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VOLUME V.
The Cloud.
... t .!ou<l lay low in the heavens;
S(]ch ft lilted cloud it seemed,
lightly touching the sea’s broad breast,
u t , r e the rose light lingered across the west
• and grave as in innocence rest,
ivh le the #old athwart it gleamed.
such a harmless cloudlet,
Seen over the sleeping wave,
, ->he teen-eyed mariner shook his head,
‘. _’i 0 wly it crept o’er the dusky red,
epe | the rocket lines are clear,” he said,
A id bis lips set stern and grave.
, 3 j o er ever the eve was midnight,
[hat cloud was lowering black,
i mm ed the light ol the stars away,
, m med the flash of the furicas spray,
j, ti)e breakers crashed in the northern bay,
\v:*lß howling onAheir track.
5o in life’s radiant morning
>Uoy a tiny care or cross
jjt trouble the peaceful course ol love,
A9 it the strength ol its sway to prove,
uil to whisper, my surface may move,
hut my roots can laugh at loss.
It may seem such a little jarring,
Only experience sighs,
for, with time’s sad learning to sharpen the
glance,
He sees the “ rift in the lute ” advance,
fnows how late may seize upon circumstance
To sever the closest ties.
4b. me ! in the fiercest tempest
Theliie-boat its work may do;
Bat what can courage or skill avail
When the heart lies wrecked by passion’s
gale,
When change or death has furled the sail,
When treason has bribed the crew.
Then watch, oh ! hope and gladness,
Watch lor the rising cloud;
San it away, bank warmth ol youth;
Blow il away, bright breeze ol truth;
for, oh ! there is neither mercy or truth
Siouldit once your heaven enshroud.
LOVED AT LAST.
Hugh Fenton stood looking at her, his
face full of white pain, his grave, hand
some eyes showing eloquently the an
guish and desolation of his spirit.
For, a moment earlier, Lola Bourne
had refused him—gently, tenderly, with
distress on her sweet, pure face, and keen
regret that she was forced to make him
sutler so, in her low, pitiful tones.
But, for all her sweetness and tender
ness, and sympathy and distress, she had
been resolute.
"I do thank you for your regard for
if, Mr. Fejiton—l shall ever remember
it ss one of the brightest spots in my
life. But,” and her voice had lowered
to an inexpressibly gentle tone, whose
very carefulness and pitifulness mad
dened hint, “ I do not love you, and I
would not dare marry where I did not
love.”
She was so sweet and winsome to see,
so womanly and delicate for a girl of
nineteen, and so lovely in her beauty—
Slight, graceful, dignified, always a lit
tle more grravo and thoughtful than other
gins of her age and position in society,
and even more grave and dignified since
the troubles had come upon her that
eft her to face the world without
parents or money.
Hugh had always worshiped her,
since the time a year or so before when
!lPr father had taken him home to din
ner one evening, and introduced him to
Hrs. Bourne and Lola, with an after
indent recommendation to their notice
wd friendship.
And now when, in one little half-year,
7 re . had occurred the startling series
pitiful calamities to the girl, her
■ - cnts both taken from her, and the
mniiicent home literally sold over her
• ‘A it had been, as Lola said, one of
' ! ’- r htest memories of those inex
pressibly eyeary times that Hugh Fenton
‘ at ‘ Her his hand and love, his
aalhe and fortune.
(>1 ) she could not accept because, as
h ti.id gently, honeutly told him, she
! 1 n °^ love him; and to such a girl as
bourne, Hugh Fenton’s fortune
OS *^ on were no temptations
stood looking at the sweet, pure,
• e ace that his heart and soul so
j ge ‘ to gather to his breast, and kiss
i ‘ V 1 awa y the solemn shadows out of
llle Husky eyes.
“k
woi, I 1 cannot have you go out in the
■t and he buffeted about as a cruel
•i| Un arbitrarily chooses,” he said.
K even if you don’t love me, let me
dear an ? care for y° u! Lola ’ m y
dur t,le g ir h do you think I can en
ior. * i lUxurie s :m< A elegancies f my
knowing the woman I
dai y . Wouiaa I want, is working for
a, t \ ages, perhaps hungry, perhaps
•one UUalKy often weary and
iar i aU(I oerta tnly with no one to
be m!.! a ! U ! protect? Oh, my darling,
teacli Ul^U ‘ ome to me, and let me
tobe iOU lIOW to l°ve me. I will try
with what you can give
tM nt lk ‘ luil y trust and regard. Lola,
ss :lgain ’ pra y you!”
