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6t S. HOWARD.
VOLUME Y.
I" blossoms.
I v wild wind oi the spring
and a cloud tha 1 hangeth low *
a jatfh hie me to the brook,
where t he alders blow,
I p o irn to the brook,
p o wn where the alders blow,
, , he quivering shivering alders blow.
I gabies under the rocks,
1 pearls hiding in the sea,
But gold flung down in showers
from many a brown old tree.
I pown i Q the !,rook >
p o wn where the alders blow,
I (j, e quivering shivering alders blow.
J A blackbird’s rollicking trill,
A voice from over the sea,
A rustle in the bare hedge,
I A blot, a mystery,
I [y>wn o the beook,
pown where the alders blow,
|r retie quiverb /, shivering aiders blow.
1 xhe scent of a rose afar-,
I jDe breath of a lily rare,
All odors of flowers to be
II Stealing into the air,
Down by the brook,
powu where the alders blow,
If jure the quivering shivering alders blow.
| The step of a coming joy,
A flutter of ghosts that go,
And oh, to bide by the brook,
pown where the alders blow!
Down by the brcok,
Down where the alders blow,
Hare the quivering shivering alders blow.
j„i/y J. Bra'ldock, in Good Company.
lik ! Mil Editor Woo a Bride.
BY PAUL TREVELYAN.
I Eva Austin was a spoiled child; her
Barents' hearts had been wrung too pain-
Bloiiy by the death of her brothers in
Bariy life for them to resist in the slight-
H estdegree her wishes or her whims; and,
Hif she was not possessed of a consider
■ ible stock of common sense, there is no
H aowing to what an extend her follies
■ might not have extended. She had
H control of $2,000 per year, which, fora
I Madison avenue belle, was none too
Bjnch for her necessary expenditure
■upondress, jewelry and etceteras. She
■ns the recognized leader in her own
B circle of acquaintance, both as regarded
■ she, beau tv and audacity; in consc
ience Eva Austin had a host of admir-
Itrs, whose homage .she took good na
-1 nredly, but for any one of whom she
■ Udyet fai.cd to evince marked prefer-
Ittce. Of course, she flirted desperately
I with the more eligible gentlemen of her
I set, but her heart was whole, at least
I that there was of it, and it was with a
I feeling of incredulity that she read of
I the falling in love process.
On a balmy June evening, in 187—,
to was reclining upon an ottoman in
the palatial cabin of the steamer Drew,
ith a lady friend named Clara Hast
ags. They were en route to Saratoga
to spend a few weeks of the summer
*®son, and with their friends formed
tto large social parties.
Ihe conversation of the two young
•dies ran very much as such conversa
tonsdo—from the latest fashions to the
from the new novel to picking
hoics in the character of some lady
aomber of society, and to the discus
on of the peculiarities or merits of
[ some male acquaintance.
I declare he’s the most peculiar gen-
that ever came into our draw
ing-room, said Miss Hastings. “As
• figure, certainly, he has one; but it’s
lot fashionable, for his shoulders stick
dke two wings, and his coat —oh,
' l >. such a coat! it had two fearful
Ankles in the back at last Wednes-
> reception ; it was fully a size too
for him; his boots were not pol-
L e . • w hen he was waltzing with
; > Everdon, he trod upon her toes,
tears to her eyes, and then he
orped back on Charley Clayton’s heel
■ he was conducting me to a seat.
.' t in 10 whirled round excitedly, and,
li *i ared face, apologized to old
■nu a'is; the pulling of whose wheezy
■ •‘ amade the ‘stupid’ imagine that
gentleman was his victim. * We
him, in the midst of his confusion,
t u , * be unable to dance a polka
Mk •[ me en B a ?ed for. ‘Dear, me,
L sS , stings,'he stammered, ‘misfor
in _* to (, onie together this even
toii'f. ~ ~ IIO P e —’ then he paused as if
Jn j ln s some of his wandering senses,
% irately wound up by saying:
(, nt jou have an ice with met Miss
, 'Oh, dear, no!’ I replied,
l must deline, Mr. Banger,
, Pet < l u be cool enough ’ — l and col-
Cl-i r °guishly chimed in Charley
? ien P ool ' Banger glanced
toachV U Charl ®y* and ’ striding off,
mnself miserable in the alcove
iKouiie almanac.”
Pin...
