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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.