Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

thought himself passable, and lie resolved to pass off for a dinner, if possible. A stranger lolling easily on a settee near him looked vul nerable, and Tom, approaching him in a very bland and friendly manner, remarked . “Excuse me, sir, but you look so like an old friend of mine, J. B , who has resi led for years in the south, that l can’t help addressing you.” “I am from the south, sir,” answered the stranger, courteously, “but not the person you speak of —know him, however, and am pleased to encounter a friend of his.” “That’s it,” said Tom to himself, “gothim as easy as rolling off a log.” An animated conversation ensued, which ended by Tom being asked to dine, and when the gong proclaimed the table spread, in walk ed the stranger and Tom, arm-in-arm, large life and twice as natural. He called the waiters with an air of ease, passed the strang ers wine with friendly freedom, laughed mu sically, jested with spirit, wiped his mouth with grace, and, in short, completely captiva ted the southerner. During the period of Tom’s luxuriating, he was observed by the landlord, who indignant, sent a servant to or der him from the table. Tom had “come it” over him for so many odd dinners, without a shadow of prospect for pay, that he could stand it no longer. The servant approached, whispered in his ear, and stood off’to give him room to move. Tom clutched the wine bo tie, with the intention of hurling it at his head, but altered his purpose, and poured out another glass, drank it off, looked daggers at the servant, and in a moment more smiled confidence upon his friend. “Would you believe it,” said Tom. to the southerner, “ that since my absence from the city for a few days past, a rival house of our “shipping firms” has whispered the possibili ty of our failure, and this rascally landlord, having heard the calumny, has insulted me here at table by sending rt servant to demand the trifling sum I owe him.” The southerner was burning with indigna tion. “It is too humiliating;” added Tom. “ not dreaming of such an outrage, 1 am entirely unprovided at the moment.” “ Here, my dear fellow,” promptly'profTer ed his friend, “ here is my pocket-book, make use of it without hesitation. “You’re very kind,” said Tom, “very, I will but borrow this thousand dollar bill for a moment —I know the rascal can't change it!” With an air of offended dignity, Tom ap proached the office of the hotel, the landlord, frowning with anger’ stood at the desk, the offended “diner out,” put his hand to his eyes as if hiding deep emotion, and then addressing the landlord in a grief-stricken voice, he .said: “ I never dreamed of such an insult from you, sir, at such a time, too, just as my un cle in the South has expired,—and his agent with me to deliver up the portion bequeathed to me —it is—it— sir, 1 cannot express in lan guage my feelings. Take out of that the paltry sum I owe you,” —throwing down the thousand dollar bill,—“ and henceforth I nev er will enter your door. Just at a time too,” lie further added, “ when I had intended to make your house my home/and endeavor to make some return for your forbearance. It is too much—my feelings are lacerated,” and here he became almost overpowered by emo tion. The stripe of crape around his hat—put there to hide the greasy band—the thousand dollar bill, and the renovated coat, which looked like new on the possessor of such a sum, all assured the landlord that he had been hasty. He, therefore denied ‘he indigniy, straight, said that it was an impertinence of iiis servant, who had twice before offended his best guests by his insolence, and assured Tom that he would discharge the fellow forthwith—pushed hack to him the t housand dollar bill, and begged he would forget the circumstance—indeed, he felt shocked that such an outrage had been perpetrated upon Ids oldest friend and customer. These warm expressions mollified Tom’s wrath, and folding up his bill he walked back, resumed his seat, returned the bill to the southerner, merely re marking he had “ brought the landlord to his feelings,” and cheerfully sipped a little iced champagne. As he left the table arm-in-arm with his friend, the landlord approached, bowing, and begged to know where he should send for his trunk, as No. 24, a fine airy room which would suit him to a charm, was at pre sent empty. Tom said he would send the baggage up, and after lighting a choice Ha vana, strolled out with an air aristocratic. In good time, the trunk arrived —a rude one, but very heavy. The landlord winked as the servant bent beneath its weight, and remarked, as