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STANDARD AND EXPRESS. A . IIARWHALK \ YV. A. IJARHHALKj Kdl(r Md Proprietor*. NOT ONE TO SPARE. [The following beautiful poem will be fam iliar to many of our readers, but it will bear to be read again and again. It tells how a poor man and his wife refused the offer of a rich friend’s comfortable provision, if they would give him one of their children.] “ WbU* shall St lie? Which shall it be?” I looked at John—John looked at me, (Dear, patient John, who loves me vet, As we.l as though mv locks were jet): And when I found that I must speak,’ My voice seemed strangely low and weak • “ Tell me again what Robert said !” And then I, listening, bent my head. H This is his letter: ‘ I will give A house and land while you shall live, If, in return, from out your seven, ’ One child to me for aye is given.’ ” I looked at John’s old garments worn; 1 thought of all that John had borne Of poverty, and work and care, Which I, though willing, could not share; 1 thought of seven mouths to feed, Of seven little children’s need, And then of this. “ Come, John,” said I, “ We’ll choose among them as they lie Asleep;” so, walking hand in hand, Dear John and I surveyed our hand— First to the cradle lightly stepped, Where Lillian the baby slept, A glory against the pillow white: Softlv the father stooped to lav His rough hand down in a loving way, When dream or whisper made her stir, And huskily he said, “ Not her, not her.” We stooped beside the trundle txxl, And one long ray of lamplight slu'd Athwart the boyish faces there, In sleep so pitiful and fair; I saw on Jamie’s rough, red cheek A tear undried. Ere John could sixtik, " He’s but a bahy, too,” said I, And kissed him as we hurried by. Pale, patient Robbie’s angel face Still in his sleep bore suffering’s trace. “ No, for a thousand crowns, uot him,” He whispered, while our eyes were dim. Poor Pick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son. Turbulent, reckless, idle one— Could he l*e spared ? “ Nav, He who gave Bid us befriend hint to his grave; Only a mother’s heart can be Patient enough ior such as he; And so,” said John, “ I would not dare To send-him from her bedside prayer.” Then stole vre softlv up altove And knelt by Mary, child of love, “ Perhaps for her ’twould better be,” I said to John. Quite silently He lifted up a curl that lay Across her cheek in willful way, And shook Ills head, “Nay, love, not thee ’ The while my heart beat audibly. Only one more, our eldest lad, Trusty and truthful, good and glad— So like his father. “ No, John, uo— I can not, will not, let him go.” And so we wrote, in courteous wav We oould not drive one child away’- And afterward toil lighter seemed, Thinking of that of which#we dreamed, —■ Happy in truth that not one face J. as nttssed from its accustomed, place; 1 hankful to work for all the seven Trusting the rest to One in heaven ! THE PAWNBROKER'S STORY. Asa pawnbroker in a populous sub urb of London, I have had occasion to see painful, and sometimes not unpleas lng phases of society. Just to give an idea of what occasionally comes under T^ r u D i^' Ce °f a P er ' son ' u my profession, 1 shall describe a little incident and its (“nsequences. One evening I stepped to the door for a little fresh air and to look about me for a moment. While I was gazing up and down the road, I saw a tidilv-dressed young person step up to our side door. Bhe walked like a lady— and let me tell you that in nine eases out of ten it’s the*walk, and not tiie >!ress, which 'distinguishes the lady from the servant girl—and first she looked about, and then she seemed to make up her mind in a flurried sort of a way, and in a moment more was standing at our counter, holding out a glittering some thing in a little trembling hand covered with a worn kid glove. Mv assistant, Isaacs, was stepping for ward to take the seal, when I came in and interposed. The poor yoiing thing was so nervous and shy, anti altogether so unused to this work, that I felt for her as if she had been my own daughter, almost. She couldn’t have been above eighteen years old—so frail and gentle a creature. “ If you please, will you tell me,” she said timidly, in a very sweet, low voice, trembling with nervousness, “ what is the value of this seal ?” “ Well, Miss,” I said, taking the seal into my hand and looking at it—it was an old-fashioned seal, such as country gentlemen used to wear, with a coat of arms cut upon it—“that depends upon whether you want to pledge it, or to sell it outright.” “ I am married, sir,” and she said the words proudly and with dignity, though still so shy, and seeming ready to burst outcrying; “and my husband is very ill—and—and—.” And then the tears wouldn’t be kept back any longer, and she sobbed as if her poor little heart would break. “ There, there, my dear,” I said to her; “ don’t cry; it will come all right in time;” and I tried to comfort her in my rough-and-ready way. “ I will lend you, ma’am,” I said to her at last, “a sovereign upon this seal; and if you wish to sell it, perhaps I can sell it for you to advantage.” And so I gave her a pound; and she tripped away with a lighter heart, and many thanks to me, and I thought no more of the matter at the time. The very next day, the day before Christmas, there came into our place of business a very eccentric gentleman, who had called upon us pretty often liefore, not for the sake of pawning anything, though he was generally shabby enough to. But he was a collector—one