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* *W J reprint Drifting. t>T T. Buchanan Re*<i.
toi tbe benefit of jwfcr who, no doubt, will be
LL 1 * £L* .<*!* copf to ornament a scrap
*WJt- frrte the merit#-of tße poem iiaeff,
charm which would make even leas meritorious
poetry enjoyed. From the poem one would almost
imagine that the musical arrangement of words
52. i^5 h fi p *L d *"MF of Naples
▼*‘ r< r..tQs jg>ofeqpoff <|Ration of Erato, and were
paper, af the time the author wa-
hpat,” because the artist
generally portrays that which he is beholding, and
•• Drifting’* is nothing leas than a picture, colored
by all the most shades wbich;lan
guage admits. The stauza commencine—
Yon deep4barl}goe* : "
#aows, howerer, that Mr. Reaa had a sh uddering
■ bought of winter, and the “ lands of snows.” which
seems unnatural to a “ day so mild ” where ” sum
mer sings and never dies.” But this is well ex
l>laim*T by the ciroumstances under whfch it was
written; an ireident in the history of the poem,
probably unknown to many of our readers.
Late one evening in December, 18'8, Mr. Read
and his brother artist, Mr. John R. Tait, were
caught out in a heavy snow-storm, and instead of
going home went to Mr. Read's studio on Chestnut
street, Philadelphia. While enjoying the warmth
of an of>eu tire. Mr. Read got out his writing-desk
and wrote this beautiful lyric.- 5.1
My soul
is far away,
Hailing the Vesuvian Bay;
My wiDged boat,
* JP . A. bird afloat,
Swims round the purple peaks remote:
Round purple peaks
iit sails and seeks
"Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,
Where high rocks throw
Through deeps .below,
A duplicated golden glow.
Far, vague and dim
The mountains siui:
While on Vesuvius’ misty brim.
With outstretched hands,
The gray smoke stands ,
O’erlooking the volcanic lands.
Here Ischia smiles
O'er liquid miles;
And yonder, bluest of the isles,
Calm Capri waits;
Her sapphire gates
Beguiling to her bright estates.
I heed not, if
My rippling i kid
Float swift or slow, from cliff to clifl ;
With dreamful eyes
My spirit lies
Under the wails of paradise.
Under the walls
Where swells and falls
I he bay’s deep breast at intervals;
At peace 1 lie.
Blown softly bv
A cloud upon this liquid sky.
The day, so mild,
Is heaven’s own child. g
With earth and ocean reconciled
The airs I feel
Around me steal
Are murmuring to the wurinuringfkee!.
Over the rail .
My hand I trail
Within the shadow of the sall^—.
A joy intense,
The cooling sense
Glides down my drowsy indolence.
With dreamful ey* s
v My spirit flies
Where-summer sings and never dies;
O’er veiled with vines,
. , * She glows and shines
her future nil and wines.
Her children, hid
The cliffs amid
Are gamboling with the gamboling kid;
Or down the walls,
With tipsy calls,
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls.
The fisher’s child,
With tresses wild,
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,
With glowing llpe
Bings as she skips,
Or gazes at the far-off ships.
Yon deep bark goes
Where traffic flows,
From land of sun to lands of snows;
This happier one
Her course is run
From land of snow to lands of tun
O happy ship,
To rise and dip,
With the blue crystal at yomr lip!
O happy crew,
My heart with you
Bail;*, and saijs, and sings anew!
No more, no more
The worldly shore
Upbraids me with its loud uproar;
With dreamful eyes
My Spirit lies
Under the walls of Paradise!
A STORY OF MURILLO’S PUPIL.
Many years ago, on a beautiful sum
mer morning, several young men who
emerged from the different streets pressed
their way towards the house of tne cele
brated painter, Murillo. They all ar
rived at the door at the same moment, ex
changed salutations in a cordial manner,
and called each other by name. They
hurried up the flight of stairs and
reached the studio. The maestro had
not, yet entered, and each artist ap
proached his easel to see if the colors
were well dried.
“By the holy St. James of Compos
tella!” exclaimed Isturez, “which of
you remained last in the studio yester
day 7”
“ You have not yet recovered from
the effects of your morning nap,” re
plied at the same time Fernan iez and
Cardova, “or you would surely recol
lect that we all went home together.”
“ There is a point beyond which for
bearance ceases to be a virtue,” contin
ued Isturez, evidently in a bad humor.
“ Yesterday, before leaving the studio,
I consumed an hour at least in cleaning
very carefully my palette and brushes,
and this morning I find them dripping
with paint.”
“■See there! look!” cried Carlos;
“ there is another little face just in the
corner of my picture, and it’s by no
means a bad one, either. Carajo! who
can it be that thus amuses himself every
morning with painting a figure firstupon
the wall and then upon the canvas?”
