the newsboy club to which he belonged. They liked the sound of it; and then it was a good fit. For Chubby Ruff was not one of your lean, bony, dingy fellows, such as you generally expect a newsboy to be; but short, wide, thick, plump, in fact chubby, with red cheeks, roguish black eyes, a stumpy little nose and the drollest mouth that ever shouted "E-e-e-vuu-uing-g papers i" Itas the night before Christmas, and swarms of people were hurrying up and down the streets, jostling each other right and left, slipping on the Icy walks, squeez ing into crowded stores, out again with ull pockets and empty wallets: hugging their precious holiday bundles, and smil ing all over in happy expectation of the morrow. Chubby was fully equal to the occasion, and entered at once into its spirit. He charged upon the good-natured crowd, met every man in his own humor, and kept up aconstantstrean of newsboy lingo and eloquience. " Evening papers here! Holiday edi tion ! All about where to buy Christmas presents and save half your money! One million dollars' worth of information for five cents! Paper, sir? Have a paper? Thank you, sir. Trade with our adver tisers and you're all right. Great holiday of the season for only five cents! Leading paper of the world selling here for half a dime ! The ladies dote on it, and the children cry for it! Paper, Mister? Better take a paper and make your family hubby took especial satisfaction in standing where the brilliant shops drew off little streams here and there from the great crowd, and driving a brisk competition with the shopkeepers for their customers' small change. At the bookstores, for in stance, he would cry out. " I)on't waste your money for expensive books, ladies and gentlemen, when you can buy the best reading in the world for only five cents!" At the toy-shops the argument was, " Bet ter buy something useful and instructive, and not be fooling with playthings at your time o' life. Paper here! Great curiosity of the age for half a dimne!" With the confectioner's cu"totners he expostulated in this fashion, "Don't give your children candy to appil their teeth, my dear friends. but get 'erm something to lmprove their minds. Paper here! Papers for cld and young, at only five cents apiece !" But while Chubby thus exhorted the multitude, he really cared just as much as they did for all the fine things which he warned them against; and having deliver ed one of his harangues, and sold a paper or two, he would turn to the show win dows as willingly as anybody. Nobody's mouth watered more quickly in contempla tion of gun-drops and c"ramels. Nobody's fingers itched and tingled and snapped more eagerly at the sight of patent tops and bright, new skates. Nobody looked with more hungry eyes at the shelves full of handsome books. I am afraid that Chubby spent a good deal of time at the windows that he ought to have devoted to business. At any rate, the clocks were striking eleven, the streets were getting empty, the shopkeepers were putting up their shutters, and Chubby had six papers left unsold when he entered a certain no tion store on the corner and walked up to the counter. The customers had all gone, and the clerks, a little tired and cross, were preparing to leave. "Clear out!" growled one of them to Chubby. " Off with you !" "Don't speak till you're spoken to, you man," said Chubby. e don't want your papers, I tell you," growled the clerk again, as Chubby drew the bundle from under his arm. "Oh, yu don't! Then I shall feel easy about 'emn," retorttedl Chubby, laying them down to the counter. "What do you want, any way?" asked another dclerk, a little more graciously. "A bull-dog,"' answered Chubby, confl dentially: "Js that one for sale?" A general laugh followed, during which Mr. M:uarsh. the proprietor of the store. came from hisoffice buttoning urp hisgreat coat. "Well, my lad," said he, pleasantly, " what can we (1do for you ?" "I'm looking for Christmas presents, air." "Going to give mother something, eh?" "No, sir; she's dead." "Father. perhaps?" " lie's dead, too." " Brothers or sisters, then '" "Haven't any in the world, sir." "Who1 then ?' "Why, you see. Mr. Marsh, I haven't anybody to give presents to. and there isn't anvboly to give any to me, so I thought l'j give myself one." .tal ital plan," said the merchant "ca ital. So you know my name, el ? irhat s yours ?" " Chubby Ruff, sir." CChubbyRuff. Good again. Chubby Ruffgives Chubby Huff. his sole surviving relative, a ('Christmas present, as a mark