Wa a her little dusky head, that
:aii na • rm ‘ y and Proudly poised on her
throat.
‘on U i’ annot P oss ibly be, dear Mr. Fen
h,j,’ | am n °t afraid to face the world,
am a fraid to bestow my hand
ui\ iieart cannot be given!”
* ler Hrm, gentle resolute
. iad to be content; and he went
l . ii.iui the plain little lodging-house,
ex °Hange for music lessons to
factory girls, Lola was allowed
t \y.' .[ l accommodations went
~a "’-th his heart crushed to the very
w ol] ’., a f d Reeling as if never again
liia iP SUU s^*ue golden-bright for
**iie went slowly up to the lit
/ “ un room which was not so pieas
'h id been the servants’ rooms in
:1 huh T’s house.
THE FOREST NEWS
There was a little look of pain on her
mouth and a deep, troubled expression
somS" ShG Bat Pati6ntly d ° Wn to
“ I could not have done otherwise—
oh, it would have been dreadful to have
promised to be his wife just because he
V? *? ave me from this hfe! I wish I
could love him; I have tried and tried,
and I cannot.”
And then, the matter thus conscien
tiously settled in her own mind. Lola
went on in her plain, new, dull little
way of living, to be suddenly and sharply
aroused from it a day two or three weeks
ater by a telegram from Hugh Fenton,
that briefly said only this:
“l am dying. Will you come to me?”
Rying! Her one good friend, her one
dear friend. Dying! It seemed a cruel
mockery to think of his dying in the
flush and glory of maturity, with every
thing in the world to live for.
She hastened to him as fast as the
first train could take her, to find him
lying pale and peaceful, waiting for the
woman he loved.
He could still speak, wearily, and
with labor, but his face grew radiant
with a tenderness that seemed less of
mortal joy than the reflection from the
hither shore, when she knelt weeping
beside him.
“No; this is best for me, Lola,” he
said, tenderly. “I would rather die
like this, with you here beside me. than
live without you. My darling, do you
know why I have sent for you?”
Even amid all the pity and desolation
in her heart, she shivered at his sug
gestive words.
“Oh, my friend, Hugh —”
He interrupted her, quietly.
“ I want you to let me give you my
name before I go, dear. I want you to
know how thoroughly, how perfectly
I love you. You will not refuse? It is
the last request I shall make of a human
being—don’t refuse me this—don’t send
rue away—out yonder—without grant
ing me this. It will not hurt you, Lola
—I shall not be here to annoy—you will
be comfortable and happy, and free as
ever—and I —”
He smiled in her horrified eyes.
“Oh, Hugh—no! no! I cannot take
advantage of you—l dare not be so
cruelly selfish—”
“ I understand, dear—fully. But you
seem to forget how it will take the last
sting from my dying pillow, how it will
iighten the way clear to the beyond, if
I may know my wife weeps for me.”
Her beautiful face was pale as his, her
eyes glowed like dusky stars, her voice
was clear, intense.
“ Will it do that for you, my friend?
Knowing ail you know, will it please
and comfort you?”
“ It will make me welcome death to
call you my wife one little hour.”
“Then, Hugh, whenever you arc
ready, I am ready.”
And so, a half-hour later, the family
clergyman stood at the bedside, and in
the presence of the dying man’s mother
and sister, and the gray-haired physi
cian, Lola was made Hugh’s wife.
Nor, except for the mortal pallor of
her face, and the deathly coldness of
her hand, did the man who loved her
know of the terrible agony that was in
her mind.
And the minister went away, and
Clara Fenton kissed the dear, peaceful,
radiant face on the pillow, and threw
her arms round Lola’s neck and sobbed
out her anguish and gratitude, and the
dear, quivering-lipped old mother
blessed her boy’s wife, and l)r. Sand
ford shook her hand warmly.
