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Tlio Hoard. Wo masculines sometimes speak snoer ingly of the earnest devotion paid to fashion by tho female sex; but with what reason? True, there is in our female fashions a seeming (if not real) sacrifice of convenience, comfort, propriety, good taste, and even health at the imperative demands of fashion in the materials and make-up of all articles of dress and in tho manner of wearing the hair. But who are to blame? Wo, her worshippers, defenders, admirers and protectors, do not tolerate in her any departure from tho rules of tho goddess fashion, and if there is any guilt or foolishness attached to tho followers of this science I do not sco why wo men should not bear a part of it, for though we have taught our tailors that in tho fashion of our apparel we will not tolerate much inconvenience to please them, still we will lot our barber (if we tolerate one at all) play all manner of antics with our distinguishing feature, the beard. Tha'real difference in the folly of the two sexes is that the females follow an almost exact uniformity in their coiffures, while the men, as far as able, practice on infinite diversity. 1 have lately amused myself by look ing over the likenesses of noted men of the present age as they appear in our publications, and noticing the differences in the manner in which they are repre sented as wearing the beard. In nine numbers of the Phrenological Journal of 1875 I find 35 likenesses of eminent men, and in these many styles are shown. I have also the likenesses of 38 eminent men residing in the Fifth Congressional District of the State of Michigan, which show great diversity of style. Now let us moralize over these facts. It has been said “there was nothing made in vain,” and I have heard this class of men debating the question whether or not the beard of man was in flicted as a punishment for original sin. As for me, I verily believe it a blessing, and I agree with Dr. Holland in advising “if you have a beard, wear it,” and if you ask me, ns others have, “Why, if the beard is a blessing was it not given to woman?” My reply will be I don’t Know, neither am I dispsoed to criticise the works of the Creator, but to admit that “Ho doeth all tilings well.” Of the eminent men of the age it seems that only If! out of 73, or less than 22 per cent., hold to the above doctrine, but undertake to improve upon the works of the Almighty.— Rural New Yorker, What Is a Cold Bath] A cold bath is not necessarily a batli in water of the temperature of the atmos phere. A batli is truly and really cold when it produces a certain physiological effect—a slight momentary shock 10l lowed by pleasant find lasting reaction. The effects are for the majority of peo ple most pleasantly obtained by bathing in water about 35 deg. to 40 deg. below the temperature of the body—the usual temperature of unheated water in June and July. Bearing this hi mind can enjoy our physiological “cold” bath as safely and pleasantly at Christmas as at midsummer, and there is no necessity for the most timid or weakly to discon tinue his morning tub because the sum mer weather is over. When the water sinks below a temperature of 60 deg., let it be heated to that point and then used, and we shall still have our “cold” batli, though of heated water. The daily stim ulant effect of such a bath is so beneficial to the great majority of persons and is of such marked service in maintaining health, that it is very important to have it widely known that a cold hath may be taken ail tl-o-year round, provided cold is not mistaken to mean “at the temper ature of the outer air. ” To heat our batli during the winter months is too often thought to be unmanly, while in reality it is truly scientific, and‘to bathe in un lieated water all the year round, what ever the temperature that water may be, is to prove one's self an ignorant slave of outward circumstances, — Lancet, The Best Wood to Use. The fuel question is one of a good deal of moment not only to our city and village folks, but also to the farmer. We have taken considerable time in finding out which is the most economical variety of wood to burn for our Minnesota pat rons. At this time the hard maple is the favorite in Minneapolis. The people will give a dollar or more a cord for this wood in preference to any other variety offered in the market, but it is far from being the most economical. The reason the maple is so universally used is that it burns so readily. A cord of good seasoned white oak will make more heat than a cord and a third of maple. In any event, it is a great convenience to know the comparative value of tho dif ferent kinds of wood for fuel. Taking shell hark hickory as the highest stand ard of forest trees, and calling that 100, other trees will compare with it for real value as follows. Shellbark hickory. 100 Hard maple 59 Pignut hickory... 