of his esteem! Very good. Come this wa', Chubby, and let us look over the stock. You can go," said he to the clerks; " 1'll walit oil this customer." And nio mIillionaire drivini to the store his a lenlidh carriage that say, no griand y ii li'r l ta'es and -ilk", had bbll mnore lit-lrve. than lChubby Ruff' was by -2. .h. It is safe to sajr, also, that no one had been happier in his purchase than Chubby was, when he received, in ex change for his pocketful of nickels, the very thing that he most wanted to give himself--a shiny red sled, strived with gilt, and adorned with a picture of a reindeer at full seed. 1" ou're very kind, sir," said Chubby, gratefully, as he turned to go. " I don't know as I am," said Mr. Marsh, "though it's a time to show kindness now. io you know what Christmas is, Chubby ?" "Oh, yes, sir. I learned that at the Mis sion. It's Jesus' birth-day." "Yes, yes. Well we must be kind for His sake. Where do you live, Chubby ?" "Nowhere." "But where do you stay? Where do you sleep?"' "Well, sir, generally I sleep down at the Hall. We pay five cents for a bed there. But when I haven't any five cents, I know where there's a big crockery.crate full of straw, and I crawl in there." "How about to-night ?" "Well, you see I paid all my money for my sled, so I shall sleep in the crate." "Not by considerable, my brave fellow ! Here's half a dime for your lodging. No, stop ; you shall sleep here. Mike!" he called to the watchman, "put a rug down by the stove for this boy to sleep on, and find something to throw over him. Good night, Chubby." 'Good-night, Mr. Marsh." " Take good care of him, Mike." "All right, zur." Chubby Ruff had a dream as he lay asleep on the rug before the stove. If he had not dreamed, my story would have been shorter; or perhaps I should never have told it at all. Chubby dreamed that he was wandering about the streets at night with six papers under his arm, and drawing his new sled. It was very late - the shops were all shut; and there was not a soul in the streets--noteven a watchman. Chubby was trying to find the crockery crate, but he could not; and the more he looked for it the further off he got, and the more bewildered and tired he grew. At last he sat down on his sled in despair, and feeling a good deal more like crying than anything else he could think of. ''hat, however, he determined not to do, come what would. Just then he heard sleigh-bells-the tini est, dreamiest little tinkle that ever he heard in his life-and in a moment up can tered eight reindeer, just like the one on his sled, only no bigger than grayhounds, drawing a sleigh made of pearl and tor toise-shell with silver thills and gold run ners, in which sat Santa Claus himself, a funny old fellow, dressed from head to foot in shaggy gray far, and looking fat and stumpy enough to be Chubby's own brother. As he dashed by Chubby called out, "Hello, you! I *ay, Mister, gi' me a hitch ?'" " Whish-sh-sh!" said Santa; and the eight reindeer stopped as quick as a wink, and stood stamping and knocking their horns together in the most impatient man ner. " Who's that calling?" said the little man, standing up and looking all about. "I did," said Chubby, a little frightened, stepping out into the moonlight. " Oh, you did ? Yes, a boy, of course! I might have known it was a boy. Can't stop to talk. Got miles and miles to ride. Call rouud day after to-morrow if you want anything." "I onlwanted to ask you-" "Yes, yes; I know. You want to ask about presents. It's all right, all right. List all made out. Goods packed and la beled. Couldn't change anything now. Run right home and go to bed; that's a good lad." "I haven't any home," said Chubby ; " I'm going to sleep in the crate, back o' the lamp-store, and I just wanted a hitch; that's all, sir." "A hitch! That's a fine idea! Why your sled would be smashed to pieces, and your neck broken, in no time. What's your name ?" " Chubby Ruff." " Tisn't on mylist; that's a fact. Haven't any home, hey?" No, sir." "Wish I'd brought one or two along, I declare. I'd give you one in a minute. Well, jump in here. I'll give you a ride, any way." "What shall I do with my sled ?" asked Chubby. "Put it in the magic box." And Santa lifted up the velvet cushion of the seat. ' See there I" said he. Chubby looked in, and saw a deep box full of miniatureChrist mas presents. There were rocking-horses of the size of a baby's thumb; and dolls no bigger than pin-beads; and tops, ll.s, books, games, candles, suits of clothes everything