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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS!
W. itnUBSITULK,} M,,or * ■■•* Proprietor*.
PALABRAS CARIKOSAS.
UY T. B. ALDRICH.
Good-eight! I have to pay good-night
To mich a host of peerless things !
Good-night unto that fraaiie band
Ail queenly with its weight of rings;
Good-night to fond, uplifted eyes.
Good-night to chestnut braids of hair,
Good-night unto the perfect mouth,
And all the sweetne s nestled there—
The snowy hand detains me, then
I’Ll have to say good-night again !
But there will come a time, my love,
When, if I read onr stars aright,
I shall not linger by this porch
With my adieus. Till then, good-night!
You wißh the time were now ? And f.
You do not blush to wish it so ?
You would have blushed yourself to death
To own 60 much a year ago—
What, both tht se snowy bands ! ah, then
I’ll have to say good-night again !
ELLA GOODWINS TRIAL.
BY 8. ANNIE FROST.
“ Going oat again ?”
Ella Goodwin spoke in a fretful tone,
find her pretty face was puckered up
into a most dismal frown.
“I promised Charley I would step
round for an hour or two and have a
game of dominoes.”
“ Anything to get away from home !”
But Will Goodwin was already out of
hearing. His wife, alter a fretful re
mark addressed to the walls, to the ef
fect that she was a fool for ever getting
married, took a novel from nnder the
sofa cushion and was soon reading with
an air of absorbed interest. Baby woke
and made the fact shrilly known. An
impatient toss threw the book down
again, and baby was soothed to sleep
with a gentleness strangely at variance
with the jerk that had put the book
upon the table.
When he slept once more in the cradle
Ella yawned and again took up her
book. But before she had opened it
there was a tap at the door, and an
elderly lady with a sweet, fair face came
iD.
•‘Alone?” she said, as Ella eagerly
welcomed her and took off her wraps.
“I am always alone ! Will gets ins
meals here !” was the bitter reply. “He
goes to the store as soon as he swallows
his breakfast, and he is always out in
the evening. Now he is with his brother
playing dominoes.”
“Don't you play dominoes?”
“Yes.”
“ I’d keep him at home to play.”
“He would not eare to stay. I sup-
Eose all young married men tire of
ome, Aunt Mary ?”
“ Not all ! But you speak in a bitter
tone that pains me, Ella. It is not like
you.”
“ I feel bitter ! I have no one to talk
to but you, and I never complained be
fore, but I am tired of being alone all
the time. Baby fills the day, but novels
don’t fill the evening.”
“Ella, since you have spoken to me,
wilt yon let me give you a word of
advice ?”
“ You know you may.”
“ Look in the mirror, dear, then look
around the room !”
Ella obeyed. In tbo mirror she saw
a slender figure rol-ed in a morning
wrapper, without any collar or cuffs,
and not precisely clean ; a face pretty
and expressive, with a wreath of golden
hair loosely knotted into a comb, and
decideoly untidy. The room a hand
somely-furnished sitting room, was beg
ging for a broom as eloquently as a
dusty carpet could beg. Harry’s cradle
iu one corner balanced a disordered
work-table in another. The eenter
table was piled with miscellaneous arti
cles, amongst which a bowl of bread
and milk and a fire shovel figured con
spicuously.
A crimson flush rose on the young
wife’s cheek.
“ What is the use of having things
nice whtn nobody sees them but me, or
dressing, when Will is never at home?”
“ He m ight be at home more if things
were nice and you were dressed. ”
There was a silencefor a few moments.
Then Ella spoke :
“ I’ll try it, auntie. I suppose it is
partly my fault. Before Harry was
born he was at home more, but I have
been careless since then.”
“You are not strong, I know,” Aunt
Mary said very kindly, “ and baby is a
core, but I would try to be dressed in
the evening and have the room cheerful.
Yonr piano looks as if it was never
opened !”
“ It never is !”
“Don’t you have time to practice?”
“I can’t plead want of time, auntie.
Jane is one of the best of servants, and
time hangs upon my hands. lam glad
you came in. I believe I wanted a
moral shaking.”
Then they talked of other matters, of
Harry’s first tooth and baby accomplish
ments, of the winter fashions, of femi
nine interests of all kinds. The innate
sweetness of Ella’s temper made her
take her aunt’s gentle reproof in the
spirit of love that dictated it, and when
the parting caress was given she whis
pered :
“ I’ll try. auntie, to make home more
attractive for Will.”
She was fast asleep with Harry nestled
in her arms when Will came home, but
the touch of his lips upon her cheek
aroused her.
“ Did you have a pleasant evening ?”
she asked. ‘‘Aunt Mary was here and
left her love for you.”
“Charley and I played awHile, and
tli6n Mira Creighton dropped in and
sang for us.”
“ She seems to drop in pretty often.”
“ She is so intimate with the girls,”
“ I never thought her singing very
wonderful.”
“ You sing far better. Bat when I
can’t get any better I like hers.”
D was not tho first time Will had told
the same story, aud strong in her new
resolution Ella determined upon a good
hour of practice early in the morning.
Jane was rather amazed at the clean
'ng the sitting-room received at the
hands of herself and her mistress. The
cradle was banished into the adjoining
bedroom, where baby could still be heard
if he wakened ; the fire-shovel assumed
its legitimate place at the hearth. It
rather astonished Ella herself to find
how many useless articles were “about,”
and how universally everything was in
the wrong place. But by noon the room
w as bright as hands could make it, and
after luncheon a man was sent for to
tune the piano, closed for nearly a year.
The six o’clock dinner brought Will.
Ella was in tie hall as he entered, and
led the way to the dining-room, where a
cheery brightness reigned.
“Compiny, Nell?” queried Will,
his eyes resting upon his wife. The
golden hair—carefully curled—was
gathered into a mass with a comb, and
fell in a profusion of natural ringlets
upon Ella’s shoulders, the waving
bands drawn back from her face. Her
uress, of soft blue marico, was finished
with dainty ruffles at throat and wrists,
and Will’s last Christmas gift, a set of
cameos, held collar, cuffs, and dropped
from the delicate ears. Not a costly
dress, but carefully adjusted, fitting
exqaifcitely, and certainly most becom
ing.
