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fAIHESX MOBTAt, LOVELY JOAN.
Jiwt when the doiol'gy wm •iw*.
And Mint* .food •till, with heed* low hung,
J'®*}® nd vaulted arch h rung
ith lath r Hmith'c beaeochtug tongue—
Juat then acroea the alitlo there aprung
A youth, aud proudly flung
Himself beelde hla future bride.
J “ ,>Be lovelv little arm he graced
Before the a aald a word, or gaaped
A breath of approbation!
Bo dark and cloudy wax the night
The waning moon lost all her light.
While not a star appeared In light
To tell the youth which atreet was right;
And hi* betrothed epnke not a word,
Nor even acted Jike ahe heard
The word* he wild, but onward aped.
A* ahould a fond, prospective gruoiu.
Ho Btrove to eaae her ailent gloom
With strain* of adoration.
He heaved a cad, sepulchral moan
That ended in a loving groan,
Then the<e word* apuke In tronzled tone:
* fairest mortal, lovely Joan
(Than whom more charming none are known
In any laud where bird* have flown;
On any where nail* are blown ;
’Neath any sky where atara e'er shone;
’Mid tropic sands or Icy zono),
With thee I’d rather dwell alone,
W’ith naught to oat save cru*t and bone—
Or both lie burled 'noath one stone,
Than without thee to live and own
A crown, a scepter, and a throne.”
Bhe heaved a sigh and wiped her eye.
Which made our youthful h- ro feel
That &1J hi* earthly woe, or weal,
Was near ita termination.
“In those tear-dimmed, angelic eyes
Methinks, e’en now, I see arise
The pearly gutes of Parsdiae,
Through which there glides, and swiftly flies,
As Ughtniug through the starlit skies,
A turtle dove, which bears, my love,
Within its pure and graceful beak,
Words that none but angels speak—
Save thee, tlieir near relation !
When i behold those golden curls
(And sure they’d charm great men like Earls)
I know thou’rt not as other gill*;
This dimpled chin, that classic nose
(What fragrant music when it blows !);
Those cheek* which blush e’en like the rose
That In the choicest bovr grows
So oft and oft have I caressed—
And still more oft, thou knowst, I’ve pressed
Those finger-tips and velvet lips !
*Tis joy supernal, bliss most sweet,
To bow before thee and thy feet,
And take an observation!
“ My very heart with rapture thrills
Whene’er I thiuk how, freed from ills
Of this sad life, by you, my wife—”
Before the “ wife ’* was half pronounced
The fair one turned and at him bounced
This fierce ejaculation:
“ Hold I hold I you yellow-headed brute 1
Hold ! hold, I say, you frog-eyed uewtl
I swan I’s half a mind to shoot
A great brick-bat clur through yer hat I
And now, you ugly blue-nosed wretch,
Yer’d better git, or shur I’ll fetch
Handfuls of wool from off yer head
And scratch yer chin aB blue as lead I
You son of old Tarnation I”
Soon sticks and stones flew thick and fast
A* hailstones in a summer blast,
And, though he dodged them as they passed,
There came an awful rock at i.ist
Which struck a tree, square at him glanced,
And laid him motionless—entranced!
He threw away his car, and danced,
Then, fire and brimstone I how he pranced
And raved and tore I and almost swore
He’d never, ’cept insane, or blind,
Attempt to escort womankind
So vile with degradation !
You’ve heard, now, boys, my story through,
So listen now—a word to you !
Whene’er your Jonn from church you’d take*
Before you’ve made the final break,
In darkest night, or mid-day bright,
I pray you to right sharply look
Which is your Joan, and which tho cook
Of Afric emigration I
WHO ARE FRIENDS?
BY MISS EMMA MERIWETHER.
Friends, indeed, who are they, pray?
Do they come to eg on the darkest, day?
Do they lighten the load when we are weary?
Bring words of comfort when all seems dreary?
•
Do they proffer aid to lesson our task?
Are they willing to grant the favors we ask?
And when fate’s against us, troubles endured,
Every ray of sunshine completely obscured,
Do they come to us then, in that hour of trial
And prove their eiocerity by true self-denial?
By de- ds not word-, give evidence of worth,
Tnat our grief, though great, may die at its birth ?
Ah! few such friends are found in the land,
Ever willing to lend that helping hand,
To lift the fallen, and sincerity evince
To the high or Jow-burn, peasant or prince.
A DF.CIDF.I) ANSWER.
I had long suspected there was a ro
mance connected with my Cousin Mira
bel’s cameo ring, fcr she had a habit of
turning it upon her Anger and looking
at it with tender, shining eyes, but if
observed she would instantly desist and
cover the jewel with her right hand.
After ten months’ teaching, it was like
paradise to get down to Stone Cottage,
on the shore of Lake Michigan, where
my maiden cousin resided. She lived
aione with the exception of a single ser
vant. Her father had left her sufficient
money to place her above the reach of
want, that is above the want that presses
and pursues the poor, but not beyond
the dire want, the terrible heart hunger
that takes possession of the lonely.
Although Mirabel was a Arst cousin I
had not heard from her for years until
her letter came to me at the seminary,
where I was teaching, inviting me to
spend the coming vacation at Stone Cot
tage. I had been four days at the cot
tage and felt quite settled and at home.
