Newspaper Page Text
7 rr DEVOTED'TO LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS, 1GRICULTURE AND MISCELLANY. \ VOL. I. NEWARK, DEL,, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1876. NO. 15. fO ( t li '» 1 •• : < . V UNDER THE SNOW. Ah me, my garden llee under the enow, The ehroudlng drifting enow ; Each flower that I reared hae bowed ite head Ita aweet bloom withered, its fragrance fled ; 1 eo loved them, llving,and mourn them dead Dead under this Winter enow, Lying beneath it, etiff and low, Daad ! and I loved them eo ! Bnt the eun by and by will melt the enow. The glittering ahrond of enow, And the beautiful bud aud the etately tree Will ehed their fragranoe again for me, And my heart ahall be glad when my eyes shall My treMnre« from under the enow Thet my yearning love hath cherished 80 , Rise fair In the Summer glow. God e garden liea under the ahrouding show, The beautiful, sheltering snow ; And the buds that He took from your hand and mine, Aro bnt waiting the time when His voice divine Shall bid Hie aun on the garden shine, And warm to life in ite glow The precious germs lying under the enow, That He took when Ho loved them so ! After Many Sorrows. It was my eighteenth birthday, and my kind aunt, by dint of.several months' strict economy, had prepared a great surprise for me—nothing less than a party, the first Iliad ever been able to call my own. Many Were the gay assemblies I had attended, and many, too, were the Invi tations I had declined, for no other reasons but that my pride revolted from always accepting and never bestowing them. Not that It was good Aunt Martha's fault, she who hud been to me from earliest Infancy as a beloved mother; had she hut possessed the means, 1 might have filled her house with guests from would only felt pleasure in my enjoyment. But she was the widow of a country clergyman, and every one knows that such are not apt to abound in riches; In fact, Aunt Martha regarded herself as especially blest Inasmuch as she was left In her own comfortable home, with a sufficient income for her support, with care aud frugality. Doubly thanktul was she for this blessing when the death of her only brother left his penniless orphan with no protection on earth gave herself. cellar to roof, and she have She had promised him to be a mother to his child, and nobly had she kept her word. No pleasure, no enjoyment, that her limited means could afford were de nied me, ami thus It chanced that, denying herself, she sent out Invitations for the evening of my eighteenth birth day. It was midsummer; the day was un usually tyot; so wiwrranged that while rhe refreshments should lie Berved In the large, old-fashioned parlor, tlie games and dancing should take place on tlie lawn, the generous light bestowed by lngextendeu into the shaded portions by lanterns suspended from the trees. "I have asked our new neighbors, Mabel," said my aunt, as we awaited the coming of our guests ; "Mrs. Wiltou and her daughter, and that young nephew of hers: he is an orphan, they say, and she brought him up; he lias just received the degree of "Bachelor of Arts" at college.—Hush!—here they come now." the moon be A carriage rolled up to tlie door, and from it alighted a gentleman, quickly followed by tw o ladies. Mrs. Wilton was a tall, dignified woman, her hair white as snow, her face still bearing traces of the beauty which had been hers in years gone by ; her manner cordial and unaffected, yet (was it a prescience of the future?) 1 shrank hurriedly from her friendly greeting, and turned with a sense of relief toward her daughter, a fair, brightrhaired beauty, w hose frail figure, transparent complexion indicated one of those delicate organizations which are 111 fitted to cope with the sorrows and trials of life. A gentle, amiable, loving creature was Laura Wilton, aud, perhaps, from the very contrast to my own cold, ener getic spirit, I soon learned to love and cherish her as a dear friend. She, on her part even on that first evening of our acquaintance, seemed equally attracted toward me and whith ersoever I went, followed closely in my footsteps, ever attended by her cousin. Stacy Percival was tall and finely formed—one of nature's noblemen—and so widely diflerent from those I had been accustomed to meet, that I listened with rapt attention to the rich, mellow voice which lent an interest to the most trifling words. That evening was the beginning of a new epoch in my life. The summer wore on, and scarce a day passed that did not find Stacy, Laura and myself in close companion ship. Riding, boating and walking, the time went rapidly on, until the chill days of autumn surprised us, and then Mrs. Wilton and Laura departed for the city, to remain through the winter months. And Stacy Percival accompanied them. It was a rude shook, this suddenly awakening from the sweet dream-'ike life Into which 1 had Insensibly glided. I had been so happy and contented with my lot. the hours had flown so rapidly that I had no time to pause and consider what it meant—that strange joy which filled my heart aud made the whole earth seem radiant with beauty. But now that It is all over, now that I was left In my loneliness again, my heart took counsel with itself, and whis pered the truth in clear, startling accents. I loved Stacy Percival ! Yes, It was too