“ No company,” said Ella, “ but our
selves, unless you count Harry. I
have made yon some of the bread
sauce you are so fond of, Will ! ”
“ You’re a jewel. don’t make
yourself sick in the hot kitchen, Nell !
Yon are not very strong, you know.”
Nell blushed at that, for it reminded
her of many a neglected duty, many a
lazy hour, for which the plea had been
offered in excuse.
“ That did not hurt me,” she said,
“for I was in the kitchen making some
lemon-pies ”
Lemon-pies ! You make my mouth
water. Nobody else can make them to
taste like yours ! ”
So dinner was a success. Ella was a
good cook, and Will was never t paring
of praise for the dainties she provided.
But she had left the kitchen to Jane so
long that her husband had ceased to
look for the dainty trifles that had
graced his table before Ella’s health
had become feeble.
Dinner over, Will, in great good hu
mor, went to the sitting-room. The
open grate threw a ruddy glow upon
the bright surroundings, and his face
lighted with pleasure. But the large
eyes fairly danced as he cried : “ The
piano open ! I begau to think it was
buried forever!”
“ Not quite !” said Ella, laughing,
and yet blushing brightly ; “ I thought
from what yon said last night you
would like to hear me sing again !”
“You bet I would!” was the em
phatic, if not very elegant, response.
“ Let’s play dominoes, then, till I
can sing. It is too soon after dinner
now. Be merciful, for I am out of
practice, remember.”
Here Jane came in with Master
Harry, ready for bed, and after soft
kisses he was taken into the next room
and put into his cradle.
“ You will come up if he cries, Jane,”
Ella said, and took down the domino
box. “ I think Harry is eld enough
now to spare me in the evening,” she
added in explanation.
“ Little monkey, how he grows!”
was the reply. “Come, what is your
highest ?”
Cunningly Ella kept up the interest
of the game till nearly nine o’clock,
when Will certainly would not go out.
Then she sang for him. Her voice,
clear and sweet, had been highly culti
vated, and she was surprised to find
how much pleasure she felt herself in
once more exercising it.
Eleven o’clock chimed on the little
mantel clock when Will was pleadiDg
for “ just one more” song, and Ella
sang the “ Good-night” in answer.
“By Jove!” cried Will, “I was to
meet Charley at the club-room at eight.
Where has the evening gone?”
“Never mind! Any other evening
will do as well,” said Ella.
The next day was stormy. Ella ap
peared at breakfast with neatest of col
lars aid cuffs, hair in a knot like bur
nished gold, and a face like a sunbeam.
Will, who had eaten in solitary state
for more mornings than his wife cared
to count, was as attentive as a lover.
His parting kiss the
words :
“ Take a nap, Nell, this morning. We
must keep you well, you know! I
haven’t enjoyed my breakfast so much
for a year.”
“Don’t forget the new songs, Will.
If you will send them round I will try
them over before you come home.”
“ I'll send them then as I go down
town.”
Wet and dismally muddy Will came
in from a February storm of rain upon
melting snow. Ella was waiting for
him, and drew him into the bedroom.
Before the fire hung a dressing-gown
of bright cashmere faced with blue silk,
while under the dry, warm socks a pair
of gorgeous slippers were toasting.
“Good gracious! Nell, where did
those come from?” said Will, hastily
drawing off his soaked boots.
“It is your birthday. Have you for
gotten ? I bought those to-day for
you.”
“Out iu all this rain ?”
“I did Dot walk much. Try them
on, Will!”
“ Fine as a Turk!” said Will, twisting
before a mirror to see how the dressing
gown fitted.
“ Now come and have some hot soup.
I made it.”
“ See here, Nell, ain’t you doing too
much?”
“Not a bit. I needed a good toast
ing over the fire after being out and I
took it over soup and pudding in the
kitchen, instead of over a novel here.
That is all the difference. Jane will
ring the tongue out of that bell if we
don’t hurry. That is the third time
she has summoned us.”
Dinner over, the new songs were
tried, a few games of checkers pre
ceding the music. Then there was
some animated chat about anew busi
ness interest of which Will spoke, and
Ella confessed to having read the
paper. It was one of her old customs
resumed, for Will had dearly liked to
discuss the day’s news with her in the
evening. She had a bright intelligence
and could converse well on the inter
ests of the day, but novels had su
perseded newspapers while she “ was
not very strong.”
Again eleven o’clock struck before
Will knew the evening was half gone.
“ Charley will think I have deserted
him,” he said; “ but slippers and
dressing-gown are too comfortable to
be easily resigned.”
Ella softly stroked the hair of a
head resting upon the back of the
great arm chair as Will spoke. A
strong arm encircled her and she was
drawn te her husband’s knee.
“Little woman,” he said tenderly,
“ I cannot tell you how glad I am you
are well again. It was awfully dismal
seeing you always in the direful wrap
per. But—” and man like he hesitated
“I suppose I ought to have stayed
at home more ! ”
“ Yon will now ? ” she said anxiously.
“Where can I find so pleasant a
place,” he said, with loving fervor, “or
so precious a companion ? ”
It was nearly a month later that Aunt
Mary, spending an evening with Will’s
motner, heard Charley grumblingly
declare:
44 There is no getting Will to go any
where nowadays. He ’sticks at home
in the evening as if he were glued there.
I went round there Saturday. Jane
was out, Nell lying on the lounge with
a headache and Will reading to her,
while he tocked the cradle with one
foot.
“ 4 Can’t leave,’ he told me ; 4 Nell
requires all my attention, for I can’t
possibly afford to have her sick again !’ ”
And so Aunt Mary knew that Ella
had 44 tried ” to taake home t pleasant
and succeeded.— Hearth and Home.
The imperfections of the diamond,
and n Ei.’ l of all gems, are made visible
by putang them into oil of cassia, when
the slightest flaw will be seen.
