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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
W.TnSScRALK,} Editors and Proprietors.
FOII liKTI'KK Ufi FOR WORSE,
Yon thread with tender fingers, oft,
The shining ringlets of my hair;
Yon tell me they are fine and soft,
And yet, you say, your heart they hold
In their long links of sunny gold
An idle, willing prisoner there.
And you have told me, when my hand
T.iv warm in yours, that in its c’.at-p
Your future waited, great and grand,
If I Rbou'd choose to let it stay;
But that, if it were drawn away.
All hope would fly beyond your grasp.
And you have Fald, times not a few,
Jhat death, whene’er it cross your way,
Will find your heart as firm and true
As now, when blithe, and young, and fair.
You gauge me by my shining hair
And by my smiling eyes tc-day.
And, though I thinjc a truer heart.
Ne’er breathed on earth than yours, I know
Tuat if, with hand iu hand, we start
On life’s long journey, there will come,
Ere one of us in death is dumb,
Words of regret and bitter woe.
For yon love beauty; and pome day,
When Time comes by and finds me fair,
He’ll turn, with touch of sure decay,
The golden links to gray—and lo!
Your heart will slip its bonds, and go
In new-found freedom otherwhere.
And the white hand, whose c’asp in yours
Makes all, you say, your life is worth,
Might, even as its touch assures,
Be strong game day to cross your will,
And, right or wrong, persist until
It should become your bane on earth.
And when death eomep, as come it must—
To me, suppose- ’twill better be,
If, lookiug on my quiet dust,
You can say faintly, through yonr tears,
“ We have been friends for many yearn,
And she was very dear to me”—
Than that, with bitter, parting sigh,
You should look back, far back again,
Along a wasted life, and cry,
“ Ah, better had I lived alone!
For we had long estranged grown,
And life v as naught but co as taut pain.”
So, friends in deed, and word, and thought,
Bet ns shake hands and go r ur ways,
And some time, when the years have brought
Their many changes, we can see
That it wis better things should lie
Just as they were in former days.
CIRCUMSTANCES.
O world, both gifts were pure and bright,
Holy and sacred in God’s sight—
God will judge them and thee aright.
“ Two beautiful fine boys as ever was!
A sad pitv she did not live to set eyes
on them!”
“She’s better away, poor thing;
there were naught but pining afore her,
and her but weakly at the best.”
“ And there’s naught other afore
them, poor babes, as I can see,” re
joined the first speaker, a pinched up,
hard-featured woman, whose sharp face
softened for a moment with a passing
gleam of motherly feeling as she bent
over the m t whereon lay two hour-old
infants, lustily announcing their safe
arrival in the world where no place
seemed ready for them.
“ What’s to do with ’em ?” asked the
second woman, looking dubiously at the
new coiners. “ They’ve neither kith
nor kin to work for ’em, and there’s
mouths enough here without ’em. Best
car y ’em to the poor-house, say L”
“ Best charity would be to smother
’em,” croaked a withered old hag who
was spreading her shriveled trembling
hands over the shovelful of fire in the
grate, and eyeing wistfully the broken
glass of gin from which a few drops had
been poured down the dying woman’s
throat, in the vain hope of reviving the
failing life.
There was a knock at the door as she
spoke, and it was pushed open as gen
tly as its broken, one hinged condition
allowed, admitting a gentleman, who
stepped hastily forward and bent over
the inanimate figure lying on the floor.
“Gone!” he ejaculated. “Well,
well, it’s just too late then—and just
as well, perhaps,” he added under his
breath. Then, catching sight of the
babes, “Whew—twins! That is more
than we bargained for. Here, Mrs.
Brooke.” he called out, going to the
door—“come in—come in!”
A comely, comfortable-looking mat-
I ron answered his summons, and step
ped gingerly, picking her way, into the
wretched room, looking strangely out
of place as she stood there, with ht r
plump, smooth face and rustling, am
ple dress.
j “ What will your mistress say to two,
Mrs. Brooke ?” continued the surgeon,
as he pointed to the two children lying
beside the dead mother.
Mrs. Brooke glanced around the room
I —such a room as had never before en
tered into her easy ideas of life—as
though she were too lost in amazement
[to notice his remark.
‘ And this is what poor Lucy came
|to,” she said, at last, shaking her head;
“ it is a judgment and a warning, sure
ly. And she so pretty aud handy too,
and as nice a hand at a bow as I ever
wish to see! She’s gone, sir, is she?
Ah, well, the young go quicker than
the old sometimes.”
“Amen,” groaned the old woman by
the fire, joining in the conversation
[with a hazy idea that some such ejacu
lation was suited to “ the quality,” and
would show her just appreciation of the
presence of death. “The pretty darl
ings are kindly welcome, ma’atn, as I
was just a-saying to Polly Sanders,
though we be puzzled above a bit what
to do with ’em. Likely Lucy had some
grand friends, ma’am ? ” she hinted,
Bidling up to the portly dame, who
shrank away visibly from "the contact.
“Yes, yes, my good woman,” an
swered Mrs. Brooke, hastily stopping
Bier skinny hand threatening her arm
frith some parcels she had been carry
ing under her sbawl; “here, take these,
P brought poor Lucy some tea and
goings, and as she—perhaps you will
■take them, as you seem kindly inter
ested in her. Doctor,” she wound up
appealingly, “ I need not stay, I think;
nan do notuing for poor Lucy ; and
as for the child, sir—well, sir, one baby
well enougn, though I don’t hold to
tts if the size were an additional offense.
“It seems a pity to separate the
brothers—it seems scarcely right,” the
j-'irgeon said, thoughtfully; then, more
btiskly, turning to the woman, who had
been standing listening and puzzled.
’ (Dre, Mrs. Sanders, lift up the boys
. ‘ We see them; they’ve no one belong-
Jiig to them, and Lucy’s former mis
iress is willing to take charge of one of
;ns for the other, it is a pity ”
Here he broke off.
Mrs. Brooke eyed the two infants
fcriirinizingly, as they* were held up for
hor inspection.