Mirabel had the rare and excellent trait
of letting her guests enjoy themselves as
they chose. She did not deem it neces
sary to be always at their side trying to
entertain them, and, Ane woman though
she was, it would not have been always
desirable. Yes, I say to myself with
emphasis, Cousin Mirabel is a Ane wom
an, despite her 30 years. As I spoke
I saw in imagination the tall, elegant
Agure, the white brow and dark, heavy
hair, but, most of all, the reserved and
pensive air that characterized this
woman.
Ever since our dinner at 2 o’clock I
had been sitting out on the piazza,
mnffledup in a cloak, for the lake breeze
was damp and cold. I believe Mirabel
could live nowhere else than on the shore
of a stormy lake. At 3 o’clock I saw her
leave the house by a side door. She waa
wrapped in her storm cloak and had the
hood drawn over her head. At dusk
she had not returned. I entered the
house, but before striking a light 1
looked from the window and saw her
coming through the gloom. I started
the Are and lighted the lamp, striving
to make the room comfortable for the
home-coming. I heard the outer door
opeu and shut, heard her pause in the
hall to hang up her cloak and then her
feet coming wearily up stairs. Very
wearily it seemed to me. She tapped on
the sitting-room door then pushed it
open. I started up, her hair was damp,
her face pale, and her eyes unusually
large and brilliant.
I drew her into the room, saying :
“ Your walk has been too much for vou;
take this easy chair here by the Are.”
“No, it is not the walk,” she an
swered, smiling a little at my anxiety.
“It is not the walk; it is excitement.
Judge Parkhurst has been asking me to
inarrv him-—the gentleman you saw here
on the Arst day of your arrival.”
“Oh!” I said, with a long-drawn
breath of real pleasure, thinking some
happiness was to be granted Mirabel at
last. “ I hope yon accepted liim.”
"No, not exactly; he is to come for
an answer to-morrow.”
The tea had been brought in and
cleared away, and still I was talking
about the Judge. I concluded by say
ing : “He is a strong, true-hearted,
honorable man, and you will say yes,
won’t you, Mirabel?”
“ I don’t know, dear," she answered,
steadily; but, bending down to kiss her.
Hamilton Journal.
UMAR & DENNIS, Publishers.
VOL. VIII.—NO- 40.
I saw that the dark oyes were full of
tears. My proud, impassive cousin
weeping ? That was almost beyond be
lief. Sue recovered herself without any
violent exhibition of emotion. The
(lame shone on the gold setting of her
ring, and she began turning it with a
caressing movement.
I drew an ottoman close to her feet,
and, laying my head in her lap, I snid :
“ Dear Cousin Mirabel, ploa-o tell me
about your ring. I’m sure it lias a his
tory.”
She put her hand upou my head. "It
has, indeed, a history, and I will tell it
to you. I have been thinking all day of
Kenneth Deering, the man who gave mo
this ring, aud it will be a relief to talk
of him to-night. It may be wrong, but
I cannot help it; indeed, I cannot.”
There was a short silence, os if she
were striving to overcome sumo bitter 01
painful emotion. She began her story
in a low voice, and I did not look into
her face.
“Five years ago to-night I met Ken
neth Deering for the first time. I de
sired a summer boarding place, and
Milly Bently wrote me : ‘We are back
again where we spent last summer. 1
can recommend the place. Nice family,
splendid library, and pleasant sur
roundings. I am sure you would be
suited if you were to come. ’
“ I was alone in the world; one place
was as good as another to me, for I was
indifferent to all. I think it was tho
mention of the library that decided me.
Milly was of the dark, slender, piquant
style of beau-ty, full of fire anu vivacity.
We were too unlike to be perfectly con
genial, yet we were friendly enough as
the world goes. I remember the first,
rt'ternoon of my arrival. Milly met me
in the hall and introduced me to the
ladies of the household. Tho weather
was warm, and I desired to be .
shown to my room to bathe
my hands and face and change my trav
eling dress. That done, I determined
to see the library before I should be
summoned to tea. I had seen the book
shelves on my way to my own apart
ment. I was surprised at tho number
of books, and the fine taste displayed in
the collection. Surely someone here
must have most scholarly tastes, I
thought. It did not seem to me it could
be the bustling housewife to whom I
had been introduced, nor did I believe
it to be the master of the house, a de
crepit old man who ‘shuffled post me in
the hall. Having run my eye over the
various titles I selected a volume of
poems, and seated myself at an open
window, but soon forgot my book
in the beauty of tiie landscape. The
soft summer twilight was gradually en
veloping all objects. While absorbed
in a reverie the library door opened, a
gentleman advanced a few steps into the
room, but on perceiving me would have
withdrawn. He bowed, saying, ‘ I beg
your pardon, I intrude. ’
“ ‘No !’ I exclaimed, ‘it is I who am
the intruder ; pray remain : do not per
mit my presence to Alive you away, or I
shall not forgive myself for coming.’
“He thanked me, and, going to a cab
inet of minerals, began comparing them
with the one he held in his hand. The
room was already dusk, so he lighted a
lamp. He invited me to look at the
minerals, which I did with interest, for
the collection was large and rare. ‘ Per
haps you can help riie classify this odd
bit-of rock,’ he said, suddenly. I shook
my head. “I am a very poor geologist,
indeed,” I said. His face clouded a lit
tle as he remarked, ‘ I will have to see
more about it to-morrow. I must have
my supper now. I suppose you hava
had tea some hours ago. ’
“No; I had not been been to tea.