Bun? !*?’. Go stop telling me about
"Hi' i * n . ter Posed impulsive Eva.
vivi.ti. )00r * s h bashfulness only too
w reca^s a most trying scene I
'impelled to become an actress in
fj- J hast summer. Such a dread-
° UP ' Dg to S et her of unfortunate
W j. sln a few minutes I never before
Pa was really awful, Clara.
j\’. y ? u hnow, owns several farms at
Point Ballston, and ap
hisa , eG * tor of the village paper
Derr' 1 The editor was one of those
biii,f US ’ str ung, but exceedingly
, Un g men, who have not the
Utev i SI Se lf-esteem and who, when
p,' t < j )se their little self-control, are
were >liy besiGe them selves. Well, we
aim - U , tlie hotel one afternoon
tliuf P l iad te^e Srapliea for Geo. Flint,
ovti 1 l e ioun * editor’s name, to come
Ah. '' * lHVea business talk with him.
; ,at pa invited Mr. Flint to dine
he c.i f afterward learned that
‘ y aued hard to be allowed to return
THE FOREST NEWS.
nLn'brn D a'r d ? eaten
owning the Q ui? t , ° rable - ‘“at
at our table* Uule party of seven
‘Eva’ao'ri WaS IDcrease d to eight,
tor of the F’ i‘‘ hiß d 8 Mr ' Flint. *edi-
The editor 6 8 F rag Muminator.'
mnf ma< * e an abrupt and
most ungraceful bow, blushing simul
should 8 h* and t hen ’ imaginin g that he
round tb av ® s^aken bands, lie rushed
l^A th A tab e Wlth his sunburnt palm
tended at the exact moment I had
commenced my plate of soup. He drew
his hand back as if it had been stung,
®£ he l^° k m the situation, and kept
getting redder and redder in the face.
Take a seat, Mr. Flint, shouted pa;
now make yourself just as much at
iomeas if you were at your own board.’
e young editor awkwardly got into
his chair, remarking tha the weather
was hotter, or something to that effect,
and when the waiter brought him a
P ate of soup, his hand actually trem
bled as he raised the spoon to sup it;
he reached for his bread and his fingers
grew stiff— really, Clara, they seemed
to have a fit, and when he took the
nrst mouthful, a crumb went the wrong
way, ana he coughed vehemently be
hind his napkin, which until that mo
ment lay neatly folded on the table in
stead of being spread across his knees.
buch a livid red as his face was then !
I nevei saw the like before. At first I
decided to enjoy myself at the poor fel
low s expense, but his suffering seemed
so great that I began to pity him. He
had a well-shaped head, and it was no
doubt as full of knowledge as the aver
age editor’s head is, but he could impart
none of it to us. His voice was thick
and quavering, and he, tremblingly, an
swered in reply to a question of mine,
that Eagle’s Crag was a quiet place, and
it raised plenty of sheep. I had to smile
at that, and then in his extremity he
added, ‘here’s a copy of my paper,’
pulling out a blurred and crumpled
sheet from his breast pocket. As he
reached it over the table to me he
clumsily upset a bottle of salad oil
which ran down all over .my amber
silk; then, in desperately attempting to
restore the bottle to its upright position,
his coat sleeve went into the butter and
he scooped up about half a pound of it;
he then drew his elbow back nervously
and knocked his glass of water into his
lap, the glass falling upon the floor an<
breaking, which caused him to jump
up so suddenly as to overturn a waiter
who was bringing in a dish of beef
gravy, which copiously annointed the
fallen domestic and the now thor
oughly horrified editor. He gave vent
tojiisagony of feeling in a loud, ‘Oh,
my,’ which immediately attracted the
attention of the 150 diners, some of
whom smiled very audibly, upon which
Flint rushed away recklessly into a
passage among the servants asking for
a washb>wl and looking as if lie
had just escaped from an earth
quake. I rose, with my amber
dress ruined, and retired. Pa soon
after came up, vowing energetically
that we would never allow another
editor to dine at our table, even if it
was James Gordon Bennett himself.
He also told me that a most ridiculous
story was going the rounds downstairs
that Flint wa3 an old rejected country
lover of mine, who had flung a crust
stand at me because of some fancied
slight and that he then rushed into the
servants’ apartments and attempted
suicide.
“ At the hop that evening I was quite
a heroine, and my friends persisted in
congratulating me on * Such a narrow
escape from that lunatic.’ Frank Keller,
the young lawyer, told me he had seen
the little episode; he knew Flint well,
and he was a most sensible young fellow
but extremely bashful, and in Flint’s
name begged my pardon, which I
granted, of course,and which Keller con
veyed next day, like a Good Samaritan,
to Eagle’s Crag.”
At this moment dainty Mr. Keller
came strolling down the steamer’s saloon
and was heartily received by the young
ladies.
“ Mr. Keller,” said Eva, do you re
collect that scene at the Spa in which I
took rather a pi'ominent part?”
“Most vividly,” said Keller, laugh
ing; “ but I’m afraid you ladies make
no allowance for a man’s imperfections
and weaknesses, and persist in looking
solely at them, while his noble traits of
character are ignored. Why, poor
Flint, the hero of the salad oil tragedy,
is one of the most intelligent, shrewd
and persevering young men in the State.
He is neither vain or stupid, and his
principal defect is his excessive bashful
ness. Igoon a fishing excursion with
him every summer and have his letter
in • y pocket now arranging for a three
and j s’ excursion near Glen lake, and,
’adies, if you wish to be just, if not
generous, you should pay our camp a
flying visit and see the bright side of the
country editor. Banger, who I know
you affect to despise, is one of the party,
but as Mr. Clayton will likewise be
present I am sure, Miss Austin, you will
feel a slight inducement to come.”
“ Not the slightest,” replied Miss Aus
tin, “ I will go solely from a sense of
duty, to see if your judgment in regard
to the editor is a correct one.”
“ Won’t you come, too, Miss Hast
ings?”
“ Really,” replied she. “ I feel like de
clining to spend a whole day in the com
pany of two such barbarians as Banger
and the luckless editor.”
“That remark. Miss Hastings, is
heartless, and bears out what I said a
few moments ago; because two gentle
men are unfortunate in not having their
paths strewn with roses in their youth,
and in not being able to bene, t by the
instructions of the dancing master and
private tutor, and whose generous na
JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, MAY 7, 1880.
tures shrink from aping the hollow
civilities, fopperies and eccentricities, to
use no harsher terms, you must forsooth
term them barbarians.”
. Yes,” replied Miss Hastings, sarcas
tically, “ barbarous enough they are.
There is not one excusable point about
them except that they are men.”
CHAPTER 11.
About a month afterward the young
ladies with their male friends found
themselves one lovely morning upon
the shore of Glen lake, which sits like a
beautiful gem in the heart of the ver
dure-clad hills. Two fishing boats bore
them to a lovely little isle at the foot of
the lake, and here for the first time did
the editor relax sufficiently from the
claims of the oar to respond to the re
marks of his lady friends. Miss Hast
ings seemed to get on much better with
him than Miss Austin, and he soon be
gan to give to the former a vivid de
scription of an autumnal storm, which
he had encountered upon the lake. With
much elegance of diction, grace of man
ner and earnestness did he proceed with
his narration, and gradually all the
other members of the party became ab
sorbed in his conversation. Miss Austin
was gazing intently into his handsome
face. So intent was this look that young
Keller happened to notice it, and as he
watched her he found himself asking if
this courtly, lovely and talented New
\ork belle had actually found some
thing to admire in the young editor, or
was her heart as true to him (Keller) as
he fondly believed it must be. These
questions were destined to be answered
in a very convincing manner before
nightfall. The party had fished, strolled
over the fertile isle and picked flowers,
and were leisurely preparing to re-em
bark for the mainland, when Mr. Flint
conveyed the unwelcome intehigence
that a heavy thunder-storm, which had
been brewing during the last half hour,
was now advancing much more rapidly
than he had expected—was, in fact,
likely to burst upon them in a short
time.
“ And you never told us before,” said
Miss Austin, half reproachfully.
“If I dared explain,” promptly re
plied the editor of the Illuminator, “ I
might give a very satisfactory reason
why I didn’t.”
“Do tell us,” said Miss Hastings.
But Mr. Flint found that a crisis had
arrived, not only in his history but in
the state of the weather, and he hastily,
with his male companion’s aid, got the
boats ready for the return trip. He had
intended all along to secure Miss Aus
tin’s passage in his own boat, but as he
was about to ask her to occupy the
stern sheets, Mr. Keller interposed, say
ing: “ We’ve no time to lose, Miss
Austin;” hurried her into his boat, and
away the party went.