true I loved him—unasked,unsought. I had given my heart to a stranger, und my cheeks grew hot as I realized that my affection for him was stronger than that I ehorished for the dear, good rela tive, who had eared for me my life long. I despised myself. I would rather have died thau acknowledge the truth, and yet I could not deceive my own heart. I knew only too well that It wus the truth tliat I had bestowed my love unsought. A week after her departure, I received a letter from Laura, in whieli she men tioned that Stacy had gone out to the far West, on some sudden business emer gency, "for you know," the letter eon. eluded, that Stacy has lately taken into his own hands the control of the immense importing establishment in herited from his father. No, I had not known it; had not dreamed that Stacy Percival was a rich man. I had thought him poor, penui less like myself, and I dropped the letter with a sigh. Fain would I have convinced myself that this was the reason he had gone away and made no sign; he was rich, I was poor, and, therefore, no fit wife for him who might, wed whom he pleased; but I could not believe it; I well knew that no such sordid'motive could influ ence him whom I loved; It was I who was in fault, not my poverty. I walked out in the grove behind the old mansion I called my home, ana there I sat down, resolved to think over it all calmly, and therrto dismiss Stacy Per cival from my thoughts forever; only thus, I knew, could I hope to recover ray best peace, , He had taught me to love him, and then he had gone silently away; I had been buta summer's pastime to him; yet, no ! he was too noble aud good to have acted thus; it was my own vanity alone that had led me to believe that I was more to him than simply the inti mate friends of his cousin. He had shown me every attention; yet, how could he avoid so doing, when, because of our mutual affection for Laura, we had been thrown so con stantly together? A quick step close by startled pie from the painful reverie, and I raised my eyes to meet the earnest, searching gaze of Stacy Percival. "Mabel !" he exclaimed, passionately, "I have something that 1 had meant to have told you a week ago, but my aunt hurried me away to the city so sud de it I y that 1 had no chance to speak to you alone, and then business compelled me to hasten to the West. Mabel, 1 have traveled night and day that I might re turn to you, and tell you that I love vou aud want you for my own—all my own.' Mabel, dear, dear Mabel, why do you turn from me: Speak to me, Mabel speak to me ! Not a word ? Then I have offended you. Forgive me. i was a fool to think you could loveonelike me:' He turned and walked away, and 1 gazed after Him with a longing, fast throbbing heart, that would not let me call him back. I strove to speak, hut my tongue seemed paralyzed. Suddenly lie retraced his steps, his face white and stern. "Mabel, oh! Mabel, do you know what you are doing—driving me to des peratlon and despair ? Mabel, Mabel, why did you let me have hope? You must have seen that each passing daÿ was making me love you more and more, und yet did not check me. You per mitted me to think- -oh ! Mabel !" His voice died away in a deep drawn moan, and sinking down beside me, his head dropped on my knee. 1 found my voice then. The sight of his sufferirtg broke the spell which held me jtlert.-. J v \ .41 ~"?Kacy,'oear Stacy*," l whispered,"ao not grieve so. You are wrong. I—I—" He lilted ins head, and never was human countenance more radiant with joy, lor the truth which my lips had re« iused to utter was unmistakably written 0,1 "O', tell-tale face. Wnli a glud.triumpliant cry 1 , he caught me in Ids arms. "My own, in y own, all mine, Mabel, is H not so? My wile, my treasure! Oh ! my darling, I don't deserve such happiness as tills." llow long we sat tliere beneath the trees 1 kuow not, nor when the inter view would have terminated, had not the voice ol my aunt, summoning me to the house, broke in upon our sweet eon vt "' se ' • j Stacy," said I, as he bade-me good bye, "are you sure Mrs. Wiltou and Laura will approve?" He looked down at me with a startled expression, and his cheeks lliiéhed. "Why, yes; why should they not? My aunt has always liked you, 1 and Laura is your dear friend. Of course they will approve. But what if they should dot? and he pressed me to his side with a wild energy. "What care we, my darling? They cannet separnte us, who love so dearly; \Vé are free agents. And now, good-bye, my pet. 1 must hasten to the city and report my return." He walked hastily away, and I looked after him until his tali ttgure became lost In the distance. Then I went back Into the house, my heart tilled with mingled emotions of Joy, and bewilder ment, and fear, for 1 could not dismiss the feeling that such happiness could not endure, but must be the precursor of coming misfortune. Strange how the shadows of the future will sometimes cross our hearts and darken them, even in the midst of the noonday of joy I The next day I received a letter from Stacy. Business would detain him from me several days. I wrote In reply, as he desired, and with his second letter f.yet distant from it) came a note from Mrs. Wilton, requesting me to meet her at her country house, half a mile dis tant, on the following da^'. Wondering what the strange sum ruons