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YOL. XVII.
11l Future.
It seems to mo the bnd of expectation
Has not yet swollen to the perfect flower
That with its wondrous exhalation
The world of faith will dower.
The lamps we light are but the stars of promise-
The faintest reflex of a distant sun
That wakes an eager salutation from us
’Till nobler heights are won.
The past was but the preface of the story
In which the romance of our lives is wrought;
The deeds that win imperishable glory
Livo scarcely in our thought.
Whate’er we do falls short of our intending;
The structure lacks the beauty we design;
And tortured angels, to their home ascending,
Depart and leave no sign.
By all the doubts and trials 4hat so vex us,
By all the falls and failures that annoy,
By all the strange delusions that perplex us,
And yield no fruits of joy.
Wo know that unto mortals is not given
The strength of knowledge that is yet in store
For us, ere yet wo walk the streets of heaven,
And dream ijf heaven no more.
The hear of earth has secrets yet witholden,
That wait the dawning of some future day,
When angel hands from sepulokrj so golden
Shall roll the atone away. \
Man has not touched the zenith of creation;
The godlike thought that Ailed Jehovah’s mind
Has had in Him but feeble revelation,
Uncertain, undefined.
The days wherein time reaches its fruition,
With moments weighted with no vain regret,
Those days c? > rhleli the soul has sweet pro
vision,
Draw nigh, but are not yet.
—JosepJdne Pollard.
THE QUAKER ARTIST.
“ I tell thee now, Richard, that thee’U
never get a cent of my money if thee
keeps on with this devil’s work.”
The speaker was friend Joseph Har
ris, and ho held at srm’s length a small
pietnre in water colors, the features of
whioh were hardly discernible in the
gloon of the winter morning. Friend
Joseph had been at the barn, as was his
custom, to fodder the cattle and feed
the horses before breakfast, and had
discovered this hnmble bit of art in a
nook in the granary. He did not have
to lie told that it was his son Richard'B
work, whose inclination to tmch ungodly
pursuits had been the distress of his
parents’ lives.
Full of suppressed wrath Joseph
bnrst into the kitchen where the family
were waiting breakfast, and without
preface addressed his son with the threat
which be considered the most dreadful
he could use—that of disinheritance. It
meant something, too, for in spite of his
plain surroundings Joseph Harris owned
nearly two hundred acres of land worth
easily a hundred anil fifty dollars an
acre, and his visits to the county town on
the first o! April of each year were not
to pay interest bnt to receive it. A
tall, straight figure, he was nearing
sixty years of age, but as vigorous as a
youth, with Quick motions and sharp
black eyes, indiea*' g u ’fit* nature
chained for life h? ttiftsiriot discipline
of the Society'of Frisn^s.
His son Richard, now turned of twen
ty-two, was of a different mold, short
and stoutly built. His face at first
sight seemed heavy and vacant, bnt
this was in fact the abstraction of the
dreamer. His soft brown eyes, and
hair clustering in thick cnrls over his
low but broad forehead, made amende
for his somewhat commonplace feat
ures.
The moment bis father entered the
kitchen Richard felt that his secret
labor had been discovered, but his
•nxiety was more for it than for him
self. He rarely dared face his father's
anger, for Joseph Harris, like many of
his sect, made up in severity at home
for the smooth and passionless exterior
he maintained abroad.
•‘ Will thee give it to me, father ?”
said Richard, advancing toward the
outstretched hand which held the
sketch, while the hsnd's owner contem
plated it with unspeakable disgust.
Poor little painting t It was a frag
ment of an antnmn afternoon, daring
whioh Richard had been husking corn
in “the hill field” and which bad
abided in his memory clothed with the
halo of a hundred day-dreams. There
was a corner of a woods, the foliage half
green, half shading into tints of
brown and red. A rivnlet leaving a piece
of meadow still gay with antnmn flow
ers and green with late grass, flowed
rippling and sparkling ont of the sun
light into the shade of the dying leaves.
What conrage and hope it mnst have!
Richard followed in thought its waters
as they flowed on to Chester creek and
then to the stately Delaware river, and
far ont till they met the mighty ocean
which washes the shores of all the
world.
And as’he mechanically plunged his
husking knife into the shucks and
turned out the golden ears one after
the other, he hnmbly took this lesson
to himself, as was his sflont, and said:
“I, too, must have more courage,
firmer hope. Why should not I go for
ward in my study of art with greater
faith ? I must, 1 will.” And to fasten
the row he had painted two studies of
this little piece of meadow as a constant
reminder, snatching the time on First
days and Fifth days, when his father
and mother were at meeting, and he
and Hose Riddle, the colored man,
were left to look after the stcck. One
copy he had sent on a venture to a com
mission house in New York, the other
he had hidden in the bam.