Sweet-Scented Flowers.
Gay-colored flowers may attract the
eye, but it is the sweet-scented kind
which command our most sincere love
and admiration.
Form and size are also attractive
properties of plants, and we may ad
mire and enjoy the graceful leaves of
the delicate fern or those of the lofty
palm of the tropics, somewhat as we
do the lovely cascades or magnificent
landscape; but the fragrance of flowers
is the soul of beauty, a thing to be felt,
known and enjoyed; still remaining
hidden from human eyes.
It is true that there are persons who
either cannot or do not appreciate the
delicious fragrance of flowers; but
they are rare exceptions to the general
rule. We have only to glance over the
pages of floricultural history to learn
how strong a hold plants with sweet
scented flowers nave upon the affections
of mankind.
Fashion may for a time popularize
the gaudy-colored zinnia, the straight
laoed and stately hollyhock, or geomet
rical dahlia ; but their superficial mer
its never strike very deep in the affec
tions of the masses, hence the vacilla
tions observed in their culture. Of
oourse, we would not * xclude gav-col
ored flowers from the garden any more
than we would bright-colored garments
from children, for they attract the eye
and in turn lead to a closer acquaint
ance with both the useful and beauti
ful in nature.
For 270 years the small colorless but
sweet-soented tuberose has held undis
puted sway as one of the queens of the
floral kingdom, its popularity increas
ing with each succeeding generation.
Wonderful discoveries have been made
in the lily family during the past few
years. New species and varieties of
large size and brilliant colors have
reached us from China and Japan, be
sides those found in California; but
who would exchange that little gem
known as lily of the valley for the best
or most gay-colored of them all.
Keates truthfully said;
No flower amid the garden fairer grows,
Than the sweet lily of the lowly vale,
The queen of flowers.
It is neither large nor showy in color,
but its sweetness has ever made it a
universal favorite. The wall flowew,
ten weeks stocks, heliotrope and mig
nonette possess none of the showy
kinds of beauty; still few plants can
claim more friends or genuine admira
tion. The camellia js a showy and
beautiful flower, fit to bedeck a queen ;
but the little orange blossom, with its
lovely fragrance, fittingly becomes the
bride.
Spring will soon come again, and then
I would urge every one who cultivates
flowers to remember the sweet-scented
kinds. In making out lifts of plants do
not overlook the fragrant sorts. We
have gay and showy clematis in abun
dance; but few are fragrant, the old C.
Flammula being thfe best of all.
Among the climbing honeysuckles
tho old iielgiaji taorithiy jiud the Chi
nese evergreen are indispensable, on
account of their sweetly-smelling flow
ers. Talk as we will, or even attempt
to despise the old-fashioned plants, few
can forget the sweet rocket or the
banche* of grass pinks in “my moth
er’s garden.” If we would have chil
dren carry with them through life pleas
ant thoughts of childhood days, sur
round them with fragrant flowers. Even
the rose shall “smell as sweet by any
other name.”— Cor. N. Y. Independent.
A. Burning Was-Well.
A. Wonder of tbe Pennsylvania Coal
Regions.
The following interesting description
of a burning well in Pennsylvania has
been receved by the signal office in
Washington city from Mr. S. Cum
mings, of Tarentum, one of the volun
teer observers for the signal service :
On the n'ght of the 2d of February,
1875, I, in company with several others,
paid a visit to the great gas-well, situ
ated about nine miles irom Tarentum
and fifteen miles south of Butler, at a
place called Larden’s Mill, on the farm
of Mr. William Hervey, aud owned by
a company consisting of Messrs. Wil
liam Hervey, J. S. Vandegrift and J.
McAllaster. The well was tapped about
two weeks ago, as I learned from one
of the proprietors in their search after
oil. They have gone down a distance
of 1,145 feet, and have just struck the
first sand rock. The well is located in
a hollow about 300 feet wide, between
abrupt hills. Our party came in the
vicinity of the well about nine o’clock
at night, having seen the vast light
floating in the sky on many a dark night
on previous occasions, thirteen miles
distant, but when we came in its imme
diate influence and saw the trees on
either hand lit up, and their trunks
and branches silvered to their tops by
this burning torch, the scene was be
yond description. On arriving at the
ground we were met by people from all
parts of the country, who, like our
selves, flock nightly to see this great
wonder. The first thing to strike the
visitor is the great mass of fine white
flame of intense heat and brightness
and the hollow, rambling noise heard
as the ont-rußhing gas plunges into the
atmosphere and lights all around by its
imposing brilliancy. The flame of this
natural torch is about forty feet long
and fifty wide, and keeps at these di
mensions night and day with striking
regularity. Hence the light is both
regular and constant. The heat emit
ted by so large a body of flame is very
great. The trees all aronnd, at propor
tional distances, are budding, and the
grass that has not been trodden down
by the throng of visitors is growing
finely, and considering that this is mid
winter, this circumstance will give some
idea of the great heat. I approached
within sixty feet of the flame, and sup
posed it to be at that distance about 140
degrees. The place has the character
of a camp-meeting at night in conse
quence qf the mighty crowds who con
gregate there. The light is grand.
You can see to read with ease a quarter
of a mile from this enormous gas-jet,
and if uninterrupted by trees and the
wind of the road reading could be done
at the distance of a mile and a half.
The noise as the gas rushes out and is
oonsumed is wonderful.
Hair.
Hair is not less useful than orna
mental. It is a bad conductor of heat,
and keeps the head warm in winter and
cold in summer. It wards off the ef
fect of the sun; and we find negroes
exposing themselves without head-cov
ering to its burning rays in a tropical
climate without the slightest injury,
nd some tribes of wild A' abs,
who wear neither torboo3h nor turban,
are said to rely solely on their bushy
■ heads of hair as a protection agann-t
sunstroke. It Ea- not be generally
! known that the state of the hair depends
| much on that of the general health. In
i perfect health the hair is full, glossy
CARTERSVILLE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH IS. 1875.
and rich in its hues, in -jconeequeiice ol
the absorption from the blood of a nu
tritive juice containing its proper pro
portion of oily and albuminous ele
ments. In persons out of health
it may lose its brilliancy of hue,
and become lank and straight,
from the presence of imperfect j uices ;
in others, aga>n, there may be a totai
absence of such nutritive elements, and
the hair consequently looks faded and
dead. Climate exercises great influence
on the curliness of the hair, as may be
illustrated in the difference iu this re
spect between the native of the north
and the south.