“ I only wish I might have seen this
under other circumstanees, Mrs. Fen
ton,” he said, and nobody but the man
who loved her saw the uncontrollable
shudder that surged over Lola at the
sound of the new name.
An hour or so later the family lawyer
was closeted with Hugh Fenton, and
when Lola was called in, afterward,
her husband’s face was so exquisitely
peaceful and satisfied that it almost
startled her.
“ Doctor Sandford tells me there is
only an hour or so more, in all proba
bility—everythirg is done, my wife. I
am at peace with the world, my
conscience and heaven. Sit here with
me, dear, until—the last. I want your
sweet face to be the last I see this side.”
So there they were, she, cold, pale,
strung to a nervous tension that was
agony to endure, and he—perceptibly
gx-owing further and further away,
until, like a baby on its mother’s bi'east,
he closed his eyes.
All through the night they watched
and waited for the breath to flutter
away foi’ever, and just when the dawn
began to break Dr. Sandford took his
fingers off the wrist, and turned with a
choked, solemn voice:
“ Thanks be to God! Hugh will live!
The ci*isis has passed, and his pulse has
been strengthening steadily for fifteen
minutes.!”
And the next second Lola lay in a
dead faint on the floor beside her hus
band’s bed.
Her husband! And he would live!
And she—did not love him! Heaven be
pitiful!
Such fearful days followed, and yet
nobody but these two understood any
thing about it, and even they did not
wholly understand each other.
Such awful days, when Lola prayed
that at heart she might not be a mur
deress; that heaven would give her
strength to endure the life forced upon
her; when Hugh cursed the fate that
spared him, because she was so cruelly
punished by the mistake of it all.
Days, and weeks, and months passed,
finding Lola always at her post, always
where a fond, loving wife would be;
finding her gi*owing more and moi*e
patient, and even more sweetly gentle
than ever, if that wei*e possible, while
JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 9, 1880.
Hugh grew restless and impatient, and
the one great dread of his life—the
dread lest she should after awhile hate
him instead of being simply indifferent
as she was now, grew on him like a
nightmare.
Until one day he announced his in
tention of going abroad—to gain
strength, he told Lola— to rid her of
him she knew so well he meant.
“And alone, Hugh?”
“Alone-certainly,” he said, almost
harshly in his bitterness.
For who was there in all the world
to go with him?
So he made his preparations with a
heart as heavy as lead—a heart that
suffered untold agony as he saw the
new glad light that was daily coming in
his wife’s eyes—joy at the speedy pros
pect of being separated from him, if
only for awhile.
And then Jie said good-bye and went
his way, by easy stages and frequent
stops, until he reached the lovely sum
mer land of Italy, to Florence, the city
of flowers—a heartsick, heartsore man,
who would rather have laid down his
life than to live longer the solitary, love
less existence that fate had apportioned
him.
And. yet—despite all his bitterness, his
soul-sickness, his brain and heart were
all athrob in expectation of the letter
from his wife he knew would be there.
Only—it was not there!
And he went slowly, despairingly to
the rooms engaged by telegraph, won
dering why all of life and hope and joy
and love such as glorified other men’s
lives, were denied him, wondering—
And opening the door to see Lola
waiting for him—Lola, all her passion
ate soul in her eyes, all her sweet, yearn
ing nature in the low erv witli which
she sprung to him.
“Oh, Hugh! I could not let you leave
me! I did not know until you were
gone that—”
His face was pale as death. He
looked at her—one glance in which
their hearts were unveiled, one moment
when it seemed that heaven had sud
denly opened to them.
“ Lola! My wife!”
Hugh! Oh, Hugh, my darling!”
And so their happiness came to them.
A New and Economical Method of In
toxication.
A New York lady has discovered why
men drink, and come home fuddled and
silly, and invented a means whereby the
same results may be secured without
losing their delightful society and com
panionship. The secret she imparts to
all women who may be sufferers in body
or mind from the inebriate habits of
their lords. In the evening, she says,
after we have sat together for some
time, and he says, “ My dear, I have
some business to attend to and will be
back in an hour or two,” I say, “John,
get up in the middle of the floor and
turn round and round for fifty times,
and it will do you just as much gooiilns
going out to see about that business.”