“A servant, seeing a light in the library,
entered. Supper had long been over.
Apology was made, but I hod not been
in my room when the servant went to
announce the meal. Kenneth Deering,
as the gentleman proved to be, cut short
liis excuses by saying, ‘ Never mind,
Miss Madison, we will have our supper
together; please take my arm.’
“We had a very social time over our
tea. Our acquaintance progressed rap
idly. We made so many discoveries of
mutual likes and dislikes. Wo found
that we had so many tastes that were
congeniel; we told each other so many
little incidents that were purely person
al, and the other listened with such in
terest that when we arose from the tal >le
we seemed to have known each other for
a long time, if, indeed, we had ever been
strangers. At the parlor door he took
my hand. ‘ I must say good-night,
now, Miss Madison. I rarely spend
my evenings in there.’ lie gave
my hand a slight, lingering pressure.
From that instant we were friends for
evermore. He ascended the stair, I
stood in a delicious dream. 1 was
scarcely conscious of my surroundings.
I only felt sure that I did not wish to
meet any one just then. I moved down
the half to what I supposed my own
room and opened the door. Milly lient
ly started from her easy chair laughing.
• Come in. come in,’ she said, ‘and tell
me where you have been. Your uncere
monious way of entering rooms shows
me you have not left off your habit of
haunting houses. Our worthy hostess
was afraid you hud committed suicide as
vou did not answer the rap at your door.
I calmed her fears by saying you would
be best pleased by being left alone, that
you were tired and had probably fallen
asleep. Was I light or have you been
exploring the premises ?’ I narrated my
visit to the library and my meeting with
Mr. Deering. Bhe seemed a little an
noyed, I thought, and I soon with
drew.
‘ ‘ You know that I am generally consid
ered cold, practical and impassive. I
am, but I had met, for the Arst time in
my life, a man who had power to hold
my thoughts when he was out of sight.
A strange, sweet sense of being no long
er desolate possessed my whole being.
I opened the window and looked out;
the stars were shining tranquilly in the
blue heavens. I was happy, the night
was beautiful, and God was good to me.
I could not pray ; my heart could And
no words in which to express its grati
tude and content My sleep was Ailed
with dreams half pleasant, half painful,
dreams of traveling in foreign countries,
nd dreams of MAly and my new friend.
I had &careelv come back to reality by
morning, I think, for I was a long time
about dressing. I wore a white muslin
wrapper with Aowers in my hair and at
my throat
“The whole family was assembled. I
was presented to those whom I hail not
met the evening before. After break
fast thoso who- had work to do went
about it, while we who consulted our
| own inclination lingered in the wide,
| cool breakfast room. I took a position
j on a window seat, overlooking tli 3 lawn.
[ I had been there but a moment wheu
Kenneth oame up. ‘lf you cannot
help mo about the minerals, perhaps
you can al>out the flowers,’ ho said,
smilliug, and indicating by a slight mo
tion of the hand that the flowers I wore
called forth the remark.
“‘No, I feur not.’l replied. ‘I di
not take kindly to technicalities. I only
understand their beauty, which is, per
haps, more than most botanists do.’
“I was seated, ho standing; he bent to
ward me as he said, ‘ Perhaps, and yet,
bota list though I am, there is one kind
of beauty I do not fail to admire. ’
* ‘ I could not misunderstand the implied
compliment, and blushed a little under
his steady gaze.
“ Milly ciune up the next instant, and
the conversation drifted away to indif
ferent topics. I could see that Ken
neth s attentions to me were a source of
displeasure to Milly. I had a sort of
pleasure in seeming to be unaware of
her annoyance.
‘ ‘ How uninterruptedly events will go
on, as if change would never oome;
then all at once, one soarcely knows how,
everything is changed, and is never
quite the same again !
“I had been five months at Deering
place, and Kenneth was at my side ns
often as he could be without attracting
attention or comment. I spent much
of my time in the library. Mrs. Deer
ing was always busy about her work in
the kitchen. Milly spent her forenoons
in tho parlor, and in the afternoons she
usually slept an hour or so, then drove
out to make calls and talk over the fash
ions with the aristocratic young ladies
of the neighborhood. On these occa
sions Kenneth would be sure to find
some excuse for coming in from the
field before evening. His manner had
long been that of a lover.
“ One day, as I was seated at a desk in
the library writing, he came in quietly,
but, seeing I was busy, lie pretended to
have some errand in the room. He soon
came to my side, however, and put his
cool, tender palm against my cheek.
Some slight, caressing movement on my
part—perhaps a pressing of my cheek
against his hand—caused him to bend
down and say, with deep earnestness :
“ ‘You do love me ’
I flashed a smile up into his face and
asked:
• “Why ?’
“ ‘ Because I love you,’ he answered.
“ To his protestations of love I hail al
ways r turned an indifferent reply, but
that t. y a spirit of coquetry possessed
me. My blushing inquiry had seemed
like confession, end Kenneth was radi
ant. V would not seem to share his
mood, neither did I have tho heart to
check his joy. I kept on with my writ
ing, but I had no thought except of this
man, who was all the world to me. Ho
sat by my side and held my hand. I
could not deny him nor myself that
pleasure. I wrote steadily, with down
cast eyes. I was in a delicious, dreamy
trance. My interest in my writing was
gone. I laid aside my pen, and, passing
my hand lightly over his thick masses of
hair, I said :
“ ‘ You should be at work, Kenneth,
instead of hindering me.