Informal People.
Preserve ns from unceremonious peo
ple—those men and women who “nover
stand on ceremony ” —who are always
perfectly at home in other people’s
houses! Society has many pets, but few
so intolerable as they. “Free and easy”
visitors are most thorongly disagree
able. They will inflict themselves upon
you at any time, and expect to be always
cordially welcomed because tiiey are so
free and easy and so loth to put anybody
to trouble. They will come before
breakfast, or j ust as you are sitting down
to dinner, and draw up their chairs quite
like one of the family. Early in the
morniDg they delight to “ run "in,” and
they will come right up to your chamber
to save you the trouble of coming down,
and there they will sit and watch you
make your toilet, and comment on how
gray your hair is getting, and wonder if
you are not a good deal stouter and red
der in the face than you used to be.
They will hunt over your writing-desk
for note-paper; bathe their faces with
your cologne-water, and scent their
handkerchiefs with the contents of your
choicest perfumery bottle. They are
always ready for luncheon—“ You know
I’m too much at home in your house to
go hungry, my dear,” —and any stray
confectionery lying about melts before
them as dew before the sun. They make
no scruple of borrowing your latest
magazines and novels ; even your ward
robe does not escape their encroach
ments ; and all this insolence is cloaked
by some such empty remark as this : “ I
never stand on ceremony, but make my
self at home everywhere, so don’t put
yourself out to entertain me!” Again
we pray, preserve us from unceremoni
ous people !
The New Paris Opera-House.
Defecl* of the Costly Structure- Uiicen
Isabella and Her Daughter.
The opera has brought out its second
piece on the new stage. It is the “ Fa
vorite” with Faure iu his great part of
the King. Of course, it makes as yet
but little difference as to what opera is
performed in the new house, People
rush to inspect the building and to
promenade in the foyer, and the music
is but a very trifling consideration.
The new scenery is exquisite beauti
ful. The Moorish garden in the first
act. wheT° EoiuauJo m to Le
onora, is a perfect dream of Oriental
and voluptuous beauty. The brief bal
let divertisement is lovely as a vision.
The delicately-blended and changing
tints of the dreßses, the artistic grace
and grouping of the dancers, as “ with
woven paces and with waving hands,”
they flit to and fro in the pulses and
pauses of the music, aie exquisite to
behold. But the opera as a whole was
poorly rendered. Mine. Reisina Bloch,
the prima donna, is a big woman with
a big voice, but lacks both style and
refinement. Achard, the tenor, has a
sweet, elegant organ, and was once the
star of the Opera Comique, but his
voice is weak and rebels against the
strain put upon it. But Faure was
magnificent. He alone sustains the
reputation of the great singers of the
French stage. As to the house itsolf,
it recalls vividly the vanished theater
on the Rue Lepelletier, and so must be
dear to the heart of every lover of
music. But it is entirely too dark.
The huge chandelier, as delicately
worked and as artistic in design as a
lady’s bracelet, is charming as an orna
ment, but diffuses by far too little light.
The somber appearance of the house is
also increased by a grave mistake made
in the choice of color for the front tiers
and the proscenium (the wood work, as
it ought to be called, but as there is no
wood in the whole of it, the word is
scarcely admissible). It has been
painted, not white, but a light ccffee
oolor, a hue which absorbs the light and
is extremely difficult to illuminate prop
erly. Therefore, the whole auditorum
has a dismal look, which is increased by
the contrast with the blaze of light in
the great golden foyer and on the grand
staircase. The house was crowded with
the vtry creme de la creme of Parisian
society. Queen Isabella, of Spain, aud
her daughter, the Countess Girgenti,
occupied one of the proscenium boxes.
Her majesty has a taste for very light
.colors and youthful styles in dress,
which, considering she is growing old
and is immensely stout, shows that she
does not pay much attention to the fit
ness of things generally. She had on
on this occasion a dress of pale blue
silk trimmed with white lace, and wore
an aigrette of diamonds in her hair,
the Countess Gergenti was in white
puffed tulle wrth a scarlet scarf laid
transversely across her bust and fas
tened on the shoulder with a scarlet
rosette. She had on a superb necMace
composed of five rows ol large pure
pearls, which fell nearly to her waist.
The countess is as thin as her royal
mamma is fat, and as cross-looking as
Queen Isabella is good-natured looking.
Rumor whispers that she possesses a
perfectly diabolical temper, and that
she actually worried the unfortunate
Count Girgtnti into committing suicide.
Queen Isabella, on the contrary, is uni
versally credited with great genialityof
disposition and kindness of heart.—
Paris Letter.
Curiosities of Language. —The Hin
doos are 6aid to have no word for
“friend.” The Italians have no equiv
alent for our “humanity.” The Kus
sian dictionary gives a word the defini
tion of which is, 44 not to have enough
buttops on your footman’s waistcoat; ”
a second means to “kill over again;”
a third “to earn by dancing.” The
Germans call a thimble a “ finger-hat,”
which it certainly is and a grasshopper
a “hay-horee.” A glove with them is
a 44 hand shoe,” showing that they wore
shoes before gloves. The French,
strange to say, have no verb “to
stand” nor can a Frenchman speak of
“ kicking ” any one. The nearest ap
proach he, in his politeness, makes to
it, is to threaten to “ give a blow with
his foot,” the same thing, probably, to
the recipient in either case, tut it
seems to wan* toe directness. the en
ergy, of cur 4 kick.” Ice ternn “up
stairs” and “down stairs” are also un
known in French
At last accounts the Philadelphia
detectives were still hard at work in tin
bar-room of the Continent;! Hotel
hunting for Charlie Ross.