could import, I proceeded with not a little trepidation, to RavensWood, and found Mrs. Wilton awaiting me. bhe seemed greatly agitated, and a "v, 0 » 0 , 6 t"e object of her visit. Miss Mabel, 1 have left the city, se cretly and hurriedly,u> ask you whether you think it is the part of one friend to steal from another that which she most values? Tell me, truly, is such an act honorable, or like a friend ?" "No—no —certainly not!" I stam inered, while my heart grew cold, for I dreaded what was to come. " Yet you have done this," she went ou, in a hard, ringing voice; "youhave rofes8ed to be Laura's friend! You ave tried to take from her the heart of one who lias taught her to love him, who has told her that she, and none other should be his wife. In short, Miss Markoe, you have beguiled au eu gaged man into whispering'love ditties In your ears, and forsaking one to whom he is bound by every tie of honormnd humanity! Do you hear, girl? He is a faithless, dishonorable man, and but that Laura would die of a broken heart, you might have him in welcome. Oh! Mabel ! Mabel !" she added, lier voice changing to one of pleading, with start ling rapidity, "have pity op your friend! have mercy on me i do not kill my child ! Stacy has whispered of love to her for years past. She dias twined her affec tions around hipj, until, to lose him new, frail, weak girl that she is. would he her death blow. Oh 1 Mabel ! give ; him up; send him from you, and he j Will return to Laurti. Be just, be generous, and Heaven will reward the deed l" 1 v •< 1 She knelt to me—she, that white haired mother—wringing her hands in agony, and I listened, with-a stolid, stony composure. "If Laura were only stronger ; if she were able to bear the shock of his fajth lcssness—but sire must never know h nearly her happiness was Wrecked; the knowledge would bring her to the gravé, Give him back'to her, Mabel; fickle, dishonorable as belt, her life depends on her belief tn his truth. He taught her to love him, to trust in him. She had no thought of the future apart from biin, Mabel, will you kill your friend?' She looked up at me, her features cou torted and agonized, and with a power ful effort I shook myself free from the cold stupor that seemed to paralyze my whole being, I* ■ * *1 , „ ,, 1 , t | t ,'„ lu; \ Wdtou? v I asked, Ji-aîLw? „ e ,. W uvO^?* 181 m ? ta } 1 '' : rin g le'mval pledged uj ? f ra S n " ao ever as ked her to be ,,^1. i. . - i , VilZ? 8 ,' t i, 8 . trlle > an< * s,ie believes , faithful. They werfe to be married a "J? m ®»thS tieuce, but you—" . * Kl ,. 110 *' P r fe ven t ft! Lfet Laura <i1„:, m ' • . , _ , „ . yo ? 'S" "give hud up?,", she cr |ed, eagerly, her pale cheeks flushing, "es.; why not? lie is Laura's, not «>?' ■ „ , f.U? lo °hed at me wonderlngly. ï0 " H Vl a 110>,; girl, Mabel; not many would be so generous. ''Yes T'wdl write >!" ' "And'at once .it.a.,..« i.i. falsehood? There are nn.„.v .Qq,! Mabel relieve a motherV mixieit' ami Ssmisa him nL that I n » ' ' the note at once—this very hour ' ""do-tnis very hour, ." lth the sara0 apathetic composure I 88t "own and wrote as she desired, a . v wor " s —°»I.v a few (yet, oh ! how' fraught With bitter sorrow,) telling him that j wished him to forget til that had passed between us, and mat 1 thought It best for us to not meet again, as my. de •*emma«ou was unalterable. Then I gave the note to Mrs. Wiltoir, that she might see that I had really sent "'JJ? 1101,1 me> a,« '* * v * , * e Months passed ôn* auu there cainct uu word or sign fjrbm Stacy Percival, 1 heard from Lntlra occasionally'—not so fre J U0n , u y as a l}brst, for I studiously suffered our correspondence to droop, aiul nnaHy it died entirclynway. Spring and summer passed by, and the leaves bçmm to fall and rustle ou the ground, dead and sear as my own sor rowing heart. I tried tô forget, to be as I had been ere I had dreamed my brief love dream; a "d in the sight of tire world I ceeded, but good Aunt Martha shook her head and sighed, as she looked upon me, though she wisely rfefl uiued frqln -k- : irt'.j 1 - } One b%ht dav I received an invita tion to the wedding of Liurra Wilton and Stacy Percival. I did not go, though I had long thought to do so, and thus prove to him that I had not suffered ; but I had over rated my strength, and in tears of agony I passed the hours until I knew that he l loved was the husband of another, and then, not till then, I realized that hope had not deserted me, for only then did U fold its wings and lie down and die. :. * * ■, * .- * * » * Several years passed slowly om Aunt Martha had gone to sleep in the church yard, and 1, for the second time au orphan, was left alone in the gloomy old mansion. Ope day a visitor was announced, ami I entered the parlor to meet Stacy Per cival. "Mabel," he commenced abruptly', a f" !r one long, earnest look into my downcast face; "Mabel, I have to tell you a tale of suffering, and sorrow, and wrong. Let me tell you of It all calmly a "d coherently, if I can, Mabel, that note you sent me—it made me a broken, stricken man. To he cast off By one 1 loved; and told that she had discovered she loved another more than me—it was almost my death blow. Do not start and look Incredulous, Mabel. Here is the. note, look at it! But for that all would have been welt, for I would.have sought you, and the