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W. A. 4 K'* H AL.K,) Ed,,ors nnd I*ropr| tors.
BEFORE THE LEAVES FALL
I wonder if oak and maple,
Willow and elm and all,
Are stirred at heart by the coming
Of the day their leaves mast fall
Do they t hink of the yellow whirlwind
<)r of the crimson spray,
1 hat shall he when chill Novcmlier
Bears all the leaves away?
“Tf die we must,” the leaflets
Seem one by one to say,
“We will wear the color's of all the earth
Until we pass away.
No eye Shall see us falter ;
And before we lav it down,
We’ll wear in the sight of all the earth
The year’s most kingly crown.”
•
So trees of the stately forest,
And trees by the trodden way
You are kindling into glory
This soft Autumnal day.
And we who gaze, reremember
That more than all they lost,
To hearts aid trees together,
May come through rii>etiing frost.
AFTER ALL THE WAKEFUL YEARS
I* it then so hard to die?
bile hath not such unmarred bliss
After the last parting erv;
Jteath is hut blank nothingness.
Now it seemeth sad to lie
baid in some drear chamber dead,
While the loved ones fearfully
Move around with awe-lnisned tread.
Then we shall he sleeping deep,
Theirs, not ours, shall be the tears;
Is it then so hard to sleep,
After all these wakeful years?
What should make us fear or fail
That we never wake again ?
What is death, that we should quail—.
Is it not sure end of pain ?
Perfect slumber, perfect rest,
No more heat or rains, or snows,
No more hopeless, weary quest,
No more fading of life’s rose ;
No more sorrow-lands to reap,
No more waking unto tears;
Is it then so hard to sleep,
After all the wakeful years?
THE REGULAR DETECTIVE.
W'liiit Up Owes to Society and lion lie
Pay* *lip Debt—Some Interesting Inei
dents.
A correspondent of the World, writing
of the detective system, gives the follow
ing interesting incident:
It is very hard to make the detective
understand that he owes anything to so
ciety. His moral sense is never cultivated.
He quite as often prevents a criminal
from reforming, as he prevents justice
from overtaking him. Captain Young
once told me of several cases where the
stupid indiscretion of the officer, had
loaded society with outlaws. One was
that of the well-known one-eyed Thomp
son, who, early in his career, was saved
from the clutches of the law by some
friends, who raised a sum of money for
him and sent him out west. He settled
in a thriving town on the border, and
changing his name, made a most praise
worthy effort to become a useful member
of society. He opened a store, won the
respect of the towns-people, was actually
made selectman, and was in a fair way to
live long and die honored for his many
virtues, when suddenly he turned up on
the streets here again.
“Hallo!” says Captain Young, “j
thought you had ‘ squared it ’ and was
out west? ”
“Yes; I thought so too,” says Thomp
son. “But it was no use; one of your
men did my business for me!”
It seems that this detective, sitting on
the varanda of the new hotel, opposite to
the store which the reformed man had
opened, “spotted him.” “Well, I’m
blessed if there isn’t ‘one-eyed Thomp
son !’ ” Some of the peopled guessed not.
Oh, no! that was Mr. Simpson, a respec
ted and prominent citizen.
“Oh ho! it was, eh? If that isn’t
‘one-eyed Thompson,’ the burglar, then
I’ll go back and join the church!”
“A 11 up,” says Thompson; “ I’m done
for. Here I am, captain. It was one of
your men that fixed me!”
And so well fixed was he that he be
came the most noted law-braker of his
day.
It is the easiest thing in the world to
hunt a man down when he is trying to
be honest with his own record against
him.
There is a case on record of a young
man in a prominent dry goods house in
this city who, in a moment of temptation,
forged a check on his employers. It was
a peculiarly painful affair. The lad was
well connected, and when the detectives
made the discovery it almost broke his
parents’ hearts. However, after some
trouble the matter was compromised.
The father paid the money, and some
mitigation of sentence was effected.
With the stain upon him he started out
to redeem his character, if he could.
After wandering about for some time he
obtained a situation in New Orleans as
entry clerk, and at the end of the year
saw a fair prospect of achieving success.
His employers had confidence in him, and
he had made numerous reputable ac
quaintances.
One day, while on the sidewalk super
intending the shipment of some goods,
one of these New York men came along.
“ Halloo ! you here ?”
“ Yes,” said this young man with his
heart in his mouth.
** What are you doing?”
“ Trying to earn an honest living !”
It seems incredible, but it is true.
The ollieer went straight into the store.
One week later the young man was in
New York.
“God knows,” said he, “I tried as
hard as anybody could to be honest, but
it’s no use ! ”
Of course a detective who had the
slightest notion of his obligations as a
man to society, to say nothing of his
duty as an officer, would not have made
this mistake.
And that reminds me of another case
which ought to teach even police officers
that discretion and kindness are not
without fruits even in this business.