It had acquired a kind of sanctity to
him, and each tree bad become a sym
bol of some rebuff or danger he was
fated to encounter in his future life.
He had, moreover, described it to Sib
billa Vernon, and had promised this
sole confidante of his aspirations that
he would bring it over some time and
let her see it. But Sibbilla lived two
miles away, and as her parents were
also strict' members of meeting, who
regarded every work of art as profanity,
this would have to be managed with due
caution.
Bichard’s first impulse, therefore,
was to secure the picture. But his
father had a double cause of displeas-
ure, and his anger was deep. He had
agreed to give Richard a fourth share
in the profits of the farm this year, and
not only was this painting business an
ungodly amusement, bnt also a waste of
precious time and a loss of money. It
mnst be stopped.
“ I’ll put it where it deserves to go,
and where thee will follow unless thee
turns thy steps from the world and its
follies. But the fire that thou wilt
meet will be that whioh is not quenched,
rad where the worm dieth not.”
With these words, which Friend
Harris spoke slowly and with that
slight chanting intonation whioh char
acterizes the utterances of tho speakers
in meeting, the solemnity of which was
further increased by the use of the
formal "thou” instead of the usual
•'thee,” he stepped to the kitchen
fireplace, where a goodly wood fire was
burning under the crane, and striking
the picture against the corner of the
mantelpiece tore a rugged split through
its center and threw the whole into the
flames. In a moment it was a shriveled
cinder.
There are certain natures whoso in
herent strength can only be developed
by a violent shock. Full of latent power,
their weakness comes from a native
humility. They distrust themselves
through a genuine admiration of others.
Such was Bichard Harris. Bnt the
necessary shook had come. He gazed a
moment at the cinder, his face crim
soned, bnt the severe discipline of the
Society and the family exeroised the
sway that it usually does even on the
very young among Friends.
father,” he said, in a low and even
tone, “I repeat what I have often told
thee; I have no light that there is evil
in painting; bnt as thee thinks there is,
I shall hid thee and mother farewell
to-day, and seek employment else
where. I shall not ask thee for any
share in thy estate.”
Taking his hat from the window-sill
ha passed out of the kitchen door, leav
ing his father speechless with amaze
ment at this rebellions utterance, and
his mother—a poor weak woman, con
stantly in misery between oarrying out
the severe rule of her husband whom
she feared, and yielding to her tender
ness for her boy whom she loved
wiping her tears without emitting any
sound, either word or sob. As for his
two sisters they sat demure and motion
less through the whole scene, at heart
rather pleased at it, as they had no
sympathy with their brother’s taste for
forbidden arts, and thought him a queer,
wastefnl, nncomfortablo member of the
household. Moreover, though younger
than he, they were not too yonng to
see at once the peenniary advantage to
them of his renunciation of his share
of the estate.
Iticbard went toward the barn and
took a seat in a nook of the corn-fodder
stack that was built along the side of
the barnyard. He did not feel the cold
raw air of the early morning. His mind
was too full of the step ho was about to
take and what had led up to it. Now
or never ho must quit the farm, re
nounce the teachings of tho Society,
tlu-owjtsiAe the eoat with standing col
lat ann-tne-guaint broad-Wimmed bine,,
bat, give up the plain language, reject,
the counsels of the venerable facers of
meeting who would surely be appointed
to visit him, and prove a recreant to tho
reverod precepts of Fox and Barclay.
All this was meant by a pursuit of his
strong bias for art.
Why was he bom with it? Whence
came it? These questions he had often
asked himself. For six generations his
ancestors had never touched a brush or
palette; not a painting nor a statue nor
a musical instrument nor any drama or
work of fiction had been allowed in
their houses. How had he been created
with a passion for color and form, with
a love of poesy and music, which neither
the dreary farm work nor the colorless
life, nor all the frigid, deadening dis
cipline of the Society conld quench?
Going back to his earliest memory
he conld recall that when four years
old he was left for a few hours at the
bouse of Mike Wallis, an Irish tenant
on a neighboring farm, and that Mike’s
wife had kept him in the utmost bliss
by showing him a colored print of the
Virgin and the Infant, and telling him
the pathetic history as it had pictured
itself in her warm Irish heart. Bnt what
was the horror of his parents next day
when he toddled into the room when
they were at dinner and called :
“ Mudder, mndder, come see God.”
His parents ran to the door to see
what this strange appeal meant, and lo!
there, on the floor of the front porch,
chalked in rude but faithful outlines,
were the Child, with rays of glory
around his head, and the Mother, by
his side, holding a cross. He could
still recall the scowl that came over his
father’s face and his mother’s impetu
ous rush for a bucket of water and
scrubbing-brush. Nor had he forgotten
the violent shake and immediate spank
ing he himself received for his artistic
endeavor.