When he has turned round about thirty
times I say, “Stop, John; brace up;
take another,” and as soon as he stops
he tumbles headfirst into a corner, or
stands bowing to me and the furniture
quite in his old way and to as good a
purpose. In a short time he comes to
himself with a flushed face, and perhaps
a slight headache, but witli his money
all safe in his pocket. It is ridiculous
to see him act in such a way, but not
more absurd than to find him trying to
come upstairs ou the wrong side of the
baluster, or engaged in conversation
with the hat-rack. If my weary-hearted
sisters will coax their male relatives,
friends and acquaintances with proper
arguments, doubtless they will find
their account in so doing, and all will be
well. Dizziness is what men are after
when they drink, and turning ax-ound
in the way I speak of is the easiest and
cheapest way of becoming dizzy. If
our society shall receive encouragement
from the public it will soon put lectur
ers in the field and carry the war into
Africa.
The Pay Some New York Cooks Get.
The French cooks, meaning the chefs,
in this city, says a New York paper, are
said to occupy a very enviable position,
and to have a most exalted opinion of
themselves. They represent art, in their
own judgment, as much as painters,
sculptors, poets or composers do, and
have a pride in their vocation which
they are fond of discussing, explaining
and gloififying. A number of the so
called French cooks are Swiss and Ital
ians, and the membei*s of the “ pi*ofes
sion ” have increased of late, particu
larly within a year. The high salaries
attainable here tempt chefs even from
Paris, which they regard as the center
of the universe, and which nothing but
in*ospective riches would induce them
to surrender. They do not earn there
one quarter what they earn here. In
Paris 5,000 or 6,000 francs a year is con
sidered a vei*y handsome recompense;
but in New Yoi*k they are paid munifi
cently, far moi'e than the majority of
salesmen, accountants, jouimalists, phy
sicians, litterateurs or clergymen. Their
salaries range from $2,500 to $5,000 and
$6,000. Many private houses, as well
as leading clubs and hotels, have chefs of
the cordon bleu order. The Lotos club
pays its chef, says a correspondent,
$3,000; the New York club, $4,000; the
Union League, $4,500; the Manhattan,
$4,700; the Union, $6,000; the Knicker
bocker, $5,500. Among the hotels the
Brevoort pays $4,000; the Buckingham,
$4,000; the Clarendon, $4,500; the Me
tropolitan, $4,000; the Astor, $4,200;
the St. Nicholas, $4,000; the Fifth Ave
nue, $5,000; the Bristol, .$1,300; Del
monieo, $4,000.
High heels - Some doctors’ charges.
A Baboon Hunt In New York.
Two little girls, one of them Flora
Glatz, four years old, were playing on
the stairway of a tenement house in
New York, when a large dog-faced ba
boon came down the stairway of an up
per story, seized Flora by the shoulders
and chattered in her face, frightening
both children into loud outcries. The
baboon changed its hold, seized the girl
by the cheeks and bit off her nose. The
child fell down insensible with the fright
and pain, and the baboon escaped to the
roof. Flora’s mother raised an outcry
and alarmed the neighbors, who, con
jecturing that a dog had bitten the girl,
began a crusade on the neighborhood
curs. Finally the girl who had been
playing with Flora became sufficiently
composed to tell what she had seen, and
the streets aroun*' the house were soon
filled with operatives from neighboring
factories and others who had heard that
an orang-outang had escaped from a
Bowery museum and had been killing a
number of people. Men armed with
pistols and shotguns and miscellaneous
weapons filled the house. A squad of
police also turned out and a search was
made foi* the baboon. Two or thi*ee
thousand people emptied themselves into
the sti’eet from the adjacent buildings,
but when one cried “ there he is!” there
was an immediate scattering among the
crowd to places where he wouldn’t be
likely to be. The police and a number
of volunteers went to the roof of the
tenement. An officercaught a glimpse
of the baboon perched on the top of a
chimney. A number of shots wei-e fired
without effect, and the chase slid down
a waterspout to the yard. The police
men hurried down by another way and
found the baboon chattering near a cor
ner of the fence. He was again made a
target for the policemen’s pistols, and
one of the shots struck him in the thigh,
lie tried to limp away, but a mechanic
from one of the factories struck him on
the head with an iron bar and killed
him. Ihe baboon measured over three
feet, and is supposed to have escaped
from a neighboring museum.