Everybody in the force remembers
Johnny Maas. He was a pickpocket,
and belonged to a mob that worked on
the w’est side. How he got into the
company of these people it would be
hard to tell. But he was an adroit and
rather amiable thief that scarcely ever
caused the force any trouble. It was
customary in the days of the metropol
itan police to lock up all the pickpockets
and “guns” when there was to be a
great celebration or procession. They
were merely ordered to the central office,
and there kept until the city was re
stored to its usual quiet. Johnny Maas
only needed to be told to go to head
quarters to report himself there promply.
He was a young man, rather slight in
build, and somewhat taciturn.
To the surprise of the superintendent,
lie came to the office one afternoon and
inquired when all the special men would
be in, He was told he could see them in
the morning. When the morning came
he was there. After the roll was called
the superintendent said: “ Now, Johnny,
the men are all here if you want to speak
to them.”
He got up from the corner in which lie
was sitting, and wringing out his cap
with his two hands, proceeded to address
them in a faltering and abashed manner:
“ Well, you see, I’ve concluded to
square it. You’ve been pretty rough on
me for some time, and I’ve got a "sister
that’s got the heart disease, and she’s
took it inter her head that she’d live a
Lit longer if as how I’d do the right
thing, and I told her I’d make a try of
it; and if you men ’ll gimme a hand
Avhy I don’t mind makin’ it a go. I don’t
want to get ‘ the cholera’ no more, and
if the gal ’ll live a bit longer on my ac
count I am willin’.”
All the men went up and shook hands
with him, and it was agreed that he
shouldn’t have _ “the cholera” unless he
broke through his resolution.
About a year after that, in the dead of
ti severe winter, the superintendent was
coming through Crosby street into
Bleecker, and he met Johnny Maas. The
fellow was dressed in a thin, bombazine
coat, lie was collarless, and his feet
were out, and he looked hungry, pinched
and wretched.
I’m glad you’ve kept your word,
Johnny. But it’s going pretty hard with
you, I suppose, to be honest?”
“Awful hard, sir,” said Johnny ; “but
I told her I would, and I did.”
“ That’s right. Don’t you go back of
your word. Stick it out, You’ll have
better times by-and-bv.”
“Do you see that bank over there?”
said the young man, pointing to the
marble building in Bleecker street.
“ Well, there aint money enough in that
place to make me go back. I’d rather
go cold and hungry and not be hunted—
so I would.”
The next summer one of the hotel pro
prietors at Long Branch sent up to the
superintendent for a man to keep an eye
on the thieves that hang around a water
ing-place. “lean get you a man,” said
the superintendent, thinking of Johnny,
“but I’m bound to tell you he’s been a
thief.”
“ Then I don’t want him.”
Then the superintendent told the story
I have told, only he told it better.
“ Send him down,” said the landlord.
“ A chap that’ll do that ought to be
helped.”
It was $25 a week to Johnny, and it
made a man of him.
During that season there wasn’t a
robbery committed at the Branch.
Johnny stationed himself at the railroad
depot, and when he saw a former pal he
warned him off. “It’s no use,” he would
say, “ I don’t want to pipe none o’ you
boys, and I ain’t goin’ to do it if you
stay away. If you come here it’ll be
awful rough on both of us.”
And to their credit it ought to be said
that they always went back.
How to Make Marriage Beautiful.
In the first place, let people defer to
the laws of health, of sanity, hereditary
soundness; let them obey restrictions,
consult wholesome seasons, respect the
limits set up by the common sense of
nature. Natural ignorance on these
points is filling marriage with unnecces
sary evils; they not only spoil the well
being of a family, hut spoil its disposi
tion. Let the work in every house be
reduced, by a reduction of its ambitions,
till all its parlors, all its tables, all its
clothes, exactly represent the current
condition of every family; not a bracket
or a ribbon for exaggeration, not a single
room for parade, neither sewing, washing,
eating, scouring, company-giving beyond
actual needs, and all done by the least
elaborate methods. Then, in the second
place, reduce to the lowest possible point
the disturbances which arise from ignor
ance and vanity, from artificial training;
you simply liberate marriage for more
effective discharge of its spiritual pur
pose. The men ind women might
suspect that they wi re ilLmated till life
itself pronounced the banns. Teach
children that marriage only prolongs
their school hours into the future or
sterner discipline and less perishable
attainments. Warn them against those
affectionate extravagances which under
mine respect, against the physical errors
which so sap the will that it is humbled
and enslaved by annoyances which health
and freshness laugh at. And teach them
simplicity, make vulgar habits and ambi
tions appear odious to them, ply their
imagination with austere and noble forms,
tempt them to fall in love first with
spiritual beauty, whose service makes
them free, then they will be better pre
p:ired to discover that marriage withholds
felicity until it has been earned.
Little Things. —Little words are the
sweetest to hear; little charities fly
furthest, and stay longest on the wing;
little flakes sire the stillest; little hearts
the fondest, and little farms the best
tilled. Little books are the most read,
and little songs the dearest loved. And
when nature would make any thing
especially rare and beautiful, she nmkes
it little—pearls, little diamonds, little
dew. Agar’s is a model prsiyer, yet it is
but a little one, and the burden of the
petition is but for little. The Sermon
on the Mount is little, but the bust, dedi
cation discourse was an hour. Life is
made up of littles; death is what re
mains of them sill. Day is made up of
little beams and night is glorious with
little stars.
