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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
w.*'. nltWHitsJ Editor* and Proprietors.,
NEWS OF THE WEEK.
EAST.
Reports from the trades of New York
and Brooklyn show three times as many men
out of employment as at the same time last
year, and the suspension of building on ac
count of cold weather will soon add largely to
the number.
The accidental breaking of the driv
ing-wheel at Clark’s thread works, Newark, N.
J., caused a loss of twenty thousand dollars,
and throws three hundred of the one thousand
eperstivos—mostly females—out of employ
sneni for six weeks.
WEST.
The following is an extract from an
•ffiaial dispatch of Col. Miles. It refers to
the girls whose rescue from the Indians was
announced some time ago: During the fight
two white girls were recap* ured from the In
dians. It appears they are sisters, Adelaide
and Julia German, aged five and seven years
respectively, and were captured in Kansas on
(the route from Georgia. To the colonel they
state that their father, mother, brother, and
one sister, were murdered, and that they and
two other sisters were kept prisoners. They
have no positive knowledge of their where
abouts. Tneir story of woe and suffering is
simply too horrible to relate. They were al
most naked and nearly starved. They * dr e
now under the charge of Surgeon Waters, and
receive every care and attention. Wh*tn strong
enough to endure the journey, they will be
forwarded to Leavenworth. I most earnestly
recommend that an amp’ <e annual provision be
made for these child ren by the government
out of the annuity expropriation for the bene
fit of the Cheyen ne Indianß>
SOUTH.
Reports from the Rio Grande state
tl’.at the thieving Mexicans continue their
1 Aids over the American side.
E. B. Wentworth, a postoffice clerk in
Montgomery, has been arrested for robbing
mails. Stolen money was found npon him
Southwestern Georgia is overrun by
agents seeking negro laborers, to work in the
.cot Son fields of Arkansas and other sections.
Austin Hill and Cornelius Williams
(colored), on trial at Jackson, North Carolina,
for the murder of William Presson at WeidoD,'
ha> been found guilty and sentenced to be
*1 tf.rged.
The livery stable of James Menchen,
Memphis, Tenn., was set on fire last week and
consumed. Twenty-three horses perished in
tho flames. Loss, four thousand dollars ; no
insurance.
T. T. Brooks, convicted at Richmond,
Va., last week, of embezzlement and making
false entries while president of the Merchants*’
national-bank of Petersburg, has been sen
tenced to five years in the Albany peniten
tiary. His counsel has gone to Washington'
to make application for executive clemency,
A fire bioke ont in the stock sta.bieß
of Callaway, at Eminence, Ky., last k
which destroyed twenty-live thousand drJ jlarB ’
worth of property, including '
horses several mules and all ' tho
and other contents of the stab’, 6 . A the
horses was the fine tboro agbbred
Gold Chief valued at fi- <e thou Band do „
and owned by and Brainard gm
of Chicago, and t' j 6 thoroaghbred etallion
Hambletonian va]r ed at tbree thoUßand
dollars.
POREHCN.
A frightful mountain disaster is re
ported on the groat St. Bernard. Eleven per
sons were buried in the snow,>nd it is sup
posed that all have perished.
France and Russia will in future take
annually from the population for the army
150,000 more men than hitherto, and tho Co
logne Gazette says this will compel Germany
to make a corresponding increase.
The King Kalako ja, of Hiawaii, is on
his way to this coun*„ ry by the steamer Beni
cto. He appointed Prince Delewhowkee re
gent during his absence in the United States.
He has also been proclaimed successor to the
throne. * ‘
The Spanish government has express
ed a willingness to pay the indemnity in the
' ir g iuiQ s case to the United States’ govern
ernmeut, on the same basis as that with whioh
rest iiritian was satisfied for the outrage
perp etrated on her subjects.
The captain, officers and crew, four
white men and several native sailors of the
cutter Lapwing, on a voyage to Nonmea from
New Caledonia, stopped at Santa Cruz island
for provisions. The savages massaored all
except one native sailor, and destroyed the
cutter.
As the American ship Nanoy Pendle
ton, Capt. Pendleton, was leaving the harbor
of Cardiff on the 25th, a disturbance broke 4
oni on board. A steam tug passing heard the
repcrt of firearms, and one of the ship’s crew
shouted that a man was shot. A fight was
going on with axes, and several men were
shockingly murdered. The ship proceeded to
IBe N and no further particulars could be ob
tained.
A Havana letter of the 21st says : The
financial situation of this island is becoming
more hopelessly involved. Government is
owing everybody, and is unable to pay even
the smallest debts. Where the money goes to
that is collected from taxes, duties, postage,
et o-. is a mystery. It disappears in an almost
unaccountable manner. The postoffice de
partment charges twelve and one-half cents
(silver) for each letter from the United States,
and twenty-five cents (silver) for a letter from
Europe, and it is supposed to pay the steamer
° r cringing the mails two cents per letter,
.t for the last year not one has received a
•ingle cent. About one million dollars only
of the five per cent, tax has been paid, while
thirty millions at least ought to have been
realized by this tune. Every Spanish mail
steamer arriving here brings out hungry
hordes of government officials, all appointed
to some post or other, either relieving old
officials, or, if their influence is sufficient in
Madrid to keep them in their positions, new
offices are created purposely, in order that
Cuba may have the honor of con!Abating to
the welfare and prosperity of the sons of
Spain. The amount of money paid for the
passages of those officials going and returning
is enormous, and the Spanish mail line is
coining money.
MISCELLANEOUS.
A general order has been promulgated
from the war department announcing that re
cruiting is resumed under certain restrictions-
The secretary of state has invested
two hundred thousand dollars aocrued interest
on the Geneva award fund in United States’
bonds.
In reply to an application from the
citizens of Tuscumbia for rations for those
rendered destitute by Sunday’s tornado, the
president regrets that he is unable to comply,
on account of the limited appropriations for
subsistence for the army.
The house committee on appropria
tions will reduce the appropriations for the
ludian service 8250,000 from that of last year.
This reduction is justified by the expiration of
several Indian treaties. Some of the com
mittee think the appropriation fcr the army 1
should also b^teduced.
The secretary of the treasury has not
yet tendered to aDy one the position of super
vising architect. The names of several pier
sous residing in Chicago, Philadelphia and'
New York Lave been mentioned. Secretary
Bristow says it is his desire to nave a personal
interview with the applicants before making
the appointment.
The report of the postmaster-general
is completed. The revenues for the year end
ing Jane 30, 1874. were 82d.E9fi.5e8, and the
expenditures §32,126,414. The estimated ex
penditares for the year ending June 30, 1875,
are §36,964,034, and total estimated revenue,
§29,148,156, leaving a deficiency to be ’appro
priated out of the genera] treasury of $7,815,-
875. These estimates do no* include appro
priation* for steamship service, and stamps,
amounting to §2,098,500.
The Pacific Mail steamship company
has begun an action against the Union Pacific
railroad company for §IOO,OOO damages for
alleged breach of contract. An order has been
issued for the defendants to show cause why
they should not furnish a bill of particulars.
The companies, it is alleged, agreed bn the
same freight charges, that the Union Pacific
should guarantee the Pacific Mail a certain
amount of freight monthly, aud that the
Union Pacific failed to fulfil its part of the
contract; hence the suit.