“ Yesterday, Fernandez, there was
one just above your easel.”
“ It must be Isturez; his palet‘e is
proof positive against him!” said Fer
. nandez.
“ No. by the holy madre, it was not
I!” replied Isturez.
“ Do not swear,” said Carlos, “ such a
face you never could have painted.”
“Be that as it may, Don- Carlos, I
have never yet painted any quite so in
different as yours.”
“ And my brushes, too, are all moist!”
exclaimed Gonzalez. “By the patron
•sint of Spain, something mysterious
goes on here at night!”
“Do you not think, with the creole
Gomez, that it is the Zombi who pays
these nocturnal visits to our studio”’
asked fsturez.
Certainly 1 believe it.” returned
.Mendez, who had thus loDg remained
s it lit while examining attentively one
of those beautiful sketches which pee|ed
THE ELLIJ A Y COURIER.
forth, in greater or leaser numbers, sorry
morning from their canvas, as though
called into existence by tbs magic wand
•f same supernatural visitant. 7 ‘ I wish
in my ‘Descent from the •roes’ he had
had the kindness to, have sketched the
head of fhe Holy Virgin; my conception
may be ever so pine and chaste, but my
• pencil obstinately refuses to obey the
impulses of my imagination.”
At these words Mendez approached
his easel. An exclamation of astonish
ment hurst from his lips, and he stood
petrified at the spectacle presented to
his view. A beautiful Madonna’s head,
merely sketched, but of wonderful ex
pression, stood out clear from the can
vas, graceful and pleasing, amid the
other figures of the picture, like an un
earthly apparation.
“ How now ? What’s the matter with
you ?” demanded a stern, gruff voice,
which roused the youth from his med
itations, who bowed respectfully before
the speaker.
“ Examine yourself, Senor Murillo 1”
answered all the young men simultan
eously, pointing to the easel of Mendez.
“ Whose work is this? Who painted
that head ?” asked Murillo, with eager
ness. “ Why do you not answer ? Who
ever sketched that Madonna will one
day or other be the master of us all.
Does no one speak? I should be proud
to acknowledge it as the production of
my pencil. By the soul of my body,
what tenderness! what sweetness! what
delicacy! —Mendez, my'dear pupil is it
yours?"
“ No, maestro,’’"replied Mendez, evi
dently grieved.
“ Was it you, Isturez? or you Fernan
.dez? or you Cordova?
“ Ns>, maestro,” replied they simul
taneously.
“ But, said Murillo, impatiently,
“ it could not have made its appear
ance here of itself. Someone must have
done it.”
“ This is not the first nor only myster
ious and inexplicable affair which has
transpired in your studio,” replied Cor
dova, the youngeßt of the pupils. “ Be
lieve me, maestro, this place abounds in
spirits, who regularly assemble here
every night and play off their pranks
till the dawn of day.”
“ lam by no means so superstitious
as Cordova,” said Fernandez; “ but
true it is that events occur within these
walls that surpass belief.”
“ And what are they?” demanded
Murillo, sternly, whose gaze was still
tiveted on the head of the beautiful Ma
donna.
“ In obedience to your orders, senor,
we never leave the studio without put
ting everything in the most perfect
order, cleaning our palettes, washing
our brushes and arranging our easels;
but every morning we And all things in
the greatest confusion, our palettes
loaded with paint, and on all sides we
l>ehoid the most exquisite sketches, and
are astonished at their incomparable
beauty. In one place the head of an
angel, in another that of a demon, or the.
profile of a lovely woman, or the head
of an old man; but all wonderfully
beautiful and admirable in their com
position, setting imitation at defiance.
We rejoice that this day you have had
au opportunity of witnessing these re
markable phenomena yourself; and if
the individual who thus amuses himself
here in the dead hour of the night be
not yourself, Senor, then I agree with
Cordova that it is beyond all doubt the
devil.”
“ I would to heaven it were! Will
ingly would I avow myself the deline
ator of these refined and delicate .feat
ures, of that bold and majestic outline!
There are doubtless in the picture some
few variations from the rules of art.; but
those few are lost amid its transcendent
beauties.—Sebastian! Sebastian!” he
cried, interrupting himself, “ we will
soon find out the mysterious artist. Se
bastian 1” he continued, addressing him
self to a little creole about fourteen years
of age, who hurried at the call of his
master, “ have I not ordered you to
sleep in this place every night?”
“'Yes, senor,” replied the timid and
terrified boy.
“ Well, and do you sleep here?”
“ Yes, senor.”
