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I NUJSE-SM'K PIECE (OF 16 PIECES).
BY 11. C. DODGE,
When this band begins to pl*.v,
Btcp your cars and run away.
-Old *inig.
“Oh! long enough fife fiddle lovs
Too violin to mention,
Now, while de-cUrin’et, will, dove*
Euphono-lali strict attention?”
“Thou didat adored,
All this dulcimer duly:
Thou caetanct, threw in ;.:rhord,
And caught oboe—yourn truly.”
“ There’* apinet time* w ln- i by tiiy aide
I've thought, viol. l"\f, thou eyed me
*'J he cab: i ■ t<> m> bride
la tin* and ar girl boaidc me. ”
“It whi*t> little thought but, oh!
It* harp-in*** wa.* thril ing.
What cruul hautboy do then but MOW
Horn angel be wa* willing.”
“Well, lyre, revised t<> guitar chance
To |*oj> nay, do n t mourn It;
Dill, oli, iHjl’.-ifve Miih heart which pant*
And do not, preciouM, cornet.”
“I’ve thought tifnbrh-haiiV’muflcd the maid,
“But I <l *-< iarion-ly
Thought he and banjo-king whe.i ho said,
‘Love! violoiii! am lonely.’”
In co icortfna room l>egan
Two heart* like on** a-Uating.
In meet uooordion' lum Ann
Watched moments swiftly fleeting.
Flew nine flntlna c ock ; ho stayed
With hi* harmonica-'ar
A telling to the cymbal n uld
lii* Joy wah worth a dolJur.
Now had that young bncclna-hoad
Per-harrwitchord have tndod
Hi* xylophone in to..*- rd<l fled
Ere pa name ill oIIVikU <l.
“ That tain-boar-iho my bouro again
And cittern clone p ano. #
And have I got tabouret when
I Mill can shoot a man? No! ”
Pa flute to got organ to ehoot
• And drum lied mudo him ravage.
“I've got talwir that young ga!-luto
With bullet*.” He \vu savage.
“Oh, ace, mclod *’-!an-gry mid,
“Tbia gnu -that hn*H-viol fellow
From him will piccolo-do of |c.a<l
* Cub bugle-long,’ I'll yell, oh!”
•lixplanation noocnary: “ liy Ann, oh!” “Oot to
soar It” ___
The Victim of a Vihtue.
BY JAMES PAYN.
Tam one of those persons, envied for
throe months in the year and pitied for
nine, who “ iivo u littlo way" out of
London. In the summer, our residence
is a -.'.harming one; the garden especially
is delightful ami attracts troops of Lam
don friends. They are not only always
willing to dine with us, hut drop in of
their own motion and rftav for the last
train to town. The vague observation
"any flue day," or the more evasive
phrase “somethin day.” used in 00111-
plimantary invitations, aro then very
dangerous for us to employ, for we are
taken at our word, just as though wo
meant it. This would lie very gratify
ing, however expensive, if it only hap
pened all the year round, But from
October to .Juno nobody comes near us.
In reply to <>ur modest invitations we
then receive such expressions of tender
regret as would convince the most skep
tical; "a previous engagement," “ in
disposition of onr youngest bom,” “the
horses ill,” some catastrophe or other,
always prevents our friends from enjoy
ing another evening with us “like that
charming one they spent last July.”
They hope, however, to be given the
same lmppy chance again, “when th>
weather is a little less inclement,” by
which they mean next summer. As for
coming to dine with us in winter, they
will see us further first—by which they
mean nearer first. Sometimes at their
own boards we hear this stated, though
of course without any intentional appli
cation. Bomo guests will observe to us,
apropos of dinners, “It is most extra
ordinary how people who live half a
dozen mill's out of town will attempt to
ignore the seasons and expect us to go
and dine with them, just as if it, was
August, through four feet of snow. It
does really seem—as Jones, our excellent
host, was saying the other day the very
height, of personal conceit.”
As we have occupied our present resi
dence for some years, wo have long hail
the conceit taken out ol us ; but we have
still onr feelings. Our social toes are
not absolutely frost-bitten, and when
thus trodden upon, we are aware of the
circumstance. It grieves ns to know
what Jones lets thought (ami said) of us,
and my wife drops a quiet tear or t wo dur
ing our drive home in the brougham. 1
am bound to confess it is rather a long
ride. 1 find inysell dropping asleep be
fore we have left brick and mortar be
hind us, and as xvo cross the great com
mon near our home 1 feel a considerable
change in the temperature. It is a
beautiful, breezy spot, with a lovely
view in summer time; the playground
of the butterfly and the place of the bee;
but in tlie whiter it is cold enough.