clouds would have been swept away. Listen, Mabel, I know that you did not write that note, that you never saw it. It was Mrs. Wilton, my aunt, who wrote it I Laura, as you know, died more than a year ago, and Irom the hour Of her death, her mother's health rapidly de clined, until scarce one month spice, she too, passed from earth, Lying there on her death bed, she told me flow she had seeu the love which was growing up between us, and it liav ' n S been her cherished desire that I should m»rry Laura, because of my Wealth, she rfeâolved to separate us. When I returned to the city after our sweet interview, I told her, as in duty bound, of the lioniùact we entered lut*, SI... lier Warm approval, butds sired me to keep It a secret from Laura ; why, shq did not explain. Then she went down to Ravenswood ami told you that she had discovered our secret, and that lier child would die if you did not give me up. She wrought up ybur sitiVc heart until rou wrote this, the true note, froh) which she.-modeled the false. She was ever an adeptin copying the handwriting of others. Her object was to prevent my seeking an explana twin, and in tills she was but too suc cessful. I traveled for several months, and when I returned my aunt told me that Laqra loved nie, that If I wished .to pre serve her life I must at least feign the love I did not feel, and make her my wife tn pltv for her weakness. At first I resisted ; then yielded ; the future had no joys for me, but If I could make Laura happy, I would at least be of some use in the world. But, oh ! Mabcl,there, too, was falsehood and wrong, rfor my dying aunt confessed that while her child loved me as a brother, she desired no closer relationship, anil all her mother's influence was needed to induce her to give my suit a favorable answer, Ah I Mabel, how much sorrow would have been spared us had 1 been a poor man ! • "Awl now.my darling,I have told you this, a free man, to ask you again to be my wife, to share a happy future with me. Will you come to me, Mabel?" He opened wide his arms, and I—I laid my head peacefully on his noble breast, my heart full to overflowing with thankfulness and love, and scarce able ow ■ But how ay post. s sue si'll j to realize that after the stLrm had sunshine, after many sorrows, jov. come Marriage nwrong the Daksiweyaus Marriage is g most complicated cere mony among the Dahomoyans. Sim plified, tho rationale is as follows : If a ,young man takes a fancy to a young woman he dispatches sonic of his friends as embassadors to the lady's father, laden with presents of rum aud ries. A council of the relatives is voned. If the suitor lias offendeff any lnqui cow con of them the öfter Is rejected. If ries are, on tho contrary, satisfactory, Afa, the god of wisdom, is consulted; anil It Is generally noted that If the present has been sufficient, • favorable answer is given. If, on thet contrary, the presents t^e returned tilt negotia tions are at an end. The nevy stage is to pay for her, and tlie bride«room and all his relatives to boot, strain every effort to get together the requisite. Be sides doing the betrothal, the bride groom has to meet all the fetish charges to which the bride may Ue subject. These are not a few.; for if the fetish priests discover that they have a bleed able subject, they are not backward in the discovery that some important sac rifice or ceremony essential lo the hap piness of the young couple had been neglected. The bride Is then escorted by her friends and relatives to the future home. A great entertainment is given In the courtyard of the house; though during the entertainment the bridegroom is not allowed to see any thing of Ms wife. The feasting con tinues to midnight, or even to cock crow, after which the company retire, and the fetish priest leads the'bride to lier husband, accompanying the cere mony with many good otlv aud to liim. "We have brought your wife," they say; "take her, flog her if she is had, aud cherish her if she is good." Tlie health of tlie "happy couple" is then drunk, and they dually take their departure. After a week tlie bride rcLurns to her father's house, and spuds u present of cooked food to her husband, who feturus the compliment by a gift of rum, cowries, ana cloth. Next morning sfic returns to her hus band's house, goes to market purchases provisions, and prepares a feast, to which lifer husband's flrleilds are alone Invited. The honeymoon is now over, and tlie little wife subsides down into the prosaic Ilia of a Dahomey an matron. —[" The Move» gtf Mankind," Dr. Robert Drown.' 