The New Testament revision in Eng
land, a work in which quite a number of
eminent divines are engaged, has now
been going on five years, and to complete
it probably five years more will be re
quired. The revisers are reported hav
ing entirely completed their work upon
the four gospels, excepting so far as two
questions are concerned, which still
cause a difference of opinion and are yet
to be decided. The number of disputed
points is very great, and requires a vast
amount of research to satisfactorily set
tle many of them.
On the subject of matrimony, a
French philosopher advises: “Fathers
and mothers if you should choose to take
the trouble to see through your future
sons-in-law, just look out of the window
sit them sis they ring the door bell.
Daughters needn’t look ; maidens in love
never have but one eye, and most of the
time not even that.”
CARTERS VILLE:, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER IS, 1575.
TRENCH LIFE.
.Wore of Antenp Hoiiwaye’s Spasmodic
Friend*.
I would tell Barthet in the morning to
write to some personage. He psissed the
order to Gaiffe, who passed it on to De
troyes, who prepared the letter in si sen ..
exactly contrary to what I had indicated
I soon, therefore, had to content myself
with \ erteuil alone, without, however,
taking away Barthet’s salary. “My dear
friend,” I said to him, “you are my sec
retary, and you can write plavs for the
theater, instead of letters for the Direc
tion.” But he would not be h secretary
in partibus; he insisted on his share in
the Direction. He disarranged every
thing in his zeal. Here is an instance.
One evening, when Rachel was playing
his “ Sparrow,” he saw in the boxes a
man who was laughing heartily between
two Lesbias. He ran to the box and
opened it with authority. He spoke to
the laugher, who laughed in his face.
Upon which the pugnacious poet took
him by the collar and walked him to the
corridor. Who do you suppose was the
laugher? The Prefect of Police. There
was a great tumult and I was sent for.
Luckily, I was acquainted with Carlier.
But it was not the Prefect whom it was
hard to appease, but Barthet himself.
The next morning, to make things end
pleasantly, what does Barthet do but
write this pretty note to the Prefect:
‘ I imagined, Sir, that I could not do
better than apply to the Prefect of Po
lice. It seems that 1 could not have
done worse.”
I was forced, to my great regret, to
part with Armand Barthet. But I still
remained his friend, as also did Rachel.
She invited him to her suppers, hut in
his quality of Bohemia he was rather too
unceremonious. The Bohemians gene
rally piqued themselves on not being
men of the wojrld. Ido not impute this
on them as a crime, but as Barthet did
not wear a white cravat to his beer cel
lar, he ought not to have worn a ragged
neckcloth at Mile. Rachel’s. Some re
gard should be paid to custom, even in
the republic of letters.
He got married to a wife who made
him in love with marrisige. But the
money question was always there. He
did not come to absolute poverty, but he
was desperate at his inability to* msike a
fortune for his wife while he was grad
ually losing his own literary capital
He was siggressive even to his last dsiys
of reason, not to speak of his days of
madness. One morning while hunting
he met one of his neighbors who had a
red nose. “My dear fellow,” he said,
“ I forbid you to present yourself before
me again with that nose. * Get yourself a
silver nose or else keep out of my way.”
The neighbor was enraged. “ See,”
said Barthet, “your nose is crimson.
Once more I tell you, I won’t stand it.”
The man with the rosy nose was furious;
so was Barthet. A challenge passed and
they fought the next day, to the great
merriment of the country, for Barthet
had sworn he would cut off his neigh
bor’s nose, but the neighbor instead slit
Barthet’s ear.
M. Proudhomme will not fail to say
that Barthet must have been a difficult
man to get on with. But, apart from
these fantastic gusts of temper, he was
not only the best of •friends, but he
would have thrown himself into the sea
for the first comer. He was a great
heart, but a bad temper. There was
more than one point of resemblance be
tween him and Clesinger, the great
sculptor and ex-cuirassier, who has al
ways a cuirassier in a salon. One day in
a cafe the sculptor was denouncing a
minister who did not give him a million
a year in orders, and brought his fist
violently down on the table. The master
of the establishment came to him, repre
senting in the most deferential manner
that he might “break the marble.”
“ Marble,” said Clesinger, “ that’s my
business. I am the sculptor Clesinger.”
Here he slapped his neighbor’s table.
His neighbor was M. Champagne, a fa
mous blade. “ Monsieur,” lie said, “ I
do not like a noise except sword in
hand.” “ Very well,” said Clesinger,
“we will try that.” I was a second at
that singular duel.
Barthet was buried at Ivry. He has
not a single friend in that cemetery of
nameless clods. There were four of us at
his funeral.
COUKT ETIQUETTE.
Soinr of tli“ Swncn at llie Court of Sit.
Jarnrs.