In the day-time there is nobody there
at all. In the evening, ai uncertain in
tervals, there is the patrol. In the old
times it used to be a favorite haunt of
the Knights of the Head; during whose
epoch, by-the-by, 1 should fancy that
those who lived in the locality found it
even more difficult to collect their friends
around thorn than now. It has still a
bad name for tramps and vagabonds,
which makes my wife a little nervous
when tlie days begin to “draw in” and
our visitors to draw oil. She insists
upon my going over the house before
retiring to rest every night and making
a rejKirt of “All’s well.’ lining myself
not much over five feet high in my hoots,
and considerably less in my slippers (in
which I am wont to make these pere
grinations), it has often suggested itself
to my mind that it would lie more judi
cious to leave tlie burglars to do their
worst, as regards the plate and things,
and not risk what is (to me) much more
valuable. Of courso I could “hold the
lives of half u dozen men in my hand "
—-a quotation from my favorite author
—by merely urmiug myself with
a loaded revolver; but the simple
fact is, I am so unskilled in the use
of any weapon (unless the umbrella
can be called such) that I should be
just as likely to Ix'gin with shooting
number one (that is myself) as number
two, the “first ruffian.” “Noverwill
ingly, my dear, ” says I to Julia "will
I shed the life-blood of any human
being, and least of all my own.” On
the other hand, as I believe in the force
of imagination, 1 always carry, on these
expeditious, in the pocket of mj dress
ing gown, a child’s pistol—belonging to
our infant, Edward John—which looks
like a real one, and would, lam per
suaded, have all the effect of a real one
in my hands without the effect of jier-
Bonal pent. “Miserable rutlhvus," 1 hod
made up my mind to say when coming
upon the gang, “ your lives are in my
power,” (here I exhibit the pistol’s bub),
“ but out of perhaps a mistaken clem
ency I will only shoot one of you, the
one.that is tlie last to leave my house. 1
“ urnt six,” (or sixteen, according
and ri,^ of ' the gang), “ and then
Stew art n si they would, I cal
sceue, with helterpolter to
out the court rot- in at, which I should
with a xvecpible-lock after them. You
the svmpaih -y double-lock?” but you
"L : f atisfactoiv reply. I know
of His Ho{jat “double-lock” means
guilty th ilo, but my favorite novelist—
xv i thou
n sensations! one—always uses it, and I
conclude he ought to know.
it was the beginning of a misty Octo
ber, when the leaves had fallen off early,
and our friends had followed their ex
ample, and I had been sitting up alone
into the small hours resolute to hear my
favorite author to the hitter end—his
third volume, wherein all the chief
characters (except the comic ones) are
slain, save one who is left sound in
wind and limb, but with an hereditary
disposition to commit suicide. Bomo
wliat depressed by its perusal and' ex
ceedingly sleepy, I went about my usual
tu-.k of seeing all was right in a some
what careless and perfunctory manner.
All was right apparently in the dining
room, all right in the drawing room, all
right certainly in the study (where I
had myself been sitting) and all right—
no. not quite all right ill our little black
hull or vestibule, where, upon the round
table the very largest and thickest pair
of navvy’s boots L ever saw were stand
ing between my wife’s nAat little uni-
I r.dla atida pairof her gardening gloves.
Even in that awful moment I remember
the sense of contrast and incongruity
struck me almost as forcibly as the pres
ence of the boots themselves, and thoy
astonished me as much as the sight of
the famous footprints did Robinson
Crusoe, and for precisely the samo rea
son. The boot and the print were noth
ing in themselves, but my intelligence,
now fully awakened, at once flow to the
conclusion that somebody must have
been there to leave them, and was proba
bly in tho neighborhood, and, indeed,
under my roof at that very moment. II
you give Prof. Owen a foot of any crea
ture (just as of less scientific persons wo
say : (live them an inch, they will take
an ell), he will build up the whole ani
mal out of his own mind; and something
id tno Professor’s marvelous instinct
was on this occasion mine. I pictured
to myself (and as it turned out, cor
rectly) a monster more than six feet
high, broad in the shoulders, heavy in
the jowl, with legs like stone balus
trades, and hands, but too often
douched, of the size of pumpkins. The
vestibule led into the pantry, where, n,
doubt, this giant, with his one idea, or
half a one, would conclude tho chief part
of our plate to be, whereas it was lying—
unices no hud already taken it—a terri
ble thought that flashed through iny
mind, followed by a cluster of others,
like a comet with its tail—under our
Nul.
Of courso I could have gone into the
pantry at oneo, but I felt averse to lie
precipitate ; perhaps (upon finding noth
ing to steal) this poor wretch would feel
remorse for whut he had done and go
axvay. It would boa wicked thing to
deprive him of the opportunity of re
pentance. Moreover, it strode mo that
lie might not lie a thief after all, but
only a cousin (considerably “removed”)
of one of tlie innid-servaiits. It would
have been very xvrong of her to have let
him into the house at such an hour, ’nit
it was just possible that she had done so,
mid that he was at that moment supping
,n tlie kitchen upon certain cold grouse
which I knexv xvere in the larder. Such
u state of things, 1 repeat, xvould have
been reprehensible, but I most sincerely
hoped that it bad occurred. Ael an des
tine attachment, however nik'placed, is
better than burglary with possible vio
lence. Coughing rather loudly, to givo
the gentleman notice that I was about,
and to suggest that ho had better take
himself oli in my temporary absence, I
went up to the attic to make inquiries.
And here I am tempted to a digres
sion concerning the excessive somno
lency of female domestics. As regards
our oxvn, at least, they reminded me,
except iu number, of the Seven Sleep
ers. 1 knocked ni, their door about a
quarter of an hour before attracting
their attention, mid it took mo another
quarter to convince them (tbrongli the
keyhole) that it xvos not lire. If it had
been, they must all have been burnt in
their beds. Itelieved upon this point,
they xvere scarcely less excited and “ put
out. ”by tho communication 1 was com
pelled to make to them, though con
veyed with the utmost delicacy and re
finement of which language is capable.
1 asked them whether by any accident
one of them chanced to have a male rel
ntivo who wore exceptionally thick high
lows ; and if he was likely to have called
recently- that very e veoiug, for example.