' They are fine children,” she said,
with reluctant approbation, and as
hke as two peas. There’s nothing to
c -~ose betwen them.”
As she bent over them again, one
child opened it eyes. The accidental
circumstance decided the fate of the
‘wo lives, fur Mrs. Brooke lifted the
!j °ys into her own arms.
“ PreUy dear, it notices already, it do
—bless its little heart! ” with which
perfectly unwarrantable assertion she
the child up in a warm shawl
°f soft crimeou wool, aud announced
D rself as ready to depart.
The doctor lingered behind a moment
f the other child, vaguely conscious of
> i ainislied heat and comfort from the
cessation of contact with his brother,
set up a wailing cry and moved its little
arms about in search of something
warm to nestle against, and found,
poor babe, nothing but a rough shawl
which grated on the tender flesh.
“Poor little one!” ejaculated the
soft-hearted loctor. “You may well
cry for the chance you have lost to-day.
It seems a cruel thing to leave you
here to be educated into a scamp,
while your twin-brother will have every
advantage in life. But there, there—
such as you are born every day; ” and
the good surgeon hurried away from a
scene that was as he felt, no sadder than
those his practice brought continually
under his notice, and which had only
ma lo a deeper impression on him than
usual because riches and poverty bad
been brought into startling contrast by
the fates decreed to the twin-brothers.
-*** * * * *
“As bad a case as I ever came across,”
one lawyer was saying to another
through the hum of mingled talk going
up from a crowded court- house, where
they were waiting for the verdict; “no
redeeming point about it—simple brute
force and low cunning.”
“A thorough scamp,” was the rejoin
der ; “he is one of our social failures—
just one of those willfully hopeless
cases—a child taught to drink and
thieve, in and out of jail all his life,
goiDg from bad to worse, and never a
chance of redemption afforded him. I
do not see how lie could be anything
but what he is—and he is only one of
hundreda”
“ There you are again, Shilleto, with
one of your overdrawn theories about
the moulding power of circumstances.
Of course I don’t deny that education
goes for much; but do you mean to
tell me that any surroundings could
have degraded Luch a man as, say,
Judge Rainleigh into what the prisoner
is ? It’s a difference of nature, not of
education.”
“ I disagree with you,” answered Mr.
Shilleto. “I think that if you reversed
their educations you would reverse
their positions, Of course you will say
it is one of my dreamy fancies ; but I
have been studying the two faces all
tlirov the trial, and I tell you that
there is a remarkable likeness between
them.”
“Come, come, now—that’s a little
too strong,” was the mockiQg comment.
“Judge Rainleigh’s face is particularly
intellectual and refined-looking, while
the other—ugh ! it sickens one to look
at it—coarse lips, swollen nose, puffed
cheeks, bloodshot eyes that never look
straight at anything.”
“Just the effects of his surround
ings,” stoutly main! ained Mr. Shilleto—
“marks of excess and sin, and habit
ual fear of detection. I repeat that the
two faces have much in common, mak
ing due allowance for the lefiuing and
brutalizing effect of their several educa
tions. But I grant you the faces are
far enough apart now, and the likeness
I see does not lie on the surface. Per
haps,” he added, laughing slightly at
his own earnestness in defending so far
fetched an idea—“ perhaps after all the
fancy arose from my trving to idealize
the prisoner’s face iuto what might have
beeu under happier circumstances.
See !” and he held out a pencil sketch
to his companion, who started as he
looked at it.
“ Why, man, you’ve been drawing
the judge all the time that you have
been dreaming about the prisoner !” he
exclaimed.
Mr. Shilleto smiled faintly.
“ No,” he said, “1 was drawing a faecv
sketch of the prisoner; but you see the
likeness now.”
His friend said no more, but confided
to his wife, after dinner that evening,
that poor Shilleto wa3 madder than
ever * ith his absurd theories about the
effect of education iu raising and refin
ing the “lower classes.”
Meanwhile the jury had come to their
decision, and, as Mr. Shilleto replaced
his sketch in his pocket, they came
filing into court. The lawyer criticized
somewhat curiously the respective faces
of judge and prisoner as they once
more faced each other, and turned away
with a silent laugh at the folly of fancy
ing that anything could have made one
share, the level of the other.
There sat Judge Rainleigh, a noble
looking maD, in the prime of his mental
and physical vigor, calm, intellectual,
refined, dignified in bearing, polished
in manner—facing him stood the pris
oner, haggard and brutalizsd, well-built
also, but old before his time, shifting
uneasily from one foot to the other, his
eyes roving furtively from side to side,
his bearing half ferocious, half servile,
resembling nothing so much as that of
a savage beast longing to spring, but
cowed by his keeper’s lash.
The verdict of “Guilty” was followed
by a low murmur of applause, for the
prisoner was convicted of a peculiarly
ferocious and brutal murder. He was
asked, as usual, if he had anything to
say in mitigation of his crime. He did
not look np at the question, but con
tinued his uneasy movement from side
to side, and wiped with his hand his
forehead, on which great drops were
standing. In the pause that followed
some dim notion of hardship and
injustice somewhere—of unavoidable
wrong in himself and bis surround
ings—mast have floated mistily across
his clouded brain —a notion of suffering
as vague as had once made him stretch
out his baby arms into the empty cold.
“I’ve never had a ohance,” he mut
tered—“never had a chance, so help me
heaven!”
A pitying, sorrowing look crossed
the judge’s face as he caught the mut
tered words and felt their bitter truth.
Those who knew his private life knew
that the object dearest to his heart was
to make this re { roach impossible, and
knew, too, that he daily devoted hist
time and money to rescue outcast street
children, and to give them at least “ a
ohance.”
Here, before him, awaiting the sen
tence of death from his lips, stood one
who, as he felt in the depths of his
just, merciful heart, was only partially
responsible for his evil life, and who
truly “ never had a chance.” Still, law
was law, and when broken must be
avenged, and with stern lips, but pity
ing heart, Judge Rainleigh spoke the
words that consigned “Slippery Jack”
to a felon’s death.
When the court broke up, Lord Rain
leigh and Mr. Shilleto drove homewards
together; they were old and close
friends, and shared together many a
labor in the canse of the poor.