you could think of-but all so very little! "That's the way I carry my load," said Santa. "When I pultanything in there it shrinks right up. When I take it out again it isas big as ever." Andsure enough, he dropped in Chubby's sled, and it changed in an instant to the size of your little Ifnger-nail. "Now we're off." said he. "Tsit!" The reindeer gave a bound, and up they went, sleigh, Santa, Chubby and all, to the roof of the nearest house. Santa filled his pack from the magic box, and disappeared down a chimney. In aquarterof a minute out he popped again, like a jumping-jack out of his box,leaped into the sleigh. hissed to his team, and with one spnng they had cleared the street and landed in the next block. Again Santa filled his pack and skipped through a scuttle. And so he went on with his work-now here, now there, now on the roofs, now down in the streets; now entering by the chimneys or scuttles, now climbing through the windows. The reindeer did wvonders. They seemed to understand the whole thing as well as Alanta himself, and made the wildest leaps without hesitation or mistake. Sometimes, when they were flying through the air, Chubby would think they were surely going to be dashed to pieces and would shut hiseyes in terror; but they always came out right. It made no difference what sort of roofs they had to climtb-fiat-roofs, hip-rootf, gables, or Mansards--all was one to them. And what amazed Chubby was that they never slipped on the iciest places, and never made a track in the snow. This proves, of course, that Chubby only dreamed all this : for we all know that our reindeer do make tracks. The magic box seemed to be inexhausti ble. Sanlta Claus flled his pack from it hun'drl Is of rites, until, as he told Chubby, he had taken forty-seven car-loads of pres ents from it. lie would reach in and pick up a little mite of a thing--a tip.cart, per haps, or a drum-that he could hold be tween his thumb and finger, when, presto ! the instant it came out of the box it would be as big as ever. Chubby never grew tired of watching these changes, and often laughed outright to see what looked like a wooden mosquito suddenly swell out into a wooden ox or an elephant. The number and richness of the presents surprised him very much; and Santa him self admitted that he never had a finer stock. Of course, there were thousands upon thousands of cheap toys and trinkets ; but there were also presents of great value. 'T'here were, for instance, one hundred and seven u old watches, and seven hundred and one silver ones, ninety-three sets of turs over forty diamond rings, anid ear-rings and breastpins by the bushel. Sometimes, as Santa was loading his pack, he would tell Chubby who the differ ent gifts were for, and what sort of people they were. And Chubby was greatly per plexed to find that many of the nicest things were for very naughty children, and that many of the most costly things were for the rich, who did not need them, while good boys andtgirls were often put off with a very meagre gift and the poor, too, often with nothing at all. But when lie asked Santa about it, the old man shook his head, and said that lie couldn't go into that ques tion then; that it had perplexed wiser folks than Chubby; and that he did not rightly understand it himself. The good Lord, lie said, had seen fit to make some rich and some poor; and it was not for an old saint like him to try to undo his Mas ter's work. " Besides," added he, " you must under stand that the true worth of these things is not the store-price of them, but the amount of happiness which they bring ; and I have seen many a poor lad more pleased with a two-penny toy watch than many a rich man s son was with a gold one. Once," continued Santa, "when I was quite young and inexperienced-I think it was on my four hundredth or four hundred and first Christmas trip-I thought it would be a bright idea to equalize things a little. So I gave a diamond ring to an old apple woman's son, and a penny-whistle to a young millionaire. The police found the poor boy trying to sell the ring, and be lieving that he :must have stolen it, put him in prison. The young millionaire was so enraged at the meanness of his gift, that he -ot black ini the face, fell down in a fit, and became an idiot. After that," said Santa, " I never meddle with folks' cir cumstances, butj ust adapt myself to them." " There is one other question I should like to ask," said Chubby. "What is it?" "I should like to know why your pack