of those men who are mad upon old china and curiosities of all sorts. “ Anything in my way, to-day, Mr. Davis?” he said, in his quick, energetic manner, with a jolly smile upon his face, and putting down the cigarette he was smoking upon the edge of the coun ter. The Rev. Mr. liroadman is a collec tor of gems, and rings, and seals, and, in fact, of any stones that have heads or figures upon them. And I had been in the habit of putting aside for him what ever in this way passed through our hands, for he gave us a better price than we should have got for them at the quar terly sales. “ The fact is, Davis,” he said to me, “these things are invaluable; many of them are as beautiful, on a small scale, as the old Greek scriptures; and some of them even by the same artists. And they are made no longer; for, in this busy nineteenth century of ours, time and brains are too precious to be spent on these laborious trifles.” Now, although I had no stones of the kind he wanted just then, it entered into my head that I would tell him about the seal which had come into my possession the evening before. I told him the story somewhat as I have just told it to you. He listened at tentively to. all I said. When I had done he looked at the seal, and said, “ I observe that it has been the heraldic emblem of a baronet.” He then congratulated me up on the way in which I had acted. He asked, too, for this young lady’s address, which she had given me quite correct, and then he left the shop without another word. You must give me leave to tell the rest of the story in my own way, although it may be a very different way from that whieh the reverend personage employed in relating it to me afterward. It seemed that it was a runaway match. A country baronet's son had fallen in love with the clergyman’s daughter in the village where his father lived, and they had run away together and got married. Then they came up to London, these two poor young things—for neither his father, nor her’s either, for the matter of that, would have anything to say to the match —he, lull of hopes of getting on in the literary and artistic line, and she, poor creature, full of trust in him. The project of living by literature did not turn out as was expected. The voung fellow without experience or friends, spent much time ingoing about from one publisher to another, and sending his writings to the various magazines— which I need not say were always “re turned with thanks.’ - And then he tell ill; typhus, I fancy, brought on by insuf ficient nourish meht, and bad drainage, and disappointed hopes. The registrar general does not give a return of these cases in any list that I am aware of; but we see something of them in our line of business nevertheless. It was just at this time that Mr. Broad man found out Mrs. Vincent, for that was the name of the young lady who came to my shop with the gold seal. Cam bridge Terrace is not very far [from the Angel at Islington, and there, in a little back street of small, respectable houses, inhabited by junior clerks, with here and there a lodging house, Mr. and Mrs. Vin cent lived. They were rather shy at first of a stran ger, and a little proud and haughty,per haps. People who have seen better days and are down upon their luck, are apt to be so. But the parson with his pleasant ways and cheery voice, soon made it all right; and, in a jiffy, he and Mr. Vincent were talking about college, for they had both been to the same university. And there was even soon a smile, too —a wan smile enough—upon the poor invalids’ sharp-cut, thin face, with the hollow, far away eyes, which looked at you as if out of a cavern. He was the wreck of a fine young fellow, too; one who had been used to his hunting and shooting, and all the country sports which make broad-chested, strong-limbed country people the envy of us poor, thin, pale townsfolks. Mr. Broadman came direct to me when he left them. I did not live far off, and he thought that I might lend them a neighbor's help. “Davis,” says he, that poor fellow is dying; I can see death in his eyes.” “What is he a-dying of?” I replied. He looked at me steadfastly a moment, and I could see a moisture in his eye, as he said, slowly and solemnly, “Of starva tion, Davis—of actual want of food.” “A gentleman starving in London, in Islington, a baronet’s son, too! Why it’s “these are the very people who do die of starvation in London, and in all great cities. Not the poor, who know where the work-house is, and who can get at j the relieving officer, if the worst comes t to the worst; but the well-born, who have fallen into destitute poverty, and j who carry their pride with them, dive into a back alley, like some wild animal 'into a hole, to die alone. Mr. Vincent wants wine and jellies, and all sorts of good things; if help hasn’t come too late. No, no, my friend,” he continued, put ting back my hand, for I was ready to give my money in a proper cause. “ No, no; I have left them all they want at present, Davis. But I’ll tell you what you can do; you can, if you like to play the good Samaritan, go and see them, and cheer them up a bit. Mr. Vincent hasn’t forgotten your kindness to her, I can assure you. And I think her hus band would like to thank you too, and it would arouse him up a bit, perhaps.” And then Mr. Broadman told me, short ly, something of what these t>vo poor things had gone through—she, loving and trusting him so; and he, half mad that he hacl brought her to this pass, and could do nothing for her. Mr. Broadman