A correspondent writes from London;
The act of presentation is rery easy
and simple. Formerly indeed—until
within a few years—it must have been
a very perilous and important feat. The
courtier (the term is used inaccurately,
there being no noun to describe a person
who goes to court for a single time) was
compelled to walk up a long room and to
back, bowing, out of the queen’s pres
ence. For ladies who had trains to man
age, the ordeal must have been a trying
one. Now it has been made quite easy.
There is but one point in which a presen
tation to the Queen differs from that at
the Prince of Wales’ levees. You may
turn your back to the Prince, but after
bowing to the Queen you step off into
the crowd, still facing her. There (if
you have good luck to be presented in
the diplomatic circle) you may stand and
watch a most interesting pageant. To
the young princess, perhaps, it is not very
amusing; but there is plenty in it to oc
cupy and interest the man who sees it
for the first or second time. You do not
have to ask, “Who is this?” and “Who
is that?” The Lord Chamberlain an
nounces each person as he or she appears.
You hear the most heroic and romantic
names in English history as some boy or
woman appears to represent them. One
sees a number of beautiful persons. The
young slips/)f girls who come to be pre
sented for the first time, frighted and
pale and flushed, one admires and feels a
sense of loyalty too.
The name of each person is called out
loudly by the Lord Chamberlain. The
ladies bow very low, and those to whom
the Queen gives her hand to kiss nearly
or quite touch their knees to the carpet.
No'act of homage to the Queen ever
seems exaggerated, her behavior being so
modest, and the sympathy with her so
wide and sincere; but ladies very nearly
kneel in shaking hands with any mem
ber of the royal family, not only at court,
but elsewhere. It is not so strange look
ing, the kneeling to a royal lady, but to
see a stately mother or some soft Maiden
rendering such nu act of homage to h
young gentleman impresses one unpleas
antly. The courtesy of a lady to a
prince or princess is something between
kneeling and that genuflection one meets
in the English agricultural districts; the
props of the boys and girls seejn momen
tarily to be knocked away, and they sud
denly catch themselves in descending. It
* Monished me, 1 remember, at a party to
see one patrician young woman shake
hands with not a very imposing young
prince ami bend her regal knees into this
curious ami sudden little cramp. I saw
her, this adventurous maid, some days
afterwards in ss handsome cab, directing
with her imperious parasol the cabby to
this and that shop.
This jumble of the new and the old
struck me again and again wherever I
turned. The mysterious scarlet coaches
toiled along Piccadilly side by side with
the smart wagons of the Cheshire cheese
and butter company. To the traveler
who idles away a balmy morning in
Green Point, cm he resist for a moment
the blue hues of the Abbey towers and
the warm shining greensward, this im
pression is often present. The goblins,
wont to disport themselves in the medi
aeval moonshine, have been suddenly
overtaken by a flood of common plsice
daylight. There is the veritable St.
James palace. But no Charles drives
forth Irom its open portal as in the gav
pictures on the curtains of the theatres.
Ihe world belated expresses the gen
eral impression, which the monarchical
and aristocratic fsibric of English society
makes upon the observer. It is like the
banquet hall the morning sifter banquet;
the goblets over-turned, the dishes half
emptied and the strong sunlight pours in
upon the silent chamber, long deserted
by the revelers.
Long Trains,
Our landlady’s daughter, writes Oliver
Wendell Homes, is a young lady of some
pretensions to gentility, fehe wears her
bonnet well back upon her head, which
is known to be a mark of high breeding.
She wears her trains very long, as the
great ladies do in Europe. To be sure,
their dresses are so made only to sweep
the tapestried floors of chateaus and
palaces; sis those odious aristocrats of
the other side do not go dragging through
the mud in silks and satins, but, forsooth,
must ride in coaches when they are in
full dress. It is true that, considering
various habits of the American people,
also the little accidents which the best
kept sidewalks arc liable to, a lady who
has swep a mile of them is not exactly
in such a condition that one would csire
to be her neighbor. But confound the
make-believe women who have turned
loose in our streets. Where do they
come from? Not out of Boston parlors.
I trust. Why, there isn’t a beast or a
bird that would drag its tail through the
dirt in the way these creatures do their
dresses. Because si queen or a duchess
wears long robes on great oecsisions, a
maid-of-all work or si factory girl thinks
she must make herself a nuisance by
trailing about with her—pah! that’s
what I call getting vulgarity into your
bones smd marrow. Making believe what
you are not is the essence of vulgarity.
Hhow over dirt is the one attribute of
vulgar people. If any man can walk
behind one of these women an 1 see
what she rakes up sis she goes, and not
feel squeamish, he has got si tough
stomach. I wouldn’t let one of ’em in
my room without serving them as David
served Saul at the cave in the wilder
ness—cut off his skirts, sir, cut off his
skirts. Don’t tell n c that a true ladv
ever sacrifices the duty of keeping all
about her sweet end clean to the wish of
mstking a vulgar show. I won’t believe
it of a lady. There are some things that
no fashion has si right to touch, and
cleanliness is one of those things. If a
woman wishes to show that her husband
or father has got money which she wants
and means to spend, but doesn't know
how, let her buy a yard or tw> of silk
and pin it to her dress wheo she goes out
to walk, but let I er unpin it before she
goes in‘o the house.