seems sometimes to be very light when there are heavy things in it, and very heavy when there are light things in it." "Now you have hit upon my greatest secret," said Santa. " Oh, don't tell me if you would rather not," said Chubby. "I don't mind telling you," Santa re plied. " though I never mentioned it before. You ee our sort of people have dififerent weights and measures from what your sort of people lhave. Things are light and heavy to us, according to how much they are good for. Now, here is a package marked Sam Rothschild. It contains a chest of tools, a pair of skates, a croquet set, and so on--all what you would call heavy articles. But to me the whole con cern doesn't weigh as much as a good-sized goose-quill, because they will do that un happy, discontented, unreasonable Sali no good at all. But here is a bundle marked Tommy Jones, containing a tippet and a pair of mittens knit by his grandmother, a new knife from his mother, and a sugar heart from his little sister Meg--all what you would call light things, you see; yet they are so heavy to me that I fairly stag ger under them, for I know they'll make Tom so happy that lie can hardly contain himself. W hy, It seems to me I'm carry ing about five tons of happiness in that bundle." And sure enough Santa had all that he could do to lift Tommy's presents into the pack, but tossed Sam 's in as if they were so much thistle-down. After a night of hard work, Santa finished his task just be fore day-break. Chubby was glad to see the last load taken from the magic box, for he was getting tired anti cold. Santa felt a little tired, too, as well he might; and the last load was a pretty heavy one, for they were in a neighborhood now where a great deal of happiness went with a present. Chubby noticed something more than fa tigue in the old man's look as he came slowly back with his empty pack. lie was troubled about something, that was plain. "Did we take everything out of the magic box, Chubby ?" he asked. " Everything but my sled," said Chub by. " Don't you know we picked a violin and a pair of copper-toed boots out of the crack in the left-hand corner?" "So we did," said Sants: "and fished that microscope out of the nail-hole on the right." Yethe looked the box all over again, holding his lantern close down, and hunt Ingevery corner. ''There was nothing there but Chubby's sled. " lHave you lostanything?" said Chubby. "No; but there's poor Phil, the lame boy in the next house. I wish I had broughtsomething for him." " 1 suppose he couldn't use a sled, if he's lame?" said Chubby. "Just the thing he wants. Then his bil brother Jack ouild draw him to sechool. But we haven't one for him, that's clear." "There's mine." sail Chubby. • What are you thinking of?" said Santa Claus. " I was thinking," said Chubby, "of what Mr. Marsh sall when he n as so kind to me in the store. le said it was a time to tdo good for .Tesums' birth-day: and I should like to do somn, good for ilis sake; and I think he would like to have me give PI'hil the sled; and I would like to, too. It would bhe a real (hristnas present, then; and I should like to see how it would be then." Santa looked at Chublby for a moment with glistening eyes. Then he stooped and took the sled froln the magic box. It was the hearviet load ihe had carried that night, andl Chubby saw how he staggered under it as he walked off with it toward I'hil's house. When he camne back he walked very briskly, and the sober look wa~ gone from his Face. " Chubby," said he, "would you like a home for a Christmas present ?" " I should hlike it very much, if it w ' a good one." said C(hubby. Santa Clans took his seat and spok , his reindeer. Off they went like a she, through miles and miles of streets, tunliig corners, crossing bridges, never slackening their pace for an instant till they came to a handsome old mansion on the outskirts of I the city. Here, at a "'whish-sh-sh" from their master they stopped still. S" This is the ace," sakl Santa. "Climb into my pact" Chubby clinbed in. " Am I very eavy?" he asked. • " As heavy as an elephant," said Santa. I can'tcarry you. I'm glad of it, though ; r it's a sign they're going to like you." "What shall I do, then ?" " Carry yourself." " Which way ?" " Up the rain-spout." "Inside or outside?" "Outside, of course. Follow me." Santa climbed nimbly up, and Chubby followed him as well as he could; but when I he had got about thirty feet from the ground his strength began to fall, and he felt sure he would have to