Effect of Cold.
A striking commentary, says a writer
in Chambers' Journal, on the effect of
cold upon natives of the tropics is to be
found in “My Chief and I.” Colonel
Durnfoi’d. colonial engineer, was on the
Drakenberg with a party of Basutos, and
a number of of the Putini
tribe, who wei*e employed in stopping
the passes into Natal. A snow storm
with a bitter wind came on, and at once
the natives collapsed. The Putini men
felt it most. Nothing could induce them
to stir. They L* °no fires, cooked no
food. It was impossible to do anything
with them even for their own comfort.
At last, finding that even when the
order was given to march down into the
warm valley they did not move, the
colonel had the tents pulled down over
their heads. Still they lay helpless,
crying: “Let us die, ’Nikos; only let
us die.” The white men of the party
were ordered to force them out, and
they jvere found perfectly paralyzed.
There was no sham about it; “their
brown skins were white with cold.” It
was with the greatest difficulty they
were got down the mountain to the val
ley, where there were plenty of old
bushmen’s caves for them to shel
ter in.
Natives of the Hindustan plains are
even less able to endure sudden cold
than Africans are. The present writer
has known cases of coolies, the honestest
and most faithful messengers in the
world, actually dying in the Ghauts
thi’ough being caught in a piercing wind
such as they, Madrasses born and bred
in the low lands, had never before ex
perienced. While, therefore, hasty
reaseners were hard in the case ol the
El Dorado lascars, better informed peo
ple felt that the real fault lay with those
who put the poor fellows into a position
for which they were by natui*e wholly
unfitted. Let any one who has a garden
try to gather a lew tui’nips or cabbage
leaves when they are covered with snow,
and he will be able to form some notion
of what it must be for those who were
nurtured in latitude fifteen degrees, to
be for hours handling fi*ozen ropes.
A Future Feminine Diary.
Monday.—Just 1 had settled my
household work for the day, I was
called away to sex*ve on a jury, and had
to remain in the law courts until the
evening.
Tuesday.—Some riots having taken
place in our neighborhood, was forced
to act as special constable. Paraded
the streets all dty long in a state of con
stant alarm.
Wednesday .—Received a letter from
my friend Susie, who fxas heard that
the militia are to be called out. Visited
her, and discovered that the women, as
citizens, ai'e now liable to military sei--
vice.
Thursday.—Had to attend an inquest
as a coroner’s juryman. Avery un
pleasant duty indeed, as it was held
upon a man who had committed a most
horrible suicide.
Friday.—Having failed to obey the
orders of a county court judge, was
locked up in prison for contempt. I
owe this scrape to the exti*avagance of
my husband —a man who will buy hats
and coats, and will not work for our
living.
Saturday.—ln deep tribulation. The
governor of the jail is a female, and as a
matter of course, favors the male prison
ers. Asked for a book, and was fur
nished with a work upon Roman law.
Cried myself to sleep over a passage
which told me that no oue could obtain
the privileges of a citizen without ac
cepting a citizen’s duties and responsi
bilities. Oh, why did I give up the
privileges of a real woman for the mis
eries of a mock man?
The Old Mill-Pond.
Who is there who has not in some re
cess of the memory a dear old haunt
like this, some such sleeping pond radi
ant with reflections of the scenes of
early life? Thither in those winter
days we came, our numbers swelled
from right and left with eager volun
teers for the game, till at last almost a
hundred strong we rally on the smooth
black ice. The opposing leaders choose
their sides, and with loud hurrahs we
penetrate the thickets at the water’s
edge, each to cut his special choice o
stick—that feßtive cudgel, with curved
and club-shaped end, known to the boy
as a “ shinny stick,” but to the calm
recollection of after life principally as
an instrument of torture, indiscrimin
ately promiscuous in its playful
moments.