His memory leapt till he was a boy
of ten, and to his intense delight at
effecting a trade of a Barlow knife for
a box of paints. Many an hour of joy
had they given him, hiding himself in
the garret of the old house, in the back
part of the hay mow near the dusty
gable window, or in a little hut he had
built in the woods. Bat his prying
little sister betrayed him one day, and
not only was his treasnre confiscated
but he himself was tied to the bedpost
by his mother and given such a whip
ping as would have discouraged most
youthful artists.
Later in life, when he was too old
for such vigorous measures, many lec
tures bad he received on the frivolity of
such tastes and the wickedness of min
istering to them.
These scenes passing through his
memory convinced him that it was vain
to battle with such inflexible rules, and
that to bo free he mnst leave the farm
and all its associations.
There was but one which had really
held him. This was Bibbilla Vernon.
The daughter of rigid parents, her
mother even a “ public friend,” whose
voice at monthly and quarterly meet
ings was familiar to all members of the
Society, Bibbilla was a not unusual type
of the advanced thought of her sect.
Calm, self-possessed, clear-headed, she
WASHINGTON, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 14, 1882.
had announced when bnt fifteen to her
family that her own conscience was her
guide, and that in all essential matters
she should follow it.
From childhood she and Biohard
Harris had delighted to play and talk
together; and thongh no word of love,
no kiss and no caress had ever passed
between them, both their families and
themselvos considered their union
merely a matter of time and money.
Nor did this absence of tho usual pas
sages of love seem to any one oonoorned
a strange circumstance. They were
accustomed to the repression of all
outward show of feeling. In neither
household had the children ever seen a
kiss exchanged among its members,
yonng or old.
Though devoid of any passion for art
herself, Sibbilla understood and re
speoted the forbidden tastes of her
lover. She looked upon his nit
abilities as gifts of God for use in nfe,
and she quietly but firmly put aside the
traditions of her sect, which condemn
them indiscriminately.
“Wilt thou presume to deny the
many testimonies of Friends, both in
England and America, against these
sinful arts ?” her mother would ask;
being a “ public friend ” of considera
ble local fame she never employed the
incorrect nominative “thee,” even in
family life.
" Mother," replied the daughter,
“ they spoke for their day. I must act
in mine by the light I have, not by
theirs.”
Her mother wisely avoided argument,
trusting that the Spirit wonld enlighten
her daughter in time.
Leaving the fodder stack Biohard
walked across the bare fields toward
the plain brick house whioh was Sib
billa’s home. His mind was made up.
Ho wonld go to New York and devote
himself to the study of art. He had
saved since his majority about three
hundred dollars. He had youth,
strength, talent, love—was not that
enough? Wonld Sibbilla approve of
it? Would she make the serious sacri
fice it involved ?
As he approaohed tho house it was
about 10 o’clock, and all the males were
out at work. He knocked at the front
door, instead of the side door as Übnal,
and Sibbilla herself opened it and
gazed at him with considerable surprise
in her hazel eyes, quickly changing to
an expression of pleasure, which Rich
ard aid not iail to note, and which
filled him with both joy and anxiety.
" Why, Richard, what brings thee
here at this hour ?” was her exclama
tion.
“Sibbilla,” he said, “I wish to see
then,” and stepping in heolosed the door,
and they both stood in the wide hall,
obscurely lighted by the transoms at
each end. He paused a moment to re
cover hia control, and then spoke in a
low, vibrating tone: “ I am going to
leave the farm in order to study art. I
shall have to give np my membership
in the Soeieiy, as tbeo knows. Father
says ho will leave mo nothing if I do,
and I know thy mother agrees with
him. Bnt lam not afraid. All I ask
is that then approve of my decision and
will become ray wife as soon as 1 um
able to offer thee a honuf.”
At that supreme moment of resolve
all tho strength whioh for generations
had been nurtured by the noble Quaker
theories of self-reliance, all the passion
which for generations had been mnfiled
and smothered under the narrow Quaker
system of formality and repression,
burst forth and were expressed in the
face of Sibbilla Vernon. She seemed
to rise in stature, and looking him full
in the eyes, laying one hand on his arm
and passing the other round his neck,
she said:
“ Richard, I will come to thee then,
or I will go with thee now.”
Tho tone was low and the words with
ont haste, bnt he who heard it felt in
his inmost soul that no oath could be
stronger.
" Thank God and thee,” ho uttered,
and for the first time in their lives each
felt the magic meaning of a kiss of
love.
Seated on the wooden “settee,”
which is the common furniture of the
country hall, he told her his father’s
words and action and his own unaltera
ble determination to seek his future in
art. It was agreed that they should be
married by a magistrate as soon as Rich
ard should have an income of seven
hundred dollars a year.