They nil replied i’.i indignant chorus
that they hud never heard of such a
thing by which they meant tho sug
gestion ; and that no cousin of theirs
ever did xvear highlows, being all fe
males without exception.
Satisfied as to this (and greatly disap
pointed), I felt that it was now incum
bent u;on me to pursue my researches.
Candle in hand and pistol iu pocket, I
therefore explored the pantry. To my
great relief, it was empty. Was it jhih
sible that the thief bad departed ? If
so, lie had gone without Ills highloxvs,
for they stood on the vestibule table as
large as life, and, from the necessity of
the ease, a size or two larger. Their
build and bulk, indeed, impressed mo
more than ever. Was it possible that
one burglar bail oome iu those hoots?
1 entered the kitchen ; not a mouse
was stirring; oil the other hand, there
was a legion of black beetles, which
scuttled, away iu nil directions except
one. They avoided the dresser—beneath
which lay the gentleman I xvas looking
for, curled up in a spaco much too
small for him, but affecting to be
ill-deep. Indeed, though previously I
had not heard him breathe, no sooner
diii the light from my candle fall upon
him than lie began to snore stortorous
ly. I folt at once that this xvas to give
me the idea of tho slumber that follows
honest toil. I lcuoxv before lie spoke
flint lie was going to tell me liow, tired
and exhausted, he had taken shelter un
der my roof, with no other object (how
ever suspicious might bo the eiroum
■tanoos of liis position) than a night's
rest, of which he stood in urgent need.
“ Don’t shoot, sir," ho said, for 1 took
care to let tho handle of Edward John’s
pistol protrude from my dressing-gown.
“ I am poor, but lugiest; I only came
in here for tho warmth and to have a
snooze. ”
“How did you get in?” I inquired,
sternly.
“ I just prized up tlie xvaslms win
der,” xvas his plaintive reply, “and laid
down ’ere.”
“Then, you put out your boots in tho
hack hall to lie cleaned in tlie morning,
I suppose ?”
At this lie grinned a dreadful grin. It
seemed to say, “As you have the whip
hand of me, yon may be as humorous
as yon please ; hut if it was not for that
pistol, my tine friend, you would be
laughing on the other side of your
mouih, I reckon.”
“Come, march,” said I. “Put on
your boots.”
lie got up as a wild tleast rises from
his lair, and slouched before mo into
the ball.
Though he looked exceedingly wicked,
I felt grateful to him for going so peace
ably, an 1 was moved to compassion.
“ Were you really in want that you
came here?" I said. “Are you hun
gry ?’’
“ Not now,” he answered with a leer.
Of course he was intimating that he
had supped at my expense, and at the
time I thought it frank of him to ac
knowledge it. If I had known then, as
I learned afterward, that he had eaten a
grouse and a half, and tho whole con
tents of a large jar of Devonshire
cream which we had just received as a
present, I should have thought it mere
impudence. I did think it rather im
pudent when he said, as ho stood at the
front door which I had opened for his
exit:
‘‘Won’t you give roe half a crown,
sir, to put me in an honest way of busi
ness ?” Hut, nevertheless, thinking it
better to part good friends, I gave him
what he asked for. He spit upon the
Coin “ for luck,” as he was good enough
to explain, and also perhaps as a sub
stitute for thanks, since lie omitted to
give mo any, and slouched down tho
gravel sweep and out of tho gate.
It was 3 o'clock; tho mist had begun
to clear, and the moon and stars were
shining. A sort of holy calm began to
pervade mo. I felt that I had done a
good action and also got rid of a very
dangerous individual, and that it was
high time that I should go to bed in
peace with all men. My wife, however,
who liad been roused by the servants,
was on the tiptoe of expectation to hear
ali that had taken place, and of course I
had to tell her. I described each thrill
ing incident with such dramatic force
that she averred that nothing would over
induce her in my absence to sleep in the
house again. This was perhaps but the
just punishment for a trifle of exaggera
tion xn the narrative with which I had
here and there indulged myself, but it
was very unfortunate. Now and then I
find myself detained in town, after dining
at tiie club, by circumstances over which
1 have no control (such as a rubber at,
whist, which will sometimes stretch like
india-rubber), und hitherto Iliad only
had to telegraph in the afternoon to ex
press my regret that there was a possi
bility of my non return. Here was an
end *to all this, unless I could reassure
her. 1 therefore l>egan to dwell iq>on
the unlikelihood of a second burglar
ever visiting the house, which I com
pared witli that famous hole made by a
cannon ball, said to be a place of secu
rity from cannon balls for evermore. .
“Oli, don’t tell mo," cried my wifo,
with just a trace of impatient irritation
in her voice. “ Hark! goodness gra
cious, what is that coming along tho
road ?”
Mho thought it was a burglar on horse
back, whereas, if I may so express it, it
was tho very contrary—namely, tno
horse patrol.
“Knock at tho window; call him in.
I insist upon your seeing him,” she ox
claimed. I had no alternative, since she
said “ insist" (as any married man will
understand),but to accede toiler wishes;
so I went out and told (lie patrol what
had happened.
“ How long ago was the fellow hero,
sir?” ho inquired.
“ More than au hour. It is quite out
of tho question you enn overtake him.
And besides, I really think he is repen
tant, and means for the futuro to lead an
honest life.”
“ You do, do you ?” raid tho patrol, in
that sort of compassionate tone of voice
in which tho visitor of a lunatic asylum
addresses an inmate warranted harmless.
“Well, as I am here, I’ll just go over
the house and mako sure there is no
more of them. It is not impossible,
you see, ho may have left a pal behind
iiim.”