A Nice Lftile Ghost Story.
In anew volume by Rev. J. 8. Wood,
entitled “Man and Beast here and here
after," occurs the following striking
ghost-story, which the reader may
credit or not, as he is accustomed to do
in regard to legends of this sort:
“ There are, as we know, many per
sons who cannot believe that, as they
put it, the living should be able to see
the dead. Neither do I believe it.
But as the spirit lives, though the ma
terial body no longer incloses it, surely
there can be no difficulty in believing
that the living spirit within 9b earthiy
body may see a living spirit which has
escaped from its material garment.
We do not doubt that after the death
of the body the spirit will live and see
other spiriL similarly freed from earth,
and it is no Very great matter that the
living should see the living, though one
be still enshrined in its earthly taber
nacle, and the other released from it.
“This being granted—and it is not
very much to grant—it necessarily fol
lows that if the lower animals possess
spirit, they may be capable of spiritual
as well as material vision. Tnat they
do possess this power, and that it can
be exercised, is shown by the story of
Balaam. There we find it definitely
stated not only that the ass saw the
angel, but that she saw him long before
her master did. Now, the angel, being
a spiritual being, could only see with a
spiritual eye; and it therefore follows
that, unless the story be completely
false, the animal possessed a spirit, and
saw with the eye of that spirit.
“I should think that none who be
lieve in the truth of the Holy Scriptures
(and I again remind the reader that
this book is only intended for those who
do so), could doubt that here is a case
which proves that the spirit of the ass
was capable of seeing and fearing the
spiritual angel. And if that be granted,
I do not see how any one can doubt
that the spirit which saw the angel par
took of his immortality, just as her out
ward eye, which saw material objects,
partook of their mortality. Shortly
afterward, the eyes of the prophet were
opened, and he also saw the angel; but
it must be remembered that the eyes of
the beast had been opened first, and
that she, her master, and the angel,
met for the time in the same spiritual
plane.
“ I have for a long time had in my
possession a letter from a lady, in which
she narrates a personal adventure which
has a singularly close resemblance to
the Scriptural story of Balaam. It had
been told me immediately after I threw
out my ‘feeler’ in the ‘common objects
of the country.’ As 1 had at that time
the intention of vindicating the immor
tality of the lower animals, I requested
the narrator to write it, so that I might
possess the statement authenticated in
her otfn hand-writing.
' “ At the time of the occurrence, the
lady and her mother were living in an
old country .
“ ‘lt was during the winter of 18
that I happened to be sitting by the
side of a cheerful fire in my bedroom,
busily engaged caressing a favorite cat
—the illustrious Lady Catharine, now,
alas !no more. She lay in a pensive
attitude and a winking state of drowsi
ness in my lap.
“ ‘ Although my room might be with
out candles, it was perfectly illuminated
by the light of the fire. There were
two doors —one behind me, leading into
an apartment which had been locked
for the winter, and another on the op
posite side of the room, which commu
nicated with the passage.
“ ‘ Mamma had not left me many min
utes, and the high-backed, old-fash
ioned arm-chair, which she had occu
pied, remained vacant at the opposite
corner of the fireplace. Puss, who lay
with her head on my arm, became more
and more sleepy, and I pondered on
the propriety of preparing for bed.
“ ‘ Of a sudden I became aware that
something had a fleeted my pet’s equa
nimity. The purring ceased, and she
exhibited rapidly-increasing symptoms
of uneasiness. I bent down, and en
deavored to coax her into quietness;
but she instantly struggled to her feet
in my lap, and" spitting vehemently,
with back arched and tail swollen, she
assumed a mingled attitude of terror
and defiance.
“‘The change in her position obliged
me to raise my head ; and on looking
up, to my inexpressible horror, I then
perceived" that a little, hideous, wrinkled
old hag occupied mamma’s chair. Her
hands were rested on her knees, and her
body was stooped forward so as to bring
her face in close proximity to mine.
Her eyes, piercingly fierce and shin
ing with an overpowering lustre, were
steadfastly fixed on me. It was as if a
fiend were glaring at me through them.
Her dress and general appearance de
noted her to belong to the French
bourgeosie ; but those eyes, so wonder
fully large, and in their expression so
intensely wicked, entirely absorbed my
senses, and precluded any attention to
detail. I should have screamed, but
my breath was gone while tnat terrible
gaze so horribly fascinated me ; I could
neither withdraw my eyes nor rise from
my seat.
“‘lhad meanwhile been trying to
keep a tight hold on the cat, but she
seemed resolutely determined not to
remain in such ugly neighborhood, and
after some most desperatp efforts at
length succeeded in escaping from my
grasp. Leaping over tables, chairs,
and all that came in her way, she re
peatedly threw herself, with frightful
violence, against the top panel of the
door which communicated with the dis
used room. Then, returning in the
same frantic manner, she furiously
dashed against the door on the opposite
side.
“ 4 My terror was divided, and 1
looked by turns, now at the old woman,
whose great, staring eyes were con
stantly fixed on me, and now at the cat,
who was becoming every instant more
frantic. At last the dreadful'idea that
the animal had gone mad had the effect
of restoring my breath, and I screamed
loudly.
“‘Mamma ran in immediately, and
the cat, on the door opening, literally
sprang over her head, and tor upward
of half an hour ran up and down stairs
as if pursued. I turned to point to the
object of my terror ; it was gone.
Under such circumstanoes the lapse of
time is difficult to appreciate, but I
should think that the apparition lasted
about four or five minutes.
“ 4 Some time afterward it transpired
| that a former proprietor of the home,
a worn art had hanged herself in that
very took , ’
“The pi use and evidently • uhaue
j pected retie mbia. nee of this narrative to
; the story Of Balaam is worthy of notice.
In both cases we have the lemaik-b!e
fact thfit tho animal was the first to sie
the spiritual being, and to show by its
terrified actions that it had done so.”
Name?.