“He ciinght my hand and, drawing me
toward him, said :
“ ‘ Kiss me, Mirabel; just once, dear ;
you never have. ’
‘‘ I shook my head. He arose, bringing
me to my feet at the same time; his
strong arms were about me, his passion
ate kisses on my lips. I had no further
control of myself, and to liis whispered
entreaty, ‘Kiss me, darling, just once,’
my ami crept half way around his neck
and my lips met his. No use of denying
my love for him after that. For ono
hour complete, unthinking happiness
was ours. We did not trouble ourselves
by thoughts of the future. We bad the
i,resent and each other. We did not
talk much. With a provoking pretense
of industry, I said, ‘ Let me go on with
my writing.’
" He put liis arm aboutme and held me.
‘I can’t spare you,’ he said. ‘You do
not love me as I do you or you oould not
think of work. Oh, Mirabel, I cannot
live without you.’
“ ‘ Perhaps, ’ I said, with a side smile
up into his face, “you could not livo
with me.’
“ ‘ Myra’—he always called me Myra
when very grave— ‘ do not talk so. Do
you doubt my love ?’
“ ‘ No, Kenneth, I would as soon think
of doubting my own.’
“ The time had come for me to go to
my room. I said to him, ‘I must go.’
“ He arose and stood looking down sor
rowfully at my uplifted face. I put my
palm against his cheek.
“ ‘ Why are you so grave ?’
“ ‘Beoause you leave me,’ he replied.
“ ‘ I can’t stay right here always.’
“ ‘ No, that is so; hut would to God
wo might love each other always and no
one come between.’
“ ‘ And why can’t we ? I’m sure I shall
love you always, Kenneth.’
“ He bent down and kissed me grate
fully. ‘ Dear Myra, lam not worthy
of your affection. I am Milly Bently f s
betrothed husband.’
“ I started back ashamed and angry.
He hastened to entreat, ‘Forgive m*
Mvra; I could not help loving you. T
have been in paradise ; now I can suffer
hell.’
“ I shrank further from him. ‘Oh,
Kenneth, why did you not tell me this?’
“‘ I could not. Myra. I wanted you to
love me, and you would not had you
known.’
“I could only say, ‘How could you
do so wrong?’
“He replied, ‘ I do not feel that it was
wrong, Myra. I did not know how much
it was possible to love a woman until
you came.’
“ I had been seated upon the sofa, over
come with grief and humiliation. I now
arose and said, ‘lf you are engaged to
Milly, of course it is impossible to do
otherwise than to marry her. I will not
make it difficult for you to do your duty.
Henceforth you and I will remain apart.
I will go home day after to-morrow.
This love-making, which is but the
mockery of love on your part, must go
no further. Keep in mind that you are
.“DUM SPIRO, SPERO.”
HAMILTON, GA" SLITEMRLR 30, 1880.
pledged to another woman ; and, if you
wish to retain even my respect, leave’me
to mvself. ’
“ ho protested.
“ ‘ You arc cruel, Myra. As God is my
witness, I did not mean to wrong Milly,
but I was poworloss in your presenoe.
Say that you do not despise me, and I
will do whatever you command.’
“ ‘ No, 1 do not despise you, Kenneth ;
I am sorry for you ; I am sorry for my
self ; but still tliere is something higher
t han happiness. You must marry Milly.
I command it; I desire it. I oould never
found my happiness on another woman’s
misery. And, whether you marry her ur
not, f shall never marry you. No more
need be said. Good-by, Kenneth. We
will not meet again if I can prevent it.’
‘ ‘ I had been strong, cruel, if you will;
but just at the last iny voice quivered.
It was very hard to be eberu then ; very
hard to see him standing there in his
splendid, manly beauty, yearning to
take me to his heart anil hold me against
the world, and then to turn away to take
up again my old desolate life. Some
Power higher than myself gave me cour
age and strongtn in that hour. One mo
ment my hand was pressed in his, aud
the next he held the door open as I
passed out. I have a confused vision of
a sad, stern faco that bent toward me as
if struggling to sneak, and then stood
proudly erect as if ho accepted tho worst
that fate might, inflict
“ I loved Kenneth more than T knew,
until the inseparable barrier arose be
tween us. His word was pledged and
should not be violated for me ; that I
resoh ed, and yet I cannot picture one
tenth of the agony thut resolve cost ins,
not only on my own account, but on
his.
“We mot the next day at breakfast,
dinner and tea, but were not alone to
gether for an instant. I would always
manage to have Milly with us. When I
announced my intention of leaving the
following day she brightened percepti
bly. Kenneth was civil to us both,
nothing more.
“ There was no congeniality betwoon
Milly and myself, and therefore no con
fidences. The last evening of my stay,
however, I said to her: “I wish you
happiness, Milly. Kenneth has told me
of your engagement.” She smiled anil
answered : ‘ Dear Kenneth ! lam sure
I shall be happy with him.’
“Oh, how I hated her at that moment I
I soon made a pretext to leave her room.
Kenneth was haunting the hall awaiting
my appearance. He detained mo by
gontle force, and said, ‘ Come into the
library, Myra.’