“ There xvas only one pair of boots,”
said ’ confidently ; “of that lam cer
tain."
Nevertheless, as l felt it xvotild boa
satisfaction to my xvife, I acceded to his
request, lie tied Iris horse to the scrap
er, and came in xvitli his lantern, and
looked about him. There was nobody
in tho front hull, of course, for I had just
come through it; iu the draxving-room
nobody, in the vestibulo nobody—but
on the table where they lied stood before
stood a pair of gigantic navy’s boots.
“ What d’ye think of that?” whispered
the patrol, pointing to one of them.
“ They’re the same,” 1 answorod in
hushed amazement, “they’re the very
same. I could swear to them among a
thousand. What can it mean?”
" Well, it means that the gentleman
who was going to lead a now life,” he
answered dryly, “lias thought better of
it and has come hock again.”
And so he had. We found him lying
iu the very same place under the dresser,
awaiting, I suppose, events.
“O Lor 1 is that you, Mr. Policeman?”
he said, complainingly. “Then, it’s all
up.”
If lie had had to ileal xvitli me alone,
heexpectod, perhaps, to have got another
lialf-cioxvu out of me. But the great
probability xvas, lie had doubtless argued
that all suspicion of burglars, for that
night at least, would have died out, and
that ho would have had the undisputed
range of tho house. It was a hold game,
lmt one in which all tho chances seemed
to he on his side.
I helped to fasten a strong strap to his
wrist, which was already attached to
that of tho horse patrol’s. “And now,”
said tho latter coolly, “wo will go and
put on our hoots.”
For the second time that night 1 saw
that operation accomplished by my bur
glar, for the second time saw him walk
off, though on this occasion a captive
to liis mounted companion. I did
not wish, as tho Judges say when
they put on the black cap, to add poign
ancy to tho feelings of the nnlinppy man
(he xvas on tieket-of-leave, and presently
got five years’ penal servitude), but 1
could not help saying :
“ I think yon ought to have been con
tent xvitli your supper and half-a-crown,
and not oome hero again, at all events
iu search of plunder.
This argument, it seemed, had no sort
of weight with him ; gratitude was un
known to that savage breast. Like
many more civilized individuals, he at
tributed his misfortunes to liis own
virtue.
“No, sir, it ain’t that,” he answered
scornfully. “I’m the wietim of perse
verance. ”
Domestic Danger Signals.
On the subject of domestic manage
ment I may quote a recipe for avoiding
family quarrels, which I think may fairly
claim credit for good sense. It was
given mo by an old man as invented ami
practiced by a couple whom ho used to
know, down " Chidding-lye " way.
"You see, sir,” he said*, "they’dagree
between themselves that whenever ho
came home a little ‘ eontrairv' and out
ol temper, bo xiore his hat oil the back
of liis head, and then she never said a
word ; and if she name in a little ‘ or ass ’
and crooked, she threw her shawl over
her left shoulder, and then he never said
a word ”
If similarly xviso danger signals could
be pretty largely used, how many un
necessary collisions would lie avoided,
and Low many a long train of evil con
sequences woiild he safely shunted till
the line was clear again. Leisure
Hour.
A of.xti.emax in South Florida own
40,000 orange trees, covering forty-two
acres.
Rats and Cockroaches on Board of Ship.
The natural history of a voyage would
be incomplete, however, without some
reference to those old nautical mess
mates, rats and cockroaches. Rats fre
quently ascend the rigging, and when
discovered aloft the word is given, and
the unhappy rodeit has to run the
gauntlet of marlingspikes held by will
ing hands below. I have noticed several
cases of apparent suicide by the rat on
these occasons; it seemed to spring
overboard from the rigging when it had
descended almost to the shrouds, where
enemies were stafcmed and cut off its
escape. I have also seen it apparently
spring overboard when pursued by my
dog, the action appearing of a voluntary
nature. My dog was a small Italian
greyhound, presumably of pure breed,
and the last animal that could be consid
ered “ good for rats, ” However, such
was the case, and a few of these trapped
rodents in an empty beef cask provided
always a moment cf excitement for this
little and unlikely-looking dog. Tho
explanation I take to bo this ; It is
a custom to cross black-and-tan-terriers
with the Italian greyhound to increase
the length of tne note, and this lias gone
on for some time, especially in breeding
the so-called “ toy ", terriers. My little
greyhound bitch probably had terrier
blood, and inherited “instinct.” Bats
seem to increaso in temerity with the
length of the voyage, and their presence
in time becomes less objectionable. Be
fore the voyage wa flemished I quite
lost the repugnance I at first felt when
they sometimes ran across my bed at
night. As regards the übiquitous cock
roaches (Jilatta ep.) I learned to forget
their depredations in admiration of their
tenacity of life. Bennett records these
insects as drinking the ink, and, as far
as my experience goes, nothing comes
amiss to them. Certainly, when they
were found eating my arsenical soap,
and apparently with immunity, I gave
up all attempts at extirpating them
from my cabin. At intervals the cock
roaches would fly about during the night,
and this I considered more disagreeable
than the visits of rats. They, however,
onlv took wing at rare intervals, and I
have met with no explanation of that
nabit. Dr. Sec man, in his “A Mission
to Viti,” states that at Fiji cockroaches
so swarm in some vessels that they have
to lie stink under the water to free them
from the pest. —London Field.
Are Men’s Heads Growing Smaller!