The ancient Hebrews, Egyptians, As
syrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks,
all used one name for each individual.
Nor did the rich recesses of the name
mine yield its treasures till broken into
by the numerous hosts of increasing
population, all clamoring for a name.
The Romans made some ad vancement
in names, and gave to their common
wealth a division into clans or gentes.
The gens were then divided into fami
lies, and the families into individuals,
each of whom had three names : the
prenomen, or first name, which marked
the individual; the nomen, or middle
name, which marked the gens, and the
cognomen, the family. Military suc
cesses added an agnomen, in honor of
conquest. The ninth day after a child’s
birth was celebrated by name and a
feast which the Romans called Noinin
alia. The Greeks used the tenth day,
and offered sacrifices to their gods.
Pythagoras noted the success of men
according to fate, genius, and name.
Plato and Tacitus also believed in a
prosperous name.
■ Our surnames are modern. The Pa
gan converts to Christianity dropped
their Pagan for Bible names, and whole
companies of Marys, Marthas, Johns
and Peters were baptized at once. From
this we can readily see the confusion of
generality when one particular John felt
a veryparticnlar preference for his par
ticular lady Mary love, and called to
see her at the house of many other
Marys. The distinction necessary was
found in a nickname suggested by the
occupation of the individual.
For several centuries little is known
abont surnames. Some date their origin
from the Norman conquest, a plausibil
ity to American aristocrats, who seem
satisfied if their stock and “family”
goes as far back as William the con
queror, or even a taint and discolor of
“blood” be traced in that English
channel which William crossed. Cam
den dates surnames in France A. D.
1000 ; in England, 1066, a little before
Edward the confessor. In Wales sur
names were used some time after that.
Surname is from the French sur nom,
and Latin super , because at first the
surname was written over the given
name.
The Saxons made their surnames by
adding “ing”to their father’s name,
as Whiting, Browning; also from place
of residence, occupation—hence, Lee,
Moore, Hill, Weaver, Cooper, etc. In
the eleventh century the Norm ans began
to transmit the surname to descendants,
and use the prefix Fitz, which is a cor
ruption of French fils, for son; hence,
Fitz James, son of James. Russian
viteh means son; Paul Petrovitch—
Paul, son of Peter. In the middle
ages the Jews used the word ben,
which means son. The Welsh, ap;
thus, John an Richard was possibly
corrupted to John Prichard. Polish,
sky; as Petrosky—son of Peter. In the
seventeenth century Scotland and
If Hmv ■** * - r 0
and O’, meaning of—O’Donald, son of
Donald. Anglo-Saxon lyt and cie, or
cock, meaning little where used as a
termination—Hamlet, Babcock, Wiloox,
son of little Will, or litle Bob, etc. Then
some English surnames were taken
from place of residence, things in nature,
personal appearance, with the prefix
“ at,” as Atmoor, John at the Oaks,
corrupted to John Noaks ; Peter at the
Seven Oaks, to Peter Snooks. Also
from dignities, as Prince, King.
Smith seems tp have been the grand,
monotonous chorus of names. Poor
John Smith? the multiplicity of
events he daily serves in ! Dies, is
born, buried, married, hung, day after
day. Oh, why did he escape that cele
brated Indian hatchet ? Who does not
kpow John Smith ? No one better
than that man in a crowded house who,
wanting a seat, cried out—“. John
Smith’s house is on fire,” and was the
recipient of two-thirds of the emptied
seats ! Smith is from Anglo-Saxon—
kmitan, to smite. Among the High
land clans the Smith ranked third from
the chief, because his employ included
wood, metals, and all mechanical work,
hence the importance and frequency of
the Smiths. Some derive it from
Shem ; —Shem it, Shemidt, Smith—
quite an easy declension of the very
proper and most common noun Smith.
On the Egyptian temple Osiris is that
name Smith. Pharioh Sraithosis, of
Thebon Kings, built the c3lebrated
temple Smithopolis Magna.
Ah Electric Girl.
A writer in the Popular Science
Monthly says : “In the beginning of
1846, a year memorable in the history
of table-turning and spirit-rapping,
Angelique Cottin was a girl of fourteen,
living in the village of Bouvigny, near
La Perriere, Department of Orne,
France. She was of low stature, but
of robust frame, and apathetic to an
extraordinary degree both in body and
mind. On January 15 oi the year
named, while the girl was with three
others engaged in weaving silk-thread
gloves, the oaken table at which they
worked began to move and change posi
tion. The workmen were alarmed ;
work was for a moment suspended, but
was soon resumed. But when Angeli
que again took her place the table be
gan anew to move with great violerce ;
the felt herself attracted to it, but, so
soon as she touched it, it retreated be
fore her, or was even upset. The fol
lowing morning similar phenomena
were observed ; and before long public
opinion was very decided in affirming
that Angelique Cottin was possessed of a
devil, and that she should be brought
before the parish priest. But the cure
was a man of too much common sense
to heed 1 heir request for an exorcism,
and resolved to see the facts for him
self. The girl was brought to the
cure’s house, and there the phenomena
were repeated, though not with the
same intensity as before ; the table re
treated, but was not overturned, while
the chair on which Angelique was seated
moved in a contrary direction, rocking
the while, and giving Angelique great
difficulty in keeping her seat.”
lfapid Increase of Population.
Baltimore has had a sensation recently
in the sudden increase of its population
by the birth of quartet sisteis. The
mother of this interesting progeny is
an American woman, about thirty years
o. age, and the wife of a cigar- maker,
whose pecuniary circumstances are
hardly equal to the drain on his purae
which this extraordinary event must
necessitate. He expresses a willing
ness, however to do the best he can
under this visitation of providence.