Full of quiet joy ho went home, an
nounced his intended marriage and im
mediate departure, packed his trunk,
and told Mose to have the dearborn
ready at 6 o’clock in the evening to
take him to the station. After the 5
o’clock supper the members of the
family maintained almost entire silence,
his moiher quietly crying, his father
reading the “Book of Discipline,” his
favorite literature.
The dearborn drove up with Hose,
who had been to the station with the
milk, and stopping at tho country store,
which was also the postoffice, had
brought a letter for Richard. It was
rather unusual for any member of the
household to receive a letter, therefore
Moso announced it with considerable
emphasis, addressing hi* master by his
first name as is the custom in strict
families:
“Joseph, hy’nr’s a letter for Rich
ard. Hiram sez it's a letter from York,
and ’pears as if it mont be on bizness.”
Joseph took the letter, and resisting
a strong inclination to open it passed it
to his son. It was from tho firm in
New York to whom he had sent a copy
of his picture, and it read:
New Yobk, January 18, .
Deab Bib: We have the gratification
of informing you that the study you
sent us on sale has attracted the atten
tion of one of our patrons, to whom we
have parted with it for 8500. Deduct
ing comm., stor’ge, insnr’ce, del'y, etc.,
as per inclosed statement, leaves a net
bal. of 8372.62, for which find our c’k
herewith.
You mention a duplicate of the study
yet in your possesion. We will take
that at the same figure, cash on deliv
ery, and will give you an order for five
more studies to be completed within a
year. Respectfully,
Smiles, Wiles <fc Cos.
As he read this letter the check fell
from his hand on the table. The sight of
the colored and stamped paper was too
much for his father. Glancing at the
large amount, as much as he .reoeived
for the best wheat crop his farm could
raise, he snatched tho letter from his
son’s hand and eagerly read it. Biohard
stood by in silenoe.
“ What does he mean by the dupli
cate study ?” said his father, nun un
certain voice.
“He means,” said Richard, quietly
“ tho picture yon threw in the fire this
morning.” ■
A now light dawned on his father’s
mind. So long as his son’s taste seemed
nothing but a titne-and-fnonoy-wasting
form of idleness it had no redeeming fea
ures; but |the incredible fact that there
were people willing to pay hundreds of
dollars apiece for such vain images now
stood right before him. Ho was too
shrewd to misunderstand it and its re
sults. - '
“Biohard,” ho said, with n softened
voice, “ I desire that thee Would post
pone leaving us for a few days. Thy
mother and I will accom.ny thee to
the city, and will be preseil afthe cer
mony. I think SibbiUa’s parents will
also not refuse to attend." *-•
As ho went out he said to Mose, who
was waiting with the dearborn :
“ Mose, thee should always be slow to
anger, and avoid the committal of rash
actions when out of temper.” —Our Con
tinent.
Danenhower’t Life lit Yakutsk.
Mrs. Daneuhower has reoeived a long
letter from her sod, Lieutenant Dan
enhower, of the Jeannette explor
ing expedition, dated Yakutsk,
Siboria, December 30,1881, It contains
no nows which has not been anticipated
by telegraphic dispatohes, but it gives
some interesting details with regard to
the life of the Jeannette survivors at
Yakutsk. In the letter Lieutenant
Dancnhowor says:
Wo are passing tho time quietly but
impatiently. It is daylight here at abont
Ba. M. Wo got up and haw; breakfast
at a little hotel that is handy. The
forenoon I spend readings little, writing
n little and in attending to any busi
ness I may happen to have on hand.
About 2 r. m, Genqral Tnohernieff’s
sleigh arrives, andl go to dine with him;
generally return about 4 j>. 5u., and if I
do not liavo visitors I take a nap and
kill time as well as I can until 9 r. m.,
when we have supper at tlip. little hotel,
and then go to bed. As I have told you
beforo, I have found nice peoplo in
every part of the World ;hat I have
visited, and this place is by no means
an exception. Last evening, for instance,
we spent very pleasantly at the house of
a Mr. Correikoff, an Irkutsk merchant,
who entertained ns very well. His wife
is a charming lady, and it was very
pleasant to see the three beautiful chil
dren. They have a fine piano, the first
one we have seen sine., leaving San
Francisco.
Yakutsk is a city of 5,1100 inhabitants,
The bouses are built of .food, and are
not painted. The street, ere very wide
ned each house has e 'urge yard or
court. The principal L,>< is in furs.