Allow me to draw the attention of your
readers to a statement which is certainly
strange, if true. An opinion is preva
lent in tho hat trade that the size of
men’s heads has undergone a decrease
within the last thirty or forty years.
The following statement has been
given to me by a hatter whose name has
attained a pre-eminence of a duration of
moi'e than one generation. “Five and
thirty years ago,” he says, “ when I xvas a
young man, we used to purchase hats for
retail trade in tho following ratio :
Sizes 21-21)^—22—22>f-23 ins-
Relative
number.. o—l —2— 4 —3— 1
“At the present time,” he adds, “I
am selling hats in this ratio :
Sizes 21—21’ i— 22—22)^—23—23) i ins.
Relative
number.. 8— 4 3 1 l— 0
A manufacturer writes: “ I should
say that heads generally are two sizes
less than at the time you refer to. A
head of more than txventy-four inches in
circumference is now quite a rarity, while
wo make thousands of hats for heads
with a circumference of txventy-ouo
inches.” I have received similar state
ments from other members of the trade,
both wholesale and retail, and therefore
feel no futher apology is required for
bringing them under your notice. Ac
cepting the statement quantum valeat, I
have endeavored to ascertain whether I
could find any explanation or continua
tion thereof. I have not succeeded, and,
therefore, venture to ask information or
opinions through your columns. The
statement comes to me not ouly from
men of intelligence and observation ex
ercised beyond tho limits of tho shop or
faotory ; it is, I am informed, extensively
believed among hatters; it may, never
theless, bo merely a general impression.
The diminution, it is said, is observed
mostly among grooms and men of that
class in the social scale. If this is really
tho case the change should also be
noticeable also among soldiers. The
diminution is possibly more apparent
than real, and may be traoeable to the
alteration iu the style of huir-outting, or
of wearing tho hat. —Letter to Suture.
Why Some Farmers Do Not Succeed.
They are not active nud industrious.
They are slothful in everything.
They do not keep up xvitli improve
ments.
They are wedded to old methods.
They give no attention to details.
They think small things not important.
They take no pleasure in their work.
They regard labor as a misfortune.
They weigh and measure stingily.
They are xvastofnl and improvident.
They are fretful and impatient.
They ruin stock by loxv fencing.
Theyletilieirgates sag and full down.
They wilriiot make compost.
They let their fowls roost in the trees.
They have no shelter for stock.
They do not curry tlieir horses.
They leave their plows in the field.
They hang their harness in the dust.
They put off greasing the wagon.
They starve the calf and milk the coxv.
They go to town without business.
They are i>enuy wise and pound foolish.
They don’t know the best is the
cheapest.
They have no method or system.
They go out too often to “see a man.”
They see no good in a noxv thing.
They never use paint on the farm.
They plant very late in the spring.
They stack fodder in the field.
They prop the barn door with a rail.
They let the clothes dry on the fence.
They let the hoops fall from the tub.
They neglect to trim up the trees.
They have no shelter for wood.
They milk the cows late in the day.
They have no time to do things well.
They have no garden in the fall.
They see no use in variety.
They see no difference* in seeds.—
Southern Farmer's Monthly.
A Novelist’s “ Pointer. ”
Mr. James Payn, the novelist, tells ns
that when ho was a very young mac and
had very little experience, he was i end
ing on a eoach-box an account of soru ■ gi
g; in tie trees. One of them was desenK'd
as sound outside ; hut within for rainy
feet, a mass of rottenness mid decay.
“ If a boy should climb up, bird-nesting,
into the fork of it, thought I, he might
go down feet first, old never be heard of
again.” “Then," he adds, “it struck
me what an appropriate end it would be
for a character of a novel. Before I had
left the coach-box, I hail thought out
1 Lost Sir Massingberd. ’ Such a pro
cess lasted for a shorter time with Mr.
Fayn than with the majority of novel
ists ; with many the little seed might
have germinated for years before it
brought forth fruit. Yet Mr. Payn is re
markable for tlie clearness and coherency
of liis plots : they always bang together,
and have a substantial backbone.
GOSSIP FOR TIIE LADIES.
Quel Uiauinncef
It was just Cousin Jack, and so—whst wsa tho
barm?
Wo sat on the step*, for the evening wm warm;
We spoke very softly, and—as to his arm,
It was just Cousin Jack, and so—what was tho
harm ? ..
The scent of the hay-fields crept up from the
farm, . ,
We were quite in the dark, save the fire-flic*
swarm.
(It was just Cousin Jack, and so—what was the
harm?) , , ..
A bird, from the hedge whirring up, broke the
charm;
He bent, as I Btarted in foolish alarm.
And—*twas just Cousin Jack, and so—what was the
harm ?
—Eleanor I'utnam, in The Century .
TV 0111:111% Wif.
A woman’s advice is generally worth
having-; so, if you are in any trouble,
toll your mother, or your wife, or your
sister all about it. Bo assured that light
will flash upon your darkness. Women
are too commonly judged verdant in all
but purely womanish affairs. No philo
sophical students of tho sex thus judge
them. Their intuitions or insight are
most subtle, and if they cannot see a cat
in the meal there is no cat there. I ad
vise a man to keep none of his affairs
from his wife. Many a home has been
saved and many a fortune retrieved by a
man’s confidence in his wife. Woman is
far more a seer and a prophet than a
man, if she be given a fair chance. Asa
general rule tho wives confide the minut
est of their plans and thoughts to their
husbands. Why not reciprocate, if but
for the pleasure of meeting confidence
with confidence? The men who succeed
best in life are those who make confi
dants of their wives.
