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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.