“Rainleigh, I have provoked Mostyn
terribly by a libel on you.”
The grave eyes lighted up humor
ously.
“ Did Mostyn defend me against you,
Shilleto?”
“Look here,” answered the lawyer,
producing his derided sketch.
“Caricaturing me!” cried Judge
Rainleigh, the look of amusement deep
ening. “ I’ll have you up for contempt
of court!”
“ So yon see the likeness, too ?” Sbil
leto exclaimed, “It as very strange;
but I drew the prisoner’s face as it
seemed to ms it might have been—as
bis mother has seen it, and sees it still,
if she is living, poor soul!” he added,
oftly.
The light laded from the judge’s face,
and it grew grave and sad.
“It is like looking at myself in a
glass,” he murmured. “ What it might
have been, you say. Good Heaven,
Shillsto, bow pitifal it all is! Can it
be possible that the reverse is too true,
and that what he is I might have been
had I been born and bred as be ?”
And the same moon which shone on
the parting of two twin-brothers long
years before, kissed equally the hot
brow of the felon as he flung himself
with a curse on h;s hard pallet, and the
bowed head of the gentle-hearted judge
as he prayed for the murderer’s soul,
A Negro Revival.
V Colored .Woody Who Wants “So Foolin’
Wid de Lord”—“ Better WhispaU to de
Lord dan Holler at de He ihle.”
We must give the render a few speci
unens of a prayer and an exhortation we
heard in a revival mt et og among the
colored folks. A shining black preacher,
glosey as a varnished beaver, gave us a
characteristic article in this line. Be
ginning his prayer in a low and reveren
tial voice, he addressed the Deity as
“Thou’’and “You” indiscriminately,
and sometimes indulging in the doubt
ful grammar of “Thou knowetb,” and
“You knows.” Soon his words were
uttered as a kind of wailing chant, with
a prolonged sound in a higher key on
emphatic words and syllables. The
peculiar intonation, especially when the
congregation would catch the key from
the plaintive sounds, and unite with the
preacher iu a piteous moan, between
words, glid-ng down from the dominant
note to the minor third below, and
dying through diminuendoes into sobs
and sighs. The effect was at times
thrilling. Some parts of an exhortation
which we listened, however, while less
eloquent were certainly very practical.
The preacher struck nails square on the
head as he hammered away. For in
stance :
“Now, brethren and sisters, we want
mounahs heah to-night. No foolin’.
Ef you can’t mouhn for your sins, don’t
come foolin’ roan’ dis altah. 1 knows
ye. You’s tryin’ mighty ha’hd to be
convarted ’thout bein’ hurt. The Lord
’spises mockery. Sorqetimes you sifl
naks comes foh’rd an’ holds your head
too high a-comin\ You come foan
you’s ready. You starts too soon. You
don’t repent; you’s no monah. Your
foofief wid de Lord. You comes strut
tin' bp to de altah ; you flops down on
your knees, an’ you peeps fru yon
fingahs dis way, an’ you cocks up you
eahe to see who’s makin’ de bes’ pray’r.
You’s ’tirely too peart for peniten’s
You’s no mounahs. Ef you comes hear
to fool, yo befctali stay away. Bettak go
to hell from de pew asleepin’, or from
your cabin a swearin’, dan from de
mounali’s bench a foolin’. Ef you’s
not in earnes’, keep away from he’eh ;
don’t bodder us. Do you want us to
makeouheelves hoase an’ weak out ouah
lungs a prayin’ for you when you knows
y u’sonly foolin’ wid de Lord? I tells
you to be mighty califul. I want to see
you a cornin’ so buhdened by the weight
on you sins dat you can’t hold up you
heads. I want to see you so heart
broke dat you knees knock togedder
when you walk. You mus’ be low
minded. De Bible lays great stress on
de low. You’s got to get low down in
de dus\ De good book says, ‘Low
(Lo!) ih de vollem of de book it is writ.’
‘Now, min' dat and be low.”
Then addressing the members of the
church more particularly, he said:
“Brederen in de Lord, you mus’ be
airnes’ prayin’ for dese pore siunahs.
You mus’ wake up. In dis spring time
ob yeah, when the leaves is cornin’, an’
de flowahs is a-winklin’ an’ a-bloomin’,
wliat does de leaves an’ de flowahs say?
Dey says, ‘Git up!’” [“Amen! dat’s
so,” from an old brother in the corner.]
“It is mohnin, de day is breakin’. Git
up. Wake up in the mohnin’.” [Amen!
wake ’em up, Brodder Clinton,” from
the corner. ] ‘ Too many ob you fessahs
ob ’ligion lias been sleepin’ on de wheels
ob time. Git up an’ put youak shoul
dah to de wheels. Den when you kueel
roun’ dis altah to comfoht de mounahs,
don’t holler.” [“Amen, kalleluyak,”
yelled a sister from the women’s side.]
“Every time you hollers de debble he
put another thought in you heart.
You’d better wkispah to de Lord dan to
holler at de debble. Talk low. Let de
mounahs pray for demselves. You
bodder dem wid your hollerin’ Git
down lon’ ’side dem, an’ 'struct dem
when dey ax, but don’t waste breff ober
any who’s peepin’ roun’ listenin’ for
nice talk. Don’t teli de mounah to
watch for visions an’ wait for miracles.
Jus show dem how to res’ on de wohd
an’ resk de promises.” —Mississippi
Letter.
Brains.
dames Boswell, blacksmith, died in
Indianapolis on Wednesday night, in a
dri uking-saloon of the seventeenth
grade. This fact might not be of great
human consequence but for the fact
that a post-mortem examination revealed
that his brain weighed sixty-one ounces.
This drunken blacksmiih has remorse
lessly demolished some of our admira
tion for a few of the great men of the
earth. The great American orator,
Daniel Webster, had a brain which
weighed fifty-seven ounces, and all
Americans boasted of it. The phrenol
ogists regarded Webster’s brain as a
rare specimen. This quantity of albu
men and cerebral fat, with the phos
phorus and osmazome, etc., and the
water —though the water didn’t go to
Webster’s brain so quickly as to some—
in she head of Webster was believed to
account for his greatness. Men traced
his reply to Hayne directly to the
weight of his cerebellum and medulla
oblongata. Wo took special pride in
the fact that this country had produced
a brain weighing fifty-seven ounces.