The Story of a Working Girl.
The New York correspondent of the
Baltimore American says: The simple
funeral of a working girl which took
plsice yesterday was so touching in some
of its incidents, and illustrates so thor
oughly the real hardships which many of
them suffer, that it is worth mentioning.
I have never pitied working girls for
their work. Work in itself is not a hard
ship—it is a blessing; and work to this
girl, sis to most others, brought her all
the comfort, sill the relief she obtained
from the miseries of her home. Her
story was that of a thousand others.
She was one of a large family, depend
ent on the labor of a common, somewhat
shiftless, drinking, ill-conditioned man.
Her mother belonged to si different or
der; she was gentle, sind as long sis she
could worked and suffered, but she could
never get quite enough of any kind ot
food for them to eat or clothes to wear,
and she died sit last, as much as any
thing, of starvation; for if they had
little she had scarcely anything sit all.
Yet they never fell into the ranks of the
very poor, and few knew or guessed that
she had crucified natural instinct and
appetite until there was no life lefr in
her. It was said she died of consump
tion, but really she died for the want of
it. Naturally the mantle of her mother
fell on Nellie. Hhe was the oldest living
daughter. Hhe hsid been in si great city
establishment, since she was ten years
old. It was the whole outside world to
her. As long sis her mother was living
she brought her lunch, and showed signs
of care, but sifter her death she rapidly
grew thin and pale and shadowy. All
her earnings were absorbed at home; all
her time in the evening, far into the
night, and even Sundays, was occupied
in doing the sewing of the family—that
is, mending and keeping together their
poor substitutes for the usual garments
and changes. She came to work with
regularity up to within four weeks of her
death, and many were the little offers
made her of help, and of shares of indi
vidual buns and doughnuts, for Nellie
was a universal favorite. No one thought
of her as a woman (she was twenty-two);
she looked so childish, and had always
seemed a child to every one, that she
was treated like a child at her work, and
her reserve was so great that hardly any
knew of the woman's cares and duties
and burdens that were pressing upon her.
A t last she was obliged to stop, and it
almost broke her hearts Her work, bet
companions and their society were the
bright spots in her life. She did not
want to die, and it seemed unnatural
that she should. Life was strong within
her; it only had lisid no chance. But
she wsis buried yesterday, and working
girls, those who hsid worked with her,
who knew and loved her, contributed
from their small earnings, and bought
her her muslin shroud, her flowers, and
supplied the present necessities of the
family—the father having tsiken himself
out of the way altogether. It is this
which makes the lives of working girls
so hard—the want of comfortable homes,
and intelligent, industrious fathers. In
nearly every instance within my personal
knowledge they are obliged to contrib
ute their earnings to the support of the
family, and receive poor, insufficient
food, inadequate clothing, and bare shel
ter in return. It ought to be made a
criminal offense for men to marry and risk
the lives for which they are responsible,
or impose the burnden of an uncared-for
Avife and children upon the community.
The Green (and YelloAv) Isle.
Charles Warren Stoddard writes: Ire
land puts her best foot forward on which
ever side you approach her. Within she
is barren and blesik, and awfully uninter
esting. Some miles of peat bog will do
very ivell fora background, but when you
findyourself swamped in the middle of it,
somehow you lose all interest in this life,
and naturally begin thinking of your lat
ter end. Ireland is so lonesome, so mel
ancholy, so thoroughly forsaken, that
Avhen you come upon a town of any con
siderable size, you wonder how they msm
age to keep it up. There is plenty of
land there, most of it rich and mellow,
but it lies idle simply because there is no
one to work it, or worse, those who have
remained at home and are Avillingto work,
can not afford to undertake it, they have
not a penny to bless themselves with.
They have a pig which bathes in green
water in front of the door, and dries him
self on the hearth by the peat fire in the
one room of the cottage. The hens lay
eggs in the bed, that is Avhen they can af
ford to make shells and fill them; the cow
looks in at the back window, which is
without glass or sash, and sivears at the
scarcity of* bran. I have seen a coav in
the house examining a chest of drawers
to see if there was anything eatable there
abouts, while the family was literally
crowded into the mud under the door
sill, Avhere the pet pig snored luxurious
ly. These very people would give you a
sharp and Avitty reply, and very often si
graceful one, to any remonstrance you
might lie pleased to make. You find
fragmentary unpublished pages of Lever,
Charlton, Banim, Maxwell, Griffin, Mrs.
S. C. Hall, and a host of other novelists
in any hovel you enter; hut for the un
bounded good humor of Pat and his
Biddy, Ireland Avould indeed be a sor
roAvful spot.
Hans Andersen’s Characteristics.