Follower*, of Beaut y.
It is a curious and striking fact, of
which intelligent men take notice with
a mixture of envy and jealousy, that
women of high culture and endowments
so readily accept the attentions of fash
ionable boobies. 1 once asked a charm
ing miss, who was herself no exception
to the general rule, the meaning of
this, when she replied that ladies were
fond of receiving attentions, and so
long as thoy got them they were not so
particular as to tho source they came
from. “Beside,” said she, “however
excellent men of sense aro as husbands,
they make very indifferent beaux ; they
are so dreadfully in earnest in what they
say or do, and overpower you so with
their sense, that it is a positive relief to
turn to one of these more amusing
trifiers.” “Well,” said I, a little net
tled by this explanation, “if sense is
so little appreciated, teach me to talk
nonsense, that I may make myself more
agreeable-to you.” “Oh,” said she,
“ you are doing that very well already.
But seriously,” added she, “the great
est objection to sensible men, next to
their being so few in number, is that
they prefer to be the slaves of their own
whims rather than of ours. A man of
sense enthrones one among us as the
queen of his affections, and restricts his
attentions to her alone, while every one
of those ‘ dawdlers,’ as you call them, is
the loyal subject of at least a dozen,
who, however, never permit him to ap
proach their throne but to bow before
it, and to bear away their commands.”
A Woman's Wliims.
The Empress Josephine had 000,000
francs for her personal expenses, but
this sum xvas not sufficient, and her
debts increased to an appalling degree.
Notwithstanding the position of her
husband, she could never submit to
either order or etiquette in her private
life. She rose at 9 o’clock. Her toilet
consumed much time, and she lavished
unwearied efforts on tlie preservation
aiul embellishment of her person. She
changed her linen three times a day,
and never wore any stockings that were
not new. Huge baskets were brought
to her containing different dresses,
shawls and hats. From these she
selected her costume for the day. She
possessed between 300 and 400 shaxvls,
and always wore one in the morning,
which she draped about her shoulders
with unequaled grace. She purchased
all that were brought to her, no matter
at what price. The evening toilet was
as careful as that of the morning ; then
she appeared with Hoxvers, pearls or
precious stones in her hair. The smallest
assembly xvas always an occasion for her
to order anew costume, iu spite of the
hoards of dresses in the various palaces.
Bonaparte was irritated by these ex
penditures ; he would fly intoa passion,
unit his xvife would weep and promise to
be more prudent, after xvliich she would
go on in the t amo xvay. It is almost in
credible that this passion for dress
should never have exhausted itself.
After the divorce she arrayed herself
with the same care, even when she saw
no one. She died covered with ribbons
and pale rose-colored satin.
Shall Women Practice Medicine?
The most Be.rious obstacles to be en
countered are not always the mod real
ones. In this, as .in everything that
xvomen do, the question of capacity is
often outranked by the question of taste.
Whether woman, with all her organic
imperfections on her head, can be theo
retically supposed capable of the study
and practice of medicine; whether,
xvliich is unite a different question, there
actually exist any number of women
xvhose capacity in this direction has been
fairly tested an 1 demonstrated—these
are interesting subjects of inquiry. But
the most completely affirmative answer
to such inquiry might still leave unset
tled a question of much more import
ance for that large class of people whose
conditions aud actions are under the
permanent domination of tlieir tastes.
These ask not, “Is she capable ?” but,
“Is this fearfully capable person nice?”
Will she upset our ideal of xvoinim
liood, aud maidenhood, and tlie social
relations of her sex ? Can a
woman physician be lovable? can
she marry? can she have children?
will she take care of them ? If she can
not, what is she? “ Qv'est ce fju'ttue
/ nime," said a French journalist in this
connection, " qui n’est ni espouse ni
mere f" “God,” declared a Boston
1 hvsieian well versed in the counsels of
Providence, “never intended women to
practice medicine.” Hence the infer
ence that piety, if nothing else, de
manded the exclusion of women from
fie Massachusetts Medical Society. It
is from the peculiarity of the conditions
involved that the handful of women now
engaged in the practice of medicine may
bo considered in any way t effect or en
d inger existing arrangements or social
ideals. Thousands of xvomen, from
manifold canses quite extraneous to
medicine, remain celibates all their
lives ; vet no one reproaches them for
refusing the duties of wife and
mother. Thousands of women
earn their living by non-domestic
labor; one profession, * that of public
teaching, practical’v thrown open to
w omen only during the last half century,
is already thronged by them. Yet no
one feels that the foundations of so
ciety are therefore liable to be over
thrown. What is it in the profes
sion of medicine which excites at
present such a different feeling and
such bitter prejudice? There are sev
eral things. In the first place, the
profession of medicine has been sub
jected to popular misconceptions, and
the odium due to these is necessarily
shared by the women who aspire to bo
physicians. Again, tty a social fiction,
it is assumed that the usual employ
ments now sought by women are to
be filled by them only while waiting
for marriage, or as a resource in widow
hood or desertion. Even such profes
sional work as teaching is expected to
be laid aside after a few years, and there
is much, at least in the primary grades
of teaching, to mako such interrup
tions rather desirable. But the pro
fession of medicine must be chosen de
liberately, and not at haphazard, from a
strong and genuine taste, and not from
the mere pressure of economic necessity;
it must be seriously prepared for in
yonth ; must be entered upon at the age
at which at present many women marry;
does not yield its best returns until full
maturity has been reached; must be
adopted, therefore, if at all, for a life
time. Hence is requirecLeitlier an acci
dental celibacy or deliberate renuncia
tion of marriage for tho sake of medi
cine, suchasis not dreamed of in regard
to any other work, or else such an ad
justment of domestic claims as shall
render them and the practice of medi
cine by married women mutually com
patible.— North American Review.