Cuvier’s weighed less than three ounces
more ; Dupuytren’s but an ounce more ;
Napoleon’s scarcely any more. When
Ruloff, the Greek scholar, college pro
fessor, robber and murderer, was hung,
and it was found that his brain weighed
more than Webster’s, we all felt a sense
of chagrin, but we accounted for the
fact on the ground that Ruloff was
built for a great maD, a mau of genius,
but was somewhat erratic, so to speak.
That he had a singular talent wa9 ad
mitted. But the death of this black
smith has hammered all confidence in
measuring brains by ounces out of us.
He wasn’t an Elihu Burritt of a black
smith, either. He was a corpulent,
drunken hammerer, and no more. And
a cerebral weight of sixty-one ounces,
avoirdupois !
This conundrum is respectfully sub
mitted to the best speller : If S-i o-u-x
spells sn, and e-y-e spells i, and s-i-g-h
--e-d spells side, why doesn’t S-i-o-ii-x
e-y-e-s-i-g-h-e-d spall suicide,
CARTERS VILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MAY 13, 1575.
Flies Are Usefal— An Interesting Ex
periment Made.
It las generally been believed that
the common house fly was a nuisance
and oi no earrly use. Prof. Emerson,
a noted English chemist, found that
flies were not so useless as they are
supposed to be, bat that as scavengers
of the sir they are indispensable. Did
you ever watch a fly who has just
alighted after soaring about tbe room
for some little time ? He goes through
a series of operations which remind you
of a cat licking herself alter a meal, or
of a bird pluming its feathers. First,
the hind leg is passed over a wing, then
the fore legs undergo a like treatment;
and lastly, if yon look sharp, you will
see the insect carry his proboscis over
his legs and body as far as he can reach.
The minute truDk is perfectly retrac
tile. and it terminates in two large lobes,
which you can see spread out when the
insect begins a meal on a lump of
sugar. Now the rubbing together of
legs and wings may be a smoothing op
eration ; but for what purpose is this
carefully going over the body with the
trunk, especially wheu that organ is not
fitted for licking, but simply for grasp
ing and sucking of food.
Prof. Emerson fonnd on examination
that the action of the flies was to gather
animalcules, which had attached to them
in flying about the room. He took a
sheet of white paper into the kitchen
and waved it around, taking care that
no flies touched it, went back to the
micioscope and there found animal
culea, the same as on flies. He had
now arrived at something definite; they
were not the progeny of the fly, but an
imalcules floating in the air ; and the
quick motions of the flies gathered
them on their bodies, and the flies then
went into some quiet corner to have
their dainty meal.
Tbe investigator goes on to describe
how he continued the experiment in a
variety of localities, and how, in dirty
and bad smelling quarters, he found the
myriads of flies which existed there lit
erally covered with animalcules, while
other flies, captured in bed rooms or
well ventilated, clean apartments, were
miserably lean and entirely free from
their prey. Wherever filth existed,
evolving germs which might generate
disease, there were the flies, covering
themselves with the minute ‘organisms
and greedily devouring the same.
Mr. Emerson, while thus proving the
utility of the fly, has added another and
lower link to that curious and necessary
chain of destruction which exists in ani
mated nature. These infinitesimal ani
malcules from food for tbe flies, the
flies for the spiders, the spiders for the
birds, tbe birds for the quadrupeds, and
so on up to tbe last of the series, serv
ing the same purpose to man. He cer
tainly deserves credit for an interesting
and novel investigation, and for an
intelligent discernment which might
even attack the difficult task of teach
ing us the uses—for’nature makes noth
ing without some beneficial end—of the
animalcules themselves.
. .Ismail Pasha.
The movements of Ismail Pasha, the
viceroy of Egypt, are becoming of great
interest to Americans, from the fact
that this progressive ruler has drawn
largely from the United States for his
brain" power to aid him in his vast
schemes of improvement. While Ismail
Pasha is, in name, a viceroy of the sub
lime porte, he is an absolute tuler, and
could, if necessary, turn around and
whip the Turkish government into a
slavish submission to himself. The
khedive now has an army of 100,000
men under first-class officers, many of
them being Americans, who have gone
through the civil war. This army is
being daily increased by conscription ;
railroads are in process of construction
for hundreds of miles up the ancient
valley of the Nile ; careful surveys have
been made of the whole country ; new
and valuable territory has been added ;
new avenues of trade have been opened,
and every agent of modern civilization
is being rapidly introduced. In fact
Egypt is beoomiug a powerful state, and
the vast enterprises of the khedive, the
constant strengthening of his power,
regardless of expense, leads naturally
to the supposition that he proposes to
remain an independent monarch, which
on the whole will be better for the
Egyptians, heavily taxed as they are to
beep up the magnificent government of
the khedive. Land is taxed at the rate
of fifteen dollars per acre, and the rea
son of the high rate is obvious from the
fact that besides the expensive army
and harem of the khedive, and many
important public works, he has built
sixteen large sugar factories, one of
which cost $1,000,000. Tbe employes
of these mills are nearly all foreigners,
who are paid large salaries. The public
debt of Egypt is $300,000,000, but as
tbe khedive is rapidly extending his
trade and territory in Africa, thetribute
from this source must soon be enor
mous. In the meantime, whatever may
be the designs of Ismail Pasha, whether
founding of an African empire, the
dream of the old dynasties, or the sim
ple maintenance of his government in
oriental splendor, hundreda of talented
men from Europe and the United States
are finding position and influence there
and an extensive field for the exercise
of their talents. — Courier-Journal.
Brigham Young’s Dominion.
The new tabernacle was completed in
1868. It is perhaps the largest building
in the world of a single span roof—sup
ported by neither column nor pillar.