95 White elm £8 White oak 84 Red cedar 56 Dogwood 77 Yellow pine 54 Scrub oak 74 Butternut 51 lied oak 69 White birch 43 Birch 62 White pine 40 Yellow oak 60 j Minneapolis Tribune. Tom Ochiltree and Jem Mace. It was some seven or eight years go, Just after the Coburn-Mace fiasco, anil the latter was still in the city. As ho was loaning against the bar a number of gentlemen and Tom Ochiltree were dis cussing politics and prize fights in an other part of the room. Mace’s wonder ful expertness in the use of hi\i hands came up, and someone offered bet a basket of champagne that no man, un less a professional, could get in a blow on Mace’s face. Ochiltree took the bet, and walked deliberately over to Maee and slapped his jaws. The astonished prizo fighter looked at Tom for a moment and then lit out from the shoulder. A mass of red hair, a corpulent body, legs and boots all mingled in indescribable confusion, flew through the door and rolled out over the brick banquette into the street. While sympathetic bell boys and laughing friends were straightening Tom out and patching his fragments to gether, some of the gentlemen explained to Mace the circumstances of the bet. “Oh ! it was that way, was it ? If I’d known it I wouldn’t ’ave eared,” said he, “ an’l’m bloody glad now I didn’t ’it ’im ’arder.” Tom thought it was a quite sufficiently “ ’ard ’it.” If the blow had struck him anywhore else but on tho cheek it would have killed Mm.— Washington Capital. Prayers That Arc Answered. An old darkey who was asked if, in his experience, prayer was ever an swered, replied: “Well, sah, some pra’rs is ansud and some isn’t—’pends on wa’t you axes fo’; just arter de wall, we’en it was mighty hard soratehin’ fo’ de culled breddren, I ’bserved dat we’en ebber I pway de Lo’d to sen’ one o’ Marse Payton’s fat turkeys fo’ de ole man, dare was no notice took ob do par tition; but we’en I pway dat he send de old man fo’ de turkey, de matter was tended to befo’ sun up nex’ mornin’, dead sartin.” He jgwroi ffcfa Aups. WILL W. SINGLETON, Editor dc Proprietor. YOU, VI. hOKtutT itritwn. BY IIKNIIV W. LONOPKI.LOW. I sup amid Ilia Helds f Ayr A plowman, who, In fool or fair, Sinj>s ut lus task, So clear we know not if It is Tho laverock’s song we hoar or his. Nor care to ask. For him Hie plowing of (hose fields A more ethereal harvest yields Than sheaves ol grain: Songs flush with purple bloom the rvej The plover’s call, the curlow’s cry, * Sing in his brain. Touched by hL hand, the wav-side weed Becomes a flower; the lowliest retnl Beside tlio stream Is clothed with beauty; torse and grass And heather, wliero his footsteps pass, The brighk r seem. He sings of love, whose flame illumes The darkness ot lone cottage rooms; lie feels tho forca The treacherous under-tow and stresa, Of wayward passions, and no less The keen remorse. At moments, wrestling with liis fate, His voice is liars'., but not with hate; The brushwood hung Above tho tavern doors lets fall Its bitter leaf, its drop of gall, Upon bis to. gue. But sti 1 the burden of his s >ng Is love of right, disdain of wrong; Its master-chords Arc Manhood, Freedom, Brotherhood; Us discords but an ii terlude Between the words. And then to die so young, and leave Unfinished what he might achieve! Vet better Hire Is this than wandering up and down, An old man. in a country town, infirm and poor. For now he haunts his native land As an immortal youth; iiis hand Guides every plow; He sits beside e eh ingle-nook; 11.s voice is in each rushing brook, Each rustling bough. His presence haunts this room to-night, A form ot mingled mist and light, From that, lar coast. Welcome beneath this roof of mine! Welcome! this vacant chair is thine, Hear guest and ghost! —Harper's Magcusins, THE MISSING MAN. A. STORY OB' A. FACT. She was a curious sort of woman; 1 could never quite make her out. Ev idently she had “a past,” but she would not tell me much about it, until a mere accident opened it all up. I will not stop to relate flow I know lier, but come to the point at once. I was dawdling one morning over the Times, when my eye fell upon an ad vertisineut about a missing man; I forgot how it ran, but he had disappeared in some mysterious way, had never been heard of, and that sort of thing; was supposed to have hid a large sum of money about him, and a reward was offered for such information as might lead to his discovery, etc. —you know, the usual business. Well, I can not say why, but I hap pened to read tins advertisement out to my friend, and as I went on, glancing down the paper, I said: “Ah! poor fellow, he will never be heard of again; robbed and murdered, no doubt; these disappearances are all undiscovered murders, I suppose. ” I heard her move uneasily and sigh, and, as I continued reading to myself, there followed a sob and a moan. Look ing up, I saw to my surprise, that she had buried her face in her hands, and was crying bitterly. Rising and crossing the room, I asked what was the matter. It was a long timo before she could speak; at last she said, through her sobs, in a kind of absent way: “No, no; they are not all murdered, not all. ” “Why, what in the name of mischief do you know about such things ?” I in quired. “What has come to you, poor child ? Calm yourself. How should you know whether they are ail murdered or not ?” “Because,” she went on presently, and looking at mo in a strange, sad manner, her pretty brown eyes filled with tears, “because I have too much reason. But there, it’s very foolish of me; I have no right to bore you in this way—forgive me;” and she rose to leave the room. I stopped her; I saw I was on the brink of a revelation; I did not intend to miss it, for I was fond of her and conse quently interested. So