In summer a grrJ, dcui&V.' sh meat is
sent up She rive# If uri.l,% z'jwitha
of the year snow and ice abound. In
the winter the thermometer falls to sev
enty degrees below zero. Since our
arrival it has been sixty-eight degrees
below, and to-day it only thirty-five de
grees, or thereabouts. In the summer
the temperature rises as high as ninety
five degrees Fahrenheit, but the nights
are cold. There are many horses and
cows in this vicinity. The natives, the
Yakutzs, eat horse meat, hut the Rus
sians eat beef nr/d venison. Potatoes,
cabbage and a few other vegetables, a
fow berries, wheat and rye are grown in
this vioinity. There are a few sheep
and poultry also.
Dr. Kipßllo has examined my left eye
and he says that a very ordinary opera
tion is required to make it a very effi
cient eye. What is called an "artificial
pupil ” will have to be cut in the mem
brane that now clouds the vision. He
advises mff to wait until I get home, for
after the operation T. will have to i emain
in a dark room for a month or two. My
general health is excellent. .1 am stout
and hearty.
Of course there is very little Ameri
can news in this far-away place, but I
htvn been able to pick up a few bits of
it here and there. The death of Gar
field is a topic often mentioned, and
from the accounts here I learn that he
was shot by Guiott on the train near
Long Branch. A great deal of interest
and sympathy is manifested by the
Bnssians. Last evening I saw a Tomsk
newspaper, which said that the Alliance
had made a cruise in search of the Jean
nette,and had readied latitude eighty
degrees fifty-five minutes north on the
wost coast of Spitzbergen. Had our ship
held together ton (two?) years she would
probably have drifted out in that vi
cinity. About 900 miles south of this
place there lives an Englishman named
Lee, and from him I hope to learn a
great deal of news.
Creamy Gold.
According to the statistics of the
Northwestern Dairymen’s association
there are 12,442,137 cows in the United
States, which yield their owners an an
nual profit of $35. Strange as it may
seem, says one writer, the poultry in
terests of the country, and the poultry
and dairy, which go together generally,
though separated in this figuring, is
greater than the beef trade. By refer
ence to the figures of the New York
produce exchange it will be found, and
may astonish some, that si* thousand
barrels of eggs are sold them every
week, which, at 812 per barrel, makes a
total of 872,000, or for the year in one
city, $3,744,000 paid for eggs alone.
Then think of the chickens, the tur
keys, the geese and other fowls sold
there, and the eggs and fowl sold in
Chicago and throughout the country.
This, however, is nothing compared to
the dairy interest since the creameiy
and co-operative system has been intro
duced, and which is now in vogne
everywhere in Illinois, lowa and Wis
consin.
It seems carious but it is a fact that
there are 10,000 more men than womon
in Utah, /
FACTS AND COMMENTS.
Tho total losses by fire in the United
States last year aggregate 881,280,900,
of which the insurance companies paid
844,641,900.
The savings banks of tho State of
New York represent financial resources
of $443,000,000. The savings banks of
New England represent rnuoli more.
In Jnne, 1783, Stephen and Joseph
Montgolfier sent up the first balloon.
To commemorate the centenary of the
event, it is proposod that an interna
tional exhibition of “ serial arts ’ be
held at Paris next year. The ‘ 1 rorial
arts” are to inolude every industry,
science of art, relating to gas or the
atmosphere, whioh is supposed t.o have
auy connection directly or indirectly
with aeronautic experiments.
Our Continent quotes from Baron
Nordenskjold’s scientific reports that
the only song-bird he found in the ex
treme north was tho snow bunting. Its
merry, twitter was oiten heard near
heaps of stones and craggy cliffs, where
it builds its nest of grass, feathers and
down. Delighting in cold and Bnow,
this cheerful songster enlivens the
gloomy shores of northermost. Spitzber.
gen with its lively notes, and defies the
rigor of the Arclio winter.
The superintendent of the New York
Central railroad denies that it is econ
omy or oldfoginess that provents the
heating of oars by steam. It is imprac
ticability. If the steam is not returned
to tho engine—which has not yet been
successfully done—the locomotive oan
not afford the waste. If it oomes from
a separate boiler, say in the baggage
oar, and on account of a broken wheel
or other troublo the baggage car has to
be out out, then the heat supply has
gone, and any single oar which had to
be side-tracked or left waiting for
another train on another road wonld
leave no heat as soon as separated from
the train. Every car must have its own
source of heat, Tests are now going
on for heating the trains by a small
boiler nnder eaoh car, whioh, in case of
collision, wonld tumble off and not set
tho car on fire. The superintendent
claims that the road has spent $12,000
in experiments on heating cars, bnt
the subject is surrounded with many
difficulties.
Tho proportions in whioh foreign
countries have contributed to Mormon
ism are shown in the following figures,
which are compiled from the oensuses
of 1870 and 1880: p
1870. 1880.