The wind had risen, and the little
chopping waves began to throw the
spray over the sides of the boats.
“Row hard, friends,” shouted Flint
to Keller and his companion at the
oars; “ because if we do not round yon
der point before the coming squall
breaks upon us, our safety is endan
gered.”
The two skiffs now fairly spun through
the troubled waters; but just as Flint
was about to change the course of his
boat, so as to round the point, one of his
oars broke, and the craft now lost half
her headway under the impulse of but
one pair of oars.
“Shall I stand by you?” shouted
Keller, as his boat crossed the wake of
Flint’s.
“No,” replied Flint; “your time is
too precious; we have but to persevere
now, and will try to get round the point
before the storm commences.”
Soon the overhanging rocks of the
pi-ecipitous point were left in the back
ground by Keller s boat, and it was in
comparative safety; not till then did
he note the pale and anxious face of
Miss Austin.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Austin,”
said he, soothingly; “ I shall land you
all safe in another ten minutes.”
“It is not of my own safety I am
thinking, so much as that of those in
the other boat,” she replied. “ See, it is
out of sight. Do let us get out on these
rocks and then go back to their help,
Mr. Keiler?”
Mr. Keller, however, knew that brave
Eva’s wish was not echoed by any other
lady in the boat, and so he kept on to
the open beach. Just as the boat’s keel
grated on the stones the storm burst in
all it’s fury; heavy banks of clouds
seemed to settle upon the black cliffs of
the Point, and the wind roared with
startling fury. The ladies in Keller’s
boat were hastily conducted to the shel
ter of an old fish shanty, but Miss Aus
tin seemed careless whether she was
wet or dry.
“Oh, save them, Mr. Keller,” she
cried. “ I know you are brave and
hnmane; do try, for life is precious.”
“ For your saxe, Miss Austin—Eva”—
he passionately responded, “I will risk
even my life itself—”
“ Well, then,” replied she, quite
haughtily, “ you need not delay to say
more.”
Keller sprang to the small boat lying
on the beach, but the oombined efforts
of himself and friend could not launch
it against the violence of the waves.
Eva stood statue-like upon the sands,
straining her eyes toward the point, the
rain pelting down upon her beautiful
face, and the gale tossing her golden
hair back from under her gypsy hat.
But, alas! the missing boat came not,
and she involuntarily shuddered.
“ Come into the shelter,” urged one
of the ladies in the shed; but Miss Aus
tin heard her not. At that instant she
saw far out. floating at the sumrn't of a
huge wave, a gentleman’s hat, and with
u shriek she fell fainting upon the
FOR THE PEOPLE
strand. “Drowned, drowned, and lost
to me,” were the words she muttered,
on regaining consciousnes; but mean
while some farmers on the opposite side
of the point, seeing the perilous position
in which Flint’s boat was, had gallantly
started to the rescue, and in a short
time brought the hatless editor and his
drenched companion safe to shore, but
the intervening cliffs prevented Keller’s
party from knowing this, and they gave
themselves up to gloomy despair, as the
luckless editor’s hat bobbed up and
down on the waves. Keller, in a des
perate effort to launch his boat and seek
Flint, had stove her in on the rocks,
and was now walking about, wring
ing his hands in anguish, when a
cheery voice from tliejhill above shouted :
“ We’re dripping wet. but all safe.” It
was Flint’s. “ .hank God!” f Tvently
ejaculated Miss Austin, her color going
and coming, as if she were about to
have a second fainting fit. When Flint
clambered down to them he tried to as
sume a jocular tone as he greeted Miss
Austin, but the look in her beautiful
eyes, as she raised them to his, revealed
to him that with his life, as he had
tossed about in danger of drowning, was
bound up that of fair Eva Austin’s. He
stammered and reddened as after a pause
she said, tenderly and reverently: “My
prayer was answered.” Keller did not
hear what she said, but the troubled
sad look on his handsome, manly face
showed that he divined the cause of
Miss Austin’s emotion. His greeting to
Flint was none the less warm, but there
was a deep aching void in his heart,
now. It was a silent party that returned
to Ballston Spa. Miss Austin did not
care to joke and laugh as of old, nor did
the editor speak to her except to offer
the shelter of his great coat to “ keep off
the dew,” and she most graciously ac
cepted it. Keller’s urgent legal business
took him away to New York next day,
and he left Eva with a cool “good-bye,”
which she knew covered up the throb
bings of a great love for her. Flint’s
delicate, bashful style of wooing—so dif
ferent to the ball-room audacity of blase
city men—charmed the fair girl, and she
allowed the happy day to be fixed be
fore even her -father knew of what was
going on. He stormed awhile and for
bid the editor to call on Eva again, but
when she coolly told him that being of
age, she would take Flint and bear pov
erty for the sake of the man she loved,
he relented, attended the wedding like a
good father should, and bought Flint
an interest in the Albany Daily Specula
tor. Mr. Flint and Mrs. Flint are now
settled happily, and even Keller has ad
mitted that with all her money and
beauty she could’t have made a better
match.