A writer in the London Academy says:
In character Andersen was one of the
most blameless of human creatures. A
certain irritability of manner that almost
amounted to petulance in his earlier days,
and Avhich doubtless arose from the suffer
ing of his childhood, became melloAved
sis years went on into something like the
sensitive sind psithetic sAveetness of n
dumb animal. There Avas something in
his whole appearance that claimed for
him immunity from the rough Avays of
the world, a child-like trustfulness, a
tremulous and confiding affectionateness
that appealed directly to the sympathy
of those around. His personal appear
ance was somewhat ungainly, a tall body
Avitli arms of very unusual length, and
features that recalled, at first instance,
the usual blunt type of the blue-eyed,
yellow-haired Danish peasant. But it
was impossible to hold this impression
after si moment’s observation. The eyes,
somewhat deeply set in under arching
eyebrows, were full of mysterious and
changing expression, and a kind of exal
tation, which never left the face entirely,
though fading at times into reverie, gave
a singular charm to si countenance that
had no pretension toward beauty. The
innocence and delicacy, like the pure,
frank look of a girl-child, that beamed
from Andersen’s face, gave it a unique
character, hardly to be expressed in
words; notwithstanding his native shrewd
ness, he seemed to have gone through the
Avorld not only undefiled but actually
ignorant of its shadow-side.
The one least pleasing side of his char
acter avsis bis singular self-absorption. It
AA r as impossible to be many minutes in his
company Avithout his referring in the
naivest Avay to his own greatness. The
Queen of Timbuctoo had sent him this;
the Pacha of Many Tales had given him
such an order; such a little boy in the
street had said:“ There goes the gresit
Hans Andersen.” These reminiscences
Avere incessant, smd it Avas all the same to
him Avhether a little boy or a great queen
noticed him, so long as he avsis noticed.
This intense craving for perpetusil lauda
tion, no matter from whom, Avas an
idiosyncrasy in Andersen’s character, not j
to be confounded Avith mere vulgar van
ity. It avsis a strange and morbid char
acteristic, to be traced no doubt to the
distressing hardships of his boyhood. It
av is harmless and guileless, but it was
none the less fatiguing, smd it Avas so
strongly developed that no biographical
sketch of him can be considered fair that
does not allude to it. During his life
time it would have been inhuman to vex
his pure spirit by dwelling on aAA-eakness
that Avas entirely beyond his control, but
it Avas only just to his own countrymen,
who have been so harshly blamed for
their want of sympathy with him, to
mention the fact which made Andersen’s
constant companionship a thing almost
intolerable. In a small community like
that of Copenhagen a little personal
peculiarity of this kind is not so easily
passed over as in a wider circle.
Poor Minister’s Cake.—l teacup
sugar, 1 tablespoon butter, 1 egg (all
Avell beaten), 2 cups flour, 1 of sweet
milk, 1 teaspoon cream tartar, A tea
spoon soda, 2 teaspoons extract bitter
almond.
Sugar Crackers. —ll cups broAvn
sugar, 2 eggs, beat the white, separate
half* cup of lard and butter, 1 teaspoon
of soda, \ teacup of sweet milk.
Tread Cake. —1 cup bread dough, 1
egg. even teaspoon soda, a good half cup
butter, 1 cup raisins, I eup sugar, tea
l Gmifttmmj and eue t'l fc&Veli
THE NEXT CONGRESS.
Tlie Eloil-rall inal.izeil.
The roll-call of the Forty-fourth con
gress, shows a greater number of names
duplicated than that of any preceding
one; and Avhat is more singular is, that
the names thus duplicated are not ex
clusively or mainly of those considered
most common, as, for instance, we find
the name Williams, recorded seven
times, as follows: Andrew Williams, of
Plattsburg, N. Y.; A. S. Williams, De
troit, Mich.; C. G. Williams, Janesville,
Wis.; James 'Williams, Kenton, Del.; J.
D. Williams, Wheatland, Ind.; W. B.
Williams, Allegan, Mich.; J. N. Wil
liams, Clayton, Ala. The Williamses
from New York, Wisconsin sind W. B.
of Michigsm are Republicans, and the
others are Democrats.
Harris.— This name Ave find recorded
three times; B. W., from East Bridge
water, Mass.; H. R., from Greenville,
Ga., and J. TANARUS., from Harrisonburg, Ya.
Only the Massachusetts Harris is a Re
publican.
Bagley. —Of this name there are tAvo,
and New York monopolizes them; one
of them, G. A., hailing from Watertown,
and the other, J. H., Jr., from Catskill.
The former is a Republican and the lat
ter a Democrat.
Baker. —There are two Bakers, J. H.,
from Goshen, Ind., and W. H., from
Constantia, N. Y. Both of them are
Republicans.
Brown.—Taa t o Browns answer to the
congressional roll-call. J. Y., from Hen
derson, Kv., and W. R., from Hutchin
son, Kan. The Kansas Brown is a Re
publican, and J. Young Brown, of Ken
tucky, is a fire-eating Democrat.
Burchard. This not over-common
name occurs as many times as Brown,
viz., two. H. C. Burchard, from Free
port, 111., a Republican, and S. D., Bea
ver Dam, a Democrat.
Caldwell. There are tAvo of this
name. W. P., from Gardner, Tenn.,
and J. H., Jacksonville, Ala., both Dem
ocrats.