drop. lie looked up and saw Santa looking down at him over the edge of the roof. " Climb a little higher," said he, "and you can reach my hand." " I can't," said Chubby; and with that he woke up. It was broad daylight. MIke was taking I down the shutters, and Mr. Marsh, who had just come in, stood by the stove look ing down at Chubby. "It was only a dream after all,"said Chubby, jumping up and rubbing his eyes. "What wasa dream?" asked Mr. Marsh. "Will you tell it to me?" Chubby related the dream, and Mr. Marsh listened with great interest, all the while studying Chubby's face, and think ing very hard. "There's stuffin him, that's clear," said the merchant to himself. " What, sir?" said Chubby. "Chubb," said Mr. Marsh, "do you like selling papers for a living?" "It's the best I can do sir." " But suppose I could help you to do something better-to become a merchant, for instance ?" "I should like that very much, sir." " Well, I've been thinking about It since last night, Chubby, and I have taken a no tion that you might make a pretty fair merchant. If it would suit you, I'm-" "Oh, it would suit me, sir, I'm sure." " Well, then, I'll give you a place right here in my store." " You're very kind, sir." "That remains to be seen. I may be do ing you a kindness, and I may be doing myself one; perhaps both; perhaps neither. We can tell better by and by." And so, after more talk than it is neces sary to relate, It was arranged that Chubby should becme a clerk in the store; and better still, that he should, for the present at least, board in Mr. Marsh's family. "And how about the sled ?" asked Mr. Marsh. "I think, sir," said Chubby, "that I would like to do as I did in the dream, and give it to somebody that needs it more than I do." " Do you know such a one ?" " Oh, yes sir. There's limping Peter, that used to belong to our club, and got run over by a dray. I shall give it to him." And so Chubby Ruff's Dream came true -the best part of it, at least. He got a Christmas present of a home, and began his more prosperous life by doing a little goodl for Jesus' sake.-Little Corporal for December. The Wife Makes the Husband. I remember well a couple with whom I was for years on terms of closest intimacy. Tha husband was a gentleman of God's creation. He filled with honor an import ant office under the United States Govern ment ; lie had a large private fortune which he spent generously on his family, for he desired above all things their happiness. s lis wife was young, beautiful, and had been raised by his love from a life of bitter I poverty and toil. She had a splendid home, a devoted husband, and four fine sons and daughters. Her power over her husband was very great, and not the weak est of her weapons was this sulky, tearful, 4 injured silence. But she had no tact, she< strained thg bow too far and it snapped. I shall never forget the months of misery preceding their final separation. And in society he bore all the blame. I Was his wife not strictly virtuous ? Was she not a careful and conscientious moth er; an acknowledged betauty and a pattern I housekeeper? What then did he want? He answered them as an old Roman did on a similar occasion. Stooping down, he loosened his shoe, Inquiring, "Is it not f new? Is it not well made ? Yet none of you can tell where it pinches me." That I is just the kind of misery. Try if you can bear a pinching shoe month after month, l year after year-yet it is not so Irritating as a sulky woman. Husbands as a general rule are what wives make them. If a woman complains to me of an unsympathizing husband I listen with a closed mouth, and a closed heart too. I do not indeed deny but what there are men too utterly bad for any wo man to influence; but men do not become bad, sour and spoiled by some sudden lightning stroke-all at once. A woman of any penetration must see suspicious cir cumstances in such before marriage, and people who run rjsks vohlntarily ought not to expect immunity from conse quences. And if the man was a good man when she married him, and grew bad un der her management, and in her society, she cannot be altogether blameless. l)e pnd uponl, it there are as may ill-used hus ands as wives, only the former keep a stiff uppwr lip about their mistake, and the lat ter bring theirs before the foot-lights and ask the world to cry with them.