It is 250 feet long by 150 wide, and the
ceiling is 62 feet from the floor. The
roof is dome-shaped and surmounted
by a flag-staff twenty feet high, from
the pinnacle of which the stars and
stripes are flung to the polygamous
breeze during the session of the confer
ence. The inside of the tabernaele has
the appearance more of an amphitheatre
or the mechanics’ fair building in San
Francisco than a place of worship. The
seats are arranged in tiers—the most
orthodox brethren occupy the “par
quette” and “dress circle ” nearest the
rostrum, from which all Mormon bless
ings flow. The outsiders take back
seats and go up in the “ gallery.” The
rostrum is an elevated platform running
almost the entire width of the taber
nacle, upon which the bishops, priests,
elders and amen brethren sit. In the
center of this platform or stage are
three semi-circular speakers’ stands,
about four feet in front of and slightly
elevated one above the other. As the
spirit of Brigham moves them, the
apostles, elders, etc., pop up and speak
from this stand, according to rank. To
the right of and adjoining this platform
is the big organ.
This is the third largest organ in the
United States, and the largest ever built
iu this country, those at Boston and
Brooklyn having been brought from
Europe. AU the wood and other ma
terial used in the construction of this
huge wind concern were obtained in this
territory, except the metal pipes, of
which there are two thousand. This
organ has two manuals—the great and
the swell. It requires two able-bodied
men to keep it pumped full of pious
wind, while one plays it out. The
music, or rather noise, is about on a
par with that resulting from a blending
of Scotch bag-pipes and Chinese gongs,
and usually before conference week the
nervous women and children are noti
fied to leave town. It will soon be
played by water power.
Marriage, or Your Money.
A young man who promises a woman
to marry her, and backs out of the con
tract from any cause cr motive what
ever, stands very little chance before
the courts in some localities in England.
The woman has the bar, the judges, the
jury and public sympathy all on her
side, and may count on damages with
as much certaintyas if she had the money
already in the Bank of E ngland. Avery
strong case is presented in that of JVliss
Wynn, an innkeeper’s daughter, of
Shrewsbury, suing a young man for
breach of promise. Hurst bad property
and was a solid subject. His lawyei
offered to provebe fore the assizes that
Miss Wynn was both intemperate and
unchaste. Hurst acknowledged the en
gagement and a postponement of the
wedding. He had written Miss Wynn
a letter stating that he had seen her
drunk, associating with bad characters
in low houses, asking to be let off, aud
offering to pay all tbe expenses she had
incurred in getting ready to marry him.
In court there were witnesses to prove
the drunkenness and low associations
of the plantiff, but the judges refused
to hear them, and told the jury to dis
miss all such considerations from their
minds in making up a verdict. The pre
siding judge said he had great doubts
whether a plea of intemperance was a
good answer to the action. Insanity
and bodily infirmities were held to be
no defense. He consulted with his
brother judge, and the two wise heads
decfded that intemperance was no de
fense, and as for the other plea—asso
ciation with bad characters—was not
sufficient. There must be evidence of
personal unchastity. A witness was
called to prove intemperance, and he
was ruled out by the judge. A witness
to prove unchastity was also squelched,
and the jury brought in damages of £225
for the plantiff. The Shrewsbury girls
have a pretty sure thing on marriage or
your money. If they don’t make it pay
it is not the fault of the judges and
courts.
l)aeu*rre’s Invemiou
There is.au element of interest in the
often-repeated story of Daguerre’s fi-st
invention, that makes Dr. Vogel’s ac
count of it an attractive passage—es
pecially that part of it where he de
scribes the chemist’s accidental discov
ery of the means of making new power
available for portraiture—something
which his first plates did not permit,
their preparation requiring a long ex
fioeure to light, so that one desiring his
ikeness upon them “would have been
obliged to remain motionless for hours
to obtain it.”
“One day Daguerre placed aside as
useless, iu a closet in which were some
ohemical substances, several plates that
had been exposed toe short a time to
the light, and therefore as yet showed
no image. After some time he looked
by accident at the plates, aud was not a
little astonished to see an image upon
them. He immediately divined that
this must have arisen through the oper
ation on the plates of some chemical sub
stance which was lying in the closet. He
therefore proceeded to take one chemi
cal out of the closet after the other,
placed in it plates recently exposed to
the light, when, after remaining there
some hours, images were again produced
upon them. At length he had removed
in succession all the ehemi. al substances
from the closet, and still images
were produced upon the plates that had
been exposed to the light. He was now
on the point of believing the closet to be
bewitched, when he discovered on the
floor a shell containing quicksilver,
which he had hitherto overlooked. He
conceived the notion that the vaper from
this substance—for mercury gives off
vapor even at an ordinary temperature—
must have been the magic power which
produced the image. To test the accu
racy of this supposition, he again took a
plate that had been exposed to light for
a short time in the camera obscura, and
on which no image was yet visible. He
exposed this plate to the vapor of quick
silver, and, to his intense delight, an
image appeared, and the world was again
euriched by one of its most beautiful
discoveries.”
Some Successful Literary People.
Clemens, the humorist, better known
as Mark Twain, has done better than
any man of his turn of labor. He has
been seven years before the public, and
during that time has beoome rioh
enough to live on his income. His
property in Hartford is worth more than
SBO,OOO. Mrs. Stowe has made more
than any other American woman, and
has probably cleared SIOO,OOO. This
may seem like a large sum, but when it
is scattered through a quarter of a cen
tury, it is not such and immense thing
as it first appears to be. Marian Harland
(Mr,-i. Terhune), who has written in
dustriously for twenty years, has prob
ably made $15,000 by a dozen novels.
Perhaps Mary J. Holmes has done
equally well. Gail Hamilton (Miss
Dodge) enjoyed a good sale for her
books, for the first few years, but
her vanity got the better of her judg
ment, and she quarreled with her pub
lishers. Her next book was devoted to
the quarrel, and it at once impaired her
popularity. She has a corner in Har
per's papers and also in the Independ
ent, but will never do much in books
agaio. Her impudence toward the
venerable John Todd, who differed with
her in opinion, showed how the vanity
arising from success spoils real talent.
