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SMITH, Publisher. VOLUME IX. TOPICS OFJTHI DAT. Path mad* a graat bqomu at Ornoin •ati. Bigbitabt FaaiiZNOHirraiir k a Suu iaj-aohool teaoher. 8a Fit aw oisco has raised $20,000 for s status of Garfield. Nkw resolves are easily made and ias Jy broken. They are a cheap article. Sorrx to gay, William H. Vanderbilt las no more marriageable daughters on baud. 1 fra Chippewa Indians are reported to oe starring on acoount of smallpox quarsuiidxiQ* Stepping beef from Texas via New 1. ork to France in refrigerator cars has been begun. Oscar Wilde, the awihetic poet, will be the guest of Mr. J. M. Stoddard, of OUilcdalnKio. It is thought that Congress will en leavor to do something now, that the holidays are over. It is the pink of fashion now to have * ®°re arm—unless yosi can show a pretty respectable looking soar. Vanderbilt wants to retire from busi ness, says he has enough and wants to live in peaoo. He has our sympathy. Bakota contains a population of 135,- 000. Nevada was admitted as a State when her population was only 62,000. Gotteau in the dock makes as much *ioise as Guiteau out of the dock. What bsdz.mll gat some day. Henry B. Comley, oi rnuadeipma, bitten on the finger three years ago by a dog, died a few days ago of hydropho bia. The Providence Prttss suggests that the plaster oasts of Guiteau # be used for oupsidores. Good things to spit, at, 4 that’s a fact. A ootemporary, speaking of the Gui teau trial, thinks it about time to “ drop” the subjeot—Guitcauff at the end of a rope, as it were. Boss Shepard, who is in Mexico, was bitten by a tarantula a few weeks ago. The bite of a tarantula is deadly. Shepard got well This is a conun drum for TOIL Real, culture is at a premium in Bos ton. The olerk of the new Mayor, Green, is an author, named Robert Grant, his most notable production being “ The Frivolous Girl.” The cars on the elevated roads in New York are to be run by means of a pneu matic engine, if the experiment proves a success. The engine makes neither steam nor smoke. A bridaii outfit valued at $4,000, and oonfhoated to the Government because of the non-payment of duties, was sold at auction in New York, in separate lots, for less than $2,000. The Postmaster-General has been asked to remove an Indian postmaster who does not believe in hell. It is thought the aot would change the opin ion of said postmaster. The Pope is more seriously than ever considering the advisability of leaving Romo. He says his situation is becom ing intolerable. He is accused of being a rebel and enemy to Italy. It is a lamentable fact tbat on Christ mas day a number of American citizens lent marrying somebody, and it does aot matter much who. E. H. Tappen, of Hammond, Indiana, went to Dr. Dodge, a Chicago dentist, to hare his teeth drawn. He insisted on taking chloroform, and the an ms the tie was given. Within half an hour Tappen was a corpse. An inquest was held and a verdict was rendered only after a large number of experts had been examined, all of whom agreed that the use of any anaesthetic was dangerous, and that chloroform was especially so. The num ber of scientific medical men who ad minister anaesthetics is yearly'*growing smaller. Theto should be a law prohib iting its one as an altogether. Ths four-year-old child of Mrs. M. F. Cappege, at New Orleans, last week, c* ously under the <xmfcpsof&he departed spirits, do ths tongue-rattling part of the job. It s re mb that Jay Gould control* the New York World, and Cyrus W. Field the New York JsxptesB. All big men IHii tl^iicjtii control newspapers, but all newspapers are not controlled by big man by a good deal—no indeed. Charles Dudley Warner says that v'/nilo the country is filled with people unable to pay for a newspaper, he has never heard of anybody unable to edit one. O. D. W. seems to fully under stand the situation. Theodore Tilton is on another leotur ing tour. We may say right here that lecturing, as a profitable business. is not generally as popular as it has been. The leefnrer has become nearly as great a bore as the book agent. It is rumored that one of Sara Burn uardt's silk stockings was stretched to ruination Christmas by soma one at tempting to put a lead pencil in it. Sara oerhaps will know better than to hang her stockings.up next time. The New Orleans Picayune congratu lates husbands and fathers of the South on their good luck in not living in a ssal •drin-saqno climate. It would be & good idea to mention this feature in an adver tisement urging Southern emigration. A Michigan Ca?airy veteran states that at the time of Jeff. Davis’ capture by Union troops, the saddle-bags and hostlers on his horse were filled with $14,000 in gold coin, which the captors buried in the ground and aftewards secured. Mr. Roswell Smith, publisher of the Century Magazine , gave $5,000 in Christmas gifts to his employes, and $16,000 of the