--Golden Age. It will not do for scholars to depend on sound for the meaning of wonts, or they will fall into bad blunders. A sehool board director, while lately examining some young children, asked them the fol lowing questions: "Are there any moun tains in Palestine ?"' "Yes," replied the children. "How are they situated ' iiin quiredl the examiner. "Some are in clus ters, and there are some isolated ones," they answered. "What do you meman by the word isobsted ?" asked the examiner. " Why, coverled wIth ice." t -*0- Tax Peoria Reviesoe says that alady teach er in one of the public schools was amazed the other day by seeing a perfect forest of I juvenile hands fly up in the air and shake and gesticulate with violent agitation. I "' What do you want ' querued thei puz- I zledinstructor. Chorus--" Yerhair's fall- t ing off." Sco8eld's Goat. Deputy-Sheriff Harvey Scofield of West Farms was recently the proprietor of a billy I goat. The mischievous pranks of this quadruped were fully up to the average, and were the source of continued ajxiety to Mr. Scolleld. The goat was the terror of bill posters, for he could reach a hand bill on the highest fence, and one day a circus troupe which had lost heavily by visithig the town charged their bad luck to Scfleld's goat, who had eaten their 1 posters. Small boys with red stockings always gave his goatahip plenty of room I whenever he took a promenade. A grange boy only needad butting over on to be come as contemplative as the village boys. The goat had a great dislike for yellow dogs, and never misaed an opportunity to pitch one of them into the Bronx it he could catch him on the bank of the river. A fight among the village dogs could be broken up at once by shouthig "Scofield's goat." Youngladies, too. knew Scofleld's goat, and never wore red, a color which annoyed him. Scotleld says he has spent more than $2o for ropes to tie the goat up, but that be is capable of eating a clothes line fifty feet long within thirty days. Thedepredations of this animal around Mr. Scofield's yard and in his house have been very discour aging. Not long ago he ate one of his mas ter's gum shoes, and chewed a hole in a new felt hat. Then he barked a favorite quince bush, and broused all the branches offa small pear tree-a new variety. Last week he devoured an execution against a threshing machine without disturbing his stomach, and then ate all the batting out of a bed-quilt that was hanging out of a window. The next day when Scofield ar rived home, he spied the goat on a shed chewing.a sheep skin which he had just dressed and spread out to dry. Scofield tried to frighten the goat from the roof by throwing sticks and stones at him; but after breaking a pane of glass in a neigh bor's house he decided to go up and help him down. On reaching the top of the shed the goat darted between Mr. Scofield's legs, still clinging to the sheep skin. Sco field sat down with the velocity of a can non ball. The roof gave way and Mr. Scofield fell into an empty potato barrel as though he had expected a chair there to receive him. The goat fell on a pile of coal and then darted into the yard, leaving Mr. Scofield struggling to get out of the barrel. Just as he had almost freed himself the barrel went to staves, the ultimatum being that he reached the ground still in a sitting posture and in a very unsettled frame of mind except on one point, and that was to sell that goat to the first man who came along. " Yes, by dad, that confounded goat must go-that settles it," said Scofleld, as he clambered to his feet, surveyed the surroundings, and saw the goat in the fence corner still chew ing the sheep skin. On Friday, however, he sold the goat to a Morrisania German for $5. On Satur day the German called for his goat, with a rope and a boy. The boy was assigned to fasten the rope to the goat's horns. The next minute the boy was clinging to the limbs of an apple tree, and screaming like a screech owl. The man then mount ed the fence and lassoed the goat. Billy went along well enough until be reached the street. Then he set both fore feet down that he would go no further. The man tugged at the rope, but his goatship was as firm as a pine stump. All at once Billy lunged forward while the German was pulling hard at the rope, and he fell backward againsta gate and tumbled into a neighbor's yard. Away went goat and rope toward the village at high speed. Billy had his dander up, and was in for a sensation. The cry "There comes Sco field's goat with fire in his eye," was start ed, and all red substances vanished. As he ran down the street he saw himself in a looking-glass which was standing in front of a furniture