'ices to her The Psuioel that Induré Disease. The passions which act most severely on the physical life are anger, fear, hatred and grief. The other passions arc comparatively Innocuous. What called the passion of love is not Injuri ous until it lapses into grief and anx iety; on tho contrary, it sustains the physical powers. What Is calji'd ambi tion is of itself batailles*; fw ain'-Hion, aiUea.HiexliJ) puM*y|Us lift ing its ownefe fromlhimself into «» ex alted service 1 of mankind, Injures when it Is deiiased by its meaner ally, pride, or when, stimulating a nianto too strenuous efforts after sonic grett ob ject, it leads him to the performaice of exoossive mental or physical labor, and to tlie consequences that follow such effort. The passion called avarife, ac cording to my experience, tends lather to the preservation of the body than to its deterioration. The avaricious!man, who seems to tjic luxurious worh to be debarring himself of all the pleasures of tlie world, aud even to he exipsing himself to the fangs of poverty, II gen erally placing himself in precise cyndl-' tions favorable to a long and iietlthy existence. By his economy he Is sav ing himself from all the \forry iiicipent to penury ; by his caution he is icieen ing himself from all the risks incident to speculation né the attempt to amass wealth by liazkrdous means; by his regularity of hours and perfect appro priation of the sunlight in prefei to artificial Illumination, he rests and works iu periods that precisely accord with the periodicity ot nature; hi his abstemiousness in living he ' ■ enough to live, whioh is pi a^ql/tlie right thing to do according to th* rigid natural law. Thus, ill almost (every particular, he goes ou his way freer than other men from the external causes of all the induced diseases, am} better protected than most men from tie consequences of those disease- 1 i spring from causes that arc.WF J ttrel iable. fence just worst liich i Tnehy gr»phto. Proceedings of the Boston) Tuihy graphic Society: "Judge ijurnham proposed to drop 'a' from 'lieijd,' etc., and'uarh'from 'thous-h.' etc., in writ and 'ugh' from 'though,' etc.,in writ ing to our friends, and thus finally let the worst forms disappear, as liave 'u' from 'labour' aud 'k' from 'allixinack.' Millions of minutes and money are lost through tlie want of simple ailherence to tlie phonetic, rule. Let ea:b letter have only one i|Ound, and es, b sound letter. As MO tlie 'long band' evil, lie said/that. tb$re are io th« United States more ttiair a half raiillo py.Xes sioual penmen. »Now a rapid' penman can write thirty words to aanluite. To do this he must draw Ills jss. ..hrougli one rod. In live and one-hall hours ids pen travels one mile. Avuraging sixteen curves to one word, at) thirty words per minute, one makes In u day of only five hours, 144,000 stmkes, and in a year of 300 days, 43,200,00). If each writer traces a mark 300 mtleelong in a year, 550,000 writers trace 115, miles. And as to the stroke,', 000x550,000=23,760,000,000,00«. And all this without reckonin of people, say ! States, who in . .000 43,2X1 ckoning the great mass 30,000,000 in tlie United n the aggregate write tin other equally large total." i How Mach to Eat. In order to keep the system jiealthy, food should be judiciously cousiiineil. The harder a man works the morn nu triment lie requires. While a^vorkiug man would need daily five pounds of solid miked food, two and sjialf wbuld be enough for persons who lounge and sleep muoh. Life ean be sustained two or three weeks on two ounces a day! A change of .diet should follow a elufeige of seasons—in winter, fat anil a welts; In summer,' fruits, fish, and lighter meats. Milk and eggs, a blood food ; steak, a flesh fixai ; potatoes and wheat, which belugheated material, are fuel; and coffee a stimulant, it Is important that the workman should cat mixed food, which, partaken of at regular sea sons, stimulates the system, aad keeps it in working order. The Distance sfwatar frasa the Earth. For many ages this question puzzled astronomers: How far oil'are the stars? It was known that their distance was great, very great. It was known that they were immeasurably farther off than the sun, the moon, or any of the planets; but it is only in the present century that the question has partially answered. Of the countless thousands of stars which stud the universe, the distance of perhaps about twenty lias been de termined. Others which tried havo defied the powers of the most skillful astronomers. It is impossible to explain here the maimer in which it is conducted ; we must endeavor, rather, to realize the result which lias rewarded these successful labors. Tliere is a beautiful star in tile southern hemi sphere, the brightest in the constella tion Centaur, one of the most brilliant stars In the heavens. This was dili gently observed by the skillful astrono mer who managed the observatory at the Cape of Good Hope in the years 1832 and 1833. He found, as the result of his labors, that the distance of this star —Alpha Centauri, as It is called—Is twenty billions of miles. It requires a little consideration to estimate what the words twenty billions of miles really mean. A billion contains one million millions, and we shall en deavor to convey an idea of this amount by a few simple illustrations. Suppos ing that our great forefather, Adam, had commenced to count as quickly as lie could, and that when his life was ended, Ills sou commenced to count, taking up from the number at which Adam left off, and spent his whole life day and night, counting as fast as he could, and supposing that at his death he enjoined on his heirs an eternity of counting, and that they had continued doing so up to the present moment, their united efforts would not yet have reached the amount of a quarter of a billion ; and yet the distance of the star Is twenty billions of miles. Another Illustration may be given to convey an idea of this vast distance. If we were to take a sum equal to live times our national debt, and were to expend this in postage stamps,we should get one billion of them ; and if we were to draw a line around London, including every house In the suburbs, and then take an area equal in size to this, cleared and arranged for the purpose; if we then commenced to stick them aide by side over the entire area of Iaindon, we should not be able to get them all in. After we had covered every Inch of •surface completely, tliere would be countless thousands still remaining. Such, then, is the distance of the nearest fixed star. We cannot grasp it in oUr imagination, nor are successful if we try to make a map. Suppose we proceed by first laying down the sun, and then placing earthbite inch distant from it. 1 inquire: sot what distinoe the nearest star kheuld be placed' using, the saiu« BCkle/'Wfe 'linlr it to ffc elcffen milesf Such a map -is, therefore, simply impossibility. Knowing, however, the distance of tlie nearest star, what can wo say of the distance of the farthest of those that are visible ? Here precise knowledge falls. We can, indeed, grope after the truth, and make guesses of a greater or less probability. We believe that it is, at all events, some hundreds of times as great as the astounding magnitude of which wc have endeavored to convey an impression; but the human mind bc bewildered in attempting to realize the immensity. been even liave been we more the f we an comes Whales at Bay. As soon os all had taken their seats, says a writer, describing the scene, in the A't. James Magazine, we rowed off silently, with double-banked oars. Five large boats were all wc could man, as many ot the fishermen had gone to the hanks in the morning; though their brown sails wore in sight, time did not allow of tlielr recall. Our armament was most ludicrous; bosldc guns, we carried axes, lances, old swords, and several kettles for making a noise with. Several were busy improvising a formi dable weapon by fastening soy the blades to short poles; one man, called while mowing, sat in the bow, holding his scythe. As we left the cove the women kept calling after us, and wishing good luck, and then hurried to tho cliffs, where they watched tlie progress of the chase. Making a long detour, the boats were quietly formed in a semi-circle to sea ward of the dark group, which appeared unconscious of our approach ; as soon as all were placed, the leader fired a gun, and we bore down upon the whales with all speed, shouting and splashing the water. A movement is seen among the whales, dark forms disappear and pres ently emerge again ; they move slowly at first, then increasing their speed rush In a foaming crowd toward the shore. We follow at our utmost speed, re S rdless of the spray that dashes over e boat. Suddenly the fish pause, feel ing, (perhaps, by instinct, that they are gettfnadnto shoal water, they turn, seem to deliberate and select the weakest spot for a charge ; our speed is slackened, and all prepare for a struggle. After a moment's pause, headed by the largest of tlie herd, they rushed at my boat which happened to be In the centre of the line. On they came, raising a wall of foam, behind which are dimly seen arched bucks and agitated fins; we shout, fire our guns, throw stoues, and dash the oars in the water They hesitate ; a few plunge under the boat; Ifeel their bucks scrape against the keel as we are thrown over and half filled with water from a gigantic fish; terrified and spouting blood, the whale rushes back into the herd, aud heads for the shore in his blind agony. redouble our exertions, and the fish,finally yleldihg,follow their wound ed companion and fling themselves on the shore, where they lie wallowing in the shallow water. With a cry of tri umph borne bock from the women who stood on the cliff, dancing aud waving their arms in delight at the pros)>ecl of an abundant winter supply of food, all the boats rowed for the shore, each striving to be first to commence the fight. With a final cheer the men drove the boats in among the fish, leaped out, began to strike right and left. Q satisfied with my exertions, I sat In the boat and watched the strange combat, already closing, as the poor, stupid fish. Ignorant of their strength; fell easy victims to their determined enemies. The sight was strange and striking; the cloudless sun was shining on the waves of the hay ; but, except over a a We and uite off to is a at a large patch, many yards in extent, dyed red with blood. Each wave showed a stream of crimson as it washed over the glistening bodies, rejoicing that it insult the strange forms that had lately swam lords of the deep. Behind a narrow beach rose the steep cliff, down which were running the women and children, their shriUeries rising above the shouts of the men and roar of the waves. Gradually the tumult ceased, except where a whale in the last throes, wrapped himself in a cloud of bloody spray, and deluged the men who stood by watching for another blow. Find* In the Rng-Bag. Tlie '.finds" in the rag-bag and the rubbish-heap are sometimes not a little curious. A mistress allows Betty, tlie maid to keep a rag-bag; am* asion ally Betty, yields to tin 1 ten.; ion of putting into that bag articles which are certainly not rags. But apart from any suspicion of dishonesty, valuables find themselves in very odd places, through inadvertency or forgetfulness. We need not say much about such small