wrote that very day to the baronet, a proud, hard man, I’m told. But the letter he wrote back was soft enough, and melting to read; it was so full of human nature, you see the father's heart swelling up at the thought of getting back his son; and bursting through the thick crust of pride which had prevented him from making the first advances. And the parson says to me: “Well, Mr. Davis,” he said, “there are many people kept asunder only for want of somebody to go between them, you see, and make peace.” And I said partly to myself: “ Why shouldn’t Christianity itself be such a generous peacemaker as that ? “Ay,” replied Mr. Broadman “if people only believed in it properly.” That very day we got the Baronet’s letter, I was on my way in the afternoon* to Cambridge terrace to pay my respects to Mrs. Vincent—and I had sent in a few r bottles of good old part wine from my own wine-merchant —at least as good as coukl be got for money or love. Well, when I got near the door, I saw an old gentleman walking up and dow r n, a little disturbed, apparently, in his mind at finding himself in such a queer locality, and as if looking for something or somebody. A short, rosy faced fellow he was, clean shaved as a pin, and very neat and old-fashioned in his dress, with that sort of air about him which marks an English country gentleman wherever he may be. Well, we soon got into a talk, for I’d spotted the Baronet in a moment, and he was anxious to find out something about his son, as soon as he heard I knew 7 a little of the young couple. “ And you, do not think, sir, that my— that Mr. Vincent is dangerously ill?” said the old baronet; and there was a sob in his vioce as he spoke, and his hand trembled as he laid it upon mine, “ Here is the house,” I said, “and you will be able to judge for yourself.” We went in. At least the baronet went into the room, trembling in every limb with the excitement of seeing his son. But when he set eyes on him, the poor old man was so startled that he could scarcely speak. His son saw him and tried to* rise, hut fell back feebly into his chair. “ Dear father,” he mur mured, stretching out a thin, trembling hand, “forgive ” But the father was on his knees by CARTERS\ ILLE, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 11. 1875. the chair in a moment, clasping his son’s head in his arms, and fondling him as he had done when the man was a baby. “ What have Ito forgive You* must forgive me for being so hard, mv dear boy, and get bettor soon, Wilfred, mv son, my son!” I had come into the room ; 1 could not help it, I was so interested and excited. But I saw that in the young man’s face j which made my heart sink into mv bosom like lead. ■ The young wife saw it too, and gave one, two. three sharp screams, as if a ! knife had been thrust into her side. Mr. Broadman saw it; and quietlv kneeling down, commended to God—as well as he could, for sobbing—the soul of his servant departing this life. And I well, why should Ibe ashamed to confess it? I knelt down too, and cried like a child; for the young man had died in his father’s arms at the very moment of recouciliation. Southern Pacific Railway. * Am' one, says the Los Angelos Herald, : desiring to obtain any idea of the stu pendous accomplishments of railroad en , gineering should spend a few days at rehachape Pass, investigating the oper i ations of the Southern Pacific railroad I company. About twenty miles of that road is a succession of cuts, fills, and ■ tunnels. Within this distance there are thirteen tunnels, ranging from one thou i Band one hundred feet to a few yards in i length. For the greater portion of the way the road bed is cut through solid l granite. The elevation is so great from the present terminus of the road, at Cal iente, to Tehachape Valley, that the first mile and a half out of Caliente is attained by laying down eight miles of track. Higher up in the pass of the j r °ad runs through a tunnel, encircles the hill, and passes a few feet above the tunnel. After completely encircling the hill, and going half round again, the track doubles on itself like a closely pur sued hare, and, after running several miles in the opposite direction, strikes up the canon. This circling and doub ling is for grade. Once the track crosses the pass, and this involves the building of a long and very high bridge. We doubt if a more difficult and expensive piece of engineering was encountered in the building of the Central Pacific over the Sierras than that which the South ern Pacific is now struggling in Tehac hape Pass. Another tremendous piece ot work is the San Fernando tunnel, which when completed, will be over a mile and a half in length, and in places over one thousand feet beneath the sur face. Yet the company will accomplish this great Avork, and run cars throuirli from San Francisco to Los Angelos, by i the Ist of next July. All the force that j can be used is kept at Avork on the San Fernando tunnel. In the Tehachape { Pass five thousand men are employed, and the force is being increased at the j rate of one thousand Chinamen per j week. Saxon War-Babes. One of the most touching sights in in connection with military matters which I have happened to notice, is that of the newly-enlisted men roaming the streets during the day or two of grace allowed them before donning the uni form and beginning the long, weary ser vitude of powder and ball. They are permitted a license of behavior quite ex traordinary either to soldier or citizen; they are on the neutral ground