“ Well, then, speak! Who was it that
either last night or this morning en
tered this room before the arrival of
these gentlemen? Speak, or I’ll soon
find means to compel you!” exclaimed
Murillo to the boy, who continued re
volving his feathered cap upon his
thumb without replying; “ unravel the
mystery.”
“ Nobody, senor, that 1 know of.”
replied Sebastian, tremblingly.
“Slave!”
“ No one but myself has entered this
apartment, upon my word, senor,” re
peated Sebastian, kneelinr and raising
nis hands imploringly to his master.
“ Sebastian,” replied Murillo firmly,
“ listen to me. lam determined to find
out who painted this Madonna’s head,
and the others which these young gen
tlemen nave observed there for several
mornings past. This night you shall
keep watch, instead of sleeping; and to
morrow, if you have not detected the
guilty individual, you shall receive
twenty-five lashes. Dost thou hear?
Go andgrind your colors, and you, gen
tlemen, go to your work.”
The young men applied themselves
with enthusiasm to their occupation,
but no sooner had Murillo left the
studio than the mysterious artist again
became the subject of conversation.
Mendez spoke first.
“ Losk out for scourging to-morrow,
boy, if you do not detect the intruder
to night. Give me some yellow.”
“ Yon do not need any, senor Mendez.
There is already too much yellow oh
your picture. As to the intruder, it’s
my opinion it’s Zombi.”
“Cease your stupidity about Zombi,”
said Gonzalez, impatiently.
“ You may believe in the. Zombi or
not, tsenor Gonzales, but that does not
disprove his existence, nor that he is
sometimes a good spirit and sometimes
a malicious one; for it was he, undoubt
edly, who so pulled the arm of your
‘ John in the \Viltlerness’ out of shape;
for,” continued Sebastoin, jeeriiiglv,
“ if the other was equally long, he might
unloose the latchets of his shoes without
bending his body.”
The attention of ail was directed to
Gon&alez’ picture, and they cast a look
ELLIJ AY, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1878.
of astonishment first at Gonzales and
then at Sebastian.
“Do you not all see that there is
truth in Sebastian’s criticism ?” said Is
turez, examining more closslv the un
natural limb, which had hitherto es
caped their observation.
Gonzales colored, looking angrily at
Isturez, and pettishly reminded Sclvas
tian of the twenty-five lashes he was to
receive oh the following day.
It was night, and the studio of Mu
rillo, the celebrated painter of Seville,
which during the day presented such a
scene of mirth and activity, had become
silent and solitary as the grave. A sin
gle lamp burned "dimly upon the mar
ble table in the center, and near it stood
a boy, whose pale complexion accorded
well with the gloomy darkness in which
he was enveloped, and whose large black
eyes sparkled in the obscurity like lust
rous brilliants. He was leaning upon
an easel, in a graceful posture, still and
un movable, aiid plunged in the pro
foundest reflection. Without his ob
serving it. the door opened gently, and
a man, whose features it was impossi
ble to distinguish in the gloom which
pervaded the apartment, entered, ad
vanced towards him, and called him
by name. Sebastian was too much oc
cupied to reply. He was seized by the
arm.
■Sebastian raised his eyes—a tall, fine
looking creole stood before him
“ Wliat brings you here, father?”
asked the boy, with evident concern.
“ Only to keep you company, my
child."
“ That is unnecessary, father; return
to your bed. I will keep watch alone.”
“ But the Zombi ?”
Sebastian smiled and replied:
“ I am not afraid of him, father.”
“ But if he should tako you from me,
mv child?”
The boy raised his eyes towards the
large skylight in the vaulted ceiling,
through which the twinkling stars were
glimmering with peerless ray.
“ Place your trust there, father, and
return again to your bed. I will lay
myself down upon the carpet and seek
forgetfulness in sleep.”
“ Rut are you not afraid the Zombi
will come, Sebastian?”
“ No, father; the belief in the Zombi
is only a superstition of our country:
aud Father Eugenio has told you as well
as me that there are no such things as
sujiernatural beings.”
“ Why did you tell the young gen
tlemen of the studio, then, that it "was
the Zombi who sketched those myster
ious figures?”
“For my own amu.-ement, father; I
enjoyed their astonishment.”
“ Well, good night, my deair boy,”
id Gomez, as he left the room.
Sebastian no sooner found himself
alone than he leaped about the room for
joy.
“ And now to my work,” he cried:
but stopping suddenly, he paused and
reflected on the morrow. “Twenty-five
lashes if I do not tell who has sketched
these figures; and double that number,
perhaps, if I confess myself the guilty
one. What shall I do?”
Sebastian kneeled upon the carpet,
which served him at night for abed;
but an irresistible drowsiness crept over
his senses in the middle of his prayer
and leaning against (he marble wall of
the studio, ne fell into a profound
slumber.