store, and mistaking the reflection for another goat, he stopped, looked wise, took deliberate aim with his shaggy head and went through the glass, emerging on the other side with his horns entangled in the wires of a spring mattress and his face covered with blood. The pro prietor of the goat soon arrived, and tying his legs, put him in a wagon and started for home, saying : " I vix der goat ven I gets him home." Yesterday the German took the goat back to Mr. Scofield and demanded his money. He said, "I never see such a goat like dat. I not keep such goats like him. Iast night he butt my front fence down, and yesterday he kill my dog dat I pays $25 mit. Why you do not dell me degoat 1 he got some drieks, elh ?" Mr. Scofleld informed the German that he could not take the goat back, but the owner left the animal there. Mr. Scofield says that he will keep the goat a few days and then take out an exo cution against the German for boarding the goat, and if the German don't pay the bill he will sell the goat at auction.-N. F. Sun. A xxw cereal has been grown in Oregon wvhich has puzzled the farmers, as it is un like any grain with which they are famil Lar. From seven to ten stalks grow from one root to a height of about four feet, and these stalks, or straws, are thin and hard. The radicals are tough and spread widely. The head, are six Inches in length and covered with a heavy beard, each filament being five inches long. The grain is double the length of a kernel of wheat, and, in steadl of being firm and compact, is hollow, the cavity containing glutinous m;natter. While the grain bears acloser resemblance to wheat than to anything else, the straw looks more like that of rye or harley. Its origin is somewhat peallhar, the first grain having Iw·,n taken fronm the stomach of a wild goose by a farmer in Tillamook coun tv nearly thrree years ago. He was struck with its appearance, and planted it, and the succeeding season sowedthe product. He dictribuMted a portion of the second crop among a few friends in different parts of the State, who this year raised small quan titles. It will require another year to de termine the value of the grain. Tax earthquake which destroyed the town ofSlmods, in Japan, in 1854, was a companied by an immense sea-wave which sweeping over that reion, was recorded on the self-reglsterigtlde. aures at San Prancisco dandn Igo. rhiis wave oo copied about nine hours in crossing the Pacific Ocean from west to east; and Pro fesor Rache deduced-the mean depth of the water as somewhere between twelve and fifteen thoauandl feet. PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS. THa Brunuwseker says that a print that oftice had such a badcold that he dis tributes all the "n's" into the "d" box. A MISSIONARY among the freedmen in Tennessee, after relating to some little cal ored children the story of Ananias and Sapphbira, asked them why God does not strike everybody dead that tells a lie, when one of the least in the room quickly ans wered. " Because there wouldn't be any body left." Tau Professor of Natural Philosophy in a certain college recently gave the class a problem to think of during the night, and answered the next day. The question was this : " If a hole were bored through the center of the earth, from side to side, and a ball dropped into it, what motions would the ball pass through, and where would it come to a state of rest?" The next morn ing a student was called up to solve the problem. " What answerhave you to give to the question?" asked the professor. " Well, really," replied the student, "I have not thought of the main question, but of a preliminary one. How are you going toget that hole bored through?' Wa have a reular little George Wash ington in our neighborhood, but his moth er don't act her part well at all. A few evenings ago our little hero tried the edge of his little axe upon the nasal organ ot his mother's favorite cat, and completely demolished the smelling apparatus of the innocent feline. The cat expired, and he carefully concealed his victim in the meal barrel, where it was resurrected late In the evening by the old woman, who was get ting meal for supper. She called George andquestioned him. George hung down his head, and said, "Mother, L eaat tell a lie you know I can't; but I'll be swizzard if I can tell you the truth about this little aflkir." ,H's mother said, "Come across my lap, my son; come aross my lap." And he come. The little fellow had been sitting in the dust, and they say it is a fact that that old lady has not got all the dust out of her eyes yet.