Horn in England 1(1,071) 19,054
Bom in Scotland 2,891 3,201
Bom in Wales 1,788 2,390
Bora in Ireland, 502 1,321
Bom in Donraark 4,957 7,791
Born in Sweden 1,790 3,750
Bom in Norway 018 1,214
Bom In Switzerland 509 1,040
Bom in Gorinauy 858 885
England, it will be seen, makes the
chief contribution to Mortnonism, and
next to England oorne those Scandina
vian countries to whose people the
Anglo-Saxon stock is close akin. The
infrequency of Irish or Gorman Mor
mons is very remarkable, and the Latin
raoes of Europo never have been hos
pitable to Mormon missionaries. The
number of proselytes made among
Americans during the last twenty years
is very small. They are few nnd far
between. Tho recruiting ground is
Great Britain and Scandinavia.
Professor Morse in one of his recent
lectures before the Lowell Institute, in
Boston, exposed some of the tricks of
the Japanese in a manner calculated to
fill the minds of (esthetic people who
have been living np to their pottery with
sincere grief. From his statement it
appears that the Satsuma pottery, to be
worthy of which soulful (esthetes in
tensely strive, is held in no esteem in
Japan. There is no such thing as an
cient Satsuma pottery, and, moro than
this, plates with heavy rims, oops with
handles and sancets and pitohers have
no existence at all as genuine pottery.
Jnst what it is that (esthetes are worship
ing Professor Morse told his andienoe as
follows: The large articles sold as an
oient Batsuma arc from two to four
years old, are principally manufactured
in Tokio and arc rubbed with charcoal
dnst to give them an appearanoe of ago.
I have myßelf stood beside an agent of
an American firm which deals in “ Sat
suma ” ware, and heard him give an
order for a groat quantity of this “an
oient ” pottery, directing the designs
and telling the maker to put on plenty
of decorations, no matter what. These
large pieces are regarded by the Japan
ese as abominable paraphrases, and a
name is applied to them which signifies
that they are made salely to be exported.
They are for the most part not Satsuma
at all, but Awata, and the decoration is
performed by children and cheap work
men of all kinds. I know that I am
breaking many hearts in this audience
and I am sorry for it, but I must speak
tosaveothor hearts from being broken.
Kffectof Heat on tho Nerves.
Dr. William A. Hammond, the dis
tinguished neurologist, in an article in
Our Continent with the taking title,
“ How to Escape Nervousness,” warns
against over) eated apartments. He
says: An overheated apartment al
ways enervates its occupants. It is no
uncommon thing to find rooms heated
n winter By on underground fnmace
up to ninety degrees. Fights and
murders are more numerous in hot
than in cold weather, and the arti
ficially heated air that rushes into our
rooms, deprived as it is of its natural
moisture by the baking it has under
gone, is even more productive of
vicious passions. It is no surprising
ciroumstanoe, therefore, to find the
woman who swelters all day in such a
temperature, and adds to it.at night by
superfluous bedclothing,’ cross and
disagreeable from little every-day
troubles that would scarcely ruffle her
temper if she kept her room at sixty
degrees and opened the windows every
now and them
Pointed V-shapeu waistcoats appear
on imported costumes. The poiut of
the V is at or near the waist line.
EARTHQUAKES.
Some oi tlio Shock* that Have Visited the
Western liemlsvhere*
The last great earthquake whioh
visited Central America was on Maroh
19, 1873, when San Salvador was ut
terly destroyed. That part of the world
is peculiarly exposed to these convul
sions, but the disaster of 1873 was not
so fatal as that just reported, for,
though three successive shooks were
felt, tho inhabitants, warned by previous
noises, were able to find places of safety,
and only about 500 perished. Earth
quakes have been so frequent in the
Central American States that the In
dians are accustomed to soy that it is
“ the land that swings like a hammock.”
The oity of Caracas was entirely de
stroyed in fifty-six seconds on March
26, 1812. Quito, in Ecuador, was almost
destroyed on March 22, 1859. In Pern,
Caliao was destroyed in 1586, and the
accompanying sea wave was ninety feet
high. It. was again destroyed in 1746.
An earthquake whioh will be readily
recalled avas that of August 13 and 14,
1868, in which Arica suffered jiovotolv.
The tidal wave carried' a tfflMfbwr of
ships inland, among them the United
States steamer “ Watoree.” A United
States storeship was also lost by it. In
Chili destructive earthquakes have oc
curred. One in 1822 oaused a perma
nent elevation to an extent of from two
to seven feet of fully 100,000 square
miles of land lying between the Andes
and tho coast. February 20, 1835, the
city of Concepcion was destroyed for
the fourth time; there w ere felt over
300 successive shooks within two weeks.
April 2, 1851, a severe shock was felt
at Santiago.