he paid the porterage, that a 3 ® IS‘ff SSIE sa OaOTHiEASY large quantity of bullion was generally rath er heavy. Tom was in clover—the thousand dollar bill got whispered about, and one of his creditors, a fashionable tailor, insisted on trusting him for another suit: he yielded, af ter much persuasion, and it was astonishing how everything altered with Tom's appear ance. His note was good for any small sum now, and it was a pleasure to make his ac quaintance. In the course of about six months the land lord thought he would just hint to Tom that a small check would be agreeable, as they were hard pushed. The hint was given, and he received a check —anything but a cash one, though. Tom very coolly informed him that the agent who had raised his hopes, was a rascally impostor, “ But the thousand dollar bill, Mr. H. / ?” said the landlord, inquiringly. • ‘ Was handed to me, by the rogue, to keep up appearances,” coolly responded Tom. “I shall seize your baggage, sir!” cried the enraged host “I can't help it, my dear fellow,” said Tom : “ you know if I had a pocket full of rocks, you should share them, for I like you, vastly—l do—cuss me if I don't; so keep cool, and keep the baggage until I make a draw and raise the little sum.” The trunk was seized, and so roughly that it burst open, when the landlord discovered that if Tom had no pocket full of rocks, it was because he had stowed them all in his trunk, and that accounted very naturally for its being so heavy! ©nr Bouß of Panel). THE MODEL MOTHER. All her children are angels. She knows no children like them. Tom can already spell words of three syllables, and the little fellow is only five years old next thirty-first of July. Polly puts such curious questions, that her papa is often puzzled to answer them. It was but yesterday she asked him “Whj he had such whiskers, and mama had none ?” and Mr. Smith really didn’t know what to say. Thank goodness! she has given all of them a good education, and there isn't one that can turn round and reproach her with a moment’s neglect. She loves them all dearly, and never ceases thinking of them. It does her heart good to see them happy, and she cannot understand how mothers can part with their children, and put them out to nurse, where they never see them, and leave them entirely to “the care of a strange woman. No wonder their children don’t love them ! Now, she has nursed every one of her family, and is she any the worse for it, pray ? She has no patience with such fine ladies. They don't deserve having children. Why, look at baby ! The little thing knows her, and understands every word she says. If it cries —though it is the quietest child in the world —she has only to say ‘‘Be quiet, baby!” and it goes off'to sleep directly. No ! those who don’t behave as mothers, will never be loved as mothers, and its her opinion that when children turn out bad, it is because they have been neglected in their childhood, and have never known the comforts of a home. In gratitude never grows up in a child’s heart, unless it has been first sown there by the hand of the parent. Why she has never had a moments uneasiness with any one of her children —and she has ten of them, —and why? Because affection begets affection, and she is positive they would not do a single thing to make their mother miserable. It is true that Ned is “ a little racketty,” hut boys will be boys, and the lad is too good at heart ever to go wrong. But if the worst should happen —not that she fears it—the hoy never will forget his happy infancy, and that’s a blessing! The thought oi a happy child hood has brought hack many a prodigal son. and she knows well enough that her Ned would never wander far without feeling that chain round his heart gently pulling him to wards home. But its all nonsense! The boy’s right enough, if Mr. Smith wouldn’t be so harsh to him! Thus the Model Mother defends her child ren. Their defects are beauties in her eyes ; their very faults are dear to her. They can do no wrong. If any breakage takes place, it wasn’t the child's fault; she tells you she’s only to blame. She stays the father’s arm when his anger is about to fall, and stops his voice when his parental passion is rising. If any of the boys have gone to the theatre, she sits up to let them in. When questioned the next morning as to the hour they came home she has forgotten everything about it—all she recollects is, that young Tom ate a tremendous supper. She supplies them with money, and if her good nature is laughed at, she asks you, “pray to inform her when lads are to enjoy themselves, if not when they are young?” She is continually sending presents to Eliza, who, “poor thing! did not marry so well as her sisters.” She is not afraid of taking her daughters out with her, for fear of Uieir age leading to the confession of her own, nor does she dress like a young lady of six teen, in order to look younger than they.