A faint dusky ray of the morning
light stole through one of the large oval
windows of the apartment, aud fell
softly upon the easel of Mendez. The
sonorous clock of the old Cathedral of
Seville tolled the hour of three and
aroused Sebastian from his slumbers.
Any other child would have yielded to
the control of weariness and slept; but
Sebastian, who had only three hours for
himself—three hours of liberty, leaped
from his resting-place and advanced to
ward a half-open window to inhale the
fresh air of the morning.
“ Up, up, Sebastian,” said he to him
self; “ you have onlv three hours of
your own, improve them; and the re
mainder belongs to your master.”
By this time he had completely ban
ished his drowiness.
Terrified by the sensation his pictures
had created on the day preceding, his
first impulse on awakening was to eflace
everv line his pencil had traced; and
dipping his brush into oil, he advanced
towards the Madonna, who, through the
the vast somber apartment,
more beautiful apd lovely than
ever.
“ Blot out those charming features—
obliterate those heavenly-beaming cyest
—No, never! Rather will I endure the
threatened punishment, rather will I
undergo any torture than thus annihi
late this most beautiful conception of
my imagination. The young artists
themselves had not the heart to efface
them, and shall I do it? No, never!
That lip lives, breathes and speaks. If
I should erase that celestial countenance
1 should feel as though I had caused the
life-blood of the ever blessed Madonna
to flow. No, rather will I prosecute the
glorious task and complete it, let the
punishment l>e what it may.”
No sooner had this thought entered
his mind than Selwstian seized the pa
lette of Mendez, prepared the various
colors, advanced towards the easel and
resumed his fascinating undertaking.
The sun rose higher and higher, and Se
bastian continued to paint, occupied
alone with his charming Madonna,
who began to receive additional life and
and animation from his magic pencil.
“ One touch more here—and there a
more delicate shade—then this mouth;
oh, heavens! it opens—these eyes gaze
on me with a celestial evpression—this
forehead, what purity! O adorable
virgin ?”
Sebastian, lost in hi raptures and
boundless entbusia-m, forgot the hours
that were gliding swiftly away and his
threatened punishment. The youthful
artist before his picture, saw nothing
beside the angel n- lace of the blessed
Mary, who seemed to smile on him with
a mingled look of approbation and love.
Suddenly he awoke from hi* reverie.
He heard a slight noise as of persons
advancing behind him, and turning
quickly round beheld all the pupils and
bis master at the head. He did not
dream for a moment of attempting to
justify himself. With the palette ia one
hand and a brush in the other, he drop
ped his head unou his breast, and
awaited in silence the punishment which
he wai convinced he had rashly pro
rated.
For several minutes the most pro
found silence pervaded the company—
for, if Sebastian stood petrified with
fear before them, because he was taken
in the very act, so Were alto the maestro.
Murillo beckoned to the young men,
who could scarcely restrain the outbursts
of their admiration, to be silent, ad
vanced towards Sebastian, concealing
his emotions beneath a Mem, cold gaze,
cast his eyes first upon, his { ,<T wsti>ts
stave and then upon the beoipnul head
of the Madonna, and asked him—
“ Who is your master, Sebastian ?’
“ You, senor,” replied the boy, in an
almost inaudible tone.
“ Your master of painting, I mean,
Sebastian f’
“ None other than yourself, senor,”
said the terrified boy.
“ I have never given you any in
struction,” said Murillo, amazed.
“ You have instructed others in my
; reseller, senor, and I could not avoid
■earning,” replied the boy, who began
to take courage at the kind and gentle
voice of his master.
“ And you not only heard my in
structions, by Saint James of Compos
tella! but you have profited by them,”
rejoined the great painter, whose admir
ation betrayed itself against his incli
nations. ** Gentlemen,” said he, ad
dressing himself to his pupils, “ what
shall be done with this boy; does ho
merit punishment?”
At the wora punishment Sebastian al
most lost his consciousness: he raised
his eyes timidly and imploringly to
wards his master.
" No punishment, senor!" exclaimed
the young men, simultaneously, ** but a
reward 1"
" How shall he be rewarded ?" de
manded Murillo.
Sebastian began once more to breathe.
“ With at least ten ducats!" said Men
dez.
“ Oh, fifteen would not betoo much,”
said Fernandez.
“ Give him anew suit for the fete of
the blessed Virgin,” said Gonzales.
“Speak, Sebastian 1” said Murillo,
looking at his slave, whose countenance
manifested no sums of joy at the pro
posed rewards; “speak, my good bov;
do none of these good things accord with
your tastes? I am so delighted with
these people of your genius, these hold
outlines, this exquisite ooloring, in line,
with your beautiful Modonna, that I
will grant you whatever vou may desire
—anything. Speak* make known your
wishes. I swear it in presence of
these gentlemen. By the gHoat of my
departed father, whatsoever you ask of
me, in my power to bestow, that shall
you receive!"