“ 1 quieted my uneasy conscience by
saying to myself, ‘ Surely, I may see
him this once; to-raorrow I go. ’ I
took my old place by the window, but
the air was cold aud the room strangely
cheerless. Kenneth lowered the win
dow and leaned against it. I sat with
downcast eyes. I felt that he was look
ing at me, and I toyed nervously with
the fringe of my shawl. The silence
was becoming painful. I lifted my eyes.
“ ‘You had something you wished to
say to me.’
“ ‘ Yes, Myra I I have become iu
some degree reconciled to your decision.
I can sec it is best. With your encour
agement and example it wifl be liossible
for me to keep my honor safe from
further doubt. And yet I believe a
strong and pure friendship is still pos
sible between us—a friendsliip that will
wrong no one.’
‘“I believe so, too ; and yet it must be
so strong that it will need no roassur
ances. We must indulge no hope of
meeting.’
“ ‘ Still cruel, but right. I understand
the purity of your motives, and but love
you tlio more. I liuvo a little token of
remembranoe for yon, Myra,’ he said,
ilawiiig a small velvet case from liis
procket. ‘Wear it, dear friend, as a
souvenir of our eternal fidelity and the
purity of our resolves.’
“He took my hand and placed this
cameo on my finger, and it has never
been removed. I gave him a slender
gold ring of mine in exchange. Our
love is unchanged and unchangeable. In
three months he and Milly were mar
ried, and I have heuril that he is a kind
husband.”
Her voice sunk almost to a
whisper. I pressed my face against
hers, trying to express my sympathy.
We sat thus a few minutes ; then she
lifted her head, saying, “It was wrong
in me to trouble you with my private
griefs. ”
“ No, it was not wrong. I shall re
spect you all my life for kn rwing of
your temptation and your triumph. A
weaker woman would Ii ive yielded ; you
were firm, and I honor you, Cousin
Mirabel.”
“ A sense of having done right has a
wonderful power to sustain one,” she
answered, “and I am not unhappy, ex
cept at long intervals, when I am over
whelmed by the memory of ‘ what might
have been.’ Generally after suen * day
as this I hear news of Kenneth. Two
years ago to-day I wandered up and
down tho beach, thinking of him, arid
that very night I heard that his wife
wai dead and that he had sailed for
Europe.”
“And have you heard nothing from
him since 1 ” I asked, in surprise.
“ Not a word, but I know he has not
ceased to love me, and he has some good
reason for not writing.” Her absolute
belief in his devotion was something
wonderful to behold. The clock struck 12,
and we arose and bade each other g<xsl
iiight; the fire had long been out, and
a dismal rain was falling.
'Flie next morning was bright and
beautiful ; all the elonds had cleared
away, and Cousin Mirabel was positively
radiant. “I had the sweetest dream,”
she said, in answer to my compliment
on her looks. While we were enjoying
s cozy and delicious breakfast there came
a rap at the loor. A messenger from
the village hotel had brought a note for
rny cousin. She did not recognize the
writing, but tearing it open hastily she
saw at the bottom of the page the name
of “Kenneth Deering." She ran her
eyes over the note ; I saw good news in
her face, and was not unprepared for
her joyful exclamation : “O, Clara !
Kenneth is at the village, snd will las
here to-day.” She caught up the note
and read from it:
“ Ever since Milly’s death, two years
ago, I have been a wanderer. I be
lieved you to be married, and, much as
I desired to see you, could not trust my-
self to visit you. Only last night I heard
that you were free and living in this
neighborhood.”
Blie looked up and said, “ Ho may be
hero in a little wliile. My door Ken
neth, I know his impatience.”
Sure enough he had followed close
after his message, and, before I oould
collect, my scattered wits, a handsome
boarded . Hanger was clasping my Cous
in Mirabel in his arms, utterly'regard
less of my presence. I was presented
when the first rapture of mooting was
over, but still thoy had only thoughts
for each other. I never saw suoh por
teet. affection existing between two per
sons. When Judge Parkhurst came he
got a “decided answer.”
I always spend my vacations at Cous
in Mirabel Doering’s. There is no nleas
anter place in the world to visit, and
tho perfect love and trust with which
the master aud mistress of the house re
gard each other leads one to believe
that Kenneth was right when he said,
“We wore intended for each other.”—
Flntliont Days.
That brove old warrior, General Wm.
O. Butler, who died not long ago at bis
home in Kentucky, at the advanced ago.
of eighty-seven, was something more
than a soldier. He was a poet, and had
at times given undoubted evidenoe of
possessing the divine afflatus. His poem
commencing,
“ () bout mail. wind th*t h-irn Again,
F r never diu t lie Il*t6”liw air
Up<*n is lambent b isom boar
So wild, so soft, so sweet u Himln,”
vi’l long hold its place among tho gemsi
of American poetry. But the days when
the only means of transportation on ou
great Western rivet’s was the ilatboat
have passed away. It may almost bo
said to be a thing of tho post, and hence
tho fine flavor of General Butler’s poem
is lost to a great degroo to a generation
who on ly know of it by tradition.
