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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.