between, and* may have their fling for once. Po licemen are blind to their escapades; officers ignore them; people in general smile good-naturedly, and pick them up when they fall down. For it almost in variably happens that the first thing these unlx>rn war-babes do is to get drunk. It is the traditional way of passing the solemn period of incubation, and appears to commend itself anew to each successive brood. They wear green ribbons in their button-holes, and stag ger along arm in arm, crooning discor dant lays, laughing or crying, and com mitting much harmless, foolish, and pit eous uproar. Many of them bring smooth, inexperienced faces from un known country villages; others are already coarse and stolid; a few bear traces of culture, but Gambrinuslays all alike in the gutter. Occasionally, in deed, from the midst of the beery bed lam, a sane and sober pair of eyes meets our own, making us marvel how they came there. Perhaps the drunkards are the wiser; the prospect is too sorry a one for sober contemplation; it requires all the enchantment that malt and hops can cast over it to make it tolerable. But what a rueful scene must to-morrow morning’s drill be, with its Katzenjam mer, its helpless ignorance, and its sav age sergeant!— Julian Hawthorne. Earth Worms. f These insignificant and unattractive creatures are of the greatest benefit to the fields which they inhabit, though many are supposed to the contrary. They are humble but very efficient ser vants of the agriculturists; and far from injuring his meadow or his garden, they devote themselves with praiseworthy as siduity to turning over the soil to a greater depth and more thoroughly than can be done with the best appliances know r n to science. These animals (for so they are classified by the naturalists) are scarcely more than animated tubes. They seem to live by taking earth and earthy substances in at one end and passing them out at the oilier. This simple pro cess of digestion is aided, how 7 ever, by a mucous seeretion; and the w r orm has a habit, when he has filled himself with earth, of ascending to the surface, turn ing round and working himself back again into the ground. This operation unloads him; and the process repeated by millions of his fellow r s can not but have very highly beneficial effect upon the quality of the land. It is said by Mr. Darwin that these worms have been knowrn to cover whole fields to the depth of thirteen inches in the course of eight years. A slow process, to be sure, but so are all the processes of nature. This, however, is not all they do. They carry their shafts and galleries to a depth of several feet, and cross and intersect in all directions, loosening the soil, opening it to the air and water, and, in short, doing all they can to help vegetation, without preying upon it or injuring its roots in the* slightest. The “narrow-gauge skirts” is the west ern name-for ’em. THE ROAD AGENT. An Im-MfMt o€ tttnjre Rid in* In Cltfnr- Three San Franciscans—Messrs. W. A. Von Schmidt and son and Robert ,T. Tiffany—were the heroes of a rather ro mantic adventure in the mountains the other day. The time was two o’clock Monday afternoon, the place eight miles beyond Oroville, at a locality famous, or rather infamous, for stage robberies and lawlessness generally. The gentlemen named, in company with five others, were proceeding by the Quincy stage toward Oroville, and in course of con- A’ersation Von Schmidt said he had a presentiment they would be stopped by a road agent before reaching town. He had hardly got through with his uncom fortable remarks when they heard the word “ Stop ! ” accompanied bv the click of a gun-lock. Whoa !” said the dri ver, as he brought his horses to their haunches, and then the expostulation, “ I can't well stop here,” —the stage was slipping back—“ go on to the rise of the hill.” “ Hold your jaw,” said the first voice, “and throw off that treasure-box quick.” “There’s the robber!” said on; “I told you we’d meet him.” And a little Spanish woman on the front seat cried out, “ Misericordia, ladrones!” and fell in a dead faint among the straw. Tiffany looked out the side of the mud wagon and saw an individual—a piti able-looking chap, dressed in tattered canvas clothes, with his head encased in a piece of blanket that served the pur pose of a mask—covering the driver and the two trembling passengers who occu pied the boot with a double-barreled shot-gun. “Is that a robber ?” said he; “why, he’s not a formidable looking scoundrel.” It Avas Tiffany’s first experience in road agents, and he thought to SCC H Claude Duval or a Paul Clifford on a black horse. Meanwhile Von Schmidt had dropped from the rear of the stage with a tousty, large-sized Colt navy re volver, in his hand, and drew a bead on the highAvayman. Finding it necessary to defend himself from this unexpected attack, the latter withdrew his attention from the driver and covered Von. The driver whipped up his horses and Avas off like a shot, leaving Von and the robber to fight it out alone. The stage drew up altout a quarter of a mile from the place when Mr. Tiffany and Mr. Von Sahmidt’s son both jumped out and hastened back to the assistance of the gallant engineer. The latter Avas armed with a bowie-knife, and Mr. Tiffany depended on a fence rail. They had not returned many steps before they met Von coming along with his pistol still in his grasp, and keeping a bright lookout for the probable compan ions of the blanketed thief. “ Where’s the robber?” avhs the