'lt appears from the market review
of the Courier-Journal that 190,558 hogs have
been marketed at Louisville daring the month
just closed, and 175,748 packed, against 105,-
000 in November of last year. The market
value of the hogs packed during the month
was about $3,500,000. The latest returns from
the principal packing centres of the west show
that a larger business has been done in Louis
ville than in any other city, except Chicago,
although last Beason Louisville was ranked by
five other points.
, LONDON THE GREAT.
The Present anct Future of the Great
Metropolis.
In few cities are there more than half
a dozen railway stations. In London
there are at least 150. Some of the
railways never pass beyond the limits,
and of one, the Tottenham and Hamp
stead, Punch says; ** No one ever trav
els by, as no one knows where it begins
or where it ends.” The Metropolitan
and other intramural railways run trains
every three or five minutes, and convey
from twenty to fifty millions of passen
gers annually. Clapham is the great
southwestern junction, and through it
700 trains pass every day. Its plat
forms are so numerous, and its under
ground passages and overground bridges
so perplexing, that to find the right
train is one of those things “that no
fellow can understand.” Asa proof of
the expansive nature of London traffic,
it was supposed that, when the Metro
politan railway was opened, all the city
to Paddington omnibuses would be run
off the ground ; bat, although it carried
forty-three millions of passengers last
year, it has been found necessary to in
crease the number of omnibuses on the
southern route, and they yield one per
cent, more revenue than before the
opening of the railway.
Besides the railways, are some
fourteen or fifteen thoussoiu tram-e ;rs,
omnibuses and cabs traversing the
streets; there are lines of omnibuses
known only to the inhabitants of their
own localities—such as those across the
Isle of Dogs, from Poplar to Mil wall ;
from London aiohg Tooley
street to Dockhead, etc. The London
omnibus company have 563 omnibuses,
which carry fifty millions of passengers
annually.
It is more dangerous to Walk the
streets of London than to travel by rail
way or cross the Atlantic. Last year
125 persons were killed, and 2,513 in
jured by vehicles in the streets. Sup
posing every individual man, woman
and child made one journey on foot in
London per diem, which is considerably
above the average, the deaths would be
one in eleven millions, while the rail
ways only kill about one in fifty mil
lions of passengers, and the Canard
company of Atlantic steamers boast of
having never lost a passenger.
Other instances of the immensity of
the population of London, arc that three
quarters of a million of business men
enter the city in the morning and leave
it in the ovening for their suburban
residences. There are 10,000 police
men, as many cab drivers, and the same
number of persona connected with the
postoffice, each of whom, with their
families, would make a large town.
When London make? a holiday, there
are several places of resort, such as the
Crystal palace, the Zoological gardens,
Kew gardens, etc., which absorb from
thirty to fifty thousand visitors each.
The cost of gas for lighting is $2,500,-
000 annually ; the water supply is one
hundred millions of gallons per diem.
In the year 1873, there were 573 fires;
and for the purpose of supplying infor
mation on the passing events of the day,
314 daily and weekly newspapers are
required.
What London will eventually become
it is idle to predict. It already stands
in four counties, and is striding on to a
fifth (Herts). The probability is that
by the end of the century, the popula
tion will exceed five millions, and will
have quintupled itself in the ceutury.
•Should it progress at an equal rate in
the next, it will in the year 2,000 amount
to the enormous aggregate of twenty
five millions; and the question that
naturally arises is how could such a
multitude be supplied with food. But
the fact is the more its population in
creases the better they are fed. In the
Plantagenet days, when the population
was not a third of a million, famines
were of frequent occurrence, but now,
with the command of the pastures, the
harvests, and the fisheries of the world,
starvation becomes an almost impossi
ble eventnality even with the twenty
five millions of mouths to feed.— Lon
don Oity Press.
Touching the Light Guitar.
It was at Williarasville, lowa, that
sixteen young men recently went out to
serenade the belle of the town. They
had practised for weeks on the violin,
the flute, the majestic guitar, the soul
stirring accordeon, and the plaintive
banjo. They waited until late at night,
so that the fair one might be wrapped
in dreams when the sound of tneir mu
sic should break upo* her ear. When
they reached the house, the hour being
late, they were tired, and they dis
coursed their oonoord of sweet sounds
while sit ing on the sidewalk with their
feet in the gutter. They played until
flowers were thrown to them from the
window, andjthey then undertook to rise
and go homeward. Curiously enough,
no man rose up ; but each looked at his
neighbor with a countenance of silent
horror. Then one by one they broke
into subdued blasphemy, and presently
a sound as of rending garments was
heard, and the yonng men fled {madly
away. Next morning those who passed
that way beheld the wrecks of six pairs
of trousers adhering to the sidewalk,
and felt anew respeot for the inventor
of tar pavements.
Dress Reforms.
The object of this new movement is
simply to do away with corsets and ob
jectionable bands around the waist, at
the same time throwing the weight of
the clothes upon the shoulders instead
of the hips. Many of the garments are
unique in their appearance, and all
seem admirably adapted to serve the
ends of their creation. One of the
prominent knitting manufacturers of
Boston has undertaken to supply the
trade with knit flannels, made in one
piece from shoulder to heel, with the
lower portions made to fit closely like a
stocking ; a garment which is not made
elsewhere in this country. This, with
the chemiloon, a garment intended to
take the place of the ordinary cotton
garments, and the stocking-supporters
accomplish all which is desired in this
movement, without any change being
made apparent in the outer clothing,
; Many other devices appear well worthy
i of description, such as boots, made pe
culiarly light and strong, other under
garments, etc.; but the limits of this
aitide forbid their special mention.
GUILTS’ OH SOT GUILTY.
She stood at the bar of justice,
A creature wan snd wild;
In form too small "or a woman,
In features too old For a child;
For a loo?.: ro warm and pathetic
n V stamped on her pale, young face,
It seemed long years of suffering
Must have lelc that silent trace.
“ Your name)’’ said the judge, as he eyed her
With kindly look:, yet keen,
“ Is”—" Mary McGuire, if you please, sir,"
“ And your age ?" “lam turned fifteen.,
“ Well, Mary,” and then from a paper
He slowly and gravely read,
“ You’re Chal-ged here, I am sorry to say it,
With stealing three loaves of bread.
“ You look not like an offender,
And I hope that you can show
The charge to be false. Now, tell me,
Are you guilty of this Or no ?”
A passionate burst of weeping
Was at hrst the sole reply,
But she dried her eyes in a moment,
And looked in th s j udge’s eye
“ I will tel! you how it was, sir:
My father and mother are dead,
And my little brothers and sisters
Were hungry and asked me for bread.
Al first I earned it for them
Bv working hard all day,
But somehow limes were hard, sir,
And the work all fell awayj
“ I could get no more employment;
The weather was bitter cold,
The young ones cried and shivered—
(Little Johnny’s but four years old) —
So what was I to do, sir ?
I am guilty, but do not condemn,
I took—oh, was it stealing ?
The bread to give to them.”
Every man in the court-room**.
Gray-beard and 1 houglitless youth—
Knew, as be looked upon her,
Th*t the prisoner spoke the truth.
Ont from their pockets came ’kerchiefs]
Out from their eyes sprung tears.
And out from old laded wallets
Treaeuret, for years.
The judge’s face was a study—
The strangest you ever saw,
And he cleared his throat aiid muttered
Something about the law;
Foe on? o learned in such matters—
bo wise in dealing with men,
He seemed, on a simple question,
Ssrely puzzled just then.
But no one blamed him or wondered,
When at last these words they heard
'* The sentence of this young prisoner
Is, for the present, deferred !”
And no one blamed him or wondered,
When he went to her and smiled,
And tenderly led L orn the court-room
Mary, the “ guilty” child.
A DOWER OF ROSES.
It was all she had when she came to
ms—a bunch of June roses. Their
sweet scent now carries me back to the
time—the warm, sonny, summer morn
ing—when she stood at my door in her
little cotton gown, the roses trembling
in her timid grasp, and her great brown
eyes wet with tears, looking up, pite
ously, into mine. Ten—twenty—how
many years ago is it ? Ah me!—and I
still live 1 I was a younger woman then.
My life was one long day of pleasure.
My husband loved me—t worshiped
him ; but yet—l was not happy. Like
Rachel, I mourned and wept, and
would not ba comforted. “Give me
children, or I die,” was the bitter cry
I moaned incessantly. Then there
came to me one day, in answer to my
rebellious, wicked thought, a great
sorrow. Death instead of life lay on
my bosom, and 1! found myself, while
still a young woman, widowed as well
as childless!
When I awoke from the terrible
apathy of grief, which held me for a
time in its pitiless embrace. I looked
around me, and thought, “There is
surely something for me to do in this
great world. I will make reparation
for my sin. May there not be*in this
wide world some little child as lone as
I ?—some motherless one, who shall
be waiting for—the childless ?” Then
I determined to search for such a one,
and I made the tonr, religiously, of all
the charitable institutions, far and
near. It was to me a religion, for I
went with an earnest, penitent heart.
“I shall know her, when I see her,” I
would answer the many friends who all
thought they knew the child I wanted,
and still I went on searching through
city and town. I found many little
ones who needed all the help that I
freely offered, but none that I felt in
my heart was the little child for whom
I longed—who should be waiting for
me!
A year passed thus, and by the grave
faces, and half-heard whispers of my
friends, I saw they thought my grief
had turned my brain, and that I sought
but a phantom of my imagination.
The time came, however, when I found
my child ! They were going through
the sick-ward ot a “ Home for Friend
less Little Ones” in an eastern city,
one day In June, when, from a little
cot in the extreme corner of the room,
I saw two great brown eyes looking up
at me piteously. I left my companions
hurriedly to run toward the bedside,
and stooping down I passionately
kissed the beautiful face.
“Are you my mamma?” the soft
voice asked, tremulously, the little face
flushing with pleasure beneath my
warm caresses.
“ Yes, my darling,” I whispered
back, “ I am yonr mamma,” and she
clasped her arms round my neck in a
close embrace, that knit my heart to
hers forever after!
Ah, I knew then that my husband in
heaven had sent me to this little one;
for I saw him looking through her eyes
straight into mint:! I asked few ques
tions concerning her, and they told me
little ; knowing nothing more'than that
she was a waif rescued from the tempest
of the wicked, outside world ; but this
much I gladly learned—she Bhould be
mine ! I wanted her at once—to take
her with me in my carriage at the door
—but it was nesessary, they told me,
in order that she might be legally mine,
that a form should be preliminarily
gone through with, before I could take
her from “ The Home ; ” and so I was
obliged to wait another day for my
child! I dreamed of her all night,
and my husband came to me, saying,
“You have done well! ”
With the dawn of day I was awake.
My prayers rose high with the rising of
the sun, and I began to feel a blessed
peace. I awaited impatiently the hour
when I should have my darling. At
last a timid knock at the door made my
heart leap for joy, and opening, there
she stood—a little child ! with a bunch
of roses 1 They vrere her dower from
the only home she knew—a home of
charity—and yet the tears still trem
bled in her eyes, and the sobs were torn
from her baby-breast at leaving it! I
folded her close to my bosom, and told
her she was my own little dangther
now—that God had sent me to be her
mamma—and she laughed up at me
through her tears, and put the rcses in
my hand, saying :
“ I bring them to you.”
I called her Rosemarie, for she was
my rose, and I dated all her birth
days from that sunny day in June when
she had come to me w l ' th them. I grew
to love her as no other mother ever loved
a child. She was to me my all—my
husband—my relijjpon. But for her I
should some day, perhaps, have be
come a cold, heartless woman of the
world. She saved me—from myself !
And she was so lovely ! There was no
fault that I could see in her. Could a
mother say more ?
She had been mine for five happy,
happy years, and had grown to be*a
beautiful child of eight—so beautiful
that the people dh the street turned to
look at her, and called her “ white
rose,” and “red-rose,”and “wild-rose,”
when they learned her fanciful
name. I had utterly forgotten there
had ever been a time when I did not
own her, when, af; last, there came a
terrible shock to my remembrance ! It
was in the early fall, and bitter cold. I
had fires burning in sitting-room and
library for several days; and at night
I ordered that the windows Bhonld not
be closed np early, as I had a fancy
that cheerinl home-lights shining out
on weary wayfarers might brighten
their paths and thoughts; and my home
being just on the outskirts of the town,
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9. 1874,
it was no uncommon thing for passers
by, at nightfall, to stop sometimes and
look in.
We were sitting together in the libra
ry—my darling and I. She cuddled np
beside file, looking over some pictures
of buds and flowers, when Ia
footstep on the gratel-wAlk beside the
window ; turning, I saw a woman’s face.
1 walked over toward it. and it vanished
in the darkness. “Ah! some poor
traveler, perchance,” I thought, “ who
has dared to steal a look in on my home
happines*, t hope she has a little one
waiting for her somewhere!” and I
kissed my Rosemarie in the fullness of
my happy heart. The following morn
jn ?’ ve /7 eftr -7. I was told a strange
laay wisned to speak with me.
“ She would not give any name, and
had no card,” the servant said.
I went down immediately, expecting,
as usual, in those cases, a solicitation
for aims—for alms, I said ! As I enter
ed the parlor, a woman, very beautiful,
young, and elegantly attired, rose to
me. Her manner was graceful
and impressive, and yet I saw directly
she was not a lady—nay, even past my
claiming her as a pure woman and sister!
Fou have a child?” she began, in
' teTroga ively.
“I have,” I answered, a little sur
prised at her strange, abrupt manner.
Walking over to where I still stood,
she glanced at me with wild eyes, cry
ing :
“Yon lie! She is my child, and I
have come for her!”
I stepped backward, and should have
fallen, possibly, but my quick ear caught
the patter of my darling’s little feet
upon the stairs, and as she came trip
ping into the room—oh! so pure, and
sweet, and lovely!—I summoned all the
strength and courage at my command,
and said, in a low, firm tone to the
woman, who still glared at me ;
“ Hush J— not a word before her 1”
She loosed down .at the child, and up
at me, and then—oh 1 then, I saw my
darling’s face in hers! But with such
hideous lines of passion—snch frightful
marks of dissipation —over all its beauty
and purity!
“ What is yonr namer” she asked the
child, and. her voice lost its harsh sound
and grew full and low as she spoke.
Coming to my side and putting her
little hand in mine, as though she felt
some hidden danger, my darling
answered :
“ I am mamma’s Rosemarie.”
The woman made a step toward her;
then I clasped her closer to my arms,
and whispered quickly:
“Go to yOur room, lock the door,
and open to Bone but me,” and I kissed
her, and she ran away.”
“ Now,” said I, closing the door and
seating myself beside it, ‘‘now I will
hear all yon have to say to me.”
The woman looked down at me—
looked all over the room and back to
me again—then, seeing something in my
face, she seemed to lose her bravado,
and began in a huskv voice, which grew
shrill and sharp as she went on:
“Who are you, that calls my child
yonrs ? What right have you to her ?
You stole her ; I never gave her up. I
have searched for her for years. I have
found her at last, she is mine, and I’ll
have her !*’
I shuddered at her words, but an
swered c dmly, and my heart seemed to
have grown still, so faint it throbbed
and bea :
“ You ask what right I have to the
child? What right have you to the
little one you left to the mercies of a
cold, wide world ? You threw her
away—l saved her 1 She may be born
of your body, but her soul is mine 1”
She paced the room now, and up and
down like some caged thing, then,
speaking with vehemence, she cried,
passionately:
“ 1 swear I’ll have my child ! and I’ll
break every door and window in yonr
fine house to get her,” and she struck
the door with her clenched hand as she
spoke.
“ Silence 1 ” I commanded, looking
into her angry eyes with mine. “ Lis
ten to me, and if when I h ve finished
what I have to say you can still take
her from me, I will yield her without a
word. Yes,” I continued, as she looked
up from the fringes of the shawl she
was tearing, and seemed surprised,
“ yes, I will give her up to you, though
it will break my heart! ” and I felt I
looked the words I uttered.
She grew calmer, and I went on
earnestly: “For five happy years I
have been a mother to your little one.
I took her, poor and friendless and
sick, from a home of charity. She had
been rescued, they told me, from the,
arms of a drunken, depraved mother,
who threatened to kill the child if left
to her mercy. I have ministered to her
comfort and welfare, physically and
mentally, all these years. She bears
my name, and as she grows to woman
hood, will be socially respected as my
daughter. At my death, all I possess
becomes hers; and I love her. Yon—
you axe her mother ! Dou you ask me
to give her back to you ? ”
She did not speak, but kept on tear
ing off the fringes of her shawl; then,
at last, with a bitter, hard laugh, she
said, in a sneering tone : “It is plain
to be seen you never had a child 1 To
ask a mother such a question 1 ”
I felt the sting she meant I should,
but I answered her again : “ True, I
have never had a child. I have never
been a mother—bat”—and I looked
her in the eyes as I spoke, as woman to
woman—“can you ask me for the child
again? Where will you take her?
What will you'make of her?” And I
utterly gave way, weeping as I never
wept before. She rose from her seat
now, looked at me intently, for some
minutes, then coming close to where I
sat, still weeping, she silently took my
hand with both hers, and kneeling,
kissed it, saying, in a low, half-smoth
ered voice : “ I wish I had known you
years ago. Keep her. I give yon my
little daughter, and I will never trouble
yon nor her again. So help me God 1 ”
With these words, she went ont of my
house, and out of town, and I never
saw nor heard of her again.
When my darling was sixteen years
old, I told her the story of her mother
and her life as far as I knew, and I
Bhowed her the dower of roses with
which she had come to me; and I have
them still, all pressed and withered,
and fragrant and sweet. Oh, that I lay
deed with theml She listened all
through my tale without a word, and
when I had finished, she threw her
arms around my neck, and sobbed and
kissed me, but she never asked a single
question, or spake of her early life
again to me. I fancied, though, that
ever after she seemed to love roses, fer
she wore them continually in her hair,
at her throat, and in her belt. Ah,
those days 1 Why could not life have
gone on forever in that sweeet compan
ionship?
There came a change. It was in the
year of the great religious revival. A
strange, new minister then came to onr
town, and with bis eloquent preaching,
wakened in the hearts of the people far
and near a sense of their sin and un
worthinesa, He was a man of rare
ability, as well as of rare attractions.
Under his influence many of our people
gathered into the church. Among the
number was my darling. She had ever
been of a serious turn of mind, and
now, with this zealous, ardent young
shepherd to lead her, she became at
last one of the best beloved lambs of
his flock. Ah, yes 1 “ love took np the
glass of time and turned it in his glow
ing hands,” and I came in time to dis
cover that, dearly as she loved me, there
was a “ nearer and dearer one still.”
I answered “ yes," when at last he
cam® ask me for the hand of her
whose heart he held, but I told him
first her story, which he saiu be knew,
and “loved her all the more for.” Oh,
the world looked so bright to me then 1
My darling was to marry s t once, and
live with me just the same, and I was
singing a song of thanksgiving down
in nay heart day and night.
As the time drew near for the mar
riage, the minister came to ms one day
and said it had been the desire of his
life to go abroad, and now, with the
kind permission and assistance of his
congregation, he had i.eeided to do so
with his bride. It staitled me to think
I teiiSt part with my darling after all,
and I said I would go too; but I
fancied he looked displeased, and think
ing he would doubtlesk*preier his rose
without a thorn, I gave tip my objec
tions, It was hard. She had been
mine—mine so long—and I must yield
her now ! They Would return in the
fall, he said, and so I could count the
days she would be away from me.
When her trousseau was being male
she would have nothing but of the very
plainest, the most necessary, and would
accept no “portion” from me as a
wedding gift.
“I shall take him my ‘dower of
roses,’ ” she would answer my remon
strances at her persistent refusal.
“ You found it enough 1 Will not he ?”
When she stood in her bridal robes
ready for the church, and he came for
her that beautiful June morning, she
put in his hand her great bunch of
white roses, saying (as she said to mo
that moining long ago), “I bring them
to yon. They are my dower ;” and he
bent down and kissed her. Oh, that
he had fallen dead at her feet!
They went abroad. Letters Came at
first frequent and gay with little stories
of travel and snatches of happiness run
nu,4? through them ; then they oame
quieter in tone—a little nad, I fancied
—“ homesick for me,” my glad heart
throbbed—and then they ceased to
come at all; and the fall came, and
winter, and still my darling did not
come. I did not hear. 1 wrote and
wrote; the people shook their iotids
and talked, and finally I fell ill,
Close to “ the valley of the shadow of
death” I passed, and when I wandered
back into the green pastures again,
there was a sad, gray haired old woman
looking ont at me from the glass.
It was Christmas eve. I sat over the
fire, dozing and dreaming always of my
darling. I saw her, as I had Been her
last, so bright and beautiful in her
bridal robes, and then I seemed to see
her as she came to me that sweet June
morning long ago, in her little cotton
gown, and with the bunch of roses
trembling in her timid graep. Then she
changed again, and lay there at my feet
a woman, wan and pale. I put out both
my hands, and she did not go. I whis
pered, “Is it you, my darling?” and
the phantom whispered back, oh! so
sadly: “ Yes it is. I come to you
once again, bnt I have not even a rose
to bring this time; my roses are all
dead 1”
I rubbed my eyes, and still it did not
vanish. And it was she I—myl—my own—
my darling—my Rosemarie—a faded
rose, alas 1 all pale and drooping.
Oh ! the wicked, cruel story I learned,
little by little. How the “dower of
roses” had not been the fortune whioh
her husband had coveted and hoped to
win through me 1 How her persistent
refusals to receive a marriage portion
had been met with sneers and upbraid
ings from him, and finally, when the
lamb’s mantle bad fallen from his na
ture, revealing the wolf, how, neglected,
sick, and uncared for, in a strange land,
she had summoned strength and cour
age at the last to leave her husband and
come home alone, over the sea, to my
arms to die—aye, to die! For, when
the roseß bloomed again, they decked
hers and her babe’s death robes. And
when they come again, oh, may they
blossom on my grave 1
The Last Supper.
A correspondent of the Detroit Tri
bune, writing from Milan, says : “ You
go to an old cavalry barrack, formerly
the convent Sancta Maria della Grazie,
and find, as best you can, the hall that
was used as the refectory of that insti
tution ; and there is ‘ The Last Supper,’
by Leonardo da Yinci, a fresco of im
perishable renown, although about per
ished itself. Everybody in Christen
dom has seen pictures of this picture,
from copies made when it was possible
to see the original, whether possible to
copy it or not. Sixteen years the artist
toiled at this fresco. Had it been done
on canvas instead of on a wall, often
damp, it would to-day rival the * Trans
figuration’ by Raphael. Tbe first quar
ter of an hour one stands before it his
feeling is as when in a room where some
renowned and god-like character has
lived; the occupant has forever de
parted. As you see the forms of Christ
and the twelve it is as if yon had
been led into an ante-chamber in the
land of shades; and yon become en
grossed, not so much in what is there,
as in an effort to see what is not there.
Many attempts to restore certain shades,
colors, and outlines have mostly been
strokes of additional ruin; and some
such touches are dimmer now than cer
tain others supposed to be those of the
great ma-ter himself. Yet as yon gaze
long and intently at these apparitions,
you are conscious of a wonderful power
emanating from them ; and their atti •
tude, earnest expressions and gestures,
shadowy and somewhat wild,seem to utter
ghostly whispers along the rude table.
After a time, without knowing snch a
thing to be possible, you do begin to
discern a look—a see ont, as the Ger
man tongue better gives it—in the face
of the Lord, which yon think conld have
been produced only by an inspired
painter. The air of divine calmness,
sorrowing seriousness, and Christ like
tenderness still lingering in that face,
seeming to breathe the words, ‘ One of
you shall betray me,’ is something
miraculous and indescribable.
“ ’He who observes it, ere he passes on
Pauses again ; returns and gazes long,
That he may call it up when far away."
“ Photographic art is nnable to re
produce this marvelous delineation of
divine character in the Saviour’s face,
owing to the decay of the fresco. The
finest copies by the cleverest artists also
fail to transfer it. No means are known
of saving its almost vanished spirit, and
the last people who will ever perceive it
are of the present generation.”
European Armies.
If complete readiness for war is the
best means for insuring the continuance
of peace, the tranquility of Europe, re
marks the Pall Mall Gazette, must have
been effectually secured this year, in
which large additions have been made
to the forces of every European power.
The proposed legislation in reference to
the German landstnrm will increase
the military strength of Germany to an
extent hardly realized, though Spenner
Gazette estimates the increased force
arising from a first call of the landstnrm
at 300,000 men. The French army will,
beginning from this year, be increased
within twelve years to 1,800,000, a force
supplemental by alandsturm organiza
tion not less extensive than that of Ger
many. Russia will in the same period
muster a standing army of 750,000 men,
and a reserve of 1,740,000. Austria has
made so much progress in the develop
ment of her military resources that she
could take the field with from 500,000
to 600,000 men. Italy conld follow
with 400,000 men, and Turkey with
200,000, while we have 500,000 to de
fend onr own soil, and conld contribute
70,000 to 80,000 men toward the prose
cution of an European war,
GRIEFS OF THE ENGAGEp.
Some Reflections in tbe Interest of
Bachelors and Uld ill aids.
Not a few married men are in the
habit of thinking that tnstrlmor** is
nothing more nor less than a profound
mistake, and, in certain cf their moods,
they are inolined to wish that they had
nerer made .it, For one thing, they
find that wedded iife is *bxDensive ; for
another thing, they discover that it in
volves many and sometimes galling re
straints upon personal liberty ; and, for
a third thing, they learn that it is not
always of a most harmonious character.
Husbands are taught, that wives are the
reverse of angelic, and Wives are
plainly shown that husbands are by no
means noble, and the acquisi ion of this
knowledge is h it fraught with pleasant
ness, it ruthlessly destroys many
dearly-prized fancies.
But the nuptial state, even when not
completely satisfactory, is one of com
parative bliss compared witii that which
sometimes precedes marriage. Asa
matter of fact, many “ engaged ” per
sons may ha "aid to live in a mild sort
of purgatory, which • even many kieses
and caresses cannot render anything
more than barely endurable. Take the
case of an ordinary engaged young
man, and what can be more melan
choly ? There are, as a rule, some half
soore of people whom he is bound to
propitiate. At the same time he may
hate them—and justly—with as great
cordiality as he loves the maiden whom
he wishes to marry.
He must, perforce, be civil to the
papa and mamma of his intended wife.
Yet he may be perfectly weU aware that
the papa is a “ skin-flint,” about whora
the strongest thing in the way of
commendation that can be said is
that he is strictly honorable in busi
ness, as if a man deserved any credit
for not making himself a thorough
paced cheat. It may be remarked, by
the way, that such is the low tone of
morality prevalent now-a-days, if a
man is hot an absolute knave, though
he may be stingy and cheese-paring to
the last degree, it Beems to be thought
by many people that he should .have all
his faults condoned and be held up tc
the admiration of a large circle of
friends. The bridegroom, that is to
be, may know, further, that the scrubby
papa,will have something to say when
the question of settlements is brought
on to the carpet, and that he will not
dower his daughter with a larger por
tion than he can help, if, indeed, he
does not skillfully get out of delivering
her with anything at all. The luckless
lover may also be perfectly well a s are
that the mamma is one of those dear—
in more senses than one—creatures who
are never happy unless they aremanaging
other people’s affairs. He may be fully
conscious that the amiable dame regards
him with something very much like sus
picion, and that she is convinced that
he and her daughter will never get on
without her assistance and advice. He
may, indeed, see in the distance a day
in which he will have to fight a pitched
battle with the generous-hearted female,
during the Course of which he will be
compelled to intimate, in very plain
terms, that when he wants advice he
will ask for it, and that he is determined
to be his own master. Meanwhile, he
is bound to smile at the majority of her
aggravating efforts.
Then there are his lady-love’s broth
ers. To them, also, he has to assume a
friendly, if not absolutely cordial, de
meanor. If some unlicked cub plays
upon him a diabolical practical joke, he
can do nothing but absurdly grin at the
wretch. When a brother of another
type seems disposed to treat him in a
supercilious fashion, and to show that
he only tolerates him for the sake of his
sister, the unfortunate engaged young
man is bound to simulate a blindness
that is simply preposterous in a being
professing to have any senses at all.
Again, if a third brother, of yet another
sort, whose principal characteristics are
a love for bad company and a talent for
getting into scrapes, selects him as his
confidante and friend—the attendant
consequences of this are not easily for
gotten—what can the poor victim do
but laugh and pray for a speedy deliv
erance from all his troubles! Then
there are his betrothed’s sisters, who
are inclined to dislike him because he
has not shown a preference for them in
stead of her to whom he is engaged.
They are ever on the alert to pick out
the weak places in his armor, and gladly
give him sharp pricks when he is least
prepared to bear them. Still *he has to
pretend he loves these ladies as if they
were verily his sisters. He is made to
feel that everybody looks upon him as
an interloper, and think the sooner he
takes the bride away to a den of his
own the better it will be for all parties.
Of course, papa and mamma are, after
a fashion of their own, civil to him in
return for his effusive polite attentions
to them. But when he is talking busi
ness or politics with papa, domestic
economy with mamma, amusements with
the brothers, and every-thing-in-general
with the sisters, he cannot avoid seeing
that he is, in nine cases out of ten, suc
cessful only as a bore. He knows, and
they know, that after he has been safely
married and done for he will drop into
that insignificant position which he is
most fitted to adorn, and which is most
conducive to his comfort. Under these
circumstances he may be excused if he
longs for the time when he may not be
called upon to appear amiable when he
feels the reverse, when he may not have
to spend hours in conversing with peo
ple with whom he has no sympathies in
common, and when, in short, he may
not have to act the part of a thorough
going humbug.
An engaged young lady is, perhaps,
somewhat more fortunately circum
stanced. She has, at any rate, the
privilege of wearing her love openly,
whioh, in the case of a woman, is some
thing tangible, and a great many hours
of her life are relieved from all suspi
cion of ennui, which, also, in her case,
is what she should be thankful for. But
then, on the other hand, she is a vietim
to the painful consciousness that she is
bound t® be on her best behavior. She
may be perfectly well assured that
her lover’s friends will keep a sharp
lookout for her weak points, and that
they will probably come to the ooneln
■ion that she is not good enough for
him. Then all “engaged” people—
male and female—are stock subjects for
ridicule. Every ha’f fledged witling
imagines himself at liberty to cut lame
jokes at their expense —jokes which
might not attract attention if it were
not for their bad taste. Let the unfor
tunate individuals speak to each other
in a confidential manner, and at once
there is set in circulation a flow of
jocose satire, at which every one seems
bound to laugh consumedly. It may
well be asked, is there no way of escape
from the ordeal to which engaged peo
ple, and especially engaged young men,
are now subjected ? But to the query
we cannot pretend to give an answer.
The Largest Iron-Clad Afloat.
The Russian iron-clad Peter the
Great, which was built after the designs
of Adjutant-General Popoff in 1872, was
sent on its first trial trip from Cron
stadt on the 15th of October, accom
panied by the steam frigate Rarik. It
started at ten o’clock in the morning,
and after steaming out of the harbor
went out to sea at the rate of twelve
knots an hour. After proceeding at this
speed for a short time it was found that
one of the ship’s screws was damaged,
and it had to put back for repaiis. Ac
cording to the Golos, the Peter the
Great is at present the most powerful
iron-clad afloat. Its hull is 833 feet
long by 63 feet 3 inches wide ; it has a
double bottom, and is covered with ar
mor-plates to a depth of sis feet below
the water-line. It has two turrets,
whioh will be armed with four 12-inch
rifle guns, whose muzzles will be 14
feet above the water. The plates over
the water line are 14 inches thick, with
a 10-inch Lacking. Below the water
line the thickness of the plates is 12
inches, and of the backing the same.
Playing strategy on Bedekins.
Corporal John Smith, of the 40th
infantry, with four men, wa recently
employed on some detail, about twenty
five miles from Fort Sill, Idaho. While
thus engaged he was surprised by a
body of some hundred or more
mounted Indians, he thinks either
Riowas of Com an ekes. As their pur
pose was unmistakably ho*tile, he and
his men lost no time in taki g to the
only available shelter, an old buffalo
wallow, where in a very uncomfortable,
constrained position, they managed to
proteot their bodies and keep their ene
mies at a distance for the day end night.
The next morning, however, their suf
ferings for want of food and water be
came rather serious, find something had
to be done. Corporal Smith w&6 equal
to the occasion. Taking a piece of his
own white shirt flap, the only substi
tute for paper to be had, he wrote a
note describing their situation, secured
it with care to the neck of a small,
shaggy, idongfel dog Which had fol
lowed them from the fort; then, batter
ing up a canteen, he fastened it to the
animal’s tail, one of the men carefully
holding the dog in the meanwhile, the
others attending to the defense.
Next taking a pad of jhf> common blue
flowered cactus, whicn gfew abundantly
all around their impromptu fortress,
and which, besides the usual spines and
prickles, has all around its edge large
burrs, much like those of the common
northern burdock, he calmly planted it
under the roof of the dog’s tail. Then,
lifting his hand, ho administered one
whack npon the animal’s posterior, and,
to quote the corporal’s own expression,
“He just humped himself." The In
dians, taking it to be a mere act of
bravado, I presume, made no attempt
to stop him, and within two hours from
the time he started the dog reached the
post. Succor was immediately sent,
and the brave corporal and his com
rades brought in, the Indians making
off at the first sight of the rescue party,
at the distance of several miles.
Dressed Poultry.
We offer the following t'mely direc
tions for the dressing and handling of
poultry : Live poultry during the fall
is generally a drug on the market, and
dressed lots, when in good order, are
taken in preference. Dealers propose
to sell dressed chickens hereafter by
the pound only, believing that this
manner of selling will insure the ship
ping of better stock to our market.
Poultry should never be killed by the
wringing of the neck, bnt should be
killed by bleeding, by means of open
ing the v. ins, or by cutting off the
head, so as to let them bleed freely.
If the latter be done, care should be
taken and draw the skin over the neck
aDd tie secure before shipping, Deface
the neck as little as possible, as the
looks will materially aid in bringing
outside prices. Poultry should be
picked dry, wh ; ch can easily be done
by plucking before the bodies are cold,
and always give poultry a nice appear
ance. However, when scalded, the
water should be as near boiling as pos
sible, and yet not really boil. The
poultry should be dipped, so that the
water will have proper effect on the
skin, and penetrate the feathers. The
feathers should be picked immediately,
but care should be taken and not break
the skin. Do not remove the entrails.
Poultry, before being killed, should be
kept twenty-four hours without food ;
full crops injure tbe appearance, and
are liable to sour, by which the sale
would be greatly injured. Before pack
ing, it should get thoroughly dry and
cold, bnt not frozen. Moderate sized
boxes should be used, but avoid very
large packages as much as possible, as
there is considerable trouble in hand
ling, besides being more difficult to sell.
In packing, use clean boxes, and line
the ends and sides with paper. Always
pack as closely as possible, and fill the
boxes well, so there will be no chance
tor the poultry to move about.
An “ Army Worm.”
A correspondent of a paper recently
called attention to a phenomenon which
has greatly excited his curiosity, and
which he refers to as something entirely
unheard of. This, which he calls a com
bination snake, or “army worm,” he
describes as at first sight resembling a
snake ten feet in length, tapering regu
larly from the middle toward the head
and tail, and moving along slowly.
Supposing it to be a serpent, he was as
tonished to see the creature, on reach
ing a stone, divide eomething into two
or three heads, which subsequently were
reunited into the original snake. On
examining this peculiar body more close
ly, to his astonishment he found that it
was composed of small worms, about
three-eighths of an inch in length and
about the thickness of a pin. One of
these constituted the entire extremity
of the figure ; then two or three lapped
on to it for two-thirds of its length, and
on them were lapped others, increasing
the thickness of the “snake” until it
became about the size of a man’s thumb
in the middle, and tapering off toward
the other end im a similar manner. This
object, although rare,; is by no
means unknown to naturalists. Its oc
currence is more frequently recorded in
Europe than in the United States. It
consists in reality of the larvae of an in
sect of the order of flies, probably be
longing to the g< nus Seiara of the toy
cetophilidcc. This phenomenon belongs
to the series of mimetic resemblances
so common in the animal kingdom, and
has doubtless an important function in
preventing attacks upon the defenseless
larvae in their movements from place to
place, birds or other enemies being de
terred by the apparent presence of a
large and dangerous serpent.
The Stove Swindle.
Persons familiar with the cost of iron
castings in general business have ofteD,
doubtless, wondered what there was in
stoves over similar fabrics of iron to
make them so expensive to users of
them. Compared to beds, tables,
chairs, carpets and other articles of
prime necessity in household use they
are exorbitantly high. They last no
longer than domestic wares generally,
and it would seem ought to approxi
mate in price to other utensils. The
life of a good stove is from five to ten
years, according as it is used, which is
no longer than bedsteads, chairs, tables
and other furniture of similar quality
endure. The Iron Molder’s Journal
gives some facts as to !the cost of mak
ing stoves which are of general interest.
Mr. John S. Perry, of Albany, calcu
lates that a gross ton of iron will make
2,120 pounds of clean which
would furnish seven stoves of 300
pounds each. He further calculates
that the cost of molding per 100 pounds
is $1.37i, which would make the work
on a stove cost $4.14| for molding.
No. 1 foundry iron was quoted in New
York, September 10, at S3O per ton,
which at Mr. Perry’s figures, would
make the iron in a 300-pound stove cost
$4 28; the net oost for the stove in
question being $8 40. Such stoves tire
sold by dealers without any furniture
at S2B to S3B, according to finish,
THE MONEY KINGS.
The Business of the Wwtute— prepara
tions Sink inti tr It.
Whatever may be thought of the fu
ture of American business and indue
try by the general public, says the New
York Economist, there can be no ques
tion as to the views held by the great
money kings and capitalists on that sub
ject. At a time when the country is
barely commencing to recover from the
effects of the late crisis they manifest
an amount of enterprise, energy and
confidence which is remarkable under
the circumstances. Men like Vander
bilt, A. A. Lowe, the Aspinwalls, Hun
tington, and others, including even the
redoubtable Thomas Scott, are spending
millions of dollars in extending and im
proving the grand network of railroads
whioh stretch from New York over the
entire continent, and in improving the
terminal facilities of onr city. Mr.
Vanderbilt makes no secret that it is
the ambition cf his life to live to see
the new double, or four-track, line of
rails lcid ©n the New York Central and
in full operation. And certainly the
ability to plan and execute an enter
prise of this kind is worthy of the high
est honor. And tko construction of this
work, even from New York to Chicago,
is strand undertaking, and will revolu
tionize All out theories of transporta
tion. For a railroad with four separate
tracks, two each way, afid trains run
ning on them night and day at a given
rate of speed, and with no possibility oi
collision, there seems no limit to its
possibilities. Yet this is what the dig
ging and mining on Fourth avenue
means. It extends more or less for
hundreds of miles into the interior,
requiring here and there only a few
connecting rails to render the whole
complete.
From this until the Ist of January
the preparations for business changes
will be on an astounding scale. It has al
ready come under our notice that changes
are ccontemplated in the dry goods
trade of this city involving a total of
$25,000,000. Changes to a correspond
ing extent are in progress in other
trades. New firms have been recog
nized on the basis of the old ones with
an infusion of new blood, energy and
capital. There are vague but obviously
well-fotlnded anticipations of similar
movements in other important branches
of business. For one thing, the re
sumption of specie payment by the fed
eral government is regarded as a fore
gone conclusion, inducing correspond
ing changes in business. For these
alterations new men and capital are re
quired. Probably an estimate of a
hundred millions as the total amount ol
capital represented in the firms of this
city undergoing a change would not
vary materially from the correct figures.
It is difficult to determine the effects
of this unsettled condition of affairs
upon actual business operations, al
though there can be iio doubt that they
exercise an important influence on quo
tations. At New Year’s all firms desire
to make as large returns of cash as pos
sible, and this year the new houses
would naturally desire to make a favor
able exhibit, and would consent to de
ductions for cash which under other
circumstances would not be erdertained.
The importance of the future com
merce of New York was still further at
tested during the week by the negotia
tions between the Pacific railroad and
steamship companies respectively, and
the conference between Commodore
Vanderbilt, Mr. Jewett, of the Erie,'and
Colonel Scott, of the Pennsylvania
railroads, with Garret, president of the
Baltimore and Ohio railroad. In both
cases the grand object was the New
York carrying trade.
In the Pacific railroad question the
chief difficulty arose from the tendency
of tea and the higher and more costly
articles of merchandise to be shipped by
railroad across the continent, while the
bulkier and less profitableclassof goods
was sent by steamer. The steamship
company wanted the railroad company
to divide the profits, and on its refusal
threatened to carry no goods in connec
tion with the railroad. The railroad
company in retaliation threatened to
start an opposition line of steamers.
The difficulties between the railroad
magnates are somewhat similar. The
Baltimore and Ohio railroad insisted as
a condition of adopting the New York
rates that the New York companies
should abolish the fast freight monopo
lies which are said to eat np the profits
of stockholders. Mr. Garret certainly
seems right in this ; but Messrs, Van
derbilt, Jewett and Scott refused, and
returned to New York on fast time.—
Detroit Free Press.
Postal Decisions.
The postmaster general has issued
the following new decisions : After Jan
uary 1, 1875, if a weekly and monthly
publication be mailed together in one
wrapper, the postage must be prepaid
at the higher rate for monthly publica
tions, i. e., three cents for each pound
or fraction thereof. In reference to the
proposition submitted by publishers of
magazines, asking permission to mail
the January number of their respective {
issues in December at the rates pre
scribed by the new law, the postmaster
general decides that he has no authority
in tne matter, and that the January
number can only be mailed in January
at the terms of the new law, or, if
mailed in December, it must be sub
jected to prepayment at the office of
mailing, or pay double transient rates
at the office of delivery. The publish
ers will, undoubtedly, hold back the
delivery of the January number until
January. The use of sealed transparent
envelopes for the transmission of matter
of the third-class, is sanctioned by postal
regulations. Under no circumstances
should a postmaster tear the wrapper of
any packet or package passing through
his office. If he cannot determine the
contents of a package passing at less
than Utter rates without destroying the
wrapper, he should charge it up with
letter postage, to be collected on deliv
ery. A postmaster who goes outside of
the delivery of his office to sell postage
stamps, stamped envelopes or newspa
per wrappers, or who uses them for the
purpose of discharging his private obli
gations, will be promptly removed if
reported to the post-office department.
“ I Done Dat Enough.’’
A writer in the Brooklyn Argus
speaking among other things of the
work of actors and actresses, says : In
regard to an actor’s work. Its precise
difficulty lies not in the preparation of
a part, the mere committing to memory,
which may be called a mechanical oper
ation, the deciding upon certain posi
tions or arriving at the most desirable
elocutionary inflexions, bnt in the
“ stringing np,” so to speak, to the task
of repeating a performance with nerve
and spirit night after night, without e
chance of escape. There was a babj
girl, four years, old, who was nnder at
engagement to enact the part of
“Spring” in a fairy piece. All wenr,
well np to the last rehearsal, wheii
baby, being called upon to go through
her part, refused in these terms : “ X
done dat enough. I done dat every
day. I want-to do home.” No argu
ments, threats or persuasions could
move that correct infant mind. Shi
had “done dat enough,” and when ths
time came for the evening performance
she was of the same opinion, and a less
aente but more tractable child was hur
riedly prepared for the work.
When a Chicago woman answered the
door bell and was informed that her
husband had been drowned, she sank
down and whispered: “And the bill
for thirty dollars’ worth of false hair is
to come up at four o’clock—ooMioooon! ”
VOL. 15-NO. 50.
SiYINGS AND DOINGS.
The shirt which buttons behind has
reached Japan.
Don’t stand still and point the way
to heaven. Spiritual guideboards save
but few sinners.
J®sh BtLiiiNOs says : There are two
things in this life for which we arc
never prepared, and that is twins.
The last survivor of the battle of
Trafalgar has insisted on dying again,
which reduces the number to less than
twenty.
Mark Twaih is a failure as a drama
tist but what is a dramatic failure to a
man who is able to own a silver-plated
boot-jack.
The fancy for wearing a little bunch
of natural or artificial flowers with the
bow at the throat is on the increase with
the ladies.
Dubuque has a lawyer who won’t de
fend a guilty client for love nor money,
bnt alas! for sentiment, the lawyer is
gradually starving. Jo death.
Chestnuts should always be cooked
before eating, as they are more healthy;
besides, cooking imparts an improved
flavor to the worm, and stops its wrig
gling.
When a young wife made her first
boy’s pants precisely the same behind
as before, the father exclaimed : “Good
ness ! he won’t know whether he’s going
to school or coming home.”
There are said to be half a dozen
American artists in Rome who are starv
ing for food, and yet they can’t be in
duced to come home and go to sawing
wood.
It is a matter of inquiry as to whether
the indemnity of half a million taele
which China is to pay Japan is to be
paid in pig-tails. The question is a
carious one.
Rev. Talmage says he shall not stop
until every theatre in America is leveled
to the gTonnd. Where’s that fellow
who said perpetual motion oould never
be invented ?
Twenty horses die in New York city
every dav, which gives a total otj more
than six thousand a year. Their car
casses are rendered to the rendering
companies.
People who saw him jump np and
down and heard him swear thought
him crazy, but he wasn't. He had
merely delivered fifteen oords of wood
at the wrong place.
Evert year the population of Franc©
is reported less and less. There is an
absolute, constant and regular decrease,
and at the present rate of decrease the
country will be depopulated in 183
years.
The hair-brush which cost yon a dol
lar last week, and which is now only fit
for kindling-wood, had bristles which
came from a Mexican plant called ystle,
a wretched substitute for the genuine
irritant.
Twelve hundred men are at work on
anew California hotel. The man who
gets the contract for furnishing that
building with bed-bng poison will have
no difficulty in marrying off his oldest
daughter.
“ Yebts,” is the word now applied in
England to persons who change their
faith. Convert being in some cases too
respectful and pervert in other cases
not respectful enough, the barbariem 1a
held to be justifiable.
The oitizens of St. Louis are proud
of the residence in their midst of a beau
tiful poetess, of a nature so sensitive
that she recently fainted dead away afc
the sight of her little brother with a fine
tooth comb in his hand.
After a tongue has once got the
knack of lying, it is not to be imagined
how impossible, si most, it is to reclaim
it. Whence it comes to pass, that we
see some men, who are otherwise very
honest, so subject to this vice. Mon
taigue.
The magnificent mansion of LeGrand
Lockwood, at Norwalk. Connecticut,
which oost over $1,000,000, is for sale
at SIIO,OOO, and the citizens of the
town are urged to buy it for a town
hall, using the spacious grounds for a
public park.
While workmen were sinking a well
in Ray county, Missouri, recently, they
cam© to what appeared to be the bed of
a lake, about twenty feet beneath the
surface, which showed pcfcnfied stalks
of water-lilies imbedded in sandstone,
and a fish about four feet long, vnth a
very large head and prominent eyes.
The only evidence of perturbation
which the president gave when a mes
senger rushed in with the news that
Massachusetts had gone democratic, was
to remove his cigar from his mouth and
rest the lighted end of it on tbe back of
Gen. Babcock’s hand. Babcock’s per
turbation was much mere pronounced.
There are fourteen thousand people
in Damascus sick with the fever, while
brigands are plundering the surround
ing conn ry so that agriculture is im
possible, and in Damascus a Moham
medan family, having gone over to
Christianity, have been carried to the
jail and left thera “ The Holy Land
is the general title for this vicinity.
We give our washerwoman notice that
hereafter we want onr own clothes. Last
Sunday we put on another fellows
shirt, but couldn’t wear it at all. It
was all ruffled around the top and
looked real handsome, but there was no
K’ 9 for a collar, and it hadn t any
m, though we are bound to say
there was plenty of room for one. Yes,
it was a handsome shirt, bnt we don’t
have ours made th at way.— Max Adeler .
The Georgia state geologist reports
that he is generally taken for a revenue
detective, and finds that character some
what uncomfortable, but the moment h©
discloses his real object, “ every fellow
comes back with his pocket full of rocks,
and wants to know ‘if that’s what I
want.’ I met one man who thought he
had lead, petroleum and silver, all on
about one hundred acres. The state is
exceedingly rich, but every farm doesn’t
hold a forta- e."
Pause, rash vouth, if you are in th©
habit of removing the postage stamp
from your sweetheart’s letter and press
ing the under side of the stamp to your
lips, under the rapturous delusion that
the honeyed labials gave it adhesion to
the envelope—oh, pause, for Williams,
of the Norristown Herald, detected, at
the post-office the other morning, his
lady-love’s coachman applying the
stamp to the last letter she sent him.
So perishes forever another of love’s
young dreams.
Albxanbhe Dumas pere, when ha
gave a dinner-party to commercial men,
had a somewhat singular method of de
ciding the time for the inferior wine to
be preduced. He enjoined his servant©
to put the best wine on the table at the
beginning of the meal, while the guests’
heads were clear; “then,” said he,
“watch the conversation, and directly
you hear any single one of the com
pany say, ‘I, who am an honest man,’
you may be quit® sure that all their
heads have gone astray, and you can
serve np any rubbish you choose.”
The more dirt the more diptheria, as
New York is finding to her cost. This
worst form of throat disease is raging
as an epidemic, and its prevalence is
plainly traced to unfavorable sanitary
conditions, chief of which,is imperfeot
drainage. New York is specially
ject to malarial diseases, fed by
nial springs, which permeate in every
direction the original topography of
the island. Over these streets have
been graded, the intervening blocks
filled up, and acres of buildings erected,
while beneath ließ the undrained satur
ated soil, giving off its Vi amp, chilling,
malarious atmosphere.