— To tell the truth, she carries her family every where. The youngest she takes to the thea tre ; on a Sunday they all go out together ; she will not travel, or stir out of town, with out the whole troop, or call on an acquaint ance “just in a friendly way to take dinner,” without having Julia, and Jackey, and Betsy, and Agustus, and ever so many more with her. She imagines that because she dearly loves her children, every one must dearly love them also. She discourses on their tal ents for hours—the reading of the one, the sewing of the other, the blue eyes of the third, the superior accomplishments of the eldest, the wonderful “Busy, Busy Bee” of the youngest —and tells wonderful anecdotes that prove them to he the greatest geniuses that ever wore pinafores. She makes plum cakes for the boys when at school, and has them home on the Saturday, and every possi ble holiday, though she’s told each time “that it interleres sadly with their studies.” The Model Mother is happiest, however, at a wedding. She runs about, kisses her daughter every time she meets her, looks af ter the breakfast, puts all sorts of packages into the traveling-carriage, runs up and down stairs for nor one knows what, and laughs and cries every alternate minute. She never was so happy: and when her darling girl says, “Good by, mother,” she throws her arms round her neck and wishes her all the happiness in the world, accompanied with a hope that “ she will never forget her dear mother,” and that “ she knows where there is always a home for her.” Her joy, too, at the birth of the first child is only equalled by her pride and importance. She never leaves her “pet’s” bedside, and stops to comfort her and be the first to kiss the baby. She attends every christening, and nearly ruins herself in presents to the nurses, and coral necklaces, and magnificent bibs and tuckers. At Christ mas she has all her children to dine with her; it has been the practice of the family as long as she can recollect, and if there is a daugh ter abroad, or a son in disgrace no one exact ly knows where, she is the first to call recol lection to the fact, and to propose the health of the missing one after dinner, joined with the prayer that he or she “ may soon be among them again.” In the evening she ar ranges the romps for the boys and girls, and is not the least offended if any one calls her “grandmother.” Little presents are given, forfeits are played, glasses of weak negus are handed round, and a Happy Christmas is drank to all. Sir Roger de Coverley finishes the amusements, in which she leads off the dance with her husband, after dragging him I away from the whist-table, and she keeps up the fun as long as anybody. At last it is get ting late ; her children crowd round her, they kiss her. and hang about her, and there is nothing but one loud “ God bless you, moth er!” heard on all sides. This wish springs from the heart of every one, for there is not a child but who has felt, in sickness as in health, in adversity as in prosperity, abroad as at home, the love and kindness of the Mo del Mother. “0, DEAR! WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE ?” This is the question one naturally asks, when one hears of all the maladies among the animal and vegetable kingdoms, which are being regularly revolutionized, or turned up side down, in accordance with the present or der or disorder of things throughout the Con tinent. The sheep are unfortunately laid up with the small-pox; the pigs are suffering from their old complaint, the measles; the young Highland steers are all so bad, that they are being dosed with Steer’s opodeldoc; tne caterpillars can scarcely grub on ; the gnats have lost their natty look : the blue bottles are breaking fast ; and even the fish may be said to be suffering under water on the brain, or some other equally distressing malady. Besides the invalids of the finnv tribe, we may particularize the Crustacea as being near ly all indisposed; and though the mussels are straining every nerve to keep up, while the cockles are trying to stimulate the cockles of their hearts by an assumed cheerfulness, those who look deeper—namely, to the bot tom of the sea—will perceive a general de pression among the tenants of the briny ocean. Even the sharks are giving vent to a melan choly wailing, and tne shrimp, in