-FalmouthA Indeped art. Oua people ought not encourage extrav agancein these times of general financial depression, yet a man exhibiting a luxuri ous and elegant milking-stool of black walnut in front of the post-office the other day, kept an interested and symp sthetic crowd about him for an hour. It was a sort of easy-chair milking-tool-a nice seat for the operator, a swing-shelf for the milk pail, and a slotted standard in which to secuse the cow's tail, with a sliding rod to shoot the tail out when the milking Is done. The pail shelf slhuts up like a Jack knife blade when the pall is removed, and the operator marches off with the stool under one arm and the pall of milk In the other hand, leaving the cow too surprised to remonstrate. It is too elegant for a milking-stool, but is just the thing for a smoking chair, the shelf being admirably adapted to hold a spi-cuspidor, and the shooting rod to ram home the tobacco, provided one uses a pipe, or to knock off the ashes if one smokes Partagas. But black walnut is extravagant for a milking stool.-Danbury News. About Dyspepsia. Did you ever have the dyspepsia ? Did you ever have-or, imagine you had-a complication of all known, and several unknown, diseases? If yes, then you have had the dyspepsia or its full equiva lent. Chronic dyspepsia may be defined as an epitome of every complaint where with transgressing mortality is scocrged. It is as nice a thing to have about you as a trunkful of tarantulas, with the trunk lid always up. An eminent English phy sicia b said, "A man with a bad dys pepelsa is villai." He is, and worse. e is by turns a fiend, a moral monster, and a physical coward-and he cannot help it. He is his own bottomless pit, and his own demon at the bottom of it, which torments him continually with pangs hn describable. When a worm of the business dast of this world has writhed with the dyspepsia until it has assumed a virulent chronic form, who shall find colors and abilities enough to paint his condition ? His blood becomes first poverty-stricken, then Im pure, and, as " blood will tell,"every part of his system is contaminated by the foul stream. The brain complains bittey on its own account, and vehement complalnts are being continually sent up to It from the famishing liver, bowels, spleen, heart and lungs. Like "sweet bells Jangled out of tune," the entire organisation breathes discords. Even the remote toes telegraph up to the brain, " We are starv ing down here; send down more proven der." The brain makes requisitions on the stomach, which are futile. The stom ach is powerless to provide, and the brain can not transmit. At times all the starv ing organs conspire together, suspend work, and undertake to compass by riot what they fall to get by appeal. Then lfe trembles in the balance. Then the conso lation-O, theconsolation !--that is visited upon the dyspeptic. Friends-when he is lifeless from want of vitality-friend. will exasperate him with taunts of being "lazy," "shiftless," '" iodolent," and "without ambitilon !" Nor can his friends be made to appreciate that it is as prepo terous to expect one who is updergoing constant torture and conseqnent eie' tioato have " ambition," as it would be to ezeet a corpse to have an appetite. Vlemedy: everybody's advice-that is, ride everybody's hobby. Cure: death. Drugs are but aggravations, and "bitters" are bitter, indeed! We have heard of a chronic dyspeptk: who took his cue f'om his chickens, and, by swallowing daily a moderate hartnlful of gravelstones of the size of a pea downward, fIlnally succeeded in transforming "cue" into "cure." lie elimtd comple~'testoration. In the face of this evidence to the contrary, we reas sert that for chronle dyspeplsia in its worst form there is but one certain cure-abso late rest. .Preventive: take as good care of the cost of your stomach as you do of the crttofyour back. Do you wish for faith in God, In human love, in earthly happinm, In the benfceace of Nature, and in immortality? Keep your digesion vigorous; on that huang all of these. Sould you prefer an abiding faith in tor treas unspeakable, tin horrons tbspret ble? Destroy your digestion. Would you live in the body forever? Keep your digestion at full vigor; and, althonugh the end of the werkl may come, your end will not come-you will have to go alter It. Old age is but the failure of nutrition. Nutrition ie ; non-nutrition is Death. -9nQlnd t.. y.