How clearly and distinctly I recall
those toughening, rollicking sports on
the old miil-pond! I see the two opposing
forces on the field of ice, the wooden
ball placed ready for the fray. The
starter lifts his stick. I hear a whizzing
sweep. Then comes that liquid, twit
tering ditty of the hard-wood ball skim
ming over the ice, that quick succession
of bird-like notes, first distinct and
clear, now fainter and more blended,
now fainter still, until at last it melts
into a whispered quivering whistle,
and dies away ’midst the scraping sound
of the close-pursuing skates. With a
sharp crack I see the ball returning sing
ing over the polished surface, and met
halt way by the advance-guard of the
leading side. Now comes the tug of
war. Strange fun! What a spectacle
The would-be striker, with stick up
lifted, jammed in the center of a bois
terous throng; the hill-sides echo with
ringing shouts, and an anxious circle,
with ready sticks, forms about the
swaying, gesticulating mob. Mean
while the ball is beating round beneath
their feet, their skates are clashing steel
on steel. I hear the shuffling kicks,
the battling strokes of clubs, the husky
mutterings of passion half suppressed;
I hear the panting breath and the im
petuous whisperings between the teeth,
as they push and wrestle and jam. A
lucky hit now sends the ball a few
feet from the fray. A ready hand im
proves the chance; but as he lifts his
stick a youngster’s nose gets in the way
aad spoils his stroke; he slips, and falls
upon the ball; another and another
plunge headlong over him. The crowd
surround the prostrate pile and punch
among them for the ball. When found,
the same riotous scene ensues; another
falls, and all are trampled under foot by
the enthusiastic crowd. Ye gods! will
any one come out alive P I hear the
old familiar sounds vibrating on the
air; whack! whack! “Ouch!” “Get
out of the way, then!” “ Now I’ve got
it!” “Shinny on yer own side!” and
now a heavy thud! which means a sud
den damper on some one’s wild enthu
siasm. And so it goes until the game is
won. The mob disperses, and the riot
ous spectacle gives place to uproarious
jollity.— W. H. Gibson, in Harper's
Magazine.
What We Like to See,
A man worth $50,000 who says Ilia
he is too poor even to take the local
paper.
A man refuse to take his local paper,
and all the time sponge on his neighbor
the reading of it.
A man run down his local paper as
not worth taking, and every now and
then beg the editbr for a favor in the
editorial line.
A merchant who refuses to advertise
in the home paper, and yet expects to
get his share of the trade the paper
brings in town.
A man complain, when asked to sub
scribe for his home paper, that he takes
more papers than he reads now, and
then go around and borrow his neigh
bor’s, or loaf about until he gets the
news from it.
Above all, the rich, miserly man, who
cannot pay for his local paper, yet who
is always around in time to read the
paper at the expense of a friend, not
worth the tenth part of what he himself
is, yet who is enterprising enough to
help support the paper.
We like to see these things, because
they are indicative of economy, thrift
and progress—in a horn.— Waterloo (N.
F.) Observer.
A Blind Man’s Pleasures.
Prof. Fawcett, the blind member of
parliament, says that when at twenty
five he lost his sight there were many
things of which he was passionately
fond, and he resolved that those pursuits
which he could follow lie wouid. No
one enjoyed salmon tishing in the Tweed
or the Spey more than he did, no one
more enjoyed throwing the fly in some
quiet stream in Hampshire or Wiltsbure.
He enjoyed it as much as any one did a
gallop over the turf in company with
some friend. He appreciated all the
health-giviDg vigor of a long row from
Oxford to London, and although the
late severe frosts nipped up a great many
people, no one in the whole country en
joyed better than he, with a friend,
a filty or sixty-mile skate on the Fens.
He referred to these facts in no spirit of
egotism, but as showing that there was
still for the blind a store of happiness
and pleasure if only they had the cour
age and determination to avail them
selves of it.
There are now ten oleomargarine
factories in the United States. In France
the manufacture has become an im
portant industry, and in Holland there
are seventy-four factories, while in
Russia and Germany there are large
factories. One house in New York sells
nearly 10,000 pounds of oleomargarine
daily.
TIMELY TOPICS*
The newspaper advertisement, an ex
change truthfully says, is a never-tiring
worker in the intei*ests of its employer.
When the bill distributor has disap
peared from the streets and his bills
trampled into pulp, the advertisement
is performing its silent mission in the
family circle. It appeals to a constit
uency three or four times larger than
the actual sale of the paper, for there are
few newspapers which do not pass from
hand to hand through three or four per
sons with every issue.
