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mtflunn. I J rila :. r, j .#* * *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,