In the United States have been many
severe shooks. The most severe which
ever visited the Eastern and Middle
States was that of November 18, 1755.
The shock felt in New England was
undoubtedly promulgated from either
the same center which emanated the
disturbance that had destroyed Lisbon
on tho first day of the month, when
00,000 persons perished in six minntes,
or from a center whose activity had
been stimulated by the continual
quaking that then prevailed from
Iceland to the Mediterranean. The
earthquake of the 18th began in
Massachusetts with a rearing noise litre
that of thunder. After a minute’s
continuance of this there came a
first severe shook with a swell liko
that of a rolling sea—a swell
so great that men in the open fields
ran to seize something by which
to hold on lest they should be thrown
down. After two or threo lesser shocks
then oame the most violent of all, pro-
ducing a quick horizontal tremor with
sudden jerks and wrenches; this con
tinued two minutes, and after a short
revival died away. Numerous other
shocks followed in tho courso of a
month. In Boston many buildings
were thrown down and twisted ont of
shape. On October 19,1870, occurred
the moßt considerable shock that has
been observed in the Middle and East
ern States during the present century.
The source of this disturbance has been
ttaced, with some probability, to tho
valoauio region fifty to 100 milts north
east of Qaebee. From this region
the shook spread to Bt. Johns, N. 8.,
and thence was felt Westward
to Ohieago apd southward l to New
York. The velooity of the wave or
shock was about 14,000 feet per second.
The occurrence of the shook felt at
Quebec was telegraphed to Montreal bv
the operators of the Montreal Telegraph
company in time to call the attention
of those at the latter city to the phe
nomena, about thirty seconds before
the shook reached them. In California
the earthquake of 1852 destroyed one of
the Southern missions. That of March
26, 1872. was the most severe that bos
oocurred there during many years.
Special damage was done in San Fran
cisco by the cracking of the walls of
fine public buildings. In Nevada the
mining regions suffered in 1871 by tjie
destruction of Lone Pine and other
settlements.
Wonders of the Brain.
Dr. H. W. Mitchell, of New York, in
a lecture on the “ Brain and Its Won
ders,” said that the cerebellnm of the
brain presided over tho organ of motion,
and that it could be removed from ani
mals witbont taking away their intelli
gence. The effect, however, would be
that they could not move. The same
symptoms, ho said, could be observed
in man under the influence of alcohol.
If the latter takes too mnoli of the
stimulant his cerebellnm and the little
cells of which it is composed refuse to
do their work and the man staggers.
He claimed that a person learning to
play on the piano and a lady threading
a needle were regulated by their cere
bellum, and withoat its assistance could
do neither. He said that the medulla
oblongata was tho most vital part of the
whole system, and if run through with
a knife life would be destroyed in an
instant. Advantage has been taken of
this in the process of hanging people,
and the garrote had been introduced on
the same principal. He claimed that
the brain could not got along without
nerves and that it had twelve pairs of
them. The first three' nerves were of
special sense—olfactory, optic and an
ditory. The olfactory nerve was not
very well defined in man, as it was not
necessary, but it reached its highest
development in dogs, cats and rats. It
was more perceptible in the rat than in
any other animal, and the bloodhound
came next in order. After describing
the optic nerve tho lecturer said that
the sense of hearing was less developed
in man than in the animal. He con
tended that if either of the three nerves
mentioned were cut there would be no
sense of pain and that the only result
would be the destruction of the sense
of smell, sight or hearing Tho fifth
nerve, he said, confers sensibility on
the face, and when irritated gives rise
to intense pain. He insisted that the
pneumo-gastrio nerve was the groat
vital Derve of tho whole body, and said
that if it were divided our respiration
would cease at once, He then explained
the workings of the spinal cord and its
connection with the brain, and con
cluded by reoiting the effects of aloohol,
chloroform, opium and strychnine on
that organ of the body.
NO. 15.
The Passing Day.
Stay, sweet day, for thou art fair,
Fair anu Fall, and calm;
Crowned through all thy golden hours
With love's brightest, richest flowers,
Strong in faith's unshaken powers,
Blest in hopo’s pure balm.
Stay, what chance and change may wait,
As you glide away ;
Now is all so glad and bright;
Now we breathe iu suro delight;
Now wo laugh in fate’s despite,
Stay with us, sweet day.
Ah I she cannot, may not stop;
All things mnst decay;
Then, with heart and head, and will.
Take the joy that Ungers still,
Prize tho pause iu wrong and ill,
Prize tho passing day.
—All the Tear Round.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.- - . _
A man who “traveled on his shape’"
insulted a young lady, and her father
knooked him down and traveled hia
.■it!*.ipejjroo— wpJked all over him,.