What a Woman Can 80.
Asa wife and mother, woman can
make the fortune and happiness of her
husband and children; and, if she did
nothing else, surely this would be suffi
cient destiny. By her thrift, prudence,
and tact, she can secure to her partnei
and to herself a competence in old age,
no matter how small their beginning, or
how adverse a fate may be theirs. By
her cheerfulness she can restore her hus
band’s spirit, shaken by the anxiety of
business. By her tender care she can
often restore him to health, if disease
has overtasked his powers. By her
counsel and love she can win him from
bad company, if temptation in an evil
hour has led him astray. By her exam
ple, her precepts, and het sex’s insight
into character, she can mould her child
ren, however adverse their dispositions,
into noble men and women. And, by
leading in all thing a true and beautiful
life, she can refine, elevate, and spiritu
alize all who come within reach ; so that,
with others of her sex emulating and as
sisting her, she can do more to regener
ate the world than all the statesmen ot
reformers that ever legislated.
She can do much, alas ! perhaps more,
to degrade man if she chooses to do it.
Who can estimate the evils that woman
has the power to do ? Asa wife can she
ruin herself by extravagance, folly, or
want of affection. She can make a de ■
mon or au outcast of a man who might
otherwise become a good member of so
ciety. She can bring bickering, strife,
and discord into what has been a happy
home. She can change the innocent
babes into vile men and even into vile
women. She can lower the moral tone
of society itself, and thus pollute legis
lation at the spring head. She can, in
fine, become an instrument of evil in
stead of an angel of good.
Instead of making flowers of truth,
purity, beauty and spirituality spring up
in her footsteps, till the earth smiles
with a loveliness that is almost celestial
she can transform it to a black and arid
desert, covered with the scorn of all evil
passion and swept by tho bitter blast of
everlasting death. This is what woman
can do for the wrong as well as for the
right. Is her mission a little one? Has
she no worthy work, as has become the
cry of late? Man may have a harder
task to perform, a rougher road to travel,
but lie lias none loftier or more influen
tial than woman’s.
flow Gold is Hoarded.
An additional, and by no means ade
quately appreciated, cause of the strin
gency of money is the growth of the
passion for hoarding gold among the
lower classes with the increase of pros
perity. Our immense foreign popula
tion does not crave half as much for
paper money as it does for gold. Some
of them —the Italians, the Austrians,
for instance —had some sad experiences
with paper money at home. They don’t
know anything about the solidity of
greenbacks, bank notes, bonds, and
savings banks. What they are anxious
to get is a gold piece, and the moment
they get it they hide it. Nothing but
the* opportunity of buying at a bargain
land, cattle, or a house, ever brings these
gold pieces out again. It has been cal
culated that some $200,000,000 have
thus been abstracted from the circulation
during the last three years of groxving
prosperity throughout the continent.
Women represent a very important
factor in this hording process. A woman
of almost any European nationality pre
fers a gold coin to a piece of clothing, a
piece of furniture, or anything else—ex
cept, possibly, a piece of jewelry. An
•old Frenchman told me the other day
that ho avoids ever going home with a
gold piece in his pocket, for he is sure
that his xvife would steal it at night and
try to persuade him next morning that
the coin must have rolled out-of liis
pocket, “Yet she is a very honest
woman,” added he. “She xvould never
touch the bank notes, lmt her passion
for hoarding gold is invincible. I don’t
mind it, though, for she will give it all
back if a rainy day comes.— Sew York
Sun.
The Purpose of Reading.
Every reader should know the pur
pose for which lie reads. Usually this
purpose is either rest, amusement, or
what may he called improvement. A
boy or girl, tired by work in the shop or
house, takes up Hawthorne's “Wonder
Book,” —that is reading for rest. Fretted
by low marks at school, one becomes ab
sorbed in “Swiss Family Robinson”—
that is reading for amusement. Eager
to instruct the mind, you read Ban
croft’s “History of the United States”—
that is reading for improvement.
The three purposes are frequently
combined. One may find iu reading
Macaulay’s “Essay on Bacon,” rest,
amusement, and improvement.
Of these purposes that of improve
ment of mind aud heart is most impor
tant. In all reading whose immediate
aim is either recreation or pleasure, the
remote aim should be the formation of a
noble character. No one should read a
book without resolving to be aided by it
iu every right endeavor.
The purpose for which ono reads de
termines the choice ot the book. If
you are in doubt what to read, form a
clear idea of the reason of your reading,
au.l the selection of a proper book is
made easy. —Morgantown Press.
Con. Forxet mado no publio be
quests, but instructed his executors to
endeavor to secure repayment by the
Government of $49,000 paid out while
Secretary of the Senate on account of
tlie defalcation of a subordinate.
BITS OF INFORMATION.
The bicycle was invented in Paris in
IS2O.
The first lucifer match was made in
1829.
The first iron steamship was built in
1830.
The galloon ascent was made in
1783.
Hats wore first made in England by
Spaniards in 1510.
The first American play put upon the
stage was “ The Contrast,” written by
Royal Tyler, of Vermont.
