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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.