First Steps iu Civilizatiou.
Men’s first steps in civilization may be
traced almost directly in their efforts to
clothe themselves; and their first essays
in skilled labor are made in the adapta
tion of the materials which nature has
furnished them to use for dress. On the
banks of the White Nile are tribes who
content themselves with simple aprons
of leaves, or less; and Sir Samuel Baker
noticed that a great advance in general
civilization had taken place when, after
having spent several months among
peoples of that grade, he came into
Unyoro, where the people wore gar
ments fashioned out of the bark of a fig
tree, which they had to prepare by soak
ing and beating with a mallet. Thrift
seemed to follow naturally upon the ac
quisition of the taste for clothing, for the
tig trees have to be cultivated to secure
a sufficient supply. Accordingly we are
told, when a man takes a wile, he plants
a number of the trees in his garden, as a
provision for the wants of the family he
has in prospect. A grade above the
naked races are the Papuans, of New
Guinea, with their loin-arirdles of grass
or palm leaves; and above these are the
Maoris, of New Zealand, with their
cloaks of the leaves of an agave-like
plant laid upon each other like scales.
The South Sea islanders have in the
paper-mulberry a plant which serves the
same purpose to them as the fig tree to
the people of Unyoro, from the bark of
which they prepare the tapa by soaking
and beating. They illustrate another
development of industry in the adorn
ment of their clothes, for which they
have invented an endless number of de
signs, many of them of considerable
merit. —Popular Science Monthly.
A meri can Newspaprs.
George Augustus Sala, the pleasant
tongued correspondent of the London
Telegraph , now on the Pacific slope
grows enthusiastic over the newspapers
of the United States, and puts his ad
miration into enduring type, thus:
“ I admire toe newspapers of the United
States for the wonderful diversity of
their intelligence, and for the versatile
ingenuity with which the items of that
intelligence are strung together. Since
my arrival in this country I have not
set eyes upon a single English daily
newspaper; yet I venture to think that,
thanks to the wonderfully developed
system of telegraphic communication oi
which the conductors of the newspapers
are enabled to avail themselves, and the
equally wonderful skill displayed by the
gentlemen who attend to the scissors
and paste department, I am not so very
far behind hand touching what has oc
curred in my native land, and on the
continent of Europe, since I left Queens
town in the middle of November last.
The astonishingly copious salmagundi
of odds and ends served up every day in
the columns of the American papers
make3 them the most diverting reading
in the world. They are as entertaining
as the Paris Figaro and Gaulois , with
out the indecency of the boulevard
papers,”
FOB THE FAIR SEX.
Health ana Press.
Dr. Richardson delivered a lecture in
London on “ Health and Dress.” The
object of the lecture was to show what
reforms were most required in order that
dress might minister to health. What
was wanted in the reform of dress was
good fashion for both sexes and for
every-day life in social intercourse.
Faulty as the male attire might be in
artistic points of view, it was, in rela
tion to health, perfection as compared
with the dress worn by women. It kept
all parts of the body equally warm; it
was carried by the shoulders; it allowed
free movement of the limbs, and it pro
vided for ready change to meet the
vicissitudes of season. The reform he
suggested in the dress of women was
that it should in all practical details
have the same advantages, and should
be, in fact, the same, with the exception
of the exterior robe or gown. The long
dress for women, which even trespassed
slightly on the ground, was the most
becoming for them. This should play
the same part as the outer coat of the
man, the rest of the dress being the
same, except that it might be made of
rather lighter materials. The great
surgeon Cline, when once consulted by
an anxious mother what she should do to
prevent a girl from becoming deform
ed, answered: “Let her have no stays,
and let her run about like the boys.”