The difference between a dog un fa
boy consists in tlio faot that when the
dog finds a scent ho doesn’t spend it
or candy
A man who detected a piece of bark
in his sausage visited the butcher's
shop to know what had become of the
rest of the dog. The butcher was so
affected that he could give him only a
part of the tale.— Courier-Journal,
A correspondent of the New England
Farmer writes about "My Experience
in Bee Keeping.” Bnt as he says noth
ing about jumping into a well to drown
the pesky critters out of his tronsers,
we don’t believe he has made a truth
ful statement. Why will men dissem
ble about such matters —Boston Post.
A young lady of Boston was recently
noticed by her" mother to be fondling
and kissing a pet kitten. "Why,
Mary,” said the mother, “you have
kissed that kitten more in five
minutes than you have me in five
years.” “Don’t you know why I’d
rather kiss the kitten than yon, mother ?’
“No, my child.” “You haven’t got
whiskers I"
A Sunday-sohool teacher at Lewiston
had grown eloquent in picturing to his
little pupils the beauties of heaven and
he finally asked: “ What kind of little
boys go to heaven ?” A lively four
year-old boy, with kicking boots,
flourished his fist. “Well, you may
answer,” said the teacher. “Dead
oneß,” the little fellow shouted to the
fall extent of his lungs,
A Galveston school-teacher asked &
new boy: “If a, carpenter wants to
cover a roof fifteen feet wide by twenty
broad with shingles five feet broad by
twelve long, how many shingles will he
need ?" The boy took up his hat and
slid for the door. "Where are you
going ?” asked the teacher. “To find a
carpenter. He ought to know that
better than any of we fellers.’’
Grant as a Lover.
Hearing that there was a lady living
in this city who had once been courted
by General U. S. Grant, and who had
refused her hand in early womanhood
to this noted American civil and mili
tary character, a Constitution report
sought an interview with tho lady, with
very satisfactory results. Tho news
paper representative found the early
sweetheart of Grant’s to be a lady con
siderably advanced in years, yet still
large, active and bnoyant, and not
nearly so reticent as the general.
She had not seen General Grant since
the ’sos, she said, and then his father
carried on a tannery in Portsmouth, O.
Slio once had occasion to reside for a
time in the family of a farmer whose
farm joined that of Grant’s father—only
a line of fenoo between—and it was
during her stay at this farmhouse that
she was courted by General Grant. It
mnst have been in the spring-time, for
she says she and Grant would meet at
the division fence, on each side of whioh
were beautiful flowers.
“Uliok,” said she, " would say to me,
"Let’s gather flowers and see who will
have the most kinds when we get
through.’”
“You mean Grant when you say
‘Ulick ?’ ” interrupted the reporter ;
“his name is Ulysses.”
"Yes,” she replied, “we always
called him ‘ Ulick,’ and while he was
courting me and wanted to marry me
my father used to laugh at him and
plague mo, saying: ‘He is the greenest
looking boy 1 ever saw,’ ” and ohuck
ling to herself she added: “and he
was a green-looking fellow. I re
member the last timo I saw ‘ Uliek.’
We had been buggy riding. We had
alighted from the buggy and he stood
leaning with one arm on the wheel of the
vehicle and looking into my face he said,
‘Well, Ellen (my name is Eleanor, but
they called me Ellen), if I ever find
anybody that I love well enough to
marry and am so fortunate as to have a
daughter, you know what that daugh
ter’s name will be." The daughter’s
name is Nellie, a pretty contraction of
Eleanor.
‘■We shall not publish your name,”
said the representative, “ since you have
been so kind and courteous to ns, with
out permission. Can we useyonr name?”
Finally she remarked: “I am not
ashamed of my father’s name; it was
Charles Brandon, and my maiden name
was Eleanor Brandon. My first hus
band’s name was John Spaulding.
Further than this I will not go.”—
Keokuk ( Iowa ) Constitution.
A Useful Table.
In laying off smsll lots the following
measurements will be found to ba both
accurate and complete:
B2ji ft. sq. or 2,722% q. ft. is 1-18 ofanaore
74% ft. sq. or 5,415 sq. ft. is %of an aero
104% ft. Bq. or 10,81)0 eq. ft. is %of an acre
120% ft. sq. or 14,520 sq. fi. is %of an aero
147% ft. sq. or 21,780 Bq. ft. is %of an aero
208% ft. sq. or 43,500 sq. ft. is 1 aero
Avery severe case: Tommy. ‘‘Oh I
oh I oh! mamma, I’ve rund a great big
splinter in my hand, and it Units so
offul I can’t go to school.” Mamma.
"But, my dear, mamma doesn’t see any
thing tho matter.” Tommy. “Oh I
oh I Zen I guess it must be zo uzzer
band.”