A voyage from Pittsburg to New Or
leans by Hatboat was an enterprise onoe
of greater peril than a tour around the
world is now. It was certain to be full of
adventure. It required months for its
accomplishment. A shot from tho shore
by some Indian or reckless desperado
might terminate abruptly tho voyage and
the lives of the navigators in blood. A
moment’s neglect of tho steersman might
wreck tho unshapely craft and oil tho
holies of its owners, hundreds of milos
from homo and in an inhospitable wilder
ness. Tliore was danger everywhere—in
tlio currents, eddies, whirlpools, bayous
and snags of the tortuous Father of
Waters; but there was no less danger
from the half civilized dwellers on tho
banks. The outlawed criminals and tlio
desperate adventurers from civilization
skulked along tho shores, or prowled
with light canoes among the bayous and
creeks watching for chances to plunder,
even if murder was necessary to aid them.
A ilatboat voyage down tlio great rivers
was perilous enough from natural causos,
oven if man’s inhumanity to man hail not
increased the peril. In those days the
government had not thought of snag
boats, and the Mississippi was full of half
hidden dangers. The current was con
stantly changing. It was easy to be de
ceived into an old channel from which
tliere was no return. Bayous were often
traps—watery culs-de-sac—loading no
where bnt to ruin. The organized river
pirates and wreckers were always on tho
lookout for unwary voyagers, so that a
a slight mishap generally ended in com
plete disaster. If, under such circum
stances, the flatboatmau reached liis dis
tant home, footsoro and weary but penni
less, months after leaving it, he was
lucky. Iu the early days of flatboating
a safe return, even when the venture had
not proven financially profitable, was a
grand event, and the occasion of tumult
uous joy. Tlio business bred a speoial
class who sought it for its adventure and
dangers ns much as for its profits. The
riv r pirates mot in the tfatlioatman of
that early <lay a olass ready, eager and
willing for the fray—a class which, like
tlio ranchoros of tho plains, accounted a
trip tame and spiritless if unattended
with danger. Thoy were rough and
ready, careless and care-freo. Dreamily
floating slowly down the Ohio, thoy
whiled away with song and (lance tlio lazy
hours. Tho boatman's horn waked the
echoes from distant hills more musioal
than steamboat whistle or that car-dis
traoting horror, tho calliope It was a
romantic life, befitting the grand scenery
and rude time. Ninety days and a slow
moving fiatbont, the scenery constantly
changing but ever wild and beautiful,
was a tiling never to be forgotten. The
spice of danger in it only gave it zest.
An occasional adventure with river
sharks only relieved monotony and ad
ded interest. — Indianapolis Journal.
Ocnernl Grant's Fortune.
Asa good deal of discussion has been
rife concerning General Grant’s pecun
iary means, it may be interesting to
know the exact truth. The entire prop
erty of General and Mrs. Grant yields
them an annual income of 311,000. During
the trip around the world the expenses
of the Presidential party were at the
lat/-, of $25,000 a year, a serious encroach
ment upon the ex-President’s -capital.
Luckily, however, young Grant, who
lives in New York and is a director in
several mining companies speculated so
prudently and so successfully on his
father’s behalf that a welcome addition
was made to ids j/icomc. During the
first two months of this year Grant, Jr.,
made $16,000 for his father, mostly in
Chrysolite. The, Ilnur.
Kabi-ijerrv Vineoak. —Pick and wash
five jKiunds of raspberries and pour over
them a gallon of the best white wine
vinegar ; let it stand twenty-four hours,
then strain through a flannel jelly-bag
and put this liquor over five pounds
more of raspberries. Let it stand again
a day and night. Strain a second timo
through a flannel bag, and add ten
pounds of lump sugar. Put in a throe
gallon stone jar ; set the jar in a pot of
hot water and let it simmer for twenty
minutes, skimming any froth that may
arise. When perfectly cold bottle and
cork carefully. Keep in a cool place
during the summer.
A wine merchant atltheims, in France,
is the owner of two hundred bottles of
champagne which he says lie will not sell
at anv price, because it was the only lot
ill any cellar of the city that, escaped the
clutches of the German soldiers during
the war of 1870.
J. L. DENNIS. Editor.
#I.OO a Year.
New Method of Precipitating Rain
Falls.
Among the recent patents is on# taken
out by Daniel Buggies, of Fredericks
burg, Va., for what he designates as a
new and useful mode of producing rain
or precipitating rain falls from rain
clouds, for tho purpose of sustaining
vegetation and for protection against
drought and for sanitary purposes.
The invention oonsisfs in sending bal
loons into the cloud realms, said balloons
carrying torpedoes and cartridges charged
with explosives, and tliore to explode or
detonate them by electric foroo.
“My design," ho says, “is to employ
every kind of explosive forco at an ele
vation in the cloud region of tho atmos
phere, in order to condense rain clouds
by concessive foroe or the power of ex
plosion within such region, thereby pre
eipit. -mg ruin to sustain Vegetation, pre
vent drought, and also purify and reno
vate the atmospliero during periods of
pestilence and epidemics.
“I contemplate tho employment of
nitro-glyoerine, dynamite, chlorates of
nitrogen, gun cotton, gunpowder, fulmi
nates, and other explosives and to ti
the magneto-electric telegraph on the
surface >f the ground and tho phouo
telegrapi! hi tho cloud realm to direct
action in case where a regular balloon
not oil urged with explosives, is occupied
by an aeronaut to reoounoiter the cloud
realm, to trail torpedoes and catridges,
or to throw them in parachutes, and to
explode or detonate them either from tho
balloon occupied by tho aeronaut or from
tlio ground.