Boston and Portland merchants ship
large quantities of lumber to Brazil, be
cause she has very few mills. The
streams wash away many trees, which
mill owners at their mouths would
simply have to capture and land. A
Portuguese who built a mill a few years
ago at the mouth of the Madeira river,
has i*ecently retired with a large for
tune, although he had employed only
the rudest machinery and unskilled
workmen. The cedar logs floating down
supplied him in five months in every
year with sufficient timber for the en
tire year’s work.
The work of the Swiss earthquake
commission will be watched with much
interest just now on account of the
great number of earthquakes, some very
destructive, that have disturbed differ
ent parts of the earth within the last few
months. The commission have dis
tricted Switzerland for the purposes of
observation, and each district has a
chief observer assigned to it, whose busi
ness it is to make the inhabitants serve
as his assistants by disti’ibuting among
them a pamphlet describing the phe
nomena of earthquakes and liie best
means of observing them, and blank
forms contaiixing a series of questions,
carefully prepared and intended to form
a skeleton history ol every earthquake
that is observed. Instruments for mea
suring the foi’ce, direction, duration and
so on, of all earthquake shocks, are to
be placed in the hands of skilled ob
servers at certain stations.
The bells of St. Mark’s church, Phila
delphia, were silenced by an injunction
obtained by annoyed neighbors, and the
couxt of appeals sustained the oi*der.
The result of that case has led to move
ments against church bells elsewhere.
In St. Louis a chime in the Congrega
tional Church of the Pilgrims has been
attacked by two physicians living close
by. These bells are stnick every quarter
of an hour, the number of strokes num
bering 1,116 a day, besides the tune
playing on Sundays and prayer-meeting
nights. The two physicians say, in ap
plying for an injunction, that the noise
is destructive of comfort and dangeroixs
to health. The church officers reply
that the chime is a fine one, and that the
complainants would not object if they
wore uot infidels, to whom any Chris
tian 3ound would be unpleasant.
Probably in no city on the globe are
there furnished such opportunities fcr
Christian worship as in the great me
tropolis of the world, London. Many
of the continental cities have but few
churches, and it is said that in 1871 that
of 23,400 funerals in the city of Berlin,
20,000 of them had no religious services
whatever, either at homes, churches or
at the grave. From “ Mackson’s Guide
to the Churches of London and its
Suburbs” for 1880, we learn that time
are 872 churches of the “Establishment”
in the city of London within a radius of
twelve miles. Of these 245 were open
for daily service; 270 were entirely free
churches; at 409 there was a weekly
celebration of the holy communion,
daily celebration in forty-three churches:
surpliced choir in 375 churches; a paid
choir in less than one-fourth; voluntary
choir in 388, and 123 churches were al
ways open for private prayer. It will
be noted that this guide only alludes to
church of England parish churches.
The aggregate of other houses of wor
ship must he very large.
That abdicatibh is the only remedy in
Russia is the moral which the Pall Mall
Gazette draws from the recent explosion
in the Winter palace. It contends that
the czar is to the desperadoes, nis mur
derous subjects, the representative and
incarnation of an intolerably evil system
of government. No matter how wrong
they may be, that is what he does stand
for, and they believe that the only way
to strike at it is to strike at him. To
preach the goodness of the czar to them
is therefore futile; and equally futile
will it be for him to rely on the con
sciousness that lie is a good and not a
bad sovereign It is for him to choose
whether he will or will not remain at
his post; but it seems scarcely doubtful
that if he doe3 remain these attempts on
his life will continue; and it is far too
bold an expectation that, though they
do continue, he will still and always es
cape them. The dilemma is inexorable.
The czar is threatened with destruction
as a man, and the threat will never
cease unless artd until he consents by his
own act to destroy himself as a ruler.
An inscription in an old cemetery at
Upper Sandusky, Ohio, is neatly and
plainly cut in the marble slab, as fol
lows: “ Christiana, wife of John Haag.
Died. February 31, 1869.” How such a
blunder ever got into the copy, or how
even the stone-cutter could iet it go on,
is a mystery.
What is the difference between
smashing a window and smashing an
arm? In the first instance you go
through the pane, while in the second
the pain goes through you.—Philadel
phia Item.
NUMBER 44.