anxious question. “Gone!” wus Von’s calm reply; “in full retreat up the canon.” On reaching the stage, .the Col. addressed some re marks to the stage-driver, more forcible than polite, for running off and leaving hi/lV ’flatfVhHT ftHYOW ih‘Lns&iic w>night, he said, “ if you’d only held vourhorses.” But perhaps it was better for all sides that the shooting was so slow. The treasure box that contained SIO,OOO was saved and no blood spilled. The Colonel and his party were heroes in Oroville on their arrival', and a special disnatch of thanks Avas received from Wells- Fargo’s office in this city. The com pany offer a rew r ard of SSOO for the ar rest and conviction of the would-be-rob ber. —San Francisco Chronicle. The Mediterranean of Japan. In the far east, lying betw r een the islands w r hich compose the empire of Japan—that ancient and mysterious realm but recently explored and intro duced into the circle of nations by the greed or enterprise or western commerce —there ebbs and flows and sparkles, with a gorgeous beauty truly oriental, a fair Mediterranean, known as the Seto Uchi, or Inland sea. Though smaller by far than its namesake of the west, it has many physical characteristics much more striking. It abounds in harbors, bays, snug anchorages, deep channels, and sheltering islands. Tt basks in a climate almost perfect in its serenity and free dom from extremes. The mariner fresh from the chilly spring time and ungen erous summer of our own islands, navi gates its waters in June with a cloud less sky— “ Beneath a roof of blue lonian weather,” unprotected by aw nings, and fearless of the sun, which at the same season off the Spanish or Italian coasts beats down on those who sail beneath it with an un supportable and even deadly fierceness. Here are no tideless waters; a strong ebb and flow, running to and fro between fairy eylets, and round verdant capes, with almost headlong fury, purifies and freshens every inlet with an influx from the wide Pacific ocean without. Re markably free from storms and rain, the frailest fishing boat is pushed fearlessly out to the mid waters of its widest Sarts. No sirocco blows across it to ren er life scarcely worth having through out the length of many an autumn day. In fine w r eather the bosom of the sea does not undulate sufficiently to rock even the smallest bark ; yet there is no lack of breeze. It should be the very paradise of pleasure seekers. The scenery is truly lovely: a Devon fore grouna set in a background of the Alps. Lofty mountains bound the landsctf|>e. In summer, light, fleecy clouds hover about the higher slopes; while through dips in the stately range of heights, glimpses are caught of still higher peaks beyond, bathed in a violet haze, or dis solving into the misty distance 7 Front ing the water are pine-clad hills, with the varied and fantastic outline natural to a once volcanic region. Their sides are seamed with valleys, in which nestle pleasant villages, half hid in the varie gated foliage of shady trees. The tem perate zone meets the tropics in groves and coppices of pine, and fir and cam phor-wood, and graceful bamboo. Above, the lilac waves in clusters, whilst under neath the steeps are all aglow 7 with azaleas in crimson masses. The quaint gables and high-peaked roofs of temples peer out from leafy groves, traversed by glades of brilliant green. Streams gush ing from the rocks trace silvery lines upon the abrupt hillsides, Rocky prom ontories, festooned with creepers, and crowned wdth clumps of firs, just out into the sea, and divide white, sandy beaches, or form little coves and bays. iHere a huge mass of gray granite stands out as a monument of some ancient con vulsion of the soil; there a succession of grassy knolls and hanging woods uddu lating baekAA'ard from the shore, intro duces a park-like feature into the pano rama. Art completes the picture. The slopes of the mainland, and of innu merable islands— “That like to rich and various gems inlay The unadorned bosom of the deep,” are clothed Avith fields of waving corn, of a really golden hue, in the dazzling June sunlight. The style of cultivation is high. The fields are arranged in ter races, which climb in a long series of steps the sides of hill and ravine, to a goodly height above the lower ground. Here and there the fields are dotted with the brilliant emerald of tiny patches of the young rice plant. Blue wreaths of smoke rise from the bonfires of brush- w r ood, lighted to bream the sharp-bowed craft hauled up on the beach below. The sea is studded with the boats of fishermen, and flecked with the w’hite sails of scores of native trading vessels. —Fortnightly Review. Raising a Dairy. We spoil our milch cows in our calves, many of us. There is too little system, and what there is, is too often w rong. A calf does not Avant to be fatted if in tended for a milch cow. It does not want to be scrimped in its food. It does not want to be fed the wrong food, or in the wrong way. All these are common errors. With pure blood among breed ers, more pains are taken. The same pains are to be taken with stock intended for the dairy, whether thoroughbred or otherwise. Particularly in the native cow' is benefit received from care in rear ing, developing thus the original good qualities which are more or less latent through generations of abuse, as the “native,” as originally imported, Avas of good blood, and the individuals selected and brought over were choice speci mens. The calf wants to fed with food con genial to