“ Ah! my master, if I only dared—"
■Sebastian fell upon his knees before
his master, seized nis hands and anyone
might hare seen by hishalf-opened lips,
might have read in his large, dark eyes,
burning with exnresien l one consuming
thought which nis timidity alone pre
vented him from disclosing.
“ Why do you not ask for gold ?*’
whispered Mendez.
“ Ask for a suit of fine clothes!" sug
gested another.
“ Beg to be admitted among the num
ber of his pupils!” added a thud.
A gleam of joy brightened the eye of
the trembling boy at these words, but he
shook his head and looked mournfully
at the floor.
“ Come, come, Sebastian," said Mu
rillo, while lie smiled at-what he sup
posed to lie the indecision of the youth,
“ make up your mind—decide ' upon
something!”
At these words an exclamation hurst
from the lips of Sebastian; he raised his
eyes, suffused with tears, imploringly to
his master, and said, with a faltering
voice:
"Forgive me, senor; but oh! grant
me the freedom of my father!”
" Your own freedom and his also, my
good boy!”cried Murillo, who could no
longer restrain hts deep emotion, but
caught Sebastian in his arms ana em
braced him. “ From this day forward
you shall be my pupil. Happy man
that I am! I have accomplished more
than the making of pictures. I have
created a painter!”
Murillo kept his word, and Sebastian
Gomez, more generally known under the
name of " Murillo’s creole,” soon rose
to eminence in his profession, and sub
sequently became one of the greatest
painters that Spain ever produced.
The Raragrapher tf the M Pieajue.**
While the fever has been taking away
the people of New Orleans by hun
dreds, and the death wagon has been
going through the streets, the humorous
column of the New Orleans fimnuu
has never failed, nor has it assumed the
tone of grief. Every day the faithful
paragraphist has had his little ioke
about the people who naked sixty dollars
for a ton of ice. Hn has said that
they will find some time a place where
it cannot be got even for' twice the
money, and has warned them not to
come to New Orleans at present. He
has had his little joke at the country
villages that have eseablished a quaran
tine against New Orleans; as the only
means of letting the world know that
such a place existed. When he learned
that the Buffalo police had sent two
hundred and sixty dollars, he said:
“ Ut us hear no more of the clubbing
together of policemen.” later on he
advised the rkictora “To pool their
issues; the yetlaw fever must go.” And
with a tinge of scarcsMorhe notices the
fact that "the season at fashionable
Northern watering-places is about to
close, and then our poor refugees will
be obliged to enjoy themselves in the
crowded cities.” When the. roll of the
stand-bys is made up, let us place high
on the list ihe name of the brave para
grapher of the New Orleans /Voywiw.
The bull-fighting is over in
Iliad rid. There were thirteen perform
ance.' —four poor, four passable, two
goad and three very goo—and ninety
••alls and one hundred and forty-three
horsea killed, eleven other hone*, re
covering from their wound*.
The Deem of Two Murderers.
There is no nonsense about French
justice, says a l*aris correspondent.
The condemned murderer has no chance
for entertaining sentimental visitors,
reportnrial interviewers, etc.; no long
months of being a villainous hero; no
opportunities for fresh trials, super
sedeases, and other law-cheating dodges.
He conies straight from the court
where he is doomed to Koquette, the
solitary guard, and ramitolrde-forrr.
And usually in less than a week, with
just one hour's notice, he is rushed to
the scaffold and sent to perdition with
4hls Is neater and better than the
inhuman Massachusetts method of keep
ing a murderer in jail a whole year, and
then taking him out and hanging him.
That rule is only equaled by Uie mean
ness of a fate which will hold a steamer
load of ocean passengers in the miseries
of sea-sickness for ten days, and then
drowu them in sight of home.
Some morning just before dawn, in a
few days from now, and when this letter
is sailing Chieagoward, lanterns will be
Hashed in the eyes of Barre and L-liiez,
and they will jump from sleep and
dreams of pardon to lie told that in one
hour they must die.
Then there will lie a few minutes to
eat, if they can eat; a few minutes with
the barber to trim the hair from the
back of the neck, and a few minutes
with the priest.
Then they will be led across the same
court whero tlie Archbishop of I'aris
was shot by the commune scoundrels,
through the wall, out upon the guillo
tine scaffold.
The day will just bo breaking, aud
the fautnus machine of death will only
have been built in silence about half an
hour. Yet therc will be a considerable
number of spectators there, for many
persons hire couriers to watch every
morning outside of Koquette when an
execution is possible, and to run and
wake them as soon as the erection of the
scaffold begins.