He would indorse this wise rule, and
would add: “Let the mothers of Eng
land clothe the girls precisely as they
clothe the boys, permitting knickerbock
ers if they like, and let them add the
one distinguishing mark of a light, loose,
flowing gown, and the girls will grow
into womanhood as vigorous, as healthy
and as well formed in body as their
companions of the sterner sex.” In the
next part of the lecture the quality of
clothing was considered, and the amount
at various seasons. The necessity of
special care in adapting clothing to sea
sons was illustrated from the physiolog
ical rule first discovered by the late Mr
Milner, that the body, independently of
any will of its own, underwent two
pounds of waste and of increase of
weight, the waste commencing toward
the close of September and the increase
in the first weeks of April. Warm cloth
ing ought to begin in September or early
in October, and ought not to be left off
until the close of April. For underdo* h
ing next the skin he strongly recom
mended silk, and wifli that light, fleecy
flannel: Thick heavy flannel, and every
material that absorbed and held the
watery excretions from the skin, were
at all times bad. Heavy clothes were
bad, and had i\ ally no necessary connec
tion with warmth. For outer garments
in cold weather, those that were light
and fleecy were best, and fui*s were ex
cellent. He criticised severely the per
manent waterproof which shuts up the
rain that distills from the body at the
same time that it keeps out the rain
which falls from the clouds—a distinc
tion with a difference not in favor of the
wearer of the permanent waterproof.
Then he dwelt on the color of dress,
contending that the Lancet was quite
right in stating that white color was the
best even in cold weather, while it was
admittedly the best in the summer sea
son. The objection to white was, of
course, the readiness with which it
showed the dirt, an objection which was
strictly an advantage in a health point
of view, but which would be met prac
tically by modifying the color to gray.
For all ordinary occasion light gray
ought to take the place of black for outer
coverings of the body. Black was, in
act, of all colors the very worst, and
those poor ladies who thought it neces
sary after bereavement to immerse them
selves for months in crape were indeed
to be pitied. After the suttee, it was al
most the saddest of miseries inflicted by
society on the already miserable.
Wash Dresses.
Very picturesque dresses are made of
the gay cotton goods now so fashionably
worn throughout the summer. For in
stance, the rouge Adrianople or Turkey
red calicoes are made up in short suits,
partly of plain red and partly with
figures of yellow, black and pale blue,
in palm leaves generally, and sometimes
in stripes. The so’dd red calico is used
for a kilted round skii-t for bordering
the striped overskirt. The waist of the
figured calico is a double-breasted
basque, easily fitted, with but one dart
in each front. The collar laps quite
high, and is covered with plain red
calico; the pockets and cuffs are square.,
and the border is wider in the front and
sloped narrower toward the sides, giv
ing the effect of a cut-away coat and
vest. Two rows of pearl enameled but
tons are on the front. The suit costs $lB.
Scotch ginghams are especially popu
lar in the clear blue shades that wash
so well, and will be much used in com
binations of striped blue and white
with plain light blue. Thus the plain
round short skirt merely faced or
hemmed is striped blue and white,
while the overskirt with retrousse
shirred front and bouffant back is of
tlieTplain blue. The pretty basque is
then made of the striped goods, single
breasted, with but one dart each side,
and cut off quite short below the waist
line; they are then finished out to a
stylish length by a plaited ruffle six
inches wide, made parallel with the sel
vedge, so that the stripes will run
around the figure. This ruffle is kilt
plaited in front and on the side, but in
the back, just below the middle back
forms, it is laid in three double box
plaits. This arrangement of the ruffle
is simple, but adds greatly to the effect.
The neck and wrists have also plaited
frills, with the stripes cut along the
selvedge. Such suits are sl4. Some
cambric dresses for gay young girls have
dogs’ or horses’ heads in blue or brown
over white grounds, and are trimmed
with cambric Hamburg work, in which
the prevailing color is used in the scal
lops. Seersucker ginghams are as popu
lar as ever, and are trimmed with open
patterns of white Hamburg embroidery.
Very pretty blue cambrics, or else
lavender or gray grounds, are strewn
with white polka dots, and are trimmed
with narrow gathered ruffles edged
with Russian braid edging or with tor
chon. Tucked yokes are on some of
these dresses, and a band edged with
torchon lace borders the yoke, while be
low the yoke the waist forms a side
plaited basque to be worn with a belt.