calves. The mother milk is the best in the start, to be followed by skim milk and hay tea, given warm as the milk from the cow, so as to prevent souring. In a few weeks a little hay will be eaten. This should be tender (grass aftermath excellent) and bright, free from dirt and mold, and unbleached. The calf will soon take to it and do well, the milk meanwhile continued. When the season for grass arrives, turn out. I have known the best success with clover, turned in when the plant is ad vanced, and fed until in blossom. Care should be taken so as to avoid overfeeding on the one hand, and un derfeeding on the other. The course be tween is the only wise course, the object being to secure the full growth of the animal, all that it is capable of, in the time allotted for this growth. If this is neglected, there will be loss according to o\nn;rtJ be replaced. It is general farmer. A full growth will give you a cow, from the birth of the calf, in two years. If ill attended to, it will take another year, thus losing a year’s feeding and crre to attain the object, which is milk. Early maternity will also favor an early development ot the lacteal functions, which will thus become enlarged and and established. This is how well known to the experienced darymen. Not only during the summer, but the fall and winter, and all the time, without abatement, is this care and attention to be given. There is to be no let up, for this is loss—no exposure to the cokl fall and spring winds and rains, which are very hurtful to the shivering calves, especially the first fall. It pays to take care of the calves, and it is the only way that does pay. I have never known it to fail—fairly fail, as is the case with ill-kept stock—but have met with gnneral good success, in some cas<jß the most highly satisfactory. Select from a good cow; and if the male is good —from a good cow or a good milking strain—all the better. These things can not be overlooked. A word more as to feeding. I have recommended, first, milk from tire cow t ; then skimmed milk; this should not be skimmed too close, that is, when the milk is sour; let it be done when the milk is yet sweet. Then, if the hay is tender and nutritious, I have found the fec;d (including the hay tea) sufficient for health and growth. This with the best calves, and until pasture or ad vanced clover is substituted for the hay. If, however, the calf needs it, a little meal, fine ground or well cooked, daily giyen, will supply the want. Oat-meal stands in high favor. Too much meal, however, is worse than none at all. In this wav, the cheapest and best dairies can be secured. The better and cheaper the blood, the more profit. Get thus a good dairy, and keep it good. It wants constant care and attendance; no over feeding ; no abuse; no suffering; but generous and kind treatment.—Corre spondent Country Gentleman. Cure for Sheep-Chasing Dogs.- Many people will assent heartily to the principle that the best possible eure for a sheep-chasing dog is to kill him at the earliest practical moment; but there may be exceptional cases. A correspond ent of the London Field seems to think so at least, and relates an instance where, after other attempts had failed, a fine Newfoundland dog was cured by tying him to two old Scotch rams, and left to such amusement as he could extract from their society. The result was an extensive ramble over hill and hale, hedges and ditches, and diversified, of course, by the discordant views each ram and the dog entertained as to the route of enjoying the best scenery. When all three were very tired they were loosed, and nothing thereafter was so extremely offensive to that dog’s tastes as the society of sheep. Yesterday, when a couple of excur sionists were strolling through the market the girl looked longingly at the fruit, and the young man, after a struggle with him self, purchased several large plums and divided with her. “Do you doubt my love, Millv?” he asked, as they chewed at the fruit. “Noap,” she replied, her mouth “plum” full. “Because,” he con tinued, “if I didn’t love you T wouldn’t be around buying boas plums at five cents apiece, would I?” She seemed satisfied. —Detroit Free Press. Farming on Shares. This custom in the old cotton belts of the south grew out of two causes which, at the time we saw no way to aA'oid —first, from a want of money to pay Avages with, and secondly, because the negroes had been advised by the Bu- reau Agents not to farm in any other manner. These, Ave say, were the two leading causes that led'to it, and con firmed, as Ave thought, by the belief that it was really the best method of secur ing the negroe’s Avork. Experience, how ever, of a disastrous nature, has shown the error of the plan, and the time has certainly come when farmers and plant ers must adopt a different system, even if it should involve the necessity of cul tivating less ground. This custom has practically resulted in the negro becom ing the proprietor of the crop ; and all of us who were accustomed to the negro when a slave, and under good training and order, know that it was seldom one could be found, of sufficient knowledge and force of character, to make even a “ Driver;” and but a small proportion of those who had that particular sort of executiveness were at all calculated to say when and how a crop should be pitched, planted and worked, out Side the direction of the planter himself. Yet, in the face of this, we now find them placing their entire planting interests in the hands of one negro, whose