Cannon. —There are two Cannons in
the Forty-fourth Congress. G. Q., of
Salt Lake, Utah, Mormon and Dem
ocratic notoriety, and J. G., of Tuscola,
111., a Republican.
Clark. —Two Clarks Avill respond to
the clerk’s call. J. C., from Augusta,
Ky., and J. 8., Jr., from Fayette, Mo.
Both are Democrats.
Hamilton. There are tAvo of this
nsime. A. IT., from Fort Wayne, Ind.,
and Robert from Newton, N. J. Both
are Democrats.
Hewitt. —There are two HeAvitts. A.
5., from New York City, and G. W.,
from Birmingham, Ala. Both are Dem
ocrats.
Jones. —Two Democrats named Jones
sire in this congress; Frank, from Ports
mouth, N. H., and T. L., from Newport,
Ky.
Landers. Tivo Democrats of this
name also ansiver roll-call. G. M., from
New Britian, Conn., and Franklin, from
Indianapolis, Ind.
Mackey. —Politics divide the Mack
eys. E. W. M., of Charleston, S. C.,
being a Republican, and L. A., of Lock
haven, Pa., a Democrat.
Phillips. —There sire two Phillipses.
W. A., of galina, Kan., is a Republican,
and J. F., of Sedalia, Mo., si Democrat.
Reilley. There are two Reilleys,
and Pennsylvania has si monopoly of
them ; John, hailing from Altoona, and
J. 8., from Pottsville. Both are Dem
ocrats.
Robbins. —There are two Democrats
Robbinses in congress. John, from Phil
adelphia, Pa., and W. M., from States
ville, N. C.
Ross.—Two Rosses are divided politi
callv. Miles Ross, of New Burnswiok,
N. j., lieing a Democrat, and Sobieski,
of Cowdersport, Pa., a Republican.
Smith. —There are but tii r o Smiths.
A. H., from Lancaster, Pa., a Republi
can, and W. E., of Albany, Ga., a Dem
ocrat.
Townsend. —There are two Republi
can M. C.’s of this name. Washington,
of West Chester, Pa., and M. 1., of Trov,
N. Y.
Vance. —There are two Democrats of
this name in the House. J. L., of Gal
lipolis, Ohio, and R. 8., of River Side,
N. C.
Walker. —This name occurs the in
evitable tAvo times. C. C. 8., hailing
from Coning, N. Y., and G. C., from
Richmond, Va. Both are Democrats.
Wallace. —This name will sAvell the
Republican roll tAvo votes. A. S. comes
from Yorkville, S. C., and J. W., New
Castle, Pa.
Wilson. There are two Wilsons.
Benjamin, who is a Democrat, from
Wilsburg, W. Va., and James, a Re
publican, from Trsier, lowa.
Wood. —This figure 2 represents the
number of Woodses in congress. Fer
nando, of New York, a Democrat, and
Allan Wood, Jr., of Conshohocken, Pa.,
a Republican.
Finger Nails. —The nails of the hu
man hand have a language of their OAvn,
and the manner of keeping them is ekr
quent. Some keep them long and point
ed, like the reminiscences of claws ; oth
ers bite theirs close to the quick ; some,
pare and trim and scrape and polish up
to the highest point of artificial beauty ;
smd others, carrying out the doctrine of
nature to the outside limit, let thorn
groAv wild, Avith jagged edges, broken
tracts, and agnails, or “ black friend ” as
the agonizing consequences. Sometimes
you see the most beautiful nsiils, pink,
transparent, filbert-shaped, Avith the del
icate, filmy, jlittle"“ half-moons” indicated
at the base —all the conditiona of beauty
c arried to perfection, but all rendered of
no avail by dirt sind slovenliness, ivhile
others, thick, Avhite-ribbed, square, Avith
no half moon, spotted like so many cir
cus horses with “ gifts ” and “friends”
and the like—that is, without blemishes
—are yet pleasant to look at for the care
bestowed on them, their dainty perfec
tion of cleanliness being a charm in it
self. Nothing is more disgusting than
dirty hands and neglected nails, as noth
ing gives one such a sense of freshness
and care as the well kept.
The loud little man in gray stood on
the dry goods box in the street, and, as
he handed down a bottle of the pain
killer to John Smith and took John’s
quarter, he sang out in a rattling tone:
“ And sold again ! And I love to say sold
again! for whenever I say sold again!
another quarter of a dollar drops into
the treasury j
VOL. 16-NO. 43.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
And thought shall be filled with burglars,
And t hmrv* that infest the day
Shall pack ap their traps like peddlers,
And carry the spoous away.
A Cleveland medical paper has
never heard of such a being a3 a bald
headed consumtive, it wants to know if
there is a doctor anywhere who has.
A man never knows what it is to feel
alone in the world until he has grabbed at
a nickel in a show-case window, and dis
covered that it is fastened to the lower
surface of the glass.
Advertisement from a Washington
paper: “Wanted, a well-rested youtn in
my office. Preference given to one who
has not forgotten more than his employer
knows. Address,” &c.