Rut there will lie littlo opportunity
of posing for miserable Barre and Lebiez
The executioner will grab the first one,
push him against a plank, strap him,
taco hi it, tip the plank down,
run it between the two columns of a
pile-driver, and pull a string. The pile
driver will happen to have an az under
neath, and when it flies down the post*
to the bottom, there will boa bead in a
small basket on one side of it and a body
on tha other.
The body will be rolled into a long
basket; the aecoud victim thrown upon
the plank,and run under the ax. Then,
ill less than four minutes from the time
the murderers emerged from Roquette,
there will be two bodies in the long
basket, and two heads in the little one,
ami Barre and Gobies will be—l beg
Bob Ingeraoll’s pardon—in hell, whc r e
they belong.
Grains of Gold.
Keep clear of a man who does not
value his own character.
Words are oftener the substitute than
the vehicle of thought.
Hypocrites arc beings of darkness dis
guised in garments of light.
A man’s own good breeding is the best
security against other people's ill man
ners.
Cherish bounteously young shoots, for
thorns and briers are but non-cncour
aged buds.
Argument in company is generally the
worst sort of conversation, and in books
the worst reading.
If all those who obtain not their de
sires should die of disappointment, who
would he living upon the earth ?
Nothing makes one so indifferent to
the pin and mosquito thrusts of life
as the consciousness of growing, better.
To work out our own contentment, we
should labor not so much to increase
our substance, as to moderate our de
sires.
We must not apeak all that we know
—that were folly; but what a man says
should be what be thinks—otherwise it
is knavery.
Read not to contradict and confute,
nor to believe and take for granted, nor
to find talk and discourse, hut to weigh
and consider.
If we wish our children to revere high
thinp —things simple, mid pure, and
lovely, and of good report —we must set
them the example.
Night brings out stars, as sorrow shows
us truth. We never 'see the stars till
we can see little or naught else, and so
it is with truth.
An indiscreet man is more hurtful
than an ill natured one: the latter at
tacks only his enemies; the other injures
friends and foes alike.
Sincerity is speaking as we think, be
lieving as we pretend. acting as we pro
fess, performing as we promise, and be
ing as we appear to be.
None are too wise to lie mistaken, but
few are so wisely just as to acknowledge
and correct their mistakes—especially
mistakes of prejudice.
Tremendous Power of Sea Wares.
The tremendous force of the ocrean
waves has been illustrated at Wick, on
the extreme northern coast of Scotland,
where a breakwater has been building
for some years past. It mar give an idea
of what is meant by wave-power. It
was found that stones of ten tons weight
were as pebbles to the waves, which have
been measured to be there forty-two feet
front crest to the bottom of the trough.
The outer end of the breakwater where
the storms beat most violently was built
of three courses of one-hundred-tun
stones, laid on rubble foundations; next
above these were three course.- of large
flat stones, and uism the-e a ma— of
concrete built on the spot, of eement
and rubble. The end of the breakwater !
was thought to be as immovable as the ,
natural rock, yet the resident engineer \
saw it yield to the force of the waves
and awing around into the less-troubled
water inside the pier. It gave away,
not in fragment-, but in one mass, as
if it was a monolith. The displaced'
mass is estimated to weigh about oue
thousand eight hundred and fifty tons.'
The Queen of Italy i* described as
pretty and eiegant looking, having light
hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and a smile
that is the essence of sweetness.
A Carlos* American Creature.
All the members of the frog’s claw
undergo transformation* more or leas
closely resembling that of their familiar
representative; these changes concern
ing not only the external form, but, as
we have noted, involving parts of the
internal structure and organization also.
Rut more astonishing, in respect to their
unwonted nature, are the transforma
tions and variations from the ordinary
course of development, which appear to
occur in ceitain amphibians, such as
the siredon or axolotl of Mexico, and
tlie Alpine salamander.
The axolotl is a newt-like creature,
provided with both gills and lungs in Its
adult stage. Prior to 1867, the axolotl
waa regarded aa a perfectly distinct and
mature animal, aince it freely bred in it
native waters, and even in captivity;
the capacity to perpetuate its species
being regarded by physiologists as the
surest of tests of the attainment by any
animal of the adult state of existence.
But iu 1867, some axolotls which were
kept in the Jardin des Plantes were seen
to lose their gills, to leave the water in
which they nad hitherto peacefully
lived, and to assume the black and yel
low color of an American newt—the
Ambly*tmna —which, like our newts,
does not possess gills in its adult exist -
ence, and which was unknown to pos
sess any relationship whatever with the
axolotl. In this instance, therefore,
the transformations dealt not merely
with the natural development of a sin
gle animal, but actually had the effect
of metamorphosing one apparently dis
tinct species of animal into another.