All the children are in sound health and
quite as good humored as could be ex
pected. The ladies of Baltimore of
; ail classes of society evidence quite an
interest in the little ones, and the babies
have been visited by hundreds of aris
tocratic ladies from all parts of the city,
by some who live out of it. Physicians
by the score have called to see this phe
nomenon of nature. After the christ
ening of the babies, each was duly
labeled to prevent confusion as to
“which was which,” something very
likely to happen, as they are as mnea
alike as four peas. So great has bean
the crowd of ladies calling that it was
found necessary to announce that at
present the fonr little sisters would de
cline to receive any more visitors. A
purse is being raised by wealthy ladies
to give the Little ones a start "in life,
and, judging from the heavy figures al
ready put down, Baltimore is evidently
determined that such enterprise shall
not go unrewarded.
George Washington’s Family.
not go
Some Interest late Facts- Probable Origin
of the American Flag.
The Washington’s were North of Eng
land people, who some time lived it
Dnrham, then in Lancashire, and finally
in Northamptonshire. It is safe to go
back to the reigns of the seventh and
eighth Harrys for a founder, and we
find him in Sir Thomas Kitson, one of
the great merchants who developed the
wool trade. The first of the family to
settle in the rich pasturage of the mid
land county of Northampton was Law
rence Washington, whose mother was a
Kitson. Lawrence was a barrister, but
gave up his profession of the law for
the good and ancient reason, perhaps,
that though he was bred to the law, the I
law was not bread for him, aud so he
retired to the country to look after his
uncle Kitson’s flocks of merinos. Law
rence must have been a man of some
significance, for he was made mayor of
Northampton, and when Bluff Hal
raided the monasteries, Lawrence being
identified with the cause of reformation,
came in for a share or what in vulgar
parlance might be called “ swag,” in
other words, the king made a grant to
him of the monastic lands of Sulgrave.
Near this was Althorp, the family seat
of the Spencers, and the Lady Spencer
of that day was the daughter of Sir
Thomas Kitson, and consequently the
first cousin of Lawrence Washington.
The rector of the parish was Dr. Lay-
ton, who was Lord Cromwell’s prime
commissioner for the dissolution of
monasteries, by which we reach another
cause, in addition to his blood relation
ship to the Spencers, of why the lands
of Sulgrave should have been given to
Lawrence Washington.
For three generations the Washing
tons held Sulgrave, taking rank among
the nobility and landed gentry of the
country, but after that their fortunes
waned. Sulgrave was sold, and the
family retired to the parish of Brington,
under the care and patronage as it were
of poor relationship of the Spencers.
Prosperity however came to them Li re
quickly, and it came in a way to prove
the respectability of th 3 ir lineage. The
eldest son of the family married the
half-sister of George Viliiers, duke of
Buckingham, and thus we see the
Washingtons intermarrying with two of
the best families in all England. The
lAJiI niiU -Z
in 1657 was the grandfather of the hero
who sleeps on the banks of the Poto
mac. In 1662 he' was knighted by
James 1., and it is knowD that he was
on the most friendly terms with the
Spencers down to the very eve of the
civil war. In that struggle the Wash
ingtonß drew their swords for the king.
Sir Henry Washington led the storming
party at Bristol, and defended Worces
ter. Sir Henry held tne rank of col
onel, and was a man so noted for his
bravery that it became a proverb in the
army when a difficulty arose : “Away
with it,” qnoth Washington.
In Brington church are two sepul
chral stones, one bearing the date of
1616 over the grave of the father of
Washington, the emigrant, in which
his arms appear impaled with those of
his wife. The other stone covers the
remains of his nncle, and presents on a
bass the simple family shield with the
crescent appropriate to a younger
brother. We have before us a tran
script of this shield, and from it we are
constrained to believe that the United
States flag as seen now very certainly
took its origin. In this shield are five
horizontal stripes, of alternate gules
and white, as are those of the national
flag, while the three stars in the UDper
stripe have the parallel! peculiarity ol
being five-pointed. All this may Dot
be of interest to those who care very
little whether George Washington had a
grandfather or not, but then again there
may be others who will not think any
the less of the father of the great repub
lic because his ancestors fought against
Cromwell and his Ironsides to keep
Charles’ head upon his shoulders.— iS'L
Louis Republican.
Curious Tree?.
Just beyond the Darbonne of Calea
sieu river, in the parish of Caleasieu, is
a white oak tree, abont two and a half
feet in diameter. There are no branches
for twenty-five or thirty feet up. About
twelve or fifteen feet up, a pine limb or
part of a pine tree, six or eight inches
in diameter, and twelve or sixteen feet
loDg, runs at right angles through the
center of the tree, sticking ont abont
the same distance on either side. It
tapers a little to one end, where are
two or three knots, giving it the appear
ance of a tree top. The cak, where it
passes through, is grown, closely around
it. The pine is rich in turpentine, and
will not decay. There is no fork or
hollow in the oak; but it has the ap
pearance as if a hole had been made
and the pine stuck through, after
which the oak closed on it by growth..
The question is, how did the pine get
through the oak, or the oak round the
pine? In Mallet woods there is another
white oak, of considerable size, that
divides into two prongs about one and
a half feet from the ground, which, after
running op like a pair of lowlegs, about
fifteen feet, unite in one round compact
stem. The prongs are abont one and a
half feet in diameter ; and where they
unite above, the tree is larger than
either oi them, but smaller than both
together. A man can walk between the
two prongs, and the tree stands on a
land boundary line. Forked trees are
very common ; but the question here is,
how did the two prongs unite so per
fectly into one stem above.
Dressing Wounds.— Dr. Alphonse
GueriD, an eminent surgeon of the Hotel
Dieu, in Paris, has presented to the
French Academy of Sciences a memoir,
of quite an interesting and important
character, on the influence of atmos
pherio germs on surgical maladies, and
in which he strongly advocates the use
of tow dressing for wounds. He states,
as the result of much observation in
this line, that, when this material is
packed upon the injured part, the pus
is completely preserved from putrid
fermentation, H© used the tow, m
brief, as a filter for the air, which cir
culates freely through it, and, in fact,
produces an arrangement which is de
scribed as highly analogous to the cotton
wool respirator mentioned by Professor
Tyndall in his paper on haze and dust.
VOL. 16--NO. 12.
sjmxiis asd doishs^
She raised her spectacles, took an
other look at the child, tapped her
snuff-box and said: “Wall, it’s my
opinion that that child’s troubled with
worms ?”
A Rhode Island cow tore a woman’s
mouth clear around to her ear. and. her
husband at enoe ran away. He said it
was useless to think of contending with
a woman who was all month.
A spelling- school movement, which
is “ destiny to sweep the oonntry.” has
begun in Ohio. The struggles of the
average Ohioan w.th the word “baker”
are said to be almost terrific.
Don’t go to Switzerland to start a
paper. A journal has just been sup-
Dressed there for refusing to believe
image of a saint saved a man
who'fell a distance of 170 feet
It is pleasant to note the progress of
refining influences, and the broadening
of social culture. Over the toilet ap
pliances in a north end wash-room, in
Boston, is a sign bearing the words,
“ Don’t wipe your nose on the towel.
Don’t listen to tales of his bounty,
Don t bear what they say of his birth.
Don’t look at hid seat in the county,
Don’t calculate what he is worth;
But give him a theme to write verse on,
And see if he turns out bis toe;
If he’s only an excellent person.
My own Araminta, say “ No!”
“ She is a perfect Amazon,” said a
pupil in one of our schools of Ms teach
er, to a companion. “Yes,” said the
other, who was better versed in geo
graphy than history, “ I noticed she
had an awful big mouth.”
A good story is being told of George
William Curtis. He prides himself, it
is said, on his English accent, eschew
ing the Yankee “drawl.” Therefore,
when he was over there and went to a
tailor’s he was not a little mortified at
the master’s exclaiming : “ Arry, show
the Hamejican gentleman the weskets.”
“ I’ve known many a lass,
Who would thoughtlessly pass
Whole hours parading the streets;
While the mother would scrub,
And rub at the tub,
Never minding the cold nor the beat.
It is so ? It is so ?
You may smile as you like
But it’s so.”
The Lord’s Prayer was recently
called to the attention of the San
Francisco school board, and after some
discussion the chair decided “that the
Lord’s Prayer is partisan and sectarian,
and that the use of it in our sohools is
contrary to the spirit of the school law.”
Its chanting and reading were accord
ingly ruled out of the schools.
A French traveler arrived in Paris
ihe other day from the Cape of Good
Hope, bringing with him a diamond
larger and more beautiful than the cele
brated Regent’s diamond. It is the
purest water, and is worth more than
$1,400,000. It was found in an old
abandoned mine called the Devil’s
Table.
The San Francisco Bulletin says that
the first piece of gold found, whioh
coast is still to be seen. Its value is
between fonr and five dollars. It re
sembles a piece of spruce gum just out
of the mouth of a school girl, with
s milar indentations. It coaid easily
be identified by any one who had ever
tmn it.
A few Sundays ago the Rev. Father
Martignon preached to a fashionable
audience in the Church of Notre Dame,
and in his sermon mildly remarked
tliat those who should frequent the new
opera-house would go to hell, without
aay hope of rescue. Carpeaux’s group
of sculptured Bacchus ana Bacchantes
on the facade near the front door at
tracted the reverend gentleman’s eyes
as he went in night-gown nelige—
without the night gown.
-A Buffalo paper prints the following
letter from one of its old and prompt
p iving patrons : “ Ploase discontinue
my paper from the time I have paid up
to. Ido not stop the paper because I
do not want it, but to get rid of an in
tolerable old bore that intrudes himself
in my house, regardless of time or cir
cumstances, to sit for an hour or two,
tliree or four times a week, to read my
papers, and who is a thousand times
more able to take a dozen papers for
h mseif than lam to take one. If the
nuisance is stopped, I shall send lor
the paper again.”
The Matrimonial News, a journal de
voted to the promotion of marriage and
conjugal felicity, has a wide circulation
all over Great Britain. There are more
than three hundred advertisements in
its last issue for husbands and wives.
Clergymen, army officers, members of
parliament, manufacturers, merchants,
physicians, chemists, farmers, univer
sity men, an earl’s son, a reporter, gen
tlemen with expectations, and gentle
men without any; bachelors and wid
owers, Roman Catholic and Protestant,
all urge their suits through this con
vanient journal, which contains full
announcement of characteristics, physi
cial and spiritual; age, condition, prop
erty and family connections.
An Experiment in Natural His
tort. —One often reads of the discov
ery of live toads in the center of trees
or inside of apparently so 1 id stone. A
French nanralist, M. Margelidet, has
just published the results of an experi
ment of that nature. On the 15th of
Jinuray, in the year 1870, he caused a
cavity to be hollowed in a large stone,
put a toad into the cavity, and then
sealed up the mouth of the bole with
impermeable cement. The other day,
five years, day for day, since be had put
the pcor creature into durance vile, he
broke open the cavity at the museum
of natural history, and found the toad
wt-thin alive and well, though in a tor
pid condition. Nor has it since its re
lease taken any nourishment whatever.
The Cities of the World.
Statistical tables show that there are
in the whole world about one hundred
aid sixty-four cities with 100,000 in
habitants ; nine with over 1,000,000;
twelve with from 1,000,000 down to
6(0,000; twenty with from 300,000 to
4(0,000; thirty-three with from 100,-
(XO to 200,000. The aggregate of the
population of these oilies comprise
60,000,000 of inhabitants —that is to
6ay, the twenty-eighth part of the pop
n) at ion of the g.obe. The average
population of a town iR reckoned to be
lor England, 47,770 inhabitants; for
F -ance, 32,251; for Prussia, 19,685;
for Sweden, 5,849. The density of
population in reference to area is for
Paris, 320 inhabitants per hectare
(about two acres and a half): for Lon
don,* 103; fpr Berlin, 59. The density
veries considerably from one district to
Brother ; it is generally the highest in
the poor or manufacturing disbiets.
N'fc to thf se figures come those which
represent the average deositv in regard
to dwelling places. It is in SC Peters
burg 52 inhabitants for each home ; in
V enna, 49.4; in Paris, 32; in Berlin,
32 ;in London 8.