only re commendation is that he can command perhaps one to six hands. The effect of which is, that the proprietor has to bear the brunt of the ignorance or idleness of the entire number, instead of one. The tenant or rent plan is onlv the same thing under another name, and, if possi ble, a plan containing more risks. For Avhile working on the share plan, there is some semblance of obedience to proprie tary authority, how r ever tenderly it is to be touched. While the tenant plan at once surrenders the entire control. Under this last system the negro is sup plied with a mule or mules, under the appearance of sale, and supplies of all kinds advanced, with the only chance of reimbursement, depending on the suc cess of the negro in, to him, the new T arts of planting and proprietorship. Sometimes this is attended by partial success, but in the very large majority of instances, in failure of crop —large in debtedness, Avhich he is unable to pay— the mule badlv damaged, by ill use and starvation, and, in most instances, re turned, and quite often in the abandon ment of the crop before gathering; this last being practically done, by idleness and neglect. Whenever the negro finds that his indebtedness for rent, supplies and stock are likely to exceed the value of his crop, he feels no more obligation to continue work. Our planters knoAV these things just as well as Ave do, yet they seem not to re gard the severe lessons of experience. How to plant, Avith the negro for the la borer, is the question. Both question flrtrl nri'iwpr arp sirrmlp Rut nni- nlnnt~. Employ them for money Avages, a cer tain portiou payable at the expiration of every month, the remainder at the end of the year—either working them in large or small numbers, as may be most convenient, we preferring the small num bers Avith a w'ell chosen white man to Avork in the lead, and to act as a kind of foreman under the proprietor. If, then, an idle hand has been employed, he can at any time be discharged with only a prospective, but not an actual loss, as is the case Avlien farming on shares. The facts Avhich Ave have here urged upon the cotton planters are of the most serious character, as is shown in their pecuniary condition and in the appear ance of their homes —for a share cropper, or a tenant, ahvays refuses to assist in improA'ing the place, having no further interest in it, he thinks, than for the passing year; Avhile with hired hands a man keeps his stock and cribs in his own hands, directs his own planting, and im proves his place as he sees proper. These are only a few of the facts involved, but sufficient to demonstrate the truth of all Ave say, as proven by the experience of every planter who has tried either plan. —Rural Texan. The Value of Vivisection. While the practice of vivisection can not be defended when the torture is in flicted *n the lower animals, simply to exhibit truths already fully settled and demonstrated, its utility in original in vestigation can not be contradicted. This is amply proved by the results to which it has lead. In summing up the benefits to practical medicine a accuring from vivisection, in a speech recently delivered before the British Medical As sociation, the president of that body, Sir Robert Christison, noted among others the following: By means of the most extended series of vivisection on record, Orfila placed toxicology on a scientific basis, and gave to the world a knowledge of the action of poisons which has been directly in strumental in saving thousands of lives. To experimentation on animals as to the nutritive value of nonnitrogenous sub stance, the goodly fellowship of anti vivisectionists who have a tendency to gout or gravel owe the accurate dietetic treatment of their ailments. Sir Robert himself discovered through vivisections the mode in which oxalic acid poisons, and the means of counteracting its ef fects ; determined the rapidity of action of prussic acid; ascertained by exper iment, first upon himself and subse quently upon animals, the physiological and toxic effects of Calabar bean, now largely and usefully employed in med icine ; in an important medico-legal case he established the guilt of the accused by proving upon animals the fetal action of laburnum bark, the substance ad ministered, the effects of which had not previously been investigated. It was at the house of a well-known doctor of divinity, and the little toddling girl, who did not like to see her aunt trim a lighted kerosene lamp, had come hon estly by a somewhat modified theory of predestination. “Take care! take care! or we’ll get blowed up in the sky, and then God’ll sav, “Girls what are you in such a hurry for?” In putting up stove-pipe remember that the elbow was made to fit the oven door, and that six blows from an ax will knock thunder and lightning out of any joint. VOL. 16-NO. 4-2. SAYINGS AND DOINGS. POPPING THUS QUESTION. If you love me, tell me so ; I have read In your eyes, I have heard it In your sighs. But ray ▼Oman’s heart replies, If you love me, tell me so ? Should I give you Yes, or No? Nay, a girl may not confess That her answer would be “ Ye*” To such questioning, unless He who loves her tells her so. If you love me, tell me so 1 Love gives strength to watch and wait; Trust gives heart for any fate; Rich or poor, unknown or great— If you love me, tell me so! While smoking on a powder keg, He dropped a cinder down ; Then rose he like a meteor To wear the golden crown. Gone to meet a fellow who struck a glycerine-can with