I pressed my ad vantage, the end being that I elicited a very strange story; true, I have not the least doubt. Briefly this is it, though I shall only give it in her words when it serves me best to do so. In its narration she once or twice grew so dramatic that I will try to remember exactly what she said. Her husband must hare been a man of good family, but an utter scamp, gam bler, spendthrift, and drunkard; all his own people turned their backs on him. Dropping lower and lower, ho reached a very low ebb, indeed, at last, and she had a bad life of it with him. They had been living somewhere in Yorkshire, he racing, betting—heaven knows what. The Doncaster meeting was coining round, and he found the region getting too'hot for him, so he made a bolt of it, and came to London, bringing her with him (they had no children); came, as I understood, with a couple of portman teaus, and under an assumed name-—of course, she never told me his real one. He took a small, old-fashioned, furnished cottage for three months; a dilapidated place somewhere near Kilburn, quite on th’e outskirts, and where the new neigh borhood, which has now sprung up, was only then first beginning to be thought of. * There were a few new roads led out, and here and there an odd house or two erected, with the shells of others incom plete—you know the sort of place, all scaffold polos, cabbage gardens, dead cats, battered tin kettles, and stagnant pools. They had been in this precious abode but three days, when what happened, happened. They were without a servant —in the house alone, in fact, the wife becoming the drudge meanwhile. A high wall surrounded the garden in which the cottage stood, it having been a neat little box in its day, quite in the country. An old and now almost dis used road ran along one side of this wall, which had a door in it among some thick trees. Well, it was early iu September, the weather was close and sultry, and on the third evening, as it was getting dusk, she strolled out and sat down on a bench IUTKNA VISTA, MARION COUNTY, OA„ SATURDAY, JANUARY 29, 1881. under these trees, near the door, leaving him sulkily smoking in tho house. “ Had and miserable indeed I was as I sat there,” went on mv friend, “thinking, thinking, thinking, in the silent gloam ing. Everything was still nB death in that dreary neighborhood, so that when tlio sound of a footstep coming slowly along the road by tho side of the wall caught my ear, I almost started; but when I heard the footstep suddenly tot ter, then stop close to the door, and some o’ne stagger against it, I rose from sheer nervousness. When to this sound suc ceeded a long-drawn gasp and moan, and then a heavy thud ns of the person falling to the ground, with an instinctive pity I flew to tho door, and drawingback the lock gently opened it. There on the step lay, ns well as 1 could see by the twilight, a young, well-dressed man. Ho made an effort to rise when he saw me, partly re gaining his feet, caught at the door-post, staggered and fell headlong into our garden. All this was but tho work of a moment, and now thoroughly alarmed, and hardly knowing what I did, I closed the door and rushed into the house. My husband met me on the threshold. “ ‘What now? What’s all that scrim mage about?’ lie asked. “ Timidly I told him. ■“‘You fool, are we not liard-up enough already, but you must be playing the Good Samaritan, and let the man in? Do you want to turn the place into a hos pital? He’s drunk, no doubt.’ “ With this he reached the spot where the unfortunate man lay face downwards upon the edge of the soft, unmown lawn. Gently turning him over, my husband went on; “ ‘Why, he’s dying, if not dead; we must fetch a doctor. A j ire tty mess you have got us into, but we must go through it honestly, or else who knows what we may he charged with—murder, perhaps? Be off and get a doctor; there’s a red lamp at the second turning on the left down this road.’ “ I flew to do his bidding, terrified by his words, which I saw had some reason in them, and had nearly reached the house when he called out: “ ‘Here, go out this way, by this dooi here into the road; it’s nearer.’ “ I returned and was about to open the garden door, close to which he was still bending over the body, when I saw he was examining the contents of a large portemounaie, which he had taken from the pocket of the prostrate, unconscious man. It seemed to be full of notes and gold. I hesitated, but fearing to remon strate, was drawing back the bolt, when he whispered: “ ‘Stop—wait a minute. Did any one see you let him in ?’ “ "No one; there is not a creature about, and the roads is not overlooked,’ 1 answered. “ ‘No, nor this corner of the garden where we are—no, it’s too much shut in by trees, and it’s getting too dark.’ “Whilst speaking he was looking wound to assure himself that lio was lino!’served, and, seeming satisfied, be gun to further examine the contents of the pockets and to transfer the porte aionuaio, a letter or two, a handsome gold watch and chain, and a scarf pin to ’iis own. “‘What are you doing?’ I timidlv asked. ‘Mind vonr own husiues,” he said, do as 1 tell you and hold your tongue. I’ll go for the doctor myself; but first of ill we must get him into the house. Here, catch hold of his feet,’ “Then, without listening to my pro tests, my husband raised in his arms the slim, helpless form of the young man, and. with my assistance, carried him along the path, under the shadow of the high wall and trees, into the house, and laid him on a sofa in the little breakfast parlor that gave upon the lawn by an open sash-window. “ ‘Light a candle, pull down the blind, get somo water and brandy: he is not quite dead,’said my husband, whilst ex amining tire man’s pocket handkerchief. “ ‘No initials, nothing to identify him by. Good ! Now I will go for the doc tor; you stay with him. Put a little more brandy to his lips from time to time, loosen his necktie—so, and now, mind, when I return with tho doctor, if there have been any signs of conscious ness, or if the poor fellow speaks at all, keep it to yourself; don’t say a word. You can tell me when the doctor is gone. The man is not dead, but ha will die, I think, and if he does die without speak ing—well, we shall lose nothing for our hospitality; it’s worth risking. Mind, now, what I toll you,’ he added, with a fierce look at me, ‘if you don’t I’ll be the death of you.’ “Then he went out through the front door and gate, ostentatiously in a hurry, and I heard him running down the silent road. I turned to my patient, and found him still breathing, but quite uncon scious. “Terrified and bewildered I hardly knew how long it was before I heard hurrying footsteps again on the road, and presently, having let himself in by the latch key, my husband appeared with a stranger, the doctor, a seedy, needy looking man. “Rapidly examining the patient, he said, with his finger on the pulse. “ ‘About twenty minutes since he was seized, eh? H’m your younger brother, you say?’ “ ‘Yes,’ answered my husband prompt ly, with a significant look at me as I started at his reply. “The doctor had his ear on the man’s chest, while my husband continued with assumed emotion : “ ‘My youngest, my favorite brother. Dear sir, pray toll me—Ah! I fear by your face; but say, is there no hope?’ “The doctor shook his head. “ ‘Oh, will he die ?’ “The doctor bowed his head, and my husband buried bis face in his hands for a moment. “I was aghast, perplexed beyond mea sure, and was about to speak when an other fierce look checked me. “When the doctor had moistened the patient’s lips once more with brandy, and after using the stethoscope for several minutes, he said with professional gravity: Devoted to the Interests of Marion County and Adjoining Sections “‘lt is my painful duty to tell you that you must prepare for the worst.’ “ ‘All, I feared so!’ said my husband. ‘Ary poor brother was supposed to have disease of the heart; it was tlio opinion expressed by a physician two years ago,' “‘This is not tho heart,’ said tho doctor, feeling the pulse again. 'This is cerebral hemorrhage—apoplexy, in fact. Ho is all but gone; nothing can lie done.’ “Then there was a slight convulsion, and the doctor continued: “‘1 fear I can lie of no further use professionally; but can I help you lo do what is necessary now, or do yoiri'trwi any— “ ‘No, wo know no one in the hood; wo are strangers here,’ interrupted ray husband. ‘We are from Cornwall, and are come to live in London, and have only been in the 1 ouse three days. My dear brother came to stay with ns yesterday. He has been out all day. The moment lie came in he fainted, and then—and then I ran for you. Will there be any need for an inquest?' “ ‘lndeed,’ said the doctor, ‘l'm afraid there will.’ “ ‘Oh, how very distressing!’ went on my husband. ‘Can we not bo spared this pain?’ “The other paused, and then said slowly, with a peculiar expression on his face: “‘Well, surely, surely with what you tell me, and with whnt I have seen of the case, I might perhaps certify, and so spare you the distress of any inquiry.’ “ ‘Thank you, thank you a thousand times,’ said my husband earnestly, as I saw him press a couple of tho. sovereigns ho had lately taken from the dead man’s pocket into the doctor’s hand. “ ‘Very well, then,’ answered that functionary; ‘I will manage it, and do all that is necessary. I will send someone immediately. Good-night. ’ “When he was gone I summoned up courage to ask the meaning of what I had heard. “ ‘Wliat are vonr intentions? Tray tell me,’ I said. “ ‘You always were an idiot,’ he an swered, ‘ but I will try and make you un derstand for once in a way. Any woman who was not a fool, and had been a living wife and alive to her husband’s wel fare, could have seen with half an eye what my game is. It’s a very simple one, tjnil mind you do not spoil it, or it will be the worse for you; and that you may have no excuse for doing so, I’ll tell you what it is. There was some thing like six hundred pounds in notes and gold in that poor devil’s poeketbook. There is nothing to show who he was to anybody hut me, who luckily can keep a secret, so I shall not tell you his name; besides, it docs not signify. Not a soul but our two selves know how he came on to my premises; he can never be traced there. I pass him off as my brother, and Imry him accordingly. No one here abouts knows who we are, so who is to say he is not my brother? Had not good luck brought him to our hospitable gate at the critical moment, and had you not been the far-seeing, clever woman you are, and not let him in, why, lie would have fallen down dead in the public high way, and his property have been at the mercy of tho first person who found him. They might have been honest or not. He would have been taken to the hos pital, and of course his friends would have been duly informed of the sad loss they had sustained. Now, as it is, they will be spared this sorrow, because they will never know what has become of him. He will only be one more victim added to the list of mysterious disappearances. ’ “ ‘Well, but,’ I broke in, ‘his friends will make inquiries after him. He may be traced to onr gate, and we may be called upon to explain.’ “ ‘We may be,’continued my husband, ‘but it's sufficiently unlikely. It will be a cursed piece of ill luck if he is. Who is to trace him into this God-abandoned region? Under all the circumstances, and by your own showing, it is most im probable—nay, it is impossible.’ “ ‘Yes,’ I again interposed; ‘but he will be advertised for and described.’ “‘Very likely,’ he went on; ‘hut the doctor and the undertaker are the only people besides ourselves who will have seen him, and they will have nothing to identify him by even if they ever know or hear anything about the disappear ance. They will never recognize in my dear brother, poor John Smith, who died of apoplexy, here in my house, under the very eye of the doctor, the forlorn man by the name of (but I will keep that to myself,) ‘who was last seen,’ etc., as the advertisement will run. No; they will not know the name. It will convey nothing to their minds; how should it! For, remember, the moment you so ju diciously lot him in anil closed our gar den door upon him, the lost man had ceased to he. From that moment he be came my brother John; the real man was gone as clean out of existence, had as clean parted with his identity, as if he had never been! By heavens! it’s a stroke of genius on my part. I never guessed I was half so clever a fellow,’ added my husband, triumphantly. _ “‘But,’cried I once more, ‘this is a very dreadful, a very dangerous game, as you call it, to play. It is absolute theft, and worse ’ “ ‘lf you can not use better language,’ he said, ‘hold your tongue; don’t insult me. I tell you the money might as well have fallen into my hands ns into those of the first policeman or pot-boy who might have found him. I want it badly enough, and if you don’t betray onr secret there is very little risk of my right to it being disputed. ’ “ ‘But,’ I said, ‘the watch, the rings, as well as the money—they may lead to your discovery.’ “ ‘Not at all,’ he answered, ‘if they are carefully converted, and I will man age that. The notes are the only dif - ficulty; but I can get over that, too. If I go straight to the Bank of England to morrow morning, directly it is opened and change thorn into gold, I shall bo j tlioio long before their loss is known, or, ooiiHoqently, the numbers are stopped, | The young fellow, perhaps, will not ho j missed for a week; he comes a long way : from here; I have seen enough to t<'ll me that. Wo do not know what his habits were; we do not even know that, any one j was aware ho had the money about him. j No; the more I think of it the safer the j whole game looks. You have only to keep your own and my counsel and our fortunes are retrieved iur a few months, and we have nothing to fear. Ah, that’s the undertaker, no doubt. You get out >f the it all to me.’ aj.ring at the bell lierm wl.r :>{. I’-.rnt to answer*- * 3® “Ah, that was a dreadful night, and during the few days following I was nearly beside myself with terror. Of course, the house was closed, as‘became the occasion. The funeral—a very quiet one—took place in due course at Kensal Green Cemetery, my husband following as chief mourner in the coach, accom panied by the doctor. “No remarks, no suspicion attended so common-place a circumstance, and when the ground had closed over the un fortunate unknown man, and when, a week later, a modest tombstone recorded the decease of the imaginary ‘John Smith, aged twenty-three,’ all trace of the dreadful fraud, save that which is printed indelibly in my mind was gone.” As my friend reached this part of her story she was a good deal overcome, and said she had nothing more to tell; but after a while I learned from her that tho scoundrel had managed the conversion of the notes exactly ns he had proposed. He slipped away from the house quite early the morning after tho death, and almost as soon as the Bank of England was opened changed the notes into gold, as lie cuuhl do, l>y merely writing a name and address—ficticious, of course —on their backs. He returned from the city with his lit tle black bag, as he had gone, by a cir cuitous route; so evading all chance of being followed, though, of course, there was really no likelihood of any one being on the alert. He got drunk in the afternoon and confided these details to his unhappy wife. The unfortunate victim of apoplexy had probably not then even been missed. It was a cun ning game truly, and boldly played out, and this is really about all I know of it; my poor little friend refused to let out any more very important facts. Her husband utterly deserted her in less than six months afterwards, and she was left—well, that does not matter. To this day she knows nothing of who or what the unlucky young fellow was, where lie came from, or whether he was ever