creatures as insects, spiders, or lizards, that are found by the paper-makers in bundles of esparto ; they are unwelcome Intru sions rattier than finds. A patent lock was onoe found among the contents of a family rag-bag ; and five shillings, the buy tent. An old Latin prayer-book, bought as waste-paper, hail a bundle of nails, curiously linked together, packed in side it. Half-sovereigns aud other coins are found in cast-off. pockets, in tlie heels of old stockings, aud inside the linings of dresses. An old coat, pur chased by a London dealer, revealed tlie fact—a joyful fact to the buyer—tliat the buttons consisted of sovereigns cov ered witii cloth. Three pounds sterling in German paper money, found their ■ay into a bundle of German rags that reached a paper-maker. The London Rag Brigade boys once found a bank check-book, and on another occasion six pairs of new silk stockings in waste paper and rags which they had bought; these unexpected articles were, to tlie honor of tlie Brigade, at once returned. A rare find once occurred in the Houndsditch region. A dealer—of tlie gentle sex, we are told—gave seven pence and a pint of beer for a pair of old breeches; while tlie bargain was being ratified at a public house, the buyer began to rip up the garment, when out rolled eleven gold guineas wrapped tip in a thirty-pound bank note. We rather think, that in strict ness of law, tlie guineas of this treasure trove belonged to the crown ; but most likely the elated buyer and the morti fied seller made merry over the wind fall. Many people, iii the days when hanking was little understood, had a habit of concealing their spare money about their person ; thus, an old waist coat, bought for a trifle-, was found lined with tpmk notes ! Ijnt of all the finds, what shall wc thtyk of a i/wV>/•' A paper raijteufacturcr a"Sn»es us that a Gag 1 ofrags brought i isfirt Leghorn!, and Opened at Edinburgh-paper mil' a tiny baby was found, pressed almost flat. Poor bantling ! Was ft accidently squeezed to death in a turn-up bed stead, or was some darker tragedy asso ciated with its brief history.— Chamb Journal. ruilM as it was worth er was well con Vi in Aristocracy In tbe Prnnslau Army. How closely the interests of the aris tocracy are allied with those of the army In Prussia Is evident from the following statistics gathered froth the Prussian "Army List," (' Rang and Quartier Liste') tor 1875, published at Berlin on the 30th of November. The royal family of Prus sia counts fourteen of its members in the army, the Annin family has forty six, the Bismarck nineteen, the Alvens ieben twenty-four, the Bluolicr fifteen, the Blumcnthal fifteen, the Bulo"; thir ty-two, the Kleisli thirty-three, the Man tcuffel thirteen, the Puttliaminer twenty • four, the Schwerin fifteen, the Seckcn dorff twelve, the Treskow twenty-three, the Wcdell tlilrty-two, the Winterfell! twenty-eight, the Wulflen eleven, ami the Zastrow family ten. There arc nine Field Marshals In the Prussian army— namely, the King of Saxony, the Crown Priuce of Prussia, Prince Frederick Charles, the Grand Duke Duke of Meck lenburg, Prince An gust of Wurtemberg, Counts Wrangel, Moltkc, Steinmetz, Boon Herwath von Rittenfeld,and Baron Manteuffcl. The senior and oldest Field Marshal is Count Wrangel, who is ninety-two years of age, and has been in the army for eighty years, aud was raised to the rank of Field Marshal in 1856. There are also in addition in the Prussian army fifty-three Generals, six ty-six Lieutenant-Generals, aud one hundred and fifty-one Major-Generals. The youngest officer in the army is ap parently Prince Frederick Leopold, soli of Prince Frederick Charles, and who, although only ten years of age,is shown In the "Army List" as Second Lieuten ant in the 1st Regimeut of the Guards. 2. in BlatlMUea-Tlie Utile World or ion (lee. Here are some curious statistics about Loudon, from one of tlie papers Issued by tlie London City Mission : It covers within the fifteen miles' radius of Charing Cross nearly 7tK) square miles. It numbers within these boundaries 4,000,000 Inhabitants. It comprises 100,000 foreigners from every quarter of tlie globe. It contains more Roman Catholics than Rome itself, more Jews than the whole of Palestine, more Irish than Dublin, more tieotcluncn than Edin burgh, more Welshmen than Cardiff, and more country-born persons than the counties of Devon, Warwickshire, and Durham com billed. It has a birth in it every five minutes, a death In it every eight minutes, and ■even accidenta every day in its 7,000 miles of streets. It has on au average twenty-eight miles of new streets opened and 0,000 new houses built in it every year. It lius 1,000 ships and 9,000 sailors in its port every day. It hap 117,000 habitual criminals on Its police register, increasing at an average of 30,000 per annum. It has as many beer-shops and gin palaces as would, If placed side by side, streteli from Charing Cross to Ports mouth, a distance of seventy-three miles. It lias as many paupers as would more than occupy every house ill Brighton. It has an influence with all parts of the world, represented by the yearly delivery in Its postal districts of 238, 000,000 letters. to NEW8 IN BRIEF —In Pendleton, Oregon, tliere is a grandmother aged 32. —Tlie Kansas Legislature has elected a colored minister as