a sledge hammer. Grasshopper? have appeared in Af rica in great numbers, ana the natives are making dried beef of them for winter use. The fact is, to do anything in this world worth doing, we must not stand back shivering and thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in and scramble through as w ell as we can. —Sidney Smith After a while is a halcyon day, When the love w* have lavished our bosoms shall bless: Then shall be true every hand that we press, The hearts we confide in, the lips we caress, After a while. “What can I do to make you love me more ?” asked a youth of his girl the other evening. “Buy me a ring, stop eating onions, and throw your shoulders back when you walk,” was the immediate re ply. The tides of life uneven flow, And ever betwixt weal and woe, We drift and waver to and fro. Because the gods will have it so. I see the great ones prostrate lie, I see the beggar lifted high, And none his destined fate can fly, And all in vain we strive or cry. — Euripides. O, if the good deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beau tiful would even death appear: for how much charity, mercy, and purified affec tion would be seen to have grown in dusty graves !—Die kens. “How strange!” said Mrs. Spilkins the other day, “Leander has only sent me a single line since he left for Long Branch.” “Only a single line, ma,” remarked the youthful Matiades, who is studying ge ometry; “that’s something without a par allel.” Go look in the banks, where mammon has told His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold ; Where, safe from the hands of the starving and poor, Lies pile upon pile of the glittering ore; Walk up to the counter—ah! there you may stay Till your limbs have grown old and your hair turna grav, And you’ll find at the bank not one of the clan With'monev to lend to a moneyless man. A niece of Jefferson Davis lately visited Washington, and was shown through the immense law library at the Capitol. On being told that it was the largest of its kind cn the country, she quickly said: “Well, if all these volumes were put into three or four and the Bible placed on top of them, the country would be better off.’’ This will no doubt interest lawyers. aevilSsfi” wa8 T CAUght untTcr th'e New York steamship wharf on Monday after noon. He in some way got under, but was unable to find his way out from among the piling. Some men. at work upon the wharf heard the splashing which he made and fired several shots at him, but as they seemed to have no effect, a harpoon was obtained and his capture ef fected, fifteen men being required to tow him to the shore. The blood which escaped from him colored the water tor about ten feet on either side. He was sixteen feet in width and fifteen in length. His fins were four feet long, and his tail about the same length and not much larger than a person’s finger. His mouth opened to the width of two feet and was eighteen niches in length, and projected from eacn side of it waft a feeler about one foot wide and two feet long, which he rolled up and unrolled at will. So far as can be ascertained, there has been only one of these singular fish caught in this region before this one.. Previous to the war one larger than this was cap tured near Center street wharf. Fer nandina (Fla.) Observer A Great Help to the South. The New Orleans Picayune says : The Louisiana grange agency will ere long be one of the features of New Or leans. Not only does it furnish supplies to the farmers of the state at bottom prices, but it also induces shipments of the produce of western grangers to our doors, and sends them in return the pro ducts of our soil. The angency has also an office at the stock landing, with yard and pasturage for cattle of all kinds. This branch of the business has been very successful, and the correspondence from this state, Texas, Kentucky, ect., indicates for the future a large increase. The saving to the planters in ordering through their grange agent, not only their groceries and dry goods, but agri cultural implements, wagons, stoves, sew ing machines, etc., on all of which they receive the full discount, furnishes them with a surplus available for improving their homes or farms. A grange cotton factory in or near Natchez, Mississippi, is proposed, with a capital of $60,000, in $25 shares. The granges of Nevarro county, Texas, are building a large warehouse at Corsi cana, the county seat, on the Texas Central railroad. It is said that the Texas grangers saved a million of dollars last year by shipping and selling through their own agents, and many have got forehanded who never were so before. Great numbers of plant ers usuallv put all their profits into the hands of storekeepers and usurers. The writer saw a laay at Cincinnati lately who said that she paid 30 per cent, to a banker of Vicksburg for money to gather her eottoc. In California" the' grangers seem to have gone into banking just in time to save some of their deposits from the great collapse. “The grangers’ bank of California,” says the Pacific Enrol Press, “seems to be getting on as well as could be ex pected. The granges are 1 now taking hold of business in a more thorough manner than ever.” All this seems healthy, ,r and full of promise for the country. The danger from political and commercial tricksters is evident enough, but the order is ad mirably adapted for the repelling of ma rauders, and it is to be hoped that the Patrons "will be able to correct mistakes as fast as they become generally ap parent.