its small way, is laboring under the almost universal illness that has afflicted the inmates of the ocean. We recommend the throwing of 12,- 000,000 boxes of Parr’s Life Pills into the sea, for the benefit of the fishes and the good of the public, who otherwise might get hold of the medicine. Pl)ilo0opl)ti for tlje People. VELOCITY OF ELECTRICITY. It is not unfrequently a subject of wonder, says the Journal of Commerce, that the velo city of electricity has been so accurately mea sured, when its speed is incredible ; and many persons express entire disbelief in the correct ness of any such measurement. It has nev ertheless been accomplished, and that by a contrivance so ingenious and yet so simple as to be within the understanding of a child, and at the same time incapable oi committing an error. A small mirror, one inch long by a half inch broad, is made to revolve on a piv ot and attached to a spring and cog work which gives it a swift revolution. It is, of courfp, perfectly easy to regulate this veloci ty to any acquired number of revolutions per second. Coils of wires of various lengths are provided. A coil is taken, say for example, twenty five miles in length. The two ends of this are brought near each other and fast ened on a hoard on the flat surface of which is left a break in each end of the wire, so that the passing electricity shall make a spark as it crosses each break. A Leyden jar is charg ed, and a spark sent through the coil. To the eye this appears to cross both breaks at the same instant, although there are twenty five miles of wire between. The experiment is made in a room which has an arched ceil ing, in a precise semicircle, carefully measur ed and divided into sections. If then this hoard he so placed that the revolving mirror may reflect the spark, and (the room of course being darkened) the mirror he put in motion and the charge sent along tne coils of wire, the first break in the wire will be marked by a reflection of the mirror on the arch, and the spark at the second break will be a little fur ther along on the arch. Thus if the mirror be making one hundred revolutions per se cond, and the reflections of the two sparks he one eightieth part of the circle distant from one-another, it is absolute that the mirror has made one-eightieth part of a revolution while the electricity was passing twenty-five miles; and the time occupied is of course one-eight thousandth part of a second, which would give a velocity of 200,000 miles per second. After repeating the experiments with coils of wire of various lengths, from five to a hun dred miles, and finding the distance between the reflections on the arched wall to vary pre cisely in the same ratio with the lengths of wire, and the final result to he unvarying, it is evident that the problem has been solved and the velocity of electricity ascertained. FACTS ABOUT DIGESTION. Wheat is most nutritious of all substances except oil; containing ninety-five parts of nu triment to five of waste matter. Dry peas, nuts and barley are nearly as nutritious as wheat. Garden vegetables stand lowest on the list, inasmuch as they contain when fresh a large portion of water. The quantity of waste matter is more than eight-tenths of the whole. Veal is the most nutritious, then fowls, then beef, last pork. The most nutri tious fruits are plumbs, grapes, apricots, peaches, gooseberries and melons. Os all the articles of food, boiled rice is digested in the shortest time —one hour. As it also contains eight-tenths of nutritious matter, it is a valu able substance of diet, Tripe and pig’s feet are digested almost as rapidly. Apples, if sweet and ripe, are next in order. Venison is digested almost as soon as apples. Roasted potatoes are digested in half the time requir ed by the same vegetable boiled, which occu py three hours and a half—more than beef or mutton. Bread occupies three hours and a half—an hour more than is required by the same article raw. Turkey and goose are con verted in two hours and a half—an hour and a half sooner than chicken. Roasted veal and roast pork, and saltbeef occupy five hours and a hall—the longest of all the articles of food. IMPROMPTU BUTTER. We yesterday saw, says the N. Y. Mirror, sweet milk converted into butter in four min utes, probably a dash of iced-water would have brought the butter in less time. This wonderful effect was produced by one of the most simple churning machines that we have ever seen. It consists of a square box, hav ing a hollow perpendicular shaft with two hollow arms or tubes at the lower end. The shaft rests on a pivot and is turned by a small 125