inquired after; hut, though, when she told me her story seven years had passed since she let him in at the garden door, and he fell all but dead at her feet, she very naturally felt—and, and, no doubt, still does feel—extremely uncom fortable when any chance reference is made to a missing man. —All the Year Round. A Good Card for the Country Where He Lived. A village merchant from up the coun try had concluded his purchases, and was ready to go, when he suddenly remem bered something, and said : “ I want your help to bring out an idea. I’ve got tired of advertising after the old fashion, and I want to strike something new.” “ Did you ever try the dodge of giving away a chromo to customers?” “ Yes. Played that out two years ago. Folks don’t take to cliromos as they did.” • • Have you offered a silk apron to the lady making the heaviest purchase at one time ? ” “I have. And I had to give it to an old woman who purchased an old bed tick and half a pound of tea.” “ How would it do to give away, say ten half-pound packages of tea during the day ?” “I tried that dodge, and tliosft who didn’t get the tea wouldn’t trade with me. again. I’ve given away oysters, sar dines, butter, rolling-pins, washboards, and almost everything else, and now I must have something new. I keep all kinds of goods and want all kinds of customers.” Two members of the film and the gray-headed old book-keeper went into committee of the whole with the mer chant, but he resisted every suggestion. The “ convention ” was in despair, when the customer suddenly slapped his leg, smiled all over, and broke out with : “I’ve got it—biggest draw yet! I want a pair of the finest kid shoes in this city—about No. 3’s. I’ll take ’em home and advertise to give ’em to the first lady Customer who can wear ’em. The catch will be to keep back the size.” “You won’t have ’em on your hands long.” “ Won’t I? Say, I’ve lived in —— over forty years, and I’ll bet a silk hat against a codfish that we haven’t got a female above 12 years old who doesn’t have to tie a towel around her head to get her feet into No. s’s. You ought, to come up there and see the tracks in the sand after a smart shower. When I throw out my dodge and they come in after the shoes, they’ll turn whiter than ghosts at the first look, and every blessed soul of ’em will be glad to take a 3-cent cake of soap and keep still about it.”— Wall Street News. A bright little boy, who had been en gaged in combat with another boy, was reproved by his aunt, who told him he ought always to wait until the other boy pitched upon him. “ Well,” exclaimed the little hero, “but if I wait for the other boy to begin, I’m afraid there won’t be any fight. Fast Thinking. One man thinks faster than another man for reasons as purely physical as those which give to one man a faster gait than that of another. Those who move quickly are apt to think quickly, the whole nervous system performing its process with rapidity. The play of Brutus, which John Mc- Cullough delights in, was written by the same man that wrote Home, A wed Horned- John Howard Payne. AVICUNT OF SUBSCRIPTION, $1.25. A WONDERFUL COUNTRY. Tlm* l>‘V4‘l4|ll4‘llt Of 11l 4 .l’4*:if Xiltlirnl 1t4‘%4H11 4*4*M 4rtll l lll(4*4l MI||I4MI. At a meeting of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers in New York, Prof. Thurston delivered the address. “Much,” ho said, “remain's to be done by • the General Government in the develop ment of the resources of this country. The new organization of the geological survey is such in form and in the char acter of its administration that we hope to see the work of determining the value of our mineral resources done with maximum rapidity and efficiency. In tracing the progress in the various de jjiydmenta of American enterprise he kiffWthat ninety-nine years ago Samuel A. Sluter started the first successful cot ton-spinniug mill at Pawtucket, II.'I. To-day we raise 1,500,000,000 pounds of cotton to supply mills in nearly every New England State and in nearly every other State in the Union, which manu facture .$500,000,000 worth of goods. “From the day in 1794 when the first rude woolen-mill was established at New- . bury, Mass., our woolen manufactures have grown in extent and in excellence i of product, until to-day our 12,000 or 15,000 sets of machinery, handled by j nearly 100,000 of the most skillful opera- j fives to be found in the world, produce $250,000,000 worth of goods, which in point of cheapness and excellence com- : pete with the best work in Europe. “We have seen the silk manufacture, after struggling with difficulties of every imaginable sort for half a century, finally secure a foothold and enter upon a period of prosperity which is as marvel ous as it' is encouraging. The enterprise of the Cheneys during the past genera tion, and the steady persistence of the Paterson, N. J., manufacturers, have borne fruit in the erection of 250 mills, with a production of $150,000,000 worth of silk goods, which in strength and durability excel, and in beauty are fully equal to, the finest products of its French competitors at Lyons. “In the manufacture of iron and steel the story is the same. We have furnaces which are supplied with every variety of the best ores, and are making 2,000,000 tons of pig iron per annum. “By a wise policy of legislative