Walworth, who was shot by his son,
never made much ont of his books, and
they were, in fact, too inferior to sell
without extraordinary puffery. Josh
Billings (Shaw) has found unusnal pop
ularity. He is witty and says many
wise as well as funny things. It seems
a pity that such a clever fellow should
be obliged io borrow the jokes of poor
Artemus Ward and print them as
original, but such is one of the weak
nesses of funny fellows. —Troy Times.
A talented fellow-countryman says
that we may think what we "will of it
now, but the softg and the story heard
around the kitchen fire have colored the
thoughts and lives of most of us ; have
given us the terras of whatever poetry
blessed our hearts, whatever memory
blooms in our yesterdays. Attribute
whatever we may to the school and the
schoolmaster, the rays which make that
little day we call life, radiate from the
God-swept circle of the hearthstone.
The Wife of Maereadj.
In bis book of reminiscences, just
published, the actor Macready describes
at length the circumstances which led
to his acquaintance with the excellent
young actress who afterward became
his wife, which are not without a touch
of romance. Daring an engagement at
Glasgow, on the night of his benefit, a
pretty little girl, about nine years of
age, was sent on at very shoit notice to
act the part of one of the children in
the “Hunter of the Alps.” She was
imperfect in the words she had to
speak, having had no time to learn
them. Not being aware of this, Mac
ready gave her a good scolding which
cost her many tears. Their next meet
ing was as follows :
“ Dressing and breakfasting at Mon
trose I reached Aberdeen about noon,
where I saw my name announced in
the plaj bills for Richard 111. as I pass
ed from my hotel to the theatre. Two
young girls were walking up and down
the stage, apparently waiting for the
busintss of the morning to begin. One,
the manager’s daughter, was a common
looking persons; the other, plain but
neatly dressed, was distinguishable for
peculiar expression of intelligence and
sprightly gentleness. She rehearsed
with great propriety the part of the
prince of Wales, and was introduced to
me by the manager at my Virginia for
the next night’s play. On the follow
ing morning she came g.n hour before
the regular summons to go through
the scenes of Virginia and reoeive my
instructions. She was dressed in a
closely fitting tartan frock, which show
ed off to advantage the perfect symmet
ry of her sylph-like figure. Just de
veloping into womanhood, her age
would have been guessed more, but
she bad not quite reached fifteen.
She might have been Virginia. The
beauty of her face was more in its ex
pression than in feature, though no
want of loveliness was there. Her re
hearsals greatly pleased me, her acting
being so much in earnest. There was
a native grace in her deportment and
every movement, and never were inno
cence and sensibility more sweetly per
sonified than in her mild look and
speaking eyes, streaming with unbidden
tears. I soon learned her little history;
she was the support of her family, and
was the same little girl whom I had
rebuked some years before for supposed
inattention at the Glasgow theatre.
My engagement with Mr. Ryder was
for three weeks, divided between tlie
towns of Aberdeen, Montrose, Dundee,
and Perth ; and as tfle same plays were
repeated by the same performers, my
opportunities of conversation with this
interesting creature were very frequent,
which, as they occurred, I grew less
and less desirous of avoiding. Her
strong good sense and unaffected warmth
of feeling reoeived additional charms
from the perfect artlessnees with which
she ventured her opinions. The inter
est with which I regarded her I per
suaded myself was that of an older
friend, and partook of a paternal char
acter All th® a.lui/u my expwriitnon
oould give her in her professional
studies she gratefully accepted and
skillfully applied, showing an aptness
for improvement that increased the
partiality she had awakened in me. I
oould have wished that one so purely
minded and so naturally gifted had been
placed in some other walk of life ; but
all that might be in my power or her
advancement I resolved to do. On the
last night of my engagement at Perth,
I sent for her into my room, and pre
senting her with the handsomest shawl
I could procure in Perth, I bade her
farewell, desiring her, if at any time
my influence or aid in any way oonld
serve her, to apply to me without hesi
tation, and assuring her she might rely
on always finding a ready friend in me.
As I gazed upon her innocent face
beaming with grateful smiles, the wish
was in my heart that her public career
might expose her to no immodest ad
vances to disturb the serenity or sully
the purity of her unspotted mind. My
way lay far away from her, but her
image accompanied me in my southward
journey, and I may say, indeed, never
after left me.”
The engagement did not take plac
until two or three years afterwards*
Up to that time Macready had cherished
a deep interest in the young lady, had
given her no small amount of excellent
advice, but as yet no word of love had
passed between them. Still their affec
tion for each other was no less deep for
not being delirious.
“ During my a'bsenoe on the conti
nent the young actress. Miss Atkins,
whose innocence and beauty had made
a deep impression on me, had removed
with her family to Dublin, where her
talents were appreciated, and were in
the course of successful development.
Our correspondence continued there,
and became more frequent and more
intimate. A sudden and heavy calami
ty befell her in the death of her father
and brother, who were drowned with
most of the passengers in the Liverpool
packet, wrecked through the miscon
duct of the captain, in a calm sea. at
midday, on the Skerries rocks. Such a
disaster could not fail to weigh with
most depressing influence on her spirits,
and to draw forth the tenderest expres
sions of sympathy and condolence from
me. The actual state of my feelings I
could no longer oonoeal from myself.
I indulged in the pleasing dream that
my interest in this young creature was
limited to a friendly and paternal solici
tude for her welfare and professional
advancement; and now awoke to the
undeniable conviction that love was
the inspiration of all the counsel and
assistance I had rendered her. This
disclosure was no longer withheld from
her; her answer to my declarations and
proposals was acquiescence in all my
views, and under her mother’s sanction
it was settled between us that our mar
riage should take place as soon as pos
sible compatibly with the arrangements
with which I was bound. It is but
simple justice to her beloved memory
to repeat the truth that although in a
worldly sense I might have formed a
more advantageous connection, I could
not have met with qualities to compare
with the fond affection, the liveliness
and simple worth that gave happiness
to so many years of my life.”
Art in Japan.— An Italian sch<#i of
painting is to be organized in Japan
under the protection of the government.