To hovels or palaces though we may
come, the wretched musquito with hor
rible hum, will sure lie in ambush and
wait for us there, till sleep shuts our
eyelids, and then take his fare. Hum!
H-u-m? Buzz! B-u-z-z! When sleep
shuts our eyelids he’ll sure hike hi*
fare.
Nothing is so discouraging to a young
lawyer just as he waxes eloquent about
angels’ tears, weeping willow and tomb
stones as to be interrupted by the cold
blooded justice, with, “ You’re off your
nest, bub; this is a case of hog steal
ing.”
The Sultan of Turkey spent $750,000
not long ago, on fireworks and illumina
tions, the occasion being his birthday an
niversary. That is the way he spends
his salary of $10,000,000 in gold, and
has to borrow a good deal more besides
for similar trifling expenses.
“ Vell, you see my friendt I goes into
peeziness mit anuder veller, und dot
oder veller vurnish der capital und I
vurnish der peeziness experience; und
pretty soon, three—four years, dot pee
ziness is voundt oop, und I got der capi
tal undt dot oder veller got der expe
rience.”
A Sunday teacher was giving a lewin
on Ruth. She wanted to bring out th
kindness of Boaz in commanding the
reapers to drop large handfuls of wheat.
“Now, children,” she said, “Boaz did
another very nice thing for Ruth; can
you tell me what it was?” “ Married
her!” said o'ue of the boys.
A little Boston boy was sitting by a
window, the other evening, looking at
the stars as they came out, one by one.
After gazing a few minutes he cried,
“Oh! papa, papa! Look at God’s finger
nail !” He referred to the moon, which
was in the quarter and bad just appeared
over the hill.
There was a French singer with a
tremendous voice, who could not dis
cover what line in art he was best fitted
for. He went to Cherubini, who told
him to sing. He sang, and the founda
tion trembled. “Well,” he said, when
he had finished, “illustrious master,
w r hat shall I become?” “An Auction
eer,” said Cherubini.
It w r ill be hardly necessary to tell the
name of the facetious partv who went
into a dry goods store the other day, and
was observed to be looking about, when
the proprietor remarked to him that they
didn’t keep whisky. “It would save
you a good many steps if you did,” was
the quick reply.
Jack Campbell, a famous negro, has
ust died at Madison, Georgia, aged eighty
years. His reputation as a broad humor
ists extended throughout the state of
Georgia and lasted for many years. He
w r as a slave owned by an inn-keeper in
Madison, and brought great prosperity to
the establishment with which he was con
nected. His name appears in the “sta
tistics of Georgia” and “Major Jones’
Courtship,” and many of his jokes and
witty sayings have appeared in the pub
lications of the Harpers. It is reported
that at one time Barnum offered the
owner of Jack the sum of ten thousand
dollars for him.
“Sir,” asked an attorney yesterday of
a witness who was testifying in a case of
assault and battery; “have you ever
been in this court before ?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the witness. “I
have been here often.”
“ Ah, been here often, have you ?”
said the attorney in a triumphant tone.
“ Now, tell the court what for.”
“Well,” replied the witness, slowly;
“ I have been here at least a dozen times
to see you trv and collect that tailor’s
bill you owe.”
A Philadelphia milliner apprentice
went to visit her mother in the country
last Sunday, and when that worthy ma
tron beheld her child she exclaimed:
“ Isabel Marie Stephens, what on ai rth
do you mean, coming out in broad day
light with your gown all kajummuxed
up in a heap behind ye, and all bound up
in that way in front of ye? And hain’t ye
got no stockings all of one color, that ye
haf to wear them zebra-colored things?
Thought ye was goin’ to be a milliner.
Sh’d think ye’d married a barl>er, and
was playing up signboard for him. Did I
ever think one of mv girls would come to
this P*
Sleep tor The Age. —Dr. John Gard
ner. an eminent English physician and
author, says that this new method of
procuring sleep at will is worthy of the
notice and adoption of all elderly people.
Its principle may be stated generally as
demanding an easy posture of the body
in bed, and a determined direction of the
thoughts to some subject as remote as
possible from the ordinary and habitual
currents, or one which can be enter
tained without the least admixture of
emotions of a disagreeable character.
Happy and calm will be the sleep of
those who, on their pillow, can muse on
the consolations of tne gospel, and resign
themselves implicitly ana without wa
vering into the keeping of a heavenly
protector and father.
Cream Cheese —Take of sour milk
curd, one quart; thick rich cream, one
do.; fine salt, one tablespoonful; nap
kins, eight; large soup-plates, four. Pro
cess: Drain the curd to the consistency
of soft butter; add the cream, and beat
well until thouroughly mixed; then add
the salt, fold a napkin in four folds, and
lay it in one of the plates, into which
pour the cream; then fold another nap
kin, and lay it on top; these are to dram
the whey off freely. The mixture should
make three or four plates ; set the plates
in a cool place for twenty-four hours;
change the napkins and plates every
four or five days, whfcti the eheesti Will
be fit fet use;