protec tion we are practically free from that foreign competition which threatened to throttle our manufactures in their in fancy. We consume our whole product, and that is nearly 15 per cent, of all the iron used in the world. Of our enormous coal yield, about 50,000,000 tons a year, a large fraction is consumed in making and working this iron, 1,000,000 or more tons of which goes to market as wrought iron in a thousand different shapes. “The growth of our Bessemer steel production is even more marvelous. Twenty years ago this wonderful illustra tion of the marvels of chemical science was looked upon as merely an interesting and curious process, of no immediate value and of most uncertain promise. To-day a single establishment is making 100,000 tons a year. “The United States is looked upon as the home of all ingenious and effective labor-saving devices. The Corliss engine lias revolutionized the steam-engine manufacture of the world. The class of men from whose ranks the - members of this society are principally drawn direct, and labors of nearly 3,000,000 of working people in a third of a million mills, are responsible for the preservation and pro fitable utilization of $2,500,000,000 worth of capital direct; the payment of $1,000,- 000,000 of wages; the consumption of $3,000,000,000 worth of raw materials, aud the output of $5,000,000,000 worth of manufactured articles. Fifty thou sand steam-engines and move than an equal number of water-wheels turn the machinery of tho hundreds of thousands of workshops throughout the country. ” * Franklin’s Maxims. plow deep -while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and keep. Tride is as loud as want, and a great deal more saucy. Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets, put out the kitchen fire. Diligence is the mother of good luck. Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy. Extravagance and improvidence end at the prison door. It is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel. If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some. What maintains one vice would bring up two children. He that goes a-borrowing returns sor rowing. Bather go to bed supperless than rise in debt. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears. A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two different things. Creditors have better memories than debtors. Tho rolling stone gathers no moss. If you would have your business done, go ; if not, send. It is foolish to lay out money in the purchase of repentance. Gone By. The days are gone by in which a spade might Vie called a spade; now', every thing’s in a name. Clerks do not wish to be styled clerks, pure and simple, but to be set forth as “with” Messrs. So and So. Bar-keepers demand to be consid ered “in the wdne business,” and drivers of lager-beer wagons to Vie styled “in the brewery business.” No doubt by the same token, venders of matches ask to Vie enumerated as “lumber merchants;” and brick-layers, we are assured, con stantly request to be written down as “masons and builders.” Circus riders and negro minstrels pretty universally ask to be catalogued as “in the dramatic profession.” Commercial travelers are found to be variously entered as “im porters” and “jobbers.” The dashing, if somewhat diaphanous, disguise where by dealers in faro-lmnks aud blacklegs generally are prone to describe them selves as “sporting men” is not, we be lieve, allowed in the census, although between it and the foregoing the differ ence is perhaps only one of a degree. A military guard accompanies every train on the Mexico and Vera Cruz rail road, and at every station a guard is drawm up under arms on the arrival of every train. THE FAMILY DOCTOR. If we add a pint of pure water to a pint of impure water, we dilute the im pure water, and it is made that much the more pure. If wo add a dozen pints of pure water to it, we dilute it still more, and bring it nearer purity yet; but if wo add a certain number more, instead of the impurity becoming di luted, it is absolutely destroyed, and Dr. Letlierby, of London, says that the water is perfectly pure. It is the same way with impure air. A certain quantity <>f pure air added to it, dilutes the bad air and makes it less noxious, while if a certain quantity more is added, tho im purity of the air is destroyed, as is the case with impure water. Any person can judge of this from the good effect of much pure air upon had air. The follow ing hints concerning the uso of tea may prove useful: 1. Whosoever uses tea should do so in great modera tion. 2. It should form a part of the meal, hut never bo taken before eating, between meals, or on an empty stomach, as it is too frequently done. 3. The best time to take tea is after a hearty meal. 4. Those who suffer with weak nerves should never take it at nil. 5. Those who are troubled with inability to sleep nights should not use tea, or, if tliey do, take it in the morning. 6. Brain workers should never goad on their brains to overwork on the stimulus of tea. 7. Children and tho young should never uso tea. 8. Tho overworked and underfed should never uso tea. 9. Tea should never be drunk very strong. 10. It is better with considerable milk and sugar. 