Price $ 18. Bands of plain blue gingham
border th<? ruffles of striped blue and
white cambric dresses. There are also
cambric wrappers with white stripes 6r
dots on blue or gray grounds, made
with a yoke in the back, from which the
fullness hangs in a Watteau plait; a
deep collar, square cuffs and square
pockets, with a Spanish flounce at the
foot, complete these neat morning
gowns. They cost without lace or
embroidery, and $9 with lace.—Har
per's Bazar.
New Styles In Parasols.
A distinguished feature of parasols is
the reduction in the number of the ribs
—twelve now being used in place of six
teen, as last year. The ribs are red, and
the lining, which is either of plain or
changeable colored si ks, is placed be
tween the ribs and cover. Much change
able colored silk will also be used in the
covers. One of the prettiest of these is
called “ sunset ” shade. The covers are
of bright rich hues to match the new
materials in dress goods.
The borders are sewed on or woven
into the goods. In place of an elastic for
securing the parasol when closed, an
ivory ring is provided. A ball tassel
serves as an ornament. The parasols
are trimmed with rich chenille fringes
or with cashmere laces, in which colors
to match the cashmere shawls are used.
The sticks are mostly of carved natural
woods, but some very rustic ones are
unvarnished and have beetles or flies
resting on them. Owls’ head are a de
sign for carved handles made of black
or gray Siamese horn. Novel handles
are of metal or China, in Japanese de
signs. Many of these parasols have a
ribbon rosette tied to the handle and
another to match at the top of the para
sol
Sunfish Shooting.
These fish often run to a great size,
one having been killed which was esti
mated to weigh over a ton. The natives
in A chill are accustomed to fish in boats
made of tarred canvas, called “ cor
rachs” (evidently congeners of the cora
cles used on the river Dee in Wales),
which are very buoyant on the water.
On a warm day, and when the sea is
smooth, the sunfish are to be seen sail
ing slowly through the water, with
their great dorsal fin projecting from
the surface. When struck with a bul
let just at the butt of the fin, ilie capers
of this huge fish are truly wonderful.
At one moment he will burst up from
the water; at another he will spring
bodily out, and the report the fish makes
when striking the water is tremendous.
Several shots are required to kill the
sunfish, and these are easily obtained,
since the fish usually remains at the sur
face if the first shot at the joint between
the fin and backbone has been success
ful. When dead, the fish is held up by
a gaff, while a rope is fastened to one of
the tins, and then it is towed to shore.
Considering the size of the fish, vers
little oil is obtained from the liver, the
most that has been obtained being about
four gallons.
The flesh is white and of good flavor,
and when harpooned at sea is con
sidered a great delicacy by sailors.
The oil is used for sprains, bruises and
rheumatism. The sunfish is an odd
looking creature, the great dorsal fin
being nearly at the end of the body,
which terminates in a fringe-like tail.
Its eye is another curious point. It
rests on a sac filled with a gelatinous
fluid, and when the fish is alarmed the
eye sinks in so as to become invisible.
It swims along with its fin above water,
occasionally showing hard, rough, gray
ish-brown skin. Off the Irish coast it
never attains a very large size; but in
the tropics it has been found six feet
long.
A Monkey Polls a ToDih.
We invite the attention of Mr. Darwin
to the following very singular anecdote
regarding the monkey “ Dot,” belonging
to James Wardlaw, of this town, as so
peculiar an illustration of the ingenuity
of the monkey has rarely, if ever, been
lecorded : The monkey was brought to
Gait from Deccan, India, in the fall of
1878, by Mr. Wardlaw, who had been
residing in Hyderabad for several years.
It fairly eclipsed itself on Sunday before
last. The little creature had been suf
fering from toothache for several days,
and evidently sufferec severely. On
Sunday the pain was more than ordi
narily severe, and the monkey, like its
human type, resolved at last to undergo
a dental operation. But the dentist,
strange to say, was itself. “ Dot ”
found a string, fastened it around the
aching tooth, seized the end of the string
with its fore feet, drew up one of its
hind legs between its fore feet and gave
a sudden shove which jerked the tooth
out and sent it flying half way across
the room. This having been accom
plished, the monkey was at ease and re
sumed its natural cheerfulness and amia
bility.—Qa.lt (Ont.) Reformer.