“Instead of a single balloon providod
with explosivos—say ten small torpedoes
or cartridges, each oharged with a half
pound of dynamite, and arranged for
simultaneous magneto-eleotric explosion
—I propose in some oases the employment
of small balloons in groups in tlio cloud
region, eaoli provided with explosives
and arranged for simultaneous explosion
or detonation by oither eloctrie or
mechanical force; and I contemplate not
only to precipitate rain fall, but also to
cheek its fall in overabundance in a given
locality by oausing the rain clouds to
discharge rain before tho given locality
has been reached by such clouds.
‘ ‘ My invention is based ou discoveries
in meteorological science, and t hat elec
trical force sways anil controls tho atmos
pheric realm and governs the movements
of the rain clouds, bursting into thunder
storms, dispensing rain and hail, and into
cyclones and tornadoes, illuminated by
inagiioto-eleotrio foroes as prime attri
butes of matter.
“I propose to employ the magneto
electric eugirio to send explosives into
the oloud roalm, and compressed air and
stem into the atmosphere whenever
found expedient, each through it appro
priate medium of metallic wire, textile
fiber, oojduge, aud elastic tubes.”
Why Nnow at Great Altitudes tor*
Not Melt.
Mr. James Oroll, the author of Climate
and Time, gives in Nature his views as
♦o the influence of an aqueous va|ior on
tho melting point of snow. He says:
" The reason why snow at great eleva
tion does not meltbntremoinspormanent,
is owing to the fact that tlio heat re
ceived from the sun is thrown off into
stellar space so rapidly by radiation and
reflection that the sun fails to rise tlic
temperature of the snow to the melting
point; the snow eva]iorates, but it does
notmelt. The summits of the Himalayas,
for example, must reoeive moro than ten
times the snow that falls on them, not
withstanding which tho snow is not
melted. And, in spite of the strength of
the sun and the dryness of the air at those
altitudes, evaporation is insufficient to re
move the snow. At low elevations, where
tho snowfall is probably greater and the
amount of heat even less than at tlio sum
mits, tho snow melts and disappears.
This, I believe, we must attribute to the
influence of aqueous vapor. At high
elevations the air is dry, and allows the
heut radiated from the snow to pass
into space; hut at low elevations a
very considerable amount of the
heut radiated from the snow to {mss into
space; hut at low elevations a very con
siderable amount of the heat radiated
from the snow is absorbed in passing
through the atmosphere. A consid
erable portion of the heat thus absorbed
by the vapor is radiated back on the
snow, but the heat thus radiated be
ing of the same quality as that which the
snow itself radiates, is on thisacoountab
eorbed by tho snow. Little or none of
it is reflected like that received from the
Him. The consequence is that the heat
thus absorbed accumulates in the snow
till melting takes places. Were the
amount of aquaous vapor possessed by
the atmosphere sufficiently diminished,
perpetual snow would cover our glolio
down to the seashore. It is true that, the
air is warmer at tho lower level than at
the higher level and by contact with the
snow must tend to melt it more at tiie
former than at, the latter position. But
we must remember that the air is warmer
mainly in consequence of the influence
of aqueous vapor, and that were the
quantity of vapor reduced to the amount
in question the difference of temperature
at the two positions would not ho great.
Tftk growth of trees and shrubs is
made the first half of the season ; after
that the time is occupied in maturing
the wood. The growth, therefore
should bo pushed from the start, and
this is done by manuring and cultiva
tion ; the latter is an aid to the former,
and discontinued in time to give chance
for maturing. Begin early, and work
the ground for a large space, as the
roots extend far. To stir or manure the
ground only, as is so common, is of
little or no benefit. The entire space
between raspberries and blackberries
should be gone over, and lightly, so as
not to disturb the roots, which usually
are near the surface. Treat currants,
gooseberries, grapevines, young trees,
etc., in the same way, using manure if
needed, and to the amount required in
connection with cultivation, applying it
early, so as to get the full lienefit. Barn
manure is in general preferable, ns it
also serves to some extent as a mulch.
War ! war ! war upon weeds ! The
farmer’s success is the reward of con
stant vigilance. The fertile soil of the
West, while yielding immense crops of
grain’ yields weeds in the same protair
tion. ’ But, taken in time, on our mellow
soil,’the weeds are easily destroyed.—
Exchange.
WAIFS AND WHIMS.
Thk Romo Sentinel says that an alli
gator laughs when it hoars that beauty
is only skin deep.
Hints to housekeepers—When your
favorite oats become too prolific you must
“pool their issues.”
Faith moves mountains, but it takes s
couple of express wagons to move a fash
ionable woman’s baggage.
The grnnd and awful difference be
tween a tree anil ft boro is—the tree
leaves in tlio spring, and the bore—why,
he never leaves.
Tub two urchins who played “escap
ing from the wreck" by using their
mother’s holiday dough-trough for a life
boat., were lashed together.
A man in Baltimore has the wooden
shutter of the room occupied by Mary
I’hillipse, who gave George Washington
the mitten. Cupid's blind.
The bihle tells us not to pnt our trust
in riches, and a great, many men don’t at
the present day. Their total lack of
riches explains why.
A MtNNKHOTA farmer who lias five
grown-up daughters, has sued the county
on a claim that his residence has been
used as a “court-room" for the past two
years.