Mason and Dixon’s line is tiie bound
ary line between the States of Maryland
and Pennsylvania. The line was sur
veyed by Mason and Dixon, two mas
ters of the science, sent from England
for that purpose.
According to the returns from the
Census Bureau, the people of Maine are
the best educated community in tho
Union. Here are some items from the
report mentioned. Percentage of those
who cannot read:
Maine 2.80 per cent.
New York 3.28 per cent.
Connecticut 3.37 per cent,
Pennsylvania 3.41 per cent.
New Hampshire 3.45 per cent.
Vermont 3.91 per cent.
Massachusetts 4.24 per cent.
Khcdo Island 6.21 per cent,
A locker, in seamen's parlance, is
a place where stores are kept. Jones is
a corruption of Jonah, and Davy is
“duffy,” the name among West Indians
for a spirit or ghost. “ Gone to Davy
Jones’ locker” is, therefore, “gone to
a place of safe-keeping, where Duffy
Jonah was seut.” The expression is
generally applied to one lost overboard,
the reference to Jonah being obvious,
When on the union of the two crowns
Loudon was inundated with Scotchmen,
Buckingham was the chief instigator of
the movement against them, and parties
used to go about every night and break
their windows. To retaliate, a party of
Scotchmen smashed the windows of tho
Duke’s mansion, which had so many
glass windows that it was called the
Glass House. The court favorite ap
pealed to the King, who replied, “Those
who live in glass houses should not throw
stones.”
Nobody knows where tho potato came
from originally. It has been found ap
parently indigenous in many parts of
the world. Mr. Darwin, for instance,
found it wild in the Chonos archipelago.
Sir W. J. Hooker says that it is com
mon at Valparaiso, where it grows
abundantly on the sandy hills near the
sen. In Peru, and other parts of South
America, it appears to be at home, and
it is a noteworthy fact that Mr. Dar
win should have noted it, both in the
humid forests of the Chonos arch
ipelago and among the Central Chilian
mountains, where sometimes rain does
not fall for six months at a stretch. It
was to the colonists whom Sir Walter
Raleigh sent out in Elizabeth’s reign
that England is indebted for potatoes.
Herriot, who came out with these colo
nists, and who wrote an account of his
travels, makes what may, perhaps, bo
regarded as the earliest mention of this
vegetable.
Chimneys were unknown in England
until the twelfth century, and even then
they were made the subject of legisla
tion, as windows were at a later day.
Only one chimney was allowed in a
manor-house, one in a religious house,
and one in the great hall of a castle.
When fireplaces became the luxuries of
the rich, the flues extended only a few
feet into the thickness of the wall, and
were then turned out through the wall
to tho back of tho fireplace, the openings
being small oblong holes. In the days
of Henry VIII. no fireplace was allowed
at the University of Oxford. Indeed, it
was not until the beginning of the six
teenth century that the old state of
things—a lire in tho center of the hall,
the smoke escaping through the roof—
was altered. An examination of the
chimneys in the great halls of manor
houses will prove that they must have
been inserted about this period.
Women’s Masculine Idols.
Every man who fills an effective pub
lic position has an especially good op
portunity of moralizing upon feminine
frivolity and frailness. A handsome
actor, a good-looking popular preacher,
a charming singer, finds the women go
doxvn before him much as the ladies do
before the hero of Patience. As very
High Church young ladies delight in
standing up out of reverence to very
young curates when they enter the
church, so there are many women who
would be charmed to go down on their
knees when one of the heroes of society
enters a drawing-room. Good looks are
not alxvays necessary, though as a rule
women prefer their idols to be hand
some. Excessive notoriety will do in
stead. The men who, with no personal
charms—with, as in some recent in
stances, a positive unpleasantness about
them—go through society worshiped
and adored by the women, must indeed
bo iuclinod to adopt the true Guy Liv
ingstonian view of tlie other sex. These
ladies who sneak after the man of mush
room notoriety, imploring him to come
to their afternoons, begging him for his
photograph or a copy of his poems, or
an autograph letter, or a lock of his hair
—must appear to him very “poor little
beasts ” indeed. But however he may
despise them, he can, to a certain extent,
understand their motives. They wnnt
other women to see him talking to them,
to meet him at their houses, to be aware
that he has written letters to them and
given them his photograph. The idea
these women entertain must be that they
obtain a second-hand distinction by be
ing associated in people’s minds with
tho idol of the hour. Women have from
all time regarded it as sufficient honor
for themselves to be the favorites of
great men. This is but a modern ren
dering of the old story. They have
made it tho fashion to sit in adorning
circles, around their hero, and gaze upon
him with meek eyes of wonder, much as
if he were a Persian prince, and they
his humble slaves. But there is none of
the charm of danger in this, and perhaps
not much excitement; for it is all done
in public, and has become a prominent
feature in the programme of most
drawing-room entertainments.— London
World.
A Condemned Man’s tittle Daughter.
“ Papa, dear papa, I’m glad you’re
going to die, tor you know, papa, that if
you were not going to die, you would be
taken away off into a dark prisoD where
I could never see you any more ; and
you know, papa, that would grieve you
so much that you would not live very
long anyhow, so I think everything is
best 03 it is, don’t you, papa ? And I
will grow up to be a* big girl, and I will
be so good, papa, that every one will
love me, aud I will never forget you,
papa, nor how much yon loved your
little Mary.” This strangely affecting
speech xvas made in tho St. Louis jail to
a man who was to be hanged.
A periodical was started not long
ago, the first number of which contained
a letter from a correspondent who signed
himself “ A Constant Reader.”