It is the season for neighbors to notify
each other that if those bens are not
thut up thcyTl get shot,
PRICE—S 1.50 PER ANNUM.
NUMBER 48.
The Old Home.
I have gone—Tcannot always go, you know;
Best 'tis so—
Home across the distant ridges of the years,
With my tears;
And the old house, standing still on the old
ground,
There I found.
In the parlor, in my fancy, I could trace
Father’s face;
And my mother, with her old accustomed air,
Sitting there;
While beside them brothers, sisters, true and
good,
Silent stool.
Through the stillness swam the song of sum
mer bird,
And there stirred
On the wall the leaf-flecked sunshine; and its
glow
Faded slow;
But from all the loving lips I watched around -
Not a sound.
Of the breaths that stirred the draperies to
and fro
Long ago;
Of the eyes that through the casement used to
peep
Out of sleep;
Of the feet that in these chambers used to run—
Now are none.
Of the sunshine pouting downward from the
sky,
Blue and high;
01 the leafage and the ancient garden plot,
Brown and hot;
Of the stregpxlet, and the shingle, and the
tide—
These abide.
But beyond its azure vaulting overhead
Are my dead;
Though their graves were dug apart in many
lands,
Joining hands,
They have gathered and are waiting till I
come.
That is home!
— Presbyteriun.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Whitewashes —Good laundresses.
Sportsmen don’t object to banging
hare.
In 300 years five Sundays in February
can only occur nine times.
The term Nihilist is said to have
originated with Tourguenieff, the
novelist.
Twenty-five thousand quails are being
imported lrom England to be set at
liberty in Pennsylvania.
Mr. Comstock, who discovered the
Nevada mine of wonde ful wealth, died
in privation in the wilds of Montana.
Parasols, in their present form
though differently constructed, were
used by the ancient Egyptians. The
idea was borrowed from the East.
Benjamin Franklin was the youngest
son and the fifteenth child of a family,
of seventeen children. He was born in
Boston, January 17, 1700. His father
emigrated to America in 1682
The New York Herald and Telegram,
both owned by James Gordon Bennett,
recently made a contract for white
paper which will cost them nearly
SI,OOO a day more than they paid last
year.
Mrs. Grossman, of Berlin, Canada, is
twenty-six years old, and has been mar
ried seven years. But she is the mother
of twelve children, which might be ap
propriatly described as two solitaires,
two sets of twins, and two sets of trip
lets.
There are thirty-four persons in the
United Kingdom who are owners of
over 100,000 acres each. The Duke of
Buccleugh owns 459,260; Breadalbade,
372,279; Fife, 257,652; J. Matheson,
424,560; Argyle, 175,114, and Athole,
194,640.
What subtle power in nature has
made the snowflake so different from
the raindrop, yet substantially the same ?
Science easily solves that question. It
is magnetism, that almost unknown
agent, so wonderful in its operations,
and whose mysteries are being daily re
vealed to us.
The little three-year old child of Mr
William Murray was sitting on a stile,
in Pearson county, N C., feedingcliick
ens when a large eagle swooped down
at the chickens, scattering them in all
directions. As the child was moving
off the eagle made a second swoop,
catching the child in its talons. With
its prey it rose in the air, but the child
was too heavy, and the eagle managed
to flutter a short distance to the limb of
a decayed oak. Its talons were so en
tangled in the clothing of the child that
it could not get loose, and the weight
soon made it conre down to the ground.
The frightened father of the child came
up and killed the eagle. The child,
save some deep scratches, was unin
jured.
Words of Wisdom.
The greater a man is, the less he
necessarily thinks of himself; for his
knowledge enlarges with his attain
ments.
The human soul is hospitable, and
will entertain conflicting sentiments
and contradictory opinions with much
impartiality.
Night brings out stars, as sorrow
shows us truth. We never see the stars
till we can see little or naught else, and
so it is with truth.
Truthfulness is a corner-stone in char
acter; and if it be not firmly ltrid in
youth, there will ever after be a weak
spot in the foundation.
Liberty will not descend to a people
a people must raise themselves to lib
erty ; it is a blessing that must be earned
before it can be enjoyed.
The master of a magnificent and splen
didly furnished mansion should take
care that he be not the one thing iittle
am'dfct everything else that is great.