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V-i ■ # Delà turn ÿeîtuef ♦ NUMBER 41. VOLUME VI. NEWARK. NEW CASTLE COUNTY. DELAWARE. SEPTEMBER 29, 1883. —* I SULU T 8 ! This Is the Benson for New Shirts. rf Ready-Made Stock. We offer a line li 'xcoptioimblo Li material and nmuMhip. k Shirts Made to Order a Specialty Materials llio very beat, Fit and Make Kuhject to approval. Our pricen jurttify o claim of Imviii"; the CHEAPEST AND BEST place in the State. A full line of Collars, Cuffs, Neckwear, Hosiery, Suspenders, Drawers, Undershirts, Gloves, Handkerchiefs, Scarf Pius, Ouff-But toiiM, and Men's Furnishing Goods Generally, Const intiy in stock and W tin» lat, *t patterns. Yo call. dially invited to Christield & Best, No. 515 Market Ht., Wilmington, Del. Headquarter* Craddock'« Ptdla. Daily Package Exprès*. Charges moderate. A. J. XiILXjBIY, Manufacturer of all kinds of RAG CARPET Next to Lutton's Shops, •|[EWAHK, DELAWARE, nr ALL WORK QUARANTKKD. PURB D nuos, Sf MEDICINES, rf # .CHEMICALS, PATENT MEDICINES, 80AP8, BRUSHES, -PERFUMERY, SPONGER, ETC A.T PAY'S DRUG AND CHEMICAL STORE, MAIN STREET, Newark, Del., Near the P. O. >** •toF*Prescriptions Carefully Com pounded it all hours. Day or Night. DR. T. J. GOSLIN, DENTIKT, i V. Oor. BIQffTIIb SHIP LET 8T8. Wilmington, Dbl. All operation* in dentistry performed at rre&tly reduced price« Seta of teeth, $8 10, 15, and 20. Fresh gas daily for the painleae extrac tion of te«th. cruel pleasure It passed who If I shoftld lieauty, Living to Purpose. Everybody ought to have an honorable ambition anil a supreme desire to l>e and do something iu life. It is better to aspire and fail than to have no as pirations at all. There who, having a laudable ambition, fail to make their mark than of those who drift through existence aimlessly, with jio definite purpose in view. There are * persons who devote half t heir lives in trying to solve the problem of their existence and the other half in longing propitious far fewer in l'ï that Did wards, I for some friendly hand circumstances to give them a shove in the right direction. Much has been said and written of neglected lives and wasted opportunities, and yet t lie sub • ject is by no means threadbare. It is one of those accomodating matters that will admit of "line upon line and of was yet I other the lay, own too my my w hurt the 1 To live to par precept upon precept, poee—high and noble purpose—is ambition worthy of all men, and wo-. How to work out destiny men, too. so that it may inure to our own and the well being of others is one of the most profitable themes of contempla tion. Men like the stars move in dif ferent spheres and orbits, and to keep pL place is highly important. Fidelity to duty aud station will enable any in dividual to become honored and use ful. Should one of the small aud com paratively insignificant heavenly bodies attempt to usurp the place of one of the brilliant planets, it would doubtless suffer for its pains and become the ridiculê of its associate twinklers. So with individuals. They often miss the accomplishment of any grand aim because of a failure to apprehend which they are best fitted the plane to move and shine. It is not necessary to an honored and useful life that one should be president, or senator, or minister plenipotentiary. A man might be either of these and yet possess no ex traordinary intellectual or moral weight. Yet, if he adorns the place by eminent fltuees for it, he will certainly command the respect of his fellows, and make the best of his opportunities. A constable might be a better and more useful man than a king, so we see that place and power are not always attended by the characteristic» and principles which entitle humauitjr^o love and respect. To make the best of the position In H which one ii^Äaced, whether that pos ition be high or low, is the secret of a wiie living. A clown and a preachei may be the very antipodes of character and calling, and yet a man may be both honored and useful in either. The palpable fault with most of us is what we fail to make the best of our opportunities and aspire to positions for which we are not fitted. An important thing to be remembered is that char acter is everything, and that without the foundation of a good character to build upon, all efforts to inspire the con fidence of others in our capacity for honorable distinction will become pain had to fully abortive. —Women visitors to the Yosemite have to ride like men. hlB TELL ME, YE WINGED WINDS. Tell ... me, ye winged winds, That round my pathway not know some spot mortals weep Some lone and pleasant doll, Some valley in the west. When» free fro The weary soul may The low winds dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as they answered "No." D., more? toil and pain. of. he or Tell me, theu mighty deep. Whose billows play, Know'st thou some favored spot, Some island far away, Whore weary man may find Tho bliss for which he sighs.