The Seven Stages,
Only a liaby,
Kissed and caressed,
Gently held to a mother’s breast.
Only a child,
Toddling alone,
Brightening now its happy home.
Only a boy,
Trudging to school,
Governed now by sterner rule.
Only a yonth,
Living in dreams,
Full oi promise lile now seems.
Only a man,
Battling with lile,
Shared in now by loving wile.
Only a lather,
Burdened with care,
Silver threads in dark-brown bail-.
Only a graybeard,
Toddling again,
Growing old and full ol pain.
Only a mound,
O’ergrown with gi-ass,
Dreams unrealized—rest at last.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
The man who dines otf pig’s feet is re*
duced to extremities.
Dead men —Those who try to do busi
ness without advertising Modern Argo.
The directors of the Philadelphia
Academy of Music have opened a free
school for the training of opera singers.
Ixxtsof men will waste a dollar’s worth
of time beating a salesman down live
cents on his price. — Steubenville Herald.
Wejieara good deal of sport about
finding out a woman’s age; but it is
even harder to find a man sage. — Boston
Transcript.
The Hon. John A. Cuthbert, of Mo
bile, Ala., is still practicing law in that
city, although ninety-one years old. lie
was an officer in the war of 1812, and
was elected to Congress from Georgia in
1819.
The startling discovery has been
made that there are 42,000 different
kinds of weeds in the United States, not
including, we suppose, widow’s weeds,
which, as this is leap year, are more
numerous than ever Waterloo Obser
ver.
In the eighteen years from 1860 to
1878 inclusive, the population of the
United States increased fifty percent.,
the imports and exports increased re
spectively twenty-eight and eighty-live
per cent., and the currency increased
130 per cent.
Mrs. Clark, of Indiana, was thought
less enough to present her husband with
a petition signed by herself and her
seven children praying for anew calico
dress. Mr. Clark thereupon threw the
petition under the table and his wife out
of the window, and now sh<- is a cripple
for life.
A. crimson rosebud into beauty breaking;
A baud outstretched to pluck it ere it lull;
An hour ot triumph, and u sad forsaking;
And then, a withered rose leal— that is all.
Chambers’ Journal•
An ancient tom-cat on the summer kitchen;
A boot-jack raised, a solemn caterwaul;
A moment’s silence, and a quick departure;
And then, a wasted boot-jack—that is all.
Words of Wisdom.
It is better to need relief than t
want heart to give it.
The secret of fashion is to surprise and
never to disappoint.
Truth is the foundation of all knowl
edge, and the cemeDt of all societies.
He that buys what he does not want,
will soon want what he cannot buy.
True happiness consists not in the
multitude of friends, but in iheir worth
and choice.
Everything that truly and naturally
belongs to a human career has its sacred
side.
Alexander being asked how he con
quered the world, replied: “By not
delaying.”
No man is so insignificant as to be
sure-liis example can do no hurt.
Youth will never live to age unless the
young keep themselves in breath with
exercise, and in heart witli joyfulness.
Our life is like Alpine countries,
where winter is found by the side of
summer, and where it is but a step from
a garden to a glacier.
Virtue is not to be considered in the
light of mere innocence, or abstaining
from harm; but as the exertion of our
faculties in doing good.
A Log Railroad.
A log tramway or railroad in use by
the Richardson Brothers at their mill,
south of Truckee, is a very ingenious
piece of machinery. Logs, ten inches
or a foot in diameter, are hewn round
and smooth and their ends are coupled
together by iron bands. These logs
laid side by side upon graded ground for
a distance of perhaps three miles, form
the track. Of course the road looks
quite like an ordinary railroad track,
except that logs are used instead of rails,
and the tires are at much greater inter
vals. The wheels of the engimhtnd cars
are concave on their outer surface, and
fit the curve of the logs. The power is
applied to a wheel in the middle of the
forward axle on the engine. The most
remarkable loads of logs are hauled
upon the cars, and the affair is a de
cided success. It is very cheap, its con
struction is simple, it is not easily
damaged, and its operation is ail that
could he desired. By means of this jo?
railroad the Richardson Brothers are
enabled to get their logs to the mill from
the forest, three miles distant, at a cost
-ar less than it is ordinari’y dune.—
Truckee, (Nev.) Republican.