chaplain. —I.owell, Mass., has eighty employing a capital of $18,000 —Under the New Constitution of Texas nine of a jury may render a diet. —Ezra Cornell, the founder of Cor nell University, New York, is to have a monument. —It is said tliat not a single member of tlie Minnesota Legislature was born in tliat State. two mills , 000 . ver —Prairie du Chien lias an artesian well 717 feet deep which throws up 30 000 barrels of water a day. —Nebraska added thirty per cent, to her population last year, notwithstand ing tlie pesky grasshoppers. —Rev. James Freeman Clarke lias been pastor of tlie Church of tlie Disci ples in Boston for thirty-five years. —The keel of a new tug boat which was recently laid in San Francisco was composed ot one stick of timlffer 140 feet long. —The Sing Sing Prison Laundry is iniurlng the washing business in New York city. Even Ah Sing can't com pete with Sing Sing. —There are in Illinois, according a late report of the Board of Education, iifty-four colleges for males, six for females, and thirty-five academies and to seminaries. -Ex-Senator Henderson, of Missouri who at first conducted the suits against tho members of the St. Louis whisky ring, demands, it is said, $.'10,000 for his services. —Ten million six hundred and thirty seven thousand nine hundred dollars' worth of fires in New England In 187"., not including poetic fires and centen nial orations. —Curator W. R. Smith, of the Bo tanic garden, at Washington after hav ing carefully cared for a fun palm for twenty two years, is repaid by seeing It covered with blossoms. —The Savannah News says there is no portion of the South where indus trious laborers are not needed and where they would not find immediate employment at good wages. —Benjamin Downing, "the oldest Odd Fellow in the world. has just died at Newport. He lacked two months of being 102 years old. The oddest old fellow in the world still lives. / —The ehnmplon farmer is Michael Sullivan, of Ford County, 111., who has 22,000 acres In wheat, and 6,000 in oats and flax. He has 400 teams at w and no less than 800 persons ow, place, —One of the Important points of con trast betweenithe days of 1778 and the present time is found in Wall street. When the Declaration of Independence was signed there was not a bank in America. —A petition is before the Massachu setts Legislature praying for the revo cation of the sentence of banishment passed against Roger Williams by the General Court of the Province of Mas sachusetts Bay. — J. M. VanCott, in answer toa letter from his client, Mrs. Emma C. Moul ton, has advised her that she does not need to take any steps to vindicate her self from the eharge of perjury brought bv Mr. Beecher. —New York boasts of 444 newspa pers and periodicals, of which 28 arc daily and semi-weekly, 137 weekly, 22 semi-monthly, 139 monthly, 3 bi monthly and 16 quarterly. Thirty-two are In foreign languages. —The Cheyenne Leader estimates that 10,000 people bave gone to Black Hills raining region during the last 3 months; they have come from all directions, from the South, Utah, Cali fornia, Nevada, Idaho and Montana. —Bully for old Kentucky 1 Her total bonded debt isonly $184,394, and against this she lias iu cash $1,195,382. The State has, yierefore, money enough to pay every dollar it leave a balance on hand 000 . ork. his ■ the on hand owes and of over $1,000, —There is a young lady in Georgia who weighs 203 pounds, and is 6 feet 2. She is also accorded the palm of beauty throughout the State. A proper reserve withholds her name, but in quiry of any one at Camilla, Ga., will fetch it. —Augustus Schell, Chairman of the National Democratic Executive Com inittqc, has called a meeting of that committee in Washington on February 22, to name the time and place for hold ing the next National Democratic Con ven tion. —Indianapolis has lost ft colored man. known as Aunt Sally Williams, 106 years old. She had a very large family, all the members of which, so far as she could learn, had died of old age, excepting one son still living in Lexington, Ky. —Iu tlie State of New York there are expended annually more than $10«, (XX) 000 by consumers of liquor, or two thirds of all the wages paid to laborers in agriculture and manufactures, anil twice as much as the receipts of all the railroads of the State. u n —Macon, Ga., believes in retrench ment. She has reduced the salary of the Mayor from $2,500 to $1,500 and other officers in proportion, cut down tlie police force from forty to four men, shut off tlie gas, and dismissed tlie Street Commissioner and his force. Tlie city never got along so peacefully in tlie world, ^— J. G. Chapman is tlie name of a New Haven philanthropist, who during tlie past year, has placed 2,120 postage stamps on letters dropped in tiie post office staiupless, at a cost of $42.40. The New Haven folks must be awful care less with their letters, or else they like to give Mr. Chapman opportunities for exercUiiig his peculiar philanthropy. —A little German girl, Rosa Cotter f ears, of Bloomington, In the w iy of an lofu riated cow while she put four or five smaller children over a fence. lier clothing was nearly torn from tier, and she was badly bruised, bnt the Mayor and police force, as they descended p-posta and telegraph d in praise of her cour man, aged ten from the lam; imles. were loin age.