— Where sorrow never Ihres, And friendship never dies? The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped for awhile and signed to answer '•No." And thou' serenest moon, That, with such a lovely face, Dost look upon tho earth, Asleep in night's embrace ; Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable May And a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew i And a volct^ sweet but sad, responded — Tell me, my secret soul, O. tell me Hope and Faith, Is there no resting place, From sorrow, sin and death ? Is there no happy spot Where mortals may be blest. Whero grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest? Faith, Hope and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whispered — he a heaven ?'' My Sister's Lover. The month ot May, and through my half-tqieu window came stealing a soft wind, Ailed with summer warmth and summer fragrance. The trees in the garden were full of blossoms, early roses were in bloom, but of all this L The nothing. My gaze was fixed upon two figures slowly walking down the garden path—a The man I and a woman. tall, and strong, and m&'terful, yet tender as a mother with her first-born, gentle as a girl in all the little acts and courtesies of life. The woman was young and very beautiful, with a figure slender and swaying like a reed as she walked, and dark, lus trous eyes, which brought to many a man his heart's undoing. 1 fancied the light in them shelifted themtoGeoffry Brauscombe's face. He was her guardian, and heloveed her. She was but my half sister, five years my senior, and so I was uot entitled to her confidence. Indeed, only a little mouth ago I had returned from school, with my education completed, in the fashionable sen je of the term, and since then 1 had been very ill. Over-study, the doctothad said, but I knew better. To my own soul I could whisper the humiliating truth, could pour out the cruel confession, with a sort of savage pleasure at the self-inflicted torture. It was my heart, not the body, that suffered—the heart that had forever passed into Geoffry Branscombe's un conscious keeping. I loved him—he who was to be my sister's husband. If I had never suspected it before, I shoftld have known it by the new light radiance of her lieauty, as it burst upon me on the day v, as I in her eyes, the l'ï my retnru. And what could be more natural than they were ? that things should be Did not guardians always love their wards, and wards their guardians. I had never read a book which treated is of such a relationship in which such was not the sequel of the tale. And • yet- and yet, did it make it easier for to bear. to bear. by own to make hail not find my feet. him I we a my she I turned my gaze away from that other picture, and lifted myself up from the depth of the great chair In which I lay, until I could catch a glimpse of my own face in the mirror opposite. What a contrast l My eyes, the only lieauty I possessed, looked many times too large for the thin, dark face ; and my hair, which had been the rival beauty to my eyes, was close cropped to my head. They had cut it off as I lay delirious w ith fever, and crying that its weight hurt me. I sank back, with a groan. At that instant my sister, returning, entered the room. "Mabel," she cried—"Mabel, darling, 1 am so happy l" And rapidly crossing the floor, she sank down on her knees beside my chair. The constrast was too great. Never her half so beautiful. ß u t I could say the "Poor child ! In H i ie whispered, tenderly. "Do you love pos- me ao well that you hate to lose mej* a But you will not really lose me dear, When I be us our for char to con for pain had I "Don't tell me—don't 1" I hastily exclaimed and lifted up my hand, as if "I know," I con to ward off a blow, tinued. "I congratulate you ; but don't say any more." "You know dear?" she answered, a look of surprise sweeping over her face. "How is that possible ?" "Don't ask me. Only, l know. I—" more. My weak ness conquered my strength, and I burst into bitter weeping. Dear little Mabel l" married— "Hush 1" I interrupted. "I won't hear any more," and, sobbing bitterly, buried my face in my hands. Of course no heroine would have done no heroine. I such a thing, but 1 was only a foolish child, who had lived but eighteen years, and could only look forward to a long, long life of lonely misery—for I loved Geoffry. He had not meant to make me love him—I know that ; but when I had come home for my Chistmas holidays, Alice had been away on a visit, and so I had seen him every day. We had ridden and driven, and walked together, and, I have said, his manner held uncon scious and inherent tendernees toward 11 things weaker than himself which had ^Ue charmed my heart into recklessness, a *'l pouring forth its unheeded treasures at ■ her hlB feet . had Mv excitement in renrewntina all' 1 this, and seeing the seal set upon my stor misery, brought its own punishment, i a " For a week my life was again despaired ; and the him. of. Thou, because I did uot wish the boon, strength came slowly back. Every day he came ; every day he sent me flowers, or fruit, or some sweet message ; hut It was all an added torture. At last, when I grew better, the physicians said I ponst have change, and so they sent me to the seaside, to visit an aunt who had a house at Worth mg. stayed at home I should have gone mad. Alice and Mr. Branscombe went with me to glad to go. Had 1 dow the train. I bade her good-by, and the train just about to start, when he put his head in through the window. "You will let me come and see you," he said, and I had only time to answer ; "No, no, you must not come 1" Only time for this, and to note the swift look so like pain, which swept over his face ere he mo veil away, and my last glimpse was of them both standing side by side, as they should henceforth stand through life. Notwithstanding my injunction to the contrary, he came. I had been in my new home a fortnight, and some of the color was stealing back into my cheeks, when one afternoon, as I sat alone, dreaming, as I dreamed all my idle hours away, I saw the face which a moment before had floated in my fancy. Fora one hid his my last, my was side not of .meut l was happy, supreme ly, ecstatically happy, and springing up I held out both hands with a rapturous cry of welcome, then I sank back cold and stern again. But that cry had brought him close behide me, and my hands were so tightly held in his strong clasp, while his great brown eyes looked into the very depths of mine, that I trembled and Merciful heaven ! what was it that I read there ? Could it be that he loved me, and that he had wooed and won Alice for her gold ? I should have said before that my sistei was an heiress. I had no dower —not even that of beauty ; but Geoffry Branscombe, I would have sworn was not a man to be bought and sold, to buy and sell ; and yet, if not, his eyes had lied, for they had told me that it was me he loved. I don't know just what came to me iu that hour, that moment, but though I realized or thought 1 realized, his baseness, yet I could not snatch from my lips the cup whose sweetness slaked their thirst, I held it there and drank. We spoke no word of love, but every day found him by my side. I was no long er listless ; I laughed and sang, as one might laugh aud sing at the feast of death. And so a fortnight passed, and still he lingered ; but his return w for the morrow. On that last evening we wandered down upon the beach, silvered by the moonlight. Standing in its rays, he turned and faced me clasp ing his hand over mine as it lay upon his I arm. brilliant even merry. I fixed ? it not to arm. • "Mabel," he said, "I love you, child 1 You are but a child, and 1 am a man who has outstripped you in the race of life by twenty years. But will you give yourself to mt, dear ? Has it been my own to the sweet hope that make your happiness ?" He paused then, waiting for my answer. Only a minute passed, hut I hail awakened from my dream. I had not thought his baseness ever could find words ; had not thought my sister would know his perjury. Only a minute, but 1 had torn out my heart and trampled it beneath my feet. I turned upon the man with hot, fierce passion ; I forgot that I had led him ; I forgot my own baseness, my own love. What burning,, scathing words I used, 1 know not, hut when I had fin ished he offered me again his arm, from which I had withdrawn my clasp, and we walked back in silence to the house. Yet, as he left me, still without a word, I felt strange to say, only my own guilt, himself like one convicted of a wrong. Tlie next week I went home. Alice was the first to meet me, and that night she crept into nty room, and knelt down beside me as she had done once blind fancy which has given birth alone might he we 11 e had not borne a lief ore. "Darling 1" she whispered, "next month I am to be married, and to l>e my only brides you are maid." "I cannot !" 1 answered. "Don't ask me, Alice 1 It would kill me 1" "Do you really love me so well, dear? But you will not refuse me this? It would mar all my happiness, Mabel, happy. When you have l" and I am seen Harry—when you learn to know and love him for himself—you will un I derstand." "Harry 1" 1 gasped. "Who is he?" "Harry—Harry Stretton ; the man 1 am to marry, me you knew it all. Is it possible you did not know ?" And then she told me of the engage ment which had been entered into dur ing her Chrismas visit—an engagement finally ratified and approved by her guardian whilst I was so ill. It had been this she had been about to tell me-this 1 had refused to hear. Oh, the burniug shame with which 1 listened at last ! A nd then a wild im pulse seized me to tell her all the truth. Why, Mabel, you told look love had so I and, ; ^Ue should know how mean, how piti- ' a *'l e I been, even though I bought i her hate and contempt, as doubtless I 1 had bought Geoffry 's. j 1 dld " ot «Pare myaelf as I told the stor *- In silence she heard " throu * h ' ' a " d 8he f aled my " 1,a with the an ' All night t battled with my misery and remorse. Alice expected her lover the next day. him. "Some one wishes to see you in the | "Will you go j She spoke so quietly that Ï suspected nothing, and asking no questions went [ down stairs, and crossed the hall to the j felt 1 dare uot meet In the afternoon she came into my room. library, dear," she Haid. down ?" room designated. 