The exact causes of this serious change
in individuality were undetermined
until the ingenuity and perseverance of
Fraulein Marie Von Uhauvin, exhibited
in experimentation upon the axolotls,
afforded a clue to the probable uature
of the transformation. This lady se
lected five axolotls as the subjects of her
experiments, and by gradually enticing
them from the water, and inuring them
to a life on land, succeeded in cauaing
two specimens to cast their gills and to
become dependent on their lungs.
These two specimens at the snme time
acquired the rounded tail, the promi
nent eyes, and finally the characteristic
black and yellow hues of the ambly
stoma. As supplementary to these ex
periments may be mentioned the ob
servation of Professor Marsh, of this
country, who found that axolotls
brought from the lakes of the Rocky
Mountains—situated at an altitude of
from four thousand live hundred to
seven thousand feet—cast their gills and
become amblystomaa when brought to
the sea-level.
There can bo no doubt, therefore, in
the present instance, that tlie alteration
in tlie physical environments and condi
tions of life of these animals is the ex
citing cause of the transformations;
and the esse liefere us also well exem
plifies that adaptive power of vital ac
tion which constitutes one of the most
wonderful traits in the nature and dis-
IKisition of living organisms.
A New Use for Mirrors.
Au engineer on the New York Cen
tral and Hudson Raver Railroad has
introduced anew feature by placing
looking-glasses outside on the engine, at
an angle from the cab. These enable
him to see the rear part of the train at
all times without putting his head out
to watch for conductor’s signals when
making up traius. The custom of using
such glasses on private residences has
been in vogue for some time. Two
glasses are placed on a window-sill and so
arranged tnat a person sitting in a room
can watch all passers-by from either
direction on the street, or in case any
one calla and rings the door-bell while
madaine happens to lie dishabille,
all that is necessary is to give the glass
a turn, and the caller is rapidly dis
cernable.
A youno physician of Rochester has
recently been looking over some of the
older books in his library and came
across the works of'the celebrated Dr.
Rush, of Philadelphia, who wrote a
treatise on the yellow fever, or, as he
called it, the “ bilious yellow fever.”
He made extended observations on the
disease in Philadelphia during the lat
ter years of the last century and the be
ginning of this. In looking overhis book
we noticed thut lie speaks of children
being affected with it, a fact which con
flicts with statements recently made
that until thiß year children down
Mouth were not attacked with the dis
ease. The doctors of that day had a
strong belief in the efficacy of salivation
in treating the fever and were wont to
give mercury enough to require a quick
silver mine to supply it. Bleeding was
also thought to be efficacious and
patients were drained of fhe crimson
fluid in quantities that would amaze a
butcher. —Roeheeler Union.
The chemiloon id now pretty widely
adopted by fashionable women. It is
chemise and drawer comformed, which
it copies to the waist; thence it divides
into the trousers. Over this is worn
the corset, very long on the hips, and
over the corset is the corset-cover, fitting
without a wrinkle, and to it are but
toned tbe skirts worn under the dress.
Thus it will be seen the amount of cloth
ing about the waist and hips is reduced
to as small a quantity as possible, and
the fit of the princess robe or long cui
rass is unmarred by fold or wrinkle.
The undergarments of flannel, worn
next to the skin, fit like a glove also,
and add but little to the size of the
wearer. Still il is whispered that, when
these are worn, some of our belles dis
pense with the chemiloon above them.
Tampehino with the beard is always
a dangerou- experiment. An emi
nently respectable citizen, who shaved
off his mustache last week, was mis
taken for a noted base-ball player within
less than two hours afterward, and ur
gently entreated to pray for a sick man
1 the following day. His wife bankrupted
a hiiaiiu-hatidleaud demoralized a brand
! new silk hat in chasing him out of the
house, while a dog that he had foudled
from puppvhood tore his pants, and
i the baby w: -cared so bad that it
i hasn’t gut through giving its mother
< tbe particulars yet.
NUMBER 49.
IN THE E4LL
■t . iiuaitirnurn
In thf fall > nitont mhlimm to th dronpMg flo—tn
...
In the fall the woodtonA'i dreeinr with the fnm
/nmol thetoemee
And the whir at the pertrMce, eh-.
In the (ell the heir gloaming with e 1-wrfcl* (itorr
In the n ill Mint (ieorgiene in the Bible pleeeo
,PF ""l he hu * joung men to help her g*tbA
them. •
In th< fall a bore the valley anewy cloudlet# stretch
for miles, . ’ ...
In the fall the Broadway windows are profuse with
Paris styles
Much to the joy of the ladies, he it said.