A Haddenjtbld (Cajie May) Bign
rends: "Is cream salon cakes prettzells
ami canddy aud cigars oistors and lodg
ing and horses wattered constantly on
hand. ”
It has been said that poverty treads
upon the heels of great and unexpected
riohea; but then a newspaper man never
V. corns on his heels, and he can
stand it. *
Fpofbietob—“ If you boys don’t
clear out I’ll oall that officer and have
you taken iu.” Boy—“ That’s where
you’d be taken in; thft policeman’s my
’ffl, he ia.”
fine church ia tha pew rest plaoe on
earth. —Steubenville iterald. And one
can tell how good the men are by the
munlier of hymns found thsrs.—Cincin
nati Gazette.
Homebody wants to know why we do
not go to Europe. Well, the fact is if
the rest of Europe resembles the part
that has oome over here, we’ve seen
enough of it.— Burlington Haivkeye.
He tulkrd lore to her, and dove to her,
And trhW toaquecst her hand,
While ibe *at uu a-d 4 ?MOd” aud “noed,"
And jruwned be ilnd iter fan—
(Because s e had at up tho night before.
With a fellow she had aii awful fondness for.)
Steubenville Herald.
Tub following advertisement apiieared
lately in an Irish newspaper: "This is
to notify Patrick O’Flaherty, who lately
left his lodgings, if ho does not return
soon and pay for the same he shall be ad
vertised. ’
“Weld, if I ever saw the like,” re
marked Mr. Wliiskyskin, as he mopped
the perspiration from his brow. " I
don’t see whore all this water oomns from
that oozes through my pores. I haven't
tested the stuff for ten yeara.”
What a pity that a big heart is so
often compelled to keep company with a
small income?— N. V. Newt. Rather,
what a pity that a big income is so often
compelled to keep company with a small
heart.
“Do not know commas when you see
them?” said the villago school teacher
to the book-keeper of a banking-house,
whose education had been neglected.
"What are these (~ ~ „) on your gro
oer’sbill?” "Boers,’ said he.
Police court scene—Judge to an un
priqiossesaing tramp : “ What are vour
means of living?” “I am an inventor.”
“Ah, indeed. Aud what have you in
vented?” “ Nothing as yet; bnt I am
on tho lookout. ”
Mits. Domesticity calls at the kitchen
furnishing store. “ Have you (look’s
stowers?” she asks. The dealer is dumb
founded till lie is shown an advertise
ment of “Cook’s Tours,” when lie di
rected her to the nearest railroad office.
Ten residents of Waverly, who
wouldn’t do a day’s work for anything,
recently hauled over twenty cords of
wood to get a rial squirrel that wasn’t
there. Then they crack ed a command
ment.—Oweyo Record.
Wht is it that whisky straight will
make a man walk crooked?— Bouton
Globe. Why is it ? Wiiy, it is because
you drink it. Did you never think of
that? You leave tho whisky in the jug,
and it will not make yon walk crooked.
Don’t blame the rooster for bragging
over every egg that is laid in the family.
Only human nature, nothing more. You
remember that when that bouncing boy
arrived at your house it wasn’t the
mother who went about doing the orow
ing.
An Indian came to an agent in the
northern part of lowa to procure some
whisky for a younger brother, who he
said hod been bitten bv a rattlesnake.
“Four quarts 1” repeated the agent, with
surprise; “much as that?” “Yes,”
replied the Indian, “ four quarts; snake
very big."
Life in the Sea.
Brimful of life at its surface, tho sea
would bo encumbered if that prodigious
jiower of production was not kept some
what in check by the antagonistic power
of destruction. Only imagine that every
herring has from 60,000 to 70,000
eggs ! If every egg was to produce a
herring, and every herring 60,000
moro, were there not an enormous
destruction going on, the ooean would
very soon be s<nidified and putriflcd.
The great cetacea drive them toward the
shores, ever and anon diving into their
ranks and swallowing up whole shoal.
The whiting eat their fry ; coil again de
vour the whiting. Yet, even here, the
peril of the sea, an excess of fecundity,
shows itself in a still more terrible
shape. The cod has up to 9,000,000
of eggs, and this creature, of such for
midable {lowers of maternity, has nine
months of love out of twelve. No won
der that the fishery of this productive
fish lias created towns and colonics. But
even then, what would the power of man
lie, opposed to such fecundity ? He is
assisted by others, among which the
sturgeon takes chief rank. Then, again,
the sturgeon itself is a very fecund fish.
This dovourer of cod has itself 1,-
600,000 eggH. Another great de
vourer is not proportionately repro
ductive, anil that is tiie shark.
A New York dispatch says that Henry
Miner got an injunction in the Supreme
Court to restrain Patrick Rooney, who
had agreed to play five years in his thea
ter, from July, 1879, from acting in a
company that the defendant had formed
under the name of “The Pat. Rooney
New York Star Combination Troupe.”
The lawyer’s clerk who served the order
on Rooney handed him the original in
stead of a copy. Rooney took from the
package the agreement with Miner which
tie signed in 1879, and tore it up. Fri
day a motion was made to punish Rooney
for contempt of Court because of this
act. Decision iu the matter was re
served.
Soap-bubble blowing by young fashion
able ladies and gentlemen is now a
favorite pastime in London drawing
rooms at afternoon tea.