1 thought it empty for a moment as I j closed the door behind me, but at the sound some one stepped from the win dow recess—some one who advanced one step and then stood with wide-open aims waiting to close about me. No need for me to tell the story, as I hid my face upon his breast, and felt his kisses rain upon my hair. Alice, my noble, darling sister, had told it all. Did I deserve my happiness? Per haps not, but it was mine—mine at last, as was the great noble heart of my sister's guardian. Alice had her wish—I was her only bridesmaid ; but after the ceremony was ended which made her Harry Stret ton's beloved wife, I took her place be side the altar, bride. Henceforth my sister's guar dian was mine. longer bridesmaid but to was Gems of Thought. —Never leave home with unkind words. —Never neglect to call upon your friends. —Never laugh at the misfortunes of others. —Never give a promise that you do not intend to fulfill. —We walk on the verge of two worlds ; at our feet lies the very grave that awaits us. —Every Christian should be a mau of courage aud constancy, true to his con victions, and ever ready to stand up for the right in the face of every foe. —Keep jour religion sweet. A sour kind of piety that is always finding fault with others, grumbling and growling because things are not differ ent from what they are, is neither well pleasing to God, nor profitable to men. Open your heart to the sweet influences of divine grace, and let a littleof God's sunshine into your soul. A Touching Memorial. The .-tuperintendent of a street rail way leading out of New Y'ork into the country, tells how a father and mother erected a memorial to their dead boy. Sitting alone in his office one day, a strange gentleman entered, who proved to be au officer in the army. He carried a little box in his hand, and after some hesitation, said : "1 have a favor to ask of you. I had a little boy, and I've lost him. all the world to me. W hen he was alive my wife used to search my pockets every night, and whatever loose change she found, she would put it away fer the baby. Well, he's gone. Here is the box. "We talked the matter over, and came to the conclusion that we could not do better than to bring the money to you to pay the fares of poor sick children out of town during the sum He wt "It would please him to know that he is helping to save the lives of other poor children. As soon as the box is empty we will fill it. While we live we will keep up the bank." The box has been twice emptied aud filled, hundreds of sick and dying chil dren have owed to this dead baby their one breath of fresh air this summer. Duties of Dally Life. is Life is not entirely made up of great evils or heavy trials ; but the perpetual a recurrence of petty evils and small trials is the ordinary and appointed ex ercise of the Christian graces. To bear with the failings of those about us— with their infirmities, their bad judg ment, their ill breeding, their perverae tempers to endure neglect when we feel we deserve attention, and ingrati tude where we expected thanks ; to bear with the company of disagreeable people whom Providence has placed in our way and whom he has provided purpose for the trial of our virtue, these are the best exercisers of patience and self-denial, and the better because not chosen by ourselves. To bear with vexations in business, with disappoint ment in our expectations, with inter ruptions of our retirement, with folly, intrusion, disturbance in short, with whatever opposes our will or contra dicts our humor this habitual ac quiescence appears to be more of the essence of self-deuial than any little rig ors or affiictions of our These constant, inevitable, but infer ior evils, properly improved, furnish a good, moral discipline, and might in the days of ignorance, have superseded pilgrimage and penance. Preserves, Jams and Jellies keep better if the pots into which they are put are sealed up while hot, because if exposed to tbe air until cold little genus will fall upon them from the air and retain their vitality, and will soon fall to work decomposing the fruit. On the other hand, if the jars are sealed while hot the germs aie destroyed by scalding. Imposing. 1 her 1 im far Agricultural. A New York State correspondent writes to the Country Umtlmmn: " Plowm K clover for wheat is still large Plowing Under Clover. his a ly practiced in this section, with the difference that now the top is mostly cut off and saved for bay, and only the roots, with what loliage cannot be mowed, turned under. One fact about the recently cut clover hay may not generally be known. It is that so long as the clover is standing the soil will be | as hard as a brick, and almost unplow j able ; but if plowed within three or four days after the clover has been re moved the soil will turn up with corn [ parative ease. I have noticed two in j stances of this within the last month, and it is a fact which I have never be of it a in of If j fore seen recorded. That the mass of clover foliage should dry the soil rapidly is not strange. The inexplicable part of itis that after this foliage has been removed, without auy rain, the soil should become friable aud comparative ly moist. It may be that the process of drawing water from the subsoil, which with full foliage is at goes on with little interruption for a time after the foliage is removed. The surface roots will thus be made very sappy, just as the sap exudes from the stumps of vigoious trees cut in spring after the flow of sap has begun. Prob ably the effect in helping the plowing by removing the summer foliage would not be the same with plants not liaving the long deep roots of clover. The ex periments of Voelcker have shown that clover makes the best preparation for wheat after the second crop of hay is removed. The soil is then richer in fertilizing material than at any previous stage of clover growth. It is its bene ficial effects on the subsoil that makes clover so good a preparation for wheat. Other foliage plants, with roots near the surface, are of little value." —Mr. Charles Ilovey says many fruit growers ignore what is a consideration to the housekeeper, the size and persis tence of strawberry stems and hulls. Whero the hulls are large and adherent the waste is considerable, and the ber ries are often crushed in attempting the removal. evaporated, a I —A prominent Californian, who has fifty acres in the raisin grape, says when ever grapes become unprofitable for raisins he can make money by feeding them to hogs. He contends that grapes will fatten hogs faster than any other known food—from two to three pounds per day. — T. S. Gold, of West Cornwall, Conn., says that the worm which pro- duces gapes in chickens is propagated in the ground. He has grounds so in- fected that it is impossible to raise one out of a dozen chicks when allowed to range on it, while adjoining fields are entirely free from the malady. - Oliver Baker, of Fulton county, Georgia, thrashed from twenty-nine and one-half dozen sheaves of "Straw- berry" oats twenty-nine bushels ; from fifty dozen of "Red Rust-Proof" oat«, fifty bushels, and from fifty dozen "Burt" oats, grown on one and quarter acres, fifty bushels. —Crop reports from Russia arelavor able. The great wheat growing coun-* try of Russian Poland expects an aver age crop. The important country to the north of the Black Sea, from Odessa to the Azof, has been freshed by timely rains, and gives promise of a good yield of wheat. —Over 80,000 head of cattle and many thousand sheep are now feeding on the plainB of Wyoming Territory, and many more of both species on those of the State of Texas and yet there are many who hestitate to admit that the grass crop is the most important natural pro duct of this country. -Hye production in Russia is about «00,000,000 bushels, and in some years goes above 700,000,000; Germany about 300,000,000 ; France, 75,000,000 ; Aus tro-Hungary, 100,000,000 ; total of these countries, 1,075,000,000 bushels. The average annual wheat production in these countries is about 700,000,000 bushels. —A writer in the Country Gentleman recommends the soaking of the wood composing a summer house in crude petroleum, saying it will make any com mon wood nearly or about » durable as cedar, besides imparting to it a rich brown color. It would be an excellent idea to apply the same preservative to trellises, etc., on lawns. —The Country Gentleman recom ments planting English ivy on the bare ground under trees where grass will not grow ; adding that where the win ters are too severe for it when trained on walls it will often remain uninjured the ground. Plants should be set within tour of five feet of each other and plenty of old manure given. -A Tribune correspondent says that young horses should never have shoes —The scarcity and high price of black walnut timber should induce farmers to cultivate this valuable tree. Young men especially should pay attention to the culture of black walnut. There are always places on the farm where they can l>e grown, which are not occupied by other products. —The annual moulting season of fowls is now at hand, which is some times a critical periods with them. This transformation of the feathery covering is a great drain upon the system. They should be fed liberally at this time with a varied supply of food, and allowed extended range to wander over, a air On by imposed upon them until it is well ] The proved that they cannot do without them. He predicts that the day is not far off when some humane benefactor of his kind and horse kind will produce the a breed of horses having such Arm, far tough feet, in addition, to all other tills good qualities, that shoeing will beim- every those have by only ing the side it to their icle necessary. —A great many farmers, says Seed Time and Harvest , believe that the breed of hogs is determined by the amount of coni in the crib. It is true that the liest bred hogs require the most liberal feeding. In fact, it is one of the advantages of a good breed that it will make better use of the greatest amount of feed than a poor animal, but a starved pig of the best breed is the worst kind of a scrub. —The Chicago Inter Ocean claims that hay can be shipped profitably from the West because the improved method in baling overcomes the disatvantages of being far from market. In the West improved presses and wire are used in baling hay, and a third more weight is put into the same space than in the Eastern States, where old-fashioned presses and wooden hoops are used. —One advantage in planting fruit trees by roadsides is found in the fact that they are less liable to attack from insects. It is believed that the road dust is helpful in driving insects away. If this theory be true, dusting trees in orchards with lime should prove effec- tual. Ashes are still better, where they can be had, as in ripening fruit a considerable amount of potash is always required .—American vator. m -The Farmers ' Magazin*, comment ing on the experiment of permitting the students of A mherst College to cultivate land, states that the animosity of the farmers in that section does not arise from fear of competition, for the pro duction would be too little for such purpose, but the farmers are averse to "book farming" and new methods, which are liable to throw "experience only" in the shade. It advises the farmers to watch the hoys closely, and if they succeed adopt the improved methods. —Sheep prefer upland pastures and a great variety of grasses. It has been proved that the pasture has a greater influence than climate on the fineness of wool. Fat sheep yield heavier and coarser fleeces, than those that are poor in flesh. The line flocks East, when taken to the Western prairies in the same latitude, will in a few years change their character. The quantity of fleeces and size of sheep will increase ; but the fineness of the wool will not be retained. Sweet or upland herbage is the best for fine wool. —The Germantown Telegraph says : "1'eaCh leaves are poisonous, and often prove fatal when eaten by animals. The leaves are said to contain prussic acid, and a number of instances are recorded of sheep being killed by eating them. Instances have occurred in which cattle and sheep have been poi soned by eating the leaves of the wild cherry. It has been said that the leaves of the cultivated cherry are free from poison until they have wilted ; but cases have been know green leaves have proved poisonous and fatal to animals." —Herbs for winter use should be gathered when the plants are in flower. Just as the flowers begin to fade is con sidered to be "the best time to harvest them. The herb garden was formerly of greater domestic importance than in these days of patent medicines, but whether this change is an advantage to health may well be questioned. To dry herbs it is best to tie them in small bundles and hang them up in an airy shed.— Washington Tribune. —The Michigan Farmer gently re marks that "a farmer who has tried the no-road-side-fence plan, declares his pious soul to have been greatl\ vexed because of the trouble and damage caused by any transfer of stock from parts of his own farm, or the passing droves in the highway, and also that in crop rotation the want of a fence com pelled him to omit pasturing fields when such forage would have been of great advantage to him. He thinks he the cannot quit e spare the f ences yet. ' and ly rible of met in and and few sad ish in of in t\ < V/i in which the to to to of Motive. - There are few persons who fully com- a prehend the meaning of motive. It is frequently said : "What was his mo live ?" "What is that man's motive in doing so and so t There is more in the question than is generally conceived, much lea f expressed. The statesman who receives the si pport of an mdi- . vidual who assumes an influence, cir cumscribed or potential, knows the force and weight of the power wielded to the extent o îemo veo eo em ®opport, us the P*™™ 1 ^presuming on " JL ()r lX)aition The sp r ' f . . f *"**" n " thnt' the apparent sel flshness dement rendering useless the action Person The one weighs with ° J™ jt i(j thftt there js M ' r iu fanaticism ; no matter how crude it is honest. Hence we find that it is not all the aids to a man's advailcemml superfloially viewed, who ive compensation for their supposed i abl>r3 in his behalf. There is a law of nature that meets out to 1 hem an eqniv alent f or all they mav have done disin terested i y All other effort is a sham an(i is always without reward This rule wlll apply all the relations of ufo. Let our readers try IL-Phi'a. 1 | ÏTiorougAbred Stock Journal. The Death Roll of the Summer Months. is to or in as Not the death roll of the great and the famous whose deaths are herald 'd far and w'ide, whose eulogy every where tills the types, and whose deeds are on every tongue, hut the death roll of those great masses of humanity who have been hurried to au untimely grave, by accidents, by tire and Hood, by the mischances of life, during the three mouths that have just ended. It is sturdy John Ruskin who says that the only lives whose history is worth writ ing are the lives of the common people, the people who are never heard of out side of their own narrow circles ; that it is uot worth while to write the biog raphies of the world's great men and women, because their lives do not speak to the masses of the people what 'they most want to hear. If this is true of their lives,"is there uot something of truth also in its application to the chron icle of their dèaths ? At least the hun dreds and thousands of unheard-of men : and women whom the hand of death snatched so suddenly and unexpected ly are worthy to have the manner of their departure recalled for an instant. The summer has been a season of ter rible accidents of m urderous mis chances. The earth has opened and swallowed up thousands upon thousand* of her people. Thousands more have gone down into the jaws of the sea, or have fed the fury of the flames, or have met sudden death in some other way. Tornado has been abroad during these three months, and has found its victims in Texas and New Ytork and Kansas and Minnesota. Accidents by railroad and steamlioat have claimed their vic tims. No one of these has been of un usual horror, but there have been num bers of smaller ones, each numliering a few victims, and the whole showing a sad total. The Riverdale and the Mys tery disasters are among the latest of these. The steamer Woodburn sunk with a number of her crew in the Brit ish channel. The steamer Daphne cap sized Clyde for her first voyage, carrying down with her nearly two hundred persons. A wharf gave way at Balti more, and nearly another hundred sank in the waves. There were accidents in mines by which numbers of miners were killed, and collisions and accidents upon railroads of even more than the usual uumber. Ta ere were floods in far-away India, which destroyed hun dreds of villages, and there were destruc tive fires in different parts of the world with disastrous losses of life aud prop erty. And, the crowning calamities of the summer season, the earthquake in Ischia, which hurried 4000 people from the scenes of pleasure into the very jaws of a most horrible death, and the vol canic eruptions in the Island of Java, in which the earth and sea together, like hungry giants, swallowed upneartweu t\ times as many souls. being launched on the Prominent People. Teembb. _John Teemer, the young oarsman, who recently achieved the distinction of winning a race in which Edward Hanlan was his competitor, is a na ti V e of Pennsylvania, nineteen years oM He is tall straight, square shonl dered, with large dark eyes, and weighs Ul ir ,5 pounds when he rows. Cableton.—W ill Carleton, the pop- to u)ar verse writer, is thus described by reporter in Indianapolis where he has . been vi8iting : "He is nearly six feet ^ of s i ender build, with a bright, mther youthful face, blue eyes, aqui Une no8e< *nd short whiskers, which CO ver only his chin. His hair which is 8 j ig btly tinged with gra>, is combed a smoothly back, and this, combined with the somewhat clerical cut of is clet,,e8 ' 8 iTer , hl " rather th '' 8 W mar ' of a well-to-do young minister on a vacatlon -"-— —A small woman, dressed neatly, wa lked around the city hall park in New York city on Saturday, with a number of bootblacks at her heels. On bei right side a card about six inches by four was slung by common twine from her shoulder so that it hung at her hip. On it had been printed in ink with a stub pen : "1 am a widow, worth *20,000 and I want a husband." She had come at a bad time. The pub lie ofhees wore closed, and the politi of cians were at Saratoga. She had no 1 bick In the park, and she set out for W all street. I Milk lians. the all the assist best best the will 1 to of ing for Prominent People. B l a i : k b u h N. —Governor Blackburn, of Kentucky, has issued s45 pardons during his administration. Tknnyson. — Alfred Tennyson's publisher used to guarantee him $15,000 a year, but they can do it no more. Eadh.—C aptain Eads, the engineer of the Mississippi jetties, lias been in vited to attend a meeting in Paris to consider the question of the improve ment of the river Seine. Beecher. —The Rev. H. W. Beech er's vacation has been extended by the members of Plymouth church. The extension is granted so that Mr. Beecher may lecture in some of the Southern cities. Kirkwood. — Ex-Governor Kirk wood, of Iowa, since his return from a tour to the Pacific coast, is earnest in his advice to sight-seers to visit the Rocky Mountains rather than to Switz erland. Butler.