valuable Century stock to the leading members of his literary and • I siness staff. The Century deserves Lo greatest success. Guiteau has a patent reversible brain. He admits that he is sane now but claims insanity for the 2d of July. He has the genius to be sane or insane at will, and seems, at all times, to understand his condition. His conceit makes him the more contemptible. It oosiis the Lord Mayor of London $150,000 a year to keep up expenses, requiring his own salary, which is but $50,000, and an additional SIOO,OOO. Where the additional SIOO,OOO comes lrom is his lookout. There may be, of course, an occeasional perquisite. Rev. Talmage has had to let down on * free salvation.” The annual expenses *f the Tabernacle are and the income—contributed in envelopes by the members—has never exceeded $17,000. So it has been decided to sell the pews in the Tabernacle to make up the deficit. It is stated that Prince Bismarck excels in the employment of a particular class of spies, who are known to his countrymen as “reptiles.” They are sham revolutionists, whose business it is either to get on to the staff of Radical news papers, or to play a leading part in Socialist electoral committees, for the sake of bringing to light real offenders. The grass on Christmas Day was as green as it usually is in the month of April, and according to the old supersti tion, the year of 1882 will witness an un usually fat graveyard. The preceding Christmas was a “White Christmas,” but it would be hard to find a year disastrous to human life than that just closed. If the year 1882 surpasses it, then indeed we may expect to have an awful time of it. President Grevy, of Spain, can “ turn on” his theater or his opera when ever he likes, aud sitting quietly at home in the Elysee can hear all the first artists of his oountry. He has a tele phone connection with the Opera, the Theatre Francaia and the Opera Comi que, and the voices are heard in his irawing-room as> clearly and distinctly as in those theaters. Sats the Boston Journal: “Clara ; Louise Kellogg sang about SI,OOO worth ; to the inmates of the Nebraska Peniten tiary, tiie other day, and asked nothing for it. A man who had never stolen any thing or made love to another man’s horse would have to pay $2 to hear her. About the only man who gets left now adays, and has to pay a big price for all the fun he has, is the honest, respectable, hard-working citizen.” According to the Cincinnati Gazette, President Arthur is seriously considering the advisability of becoming the son-in law df Queen Victoria. It appears that Mr. Halstead, of the Cincinnati Com mercial, was to act as best man at the wedding, but the premature publication af the matter in the Commercial has probably imperiled the consummation of this part of the programme. Anyhow, Mrs. Grundy is going to have the Presi- Deiottd to Indohtrial Inter it, the Diffn ion of Trutli, the Establishment of Justice, and the Preservation of a People's Government INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA. called on Guiteau, at the jail, and wished him a happy Christmas. Really, crime is getting to be viewed very lightly. The latest thing in Chicago is a mar riage ceremony performed by departed spirits. Mediums, who are suppositi shot and instantly killed his mother. Mrs. Cappege was giving the child in. structions with a pistol, showing it how to aim, and after she had gotten through with the rudiments, she sat back from the little fellow on the floor to witness liis dexterity as a shootist. He cocked the play-thing, took deliberate aim, and fired. Mrs. Cappege fell to the floor a corpse, the ball having entered her brain. This young man did remarkably well for his age, and when he grows up, will be able to distinguish himself at ready frontier repartee. There is noth ing like teaching the young idea how to shoot. The operations of the Mormon mis sionaries in England have been called to the attention of Mr. Gladstone, and he was asked if the English Government can do nothing to prevent the “ decoy ing of thousands of young persons to a life of immorality in Utah. ” The Minis ter replies that “he fears it is a matter wherein he cannot interfere, as it is to be presumed the young persons go volun tarily.” To this the Boston Herald in quires: “ Would it not be worth while for somebody to inquire more particu larly than has yet been done whether our own government cannot do something to prevent the landing of purposed and avowed law breakers, recruited in foreign lands to strengthen an inchoate rebellion against the authority of the nation, and to swell the ranks of an alien and organ ized barbarism within our borders ?” The Nation’s Dead. Asa matter of general interest we give the following list of national mili tary cemeteries, together with the state ment of the number of interments in sach: , IMTEBKXKCe. A'#w of Otmetory. Known. Unknown. Total. Ajiuapalia, