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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.