The Orientals are becoming decidedly
civilized. In fact the time is not far
distant when the “Heathen Chinee”
will be a myth—a literary fiction of the
dim past without a living counterpart
an evolution from the inner conscious
ness of a novelist, with no contempora
neous prototype to give his creation,
color or shape, Then the missionaries
—pioneers of civilization—will be com
ing home, leaving the children of the
sun to run their religion, and with it
their politics and civil institutions, upon
the basis < f the advanced ideas of the
age, When enlightenment has pro-
ceeded so far as to enkindle a desire
among a people to welcome art within
the moral circuit, first the confines of
their thought, ambitions and intelli
gence. then day of jubilee is at hand.
The Japs have a higher destiny than
tea, fans and fire-crackeis. John China
man is not forever to “washee-washee.”
The improved Mongolian is the success
of the future. — Exchange.
The Appiau Way.
This road was built three hundred
and thirteen years before Christ was
born. It commenced in the heart of
the city, passed under the Porto Cape
na, extended and extends through
Capua, Terracina, Beneventum on to
Brundusium. Here and there, it is
covered up by the neglected accumula
tion of ages, but miles upon miles of it
remain, solid, clean, smooth, safe to
horse and man as the day it was fin
ished.
The Roman Stranahan who built this
road, was a park maker. He was the
man who wanted to drain the Pontine
Marshes, that Garibaldi wants to drain
to day ; and he wanted to make pleas
ure grounds of them for the people.
The cost of this road, of course was
enormous. But it nevertheless was the
cheapest road in the end that man ever
built.
The way that road was built was as
follows : In the first place a good sub
structure was dug down to, from this
all loose soil was carefully removed.
Then strata after strata cemented with
lime, was raised on this, and on the
last of these was laid the pavement.
The pavement consisted of blocks of
stone, joined together with exceeding
care and nicety of dovetailing, no inter
stices being apparent. There are none
apparent on it to-day, after a world’s
travel over it for a decade of centuries.
The best part of it yet visible is near
ing Terracina. Over that road marched
the heavy legions of the
with their cumbrous wagons, and their
pondrons catapults, and over it the
male and female charioteers drove their
fours in hand to the sunny Adriatic sea,
as we our fast teams to Sheepshead
Bay. They not even marked its sur
face 1
Treasure Trove.
The finding of the hidden treasure by
workmen employed on Staten Island,
tbe other day, has a romantic interest.
Tbe place where the gold was discov
ered is an old manor bouse occupied by
Geo. Dongan, earl of Limerick, in colo
nial timfes. The peer dreamed one
night that a large amount of gold was
hidden beneath the soil of the garden.
He related this dream to his retinue,
and his lordship, according to tradition,
commanded a detachment of his soldiers
to flog and scorch John Bodine, the
owner of the estate, into the mood of
making known the hiding place of this
treasure. They confounded his ignor
ance with obstinacy, and tortured him
almost to the point of death. Several
of his children had dreams similar to
those of the cruel lord, aud repeatedly
upturned the garden earth. Some
time ago the property came into the
possession of a gentleman who rented it
to Mr. H. C. Windsor, paying teller of
the Mercantile bank. Suddenly be and
his family disappeared. Then it be
came known that he was an apparent
defaulter. For years afterwards strang
ers’ voices sounded in the old house,
and strangers’ faces appeared at the
windows. While digging about the
premises, the workmen came upon a
buried treasure in gold coin to tbe
amount of $20,000. In consequence,
every well-regulated family in the
neighborhood has bought a spade and
a crowbar.
Paper Costume Balls.
A New York letter says: “ A carious
fancy has sprung up recently for his
torical costume parties, the dresses for
which are copied accurately in paper.
Last Saturday evening William Cullen
Bryant gave one, and since then two
others have been given. The dresses
for two of these parties were strictly
copied in satin, silver, gilt, velvet, tis
sue, and brocade paper. The designs
are cut first in thin paper muslin, and
the paper carefully pasted on, then they
are put together, and the trimmings
and ornaments added, like any ordinary
dress. Incroyable costumes, costumes
of the time of Francis the First,
Charles the Second, and Louis Four
teenth are the ones usually selected,
and are really striking and picturesque;
quite as much so as when made in real
fabrics. Trade in paper fashions has
scarcely heretofore risen to the rank of
ordinary business. It represents no
value in its stock, and has, therefore,
been generally considered to require nt>
capital, and exert no influence. But
whatever may have been the case in
times past, this is not true to-day. One
house alone has a thousand agencies
extending all over America, into Canada,
Cuba, the Sandwich Islands, and Chili,
and even over the seas to Germany,
Dublin, in Ireland, and Glasgow, iu
Scotland. This same house orders five
thousand reams of paper at a time, and
two millions of envelopes, in which the
tissue patterns are placed. Its com
missions to one agent alone amounted
for one week to seven hundred and fifty
dollars. Paper mnst indeed be looking
up when it paves so broadly a highway
to fortune.”
A Strange Goose Story.
All the fish Btories that were ever told
are quite equaled by the following
goose, story, which is taken from a
recent number of the Yolo (Cal.) Mail:
While hunting in the tules near the
sink of Cache creek, recently Abe
Green, an old hunter, discovered a pet
rified wild goose, standing upright,
with legs buried about one-half in the
adobe soil. He thought at first it was
living, and creeping npar, fired his gun
at it, but the bird did not budge an
inch. Walking up to it, he found it
dead, and. in trying to pick it up, was
astonished at its immense weight. It
had turned to stone, and a mark on its
wing, near the forward joint, showed
where the shot had struck it, knocking
a piece off. He managed to raise it up
out of the ground, and when he laid it
down a piece dropped from its breast,
disclosing a hollow inside, from which
pure, clear water began running. Its
feathers were very natural, and its ap
pearance was calculated to deceive—so
lifelike. He took it to his cabin, down
the canal, a few miles back of Washing
ton, where it can be seen by those who
wish to see Buch a straDge and unusual
sight.
M. Michel, a Frenchman of science,
proposes the application of the principle
of a bell rung dv a change in the ther
mometer to the discovery of thatehange
in the temperature of the water which
indicates the proximity of an iceberg to
navigators of the Atlantic in foggy
weather.