11. Its use should at once be abandoned when harm conies from it.' 12. Multitudes of diseases come from tho excessive use of tea, and for this reason those who cannot use it without going to excess should not use it at all. Dr. Day says in a late lecture : What ever be the plan of treatment decided upon rest is the first principle to incul cate in very severe headache. Best., which the busy man and anxious mother cannot obtain so long as they can man age to keep about, is one of the first remedies for every headache, and we should never cease to enforce it. The brain, when excited, as much needs quiet and repose as a fractured limb or an inflamed eye ; it is obvious that the chances of shortening the seizure and arresting the pain will depend on our power to have this carried out actually. It, is a practical lesson to keep steadily in view in that there may lurk behind a simple headache some lesion of unknown magnitude, which may remain stationa ry if quietude can be maintained. There is a point worth attending to in the treatment of all headaches. It is that the head be elevated at night, and the pillow hard; for if it be soft the head sinks into it and becomes hot, which, with some people, is enough to provoke an attack in the morning if sleep has been long and heavy. Except a Turkish bath, nothing is more efficacious in the sore throat of children or adults than a w r et compress to the throat. Double a towel two or three times, so as to make a pad that will fit snugly under the chin and over the throat, and let it extend around from car to ear. Then bind a thickly folded tow'el over the wet pad, having the towel wide enough to overlap the edges of the pad. It is best to pass this outer covering over the head, and not around the neck after the style of a cra vat, the object being to exclude the air so as to keep up a perspiration over the diseased parts. But if the soreness is low down on the throat, the outside towel may be passed around the neck ; yet, when this*is done, it is much more difficult to exclude tho air. The wet compress may be put on cold or warm; but, when cold, it soon becomes warm from the heat of the skin, and is really a warm vapor bath. When the pad is taken off, the throat should be washed i r i cold water to close the pores, and then w'ell dried with a towel. This is appli cable to croup and to all kinds of sore throats, and w ill be found more oleanly and equally as efficient as grandmother’s stocking filled w ith ashes. Only Once. Of the 15,000 words in Shakspeare, about 5,000 of them appear only once ; of words beginning with a, 364 appear only once ; and with rn, 310. Among those beginning with rn that occiu but once are, “ magical, mirthful, mirth moving, moss-grown, moonbeams, mat in, mural, magnificence, meander, mas ter-piece, marrowless, martyred, melli fluous.” Some, like “mechanics, mis sion, maxim, magnify, malcontent, marsh, manna, maritime, metropolis, medal, metaphysics, motlierwit, ” and a score of others, are so familiar it seems impossible that Shakspeare should not have needed them more than once, often so beautiful and poetical that one wonders they could fail to be Ms favo rites again and again. “ They remind me,” says the essayist, “of the exquisite crystal bowl from which I saw a Jewess and her bridegroom drink in Prague, and which w r as then dashed in pieces on the floor of the synagogue, or of the Chigi porcelain painted by Baphael, which, as soon as it had been once re moved from the Farnesina table, was thrown into the Tiber.” His explana tion is that Shakspeare’s forte lay in characterization, and that endlessly di versified. But when he sketched each several character it seems that he was never content till he had either found or fabricated tho aptest words possible for representing its form and pressure most true to life. No two characters being identical in any particular more than two faces are, no two descriptions, as drawn by his genius, could repeat many of tho self-same characteristic words. Each of his vocables thus became like those of the 7,000 constituents of a loco motive, which fits the one place it was ordained to fill, but everywhere else is out of place, and even dislocated. On every average page of Shakspeare you ' are greeted and gladdened by at least five words that you never saw before in his w'ritings, and that you never will see again, speaking once and then for ever holding their peace—each not only rare, but a nonesuch—five gems just shown, then snatched away. Each page is thus studded with five stars, each as unique as the century-flower, and, like the night-blooming cereus, “ the per fume and suppliance of a minute.” The mind' of Shakspeare was bodied forth as Montezuma was apparalled, whose costumes, however gorgeous, were never twice the same.— Lippincott’s Muya zinc. _ ___ A Mitigating Circumstance. The prosecuting witness in a case be fore the Galveston Recorder had a lump over his eye as big as an egg plant, which was caused by a negro throwing a lump of coal at him without the slightest prov ocation. “ I don’t see that there is a single miti gating circumstance,” said the Recorder. “Why, jedge, you lias oberlooked one ob the mitigatinest circumstances in de world. .1 only hit him wid a lump of soft coal. Don’t yer call that mitigatin', when I could hab fotched him jest as easy wid a lump of hard coal?”—Galves ton News. NO. 21.