— General. E. G. W. But ler, who, on the establishment of the Southern Confederacy, was offered the position of commander* in-chief of th e Confederate forces, is enjoyng a hearty old age in St. Louis. Health Hints. How to Preserve and Restore Health. —Dr. T. R. Allison, a believer in the worth of vegetable food, says that diet is the philosopher's stone, to diet a man, make him lively or sad, good or bad tempered, lazy or studious, long, or short lived, or give him almost any known disease." New Cuke fob Small-Pox. —A surgeon in the English army in China has discovered a remedy very efficient in small-pox. The disease is treated as follows : When the fever has reached the highest point, and before the eruption appears, rub the chest of the patient with croton oil and tartaric ointment, which makes the eruption appear on that part of the body, and not on the rest of it. By means of this treatment they also obtain the re sult of causing the eruption to break out entirely, and of preventing the dis ease from attacking the internal or gans. Such is the treatment adopted in the English •army in India, »nd it is considered a perfect cure. Warm Feet. —Children and all fefc* • ble folks whose feet become cold in bed, should be provided with a foot-blanket. An ordinary woolen blanket will make four, if cut in two and then across at right angles ; hem or bind the edges and the blankets are ready for use. To insure complete comfort, warm the blankets at bed-time. The habit most children, and many adults, have of drawing up the limbs in bed for great er warmth is a bad one, as when the body is in a constrained position, the circulation of the blood is greatly re tarded. Children in particular should be taught to lie straight in bed, and when they sleep in a very cold room, it is but common comfort to give tnem a foot blanket. It is one form of safety to warm foot blankets ready for such members of the family as have been out in the cold at night. Rubbing the feet smartly is better than warming them at a lire. For sick persons, warm shoes as hot as the feot will bear, and put them on ; it is a much belter and vuicker way than using a bottle of hot water, or heating a brick. To go to bed with cold feet or hungry, is idiocy, when both can be avoided .—Buhil New Yorker. Milk and Oil in Disease. —Dr. W. W. Townsend, a well-known physi cian in Philadelphia, in writing to the Scientific American on the use of milk as a diet in dysentery and typhoid fever, "Allow me he says, "and I will says : I am now in my seventy-fifth year, and have witnessed several epidemics of dysentery, typhoid, scarlet and relaps ing fevers, small-pox, measles, «fee., and have used milk in every case coming under my care for near 40 years, iu every stage of t lie disease. I will not say it is a cure, for I do not believe in the so-called cures and "specifics." Milk is the natural food of all mamma lians. It not only sustains life, but promotes the growth of every part of the system. No other article contains all these ingredients. It is the recup erative power of nature that performs the cure, and he who studies how r to assist it by sustaining the system is tiie best physician, and milk is one of the best agents that can be used. In dys entery I prefer fresh buttermilk, as all the patient wants is perfect rest, and discard all irritating cathartics and pur gatives. Mercury iu any of its prepar ations is poison in dyaen tery or scarlet lever, and the physician who gives them will never be successful. If his patient recovers, it will lie despite his treatment. 1 will add that in small-pox and scarlet fever l anoint the patient from head to feet with olive oil, by means of a badger brush, and repeat as often as it disapiiears ; thereby allaying the heat, keeping open the pores of the skin, pro ducing quietude, preventing congestion of the capillary circulation, and obviat ing the necessity of anodynes, practiced the greasing for 35 years, and was sneered at by my medical brethem for it and the milk treatment. Now L believe it is in general use, and with the best results. to by a the the the e have Now ^ Tomb Tlmml , iB old aw , c(iotes are of course expected. One wh j c h is not well known here is told Ul France ot a country notary who made a journey of 300 miles expressly to the i itt le man. Arriving by miBC h anC e too late for the last public exhibition, they told the notary at the place of exhibition that he had some chance 0 f seing Tom Thumb at the hote i whence the Barnum Company wmv 8<H)n U) (lepart . H e came how eV er, even there too late, and being a b 0W n to Tom Thumb's former apart - ment he found in the sitting-room a fitter arrival in possession. Gnaw of course, of the evanishment of the former tenant, or of the installation of the later one, he knocked at the door. "Enter I" responds a stentonon voice, ''Monsieur, 1 should like to see Tom Thumb." "1 am he, monsieur." The notary is nonplussed, for the man who addresses him is a giant of six feet two, with a formidable moustache. " "Mon dieu, monsieur I 1 lieg pardon, but they told me you were ofa statuto-ot a statute quite lilliputien I" "In public yes, monsieur ; but when I am alone I take my ease a little, you know. " "Oh. exactly, monsieur, 1 understand. Oh, certainly. Good morning, monsieur." The notary goes away in medite I tiou. How He Stretched Himself.