VOL. IG—NO. 20
SAY INtiS ANI) UODNGS.
The agricultural hall for the oenten
nial exposition at Philadelphia covers
ten acres.
England reads eighty-seven bags of
American newspapers every time the
mail from this blarsted eouutry gets in.
Prices for common horses in England
are said to have advanced 100 per cent
in the last twenty years.
The empress of Japan cautions her
yocng lady friends about “ talking
loudly on the street, like the vulgar
American girls.”
It has been ascertained that bed-bugs
can live a year without air or food. Per
haps this is what is meant by “ the sur
vivtJ of the fittest.”
A cotempobaby asks: “Is mumps
singular, or are they plural ?” Both.
When you get mumps on both sides of
your face at once, they are plural, but
they make a person look singular.
“Girls,” obeerves an experienced
matron. “ remember that those men
make the bast husbands who can swal
low a dozen hairs to an ounce of butter
without kuowing it.”
“ Klim him! kill him! ” shouted a
crowd in Virginia City as they gathered
around a hotel. “ What for? ” inquired
a stranger. “He’s got on alligator
boots and a velvet ooat. Mash ’im! ”
There is no doubt that Byron was a
bad man. He played cards and drank,
for in his lines to Tom Moore oocurs
this damaging admission:
“ I've ace high for those that love me,
And a smile for those that hate.”
Ter small, uncomfortable steamers
used in crossing the English channel
are employed beoause the French har
bors will not admit larger ones. The
English have repeatedly offered to de
fray the cost of digging out theee har
bors, but for prudential reasons the
French prefer to have them shallow.
The barbarous Persians are not slow
with their “brilliant weddings,” though
Jenkins doesn’t nourish them as he does
here. When the shah’s daughter was
married last month, she “ was vailed
with what looked like a waving mass of
molten gold, and was taken to her hus
band’s house by soldiers, with candles
in the muzzles of their guns.”
“I want to know,” writes a corres
pondent, “ how you pronounce the In
dian name Sioux.” We didn’t know it
was iin Indian name, but we usually
pronc-unce it Sigh-00-ucks. We some
times fear, though, that the fiery im
petuosity of youth may lead us to plaoe
too much emphasis upon the sigh and
the ucks. — Courier-Journal.
Pakis Figaro has this “answer to cor
respondents:” A note written by a fe
male band asks us why, in polite society,
etiquette allows a lady to pay a visit
with her veil down. I really do not
know, madame; but I wonld bet it is
the ugly ones who set the fashion, and
that it is only the pretty women who
make inquiries about it.
Oku year ago she leaned over the
garden fence and told him that she
would wait for him till her brow was
furrowed and her hair turned white, if
necessary, and he went away thinking
he’d got a soft thing. She’s ramming
around town now with a fellow who
parts his hair in the middle and calls
'iimself “Chawlie,” and he’s her hus
band, you know.
That Schenectady man who has thir
teen daughters has informed his wife
that further additions to his family
must be immediately stopped, or Sun
day will have to be abolished in his
calico factory until further orders. He
thinks, too, that the establishment of a
female institute of his own has already
become a necessity which knows little
or no law.
It is said that the matrimonial pros
pects of the Baltimore girls have been
seriously damaged by that little inci
dent of five babies at a birth which
recently transpired in that city. Inas
much as the mother of that infant mob
merely intended to show what a Balti
more girl can do if she tries, it in really
cruel to hold the rest of the girls there
responsible for the very remarkable
success which attended the effort.
“H.UB gettin’ a little, thin, sir,” said
the barber. “ Young man,” said John
Henry, looking down upon him from
tlie height of a solemn experience:
“ young man, when you are married
you will never allnde in that thought
less m inner to domestic afflictions. No;
don’t apologize. My feelings are blunt
ed. But is there not some mysterious
ungeu >—some soft, seductive compound
—that makes the hair more slippery to
the gr rsp?”
The ke stone coffins of great antiquity
have teeu found in Dundee. One con
tained a skeleton, the body having been
apparently buried in a reclining posi
tion. Cord had been wound around
the limbs, which, witb the skull, were
in excellent preservation. The second
coffin contained nothing; the third cof
fin was six and a half feet long, and in
it wera human remains. No clew to the
dates was obtained. Two urns—one
rough and the other artistically formed
were picked up in the neighborhood.
Thhbb is an isolated monastery in
Turkt y inhabited by twenty-three monks
who liave not seen a woman sinoe in
fancy. One of them is described by a
visitor as follows : “ He had never seen
a woman, nor had he any idea what sort
of tlrngs women were, or what they
looked like. He asked me whether they
resembled the pictures of Panagia (the
holy virgin) which hung in every church.
He listened with great interest while I
told him that all women were not ex
actly like the pictures he had aeeD, and
that they differed considerably one from
another in appearance, manners, and
understanding.”
“Yes,” said the driver of the car to
the man who stood on the steps, “ she’s
a mighty nice mare for car work—least
ways to look at. Kick? Well you bet.
Since I’ve had her, she’s removed the
insides from two horses hitched in with
her; sbe’s caved in her stall times
enough to make one carpenter rich, and
livened up more’n one passenger;
’member one case in particular : Nice
old gent with youngsters, goin’ out fer
a Sunday picnic ; hed a basket of lunch
covered up with a table-cloth. Jest as
he was gitting off, the mare worked
round when I wasn’t lookin’, and she
fetched that basket one clatter with
both feet—l don’t rightly know but she
got in all four—anyways there was
luncli for everybody within ten rods,
whether he wanted it or not; the paper
bjjs mostly did. Think the old man
saved the handle of the ham and the
cork of one bottle. Sich a moe-lookin’
beast as she is, too. Why that mare
has b .ea bought out of the stables not
less’n three times ’cause she was sech a
gentle lookin’ lady’s horse. Well, its
good lor the doctors and wagon-makers,
anyhow. Always staves np the family,
and gets back into the team less’n a
week. Never was broke, she wasn’t j
and never will be till she falls off a
house ’ —Chicago Tribune.