In the fall the merry songster leaves his pretty sum
mer less,
In Ihe fill the politician la divorced from rolls
of VV-
For reason a which require no explanation.
In Ihe fall all breasts with rererle are buoyant and
elate,
In the tail a man will fondly kiss hla pretty couain
Kate-
Or Mary Anno, aa the case may be.
In the fall the soul of beauty dwells within the
gardens seie.
In the fall we all arc poeitlve that winter’s drawing
near—
The other fall happenings are too numerous
to mention. —A. F. Orophie.
* ALL SORTS.
Fi.ikh wholly vanished from the yel
low fever districts.
Ff.w persons have sense enough to de
spise the praise of a fool.
It's a mighty ignorant horse, that
doesn't know its own fodder.
The Egyptian obelisk has been placed
upon its pedestal on Thames’ embank
ment.
Can a cornet player’s breath lie said
to be a March wind? Of course, if he
plays murches.
What is the more powerful—the earth
or the sea? Theses, of course, it has
such a lot of muscles.
How doth the merry harvester
Whistle the jolly tunes,
The while the gentle bumble-bee
Skips up his “ pantaloons."
Hone after the arnica.
Sarah Bf.rnhardt, the French act
reas has been commissioned to execute
some groups of sculpture for the Casino
at Monico.
A man who can bend his shin against
a rocking-chair nml smile at the darkness
which made it possible, is on the high
way to glory.
Tills is not a good time for tramps to
have the jaundice. They are liable to
be incontinently hospitalized by some.
>|uarnntine official.
It is reported that most of the ice
cream sold contains poison. We repub
lish the statement for the benefit.of
impecunious lovers. . I
The editor of the Bonapartist jour
nal, Lt /’ays, has been .lined $llOO, aud
imprisoned three months for insulting
President McMahon.
A Georgia railroad is to be sold in a
few dayß, for cash. How lucky! We
were just easting about for a wedding
present for a friend of ours.
An ancient sage says: “ It is a serious
thing to marry. It is a life business,"
etc. That was written before Indiana
established divorce courts.
Kin is inherent in us all. A parrot
will soon learn to swear on his own ac
count, but noamount of earnest effort
can learn him to line out a hymn.
A vessel resembles a reptile when
its toad into port. —Keokuk Constitution.
And an objectionable lover resembles a
reptile when he’s toad out by the front
gate. - ’ •
Two men fired at an cagle-at the same
time, and hilled him. An Iriehroap. ob
served : “They might have saved their
powder and shot, for the fall Wduld have
killed him."
A resident of Sacramento, Cal., lm
a breadfruit tree in full bearing/ The
fruit averages a length of feur .inches,
and is pear shaped, witha flavor like that
of a cantaloupe.
Nothing disgusts the boy more who
dusts your coat and generally -expects
more than the barber does for a shave
than to see a man come in wearing a
linen suit.— Danbury Newt.
There are numbers of apparently
respectable and reliable men in tlus
world, who if they owed you a hundre
dollars, will pay von, but who will not
black the heels of their shoes.
The obstreperous and boisterous
school-boy complains because there are
more tares than wheat gathered in his
daily life, and that the tares receive a
greater amount of thrashing.
The girls’ waists are to be encircled
this season with a new-fashioned belt
with a very large buclcle. It will not
be as satisfactory as a coat-sleeve with a
good nervey arm in it, though.
The newest ear-rings are a web of fine
gold with a fly in green enamel caught
in the toils. As the spider is not to be
seen, we conclude that the girl who
wears them is to represent that busy bug.
Prudent ministers will make pastoral
calls in the next few weeks. Tne cool
season is upon us, and a minister is
liable at any time to come upon a man
who is putting up a stove, ana surprise
him in the miast of unorthodox remarks.
Orchestra pits in fcHotfld
have a sink in which to put the ba-s
viol player and his iron lunged instru
ment. A real healthy bass viol
fighter can obscure theentirestage from
the people in the first row.
A Wethersfield man is aflected by
sleep so that he is obliged to give up
whatever he is doing when the fit takes
him, and lie down and sleep the flt off.
He is supposed to be a retired Presby
terian deacon. —Danbury Knot.
Edison is experimentingon the waves
of'light, and hopes very soon to (rerfect
a machine that will enable you to see a
man a hundred miles away. In case
the man )h question has an account
against you this will give you plenty-of
time to get under the held and out of
harm’< way be'ore he arrives.—Van
bury Nine*.
There are times in the life of every
man when he feels that an enlargement
of the catalogue of invective is one of tbe
prime necessities of the age, ami when a
man puts his hands in front of him and
feeisfor a door, finds it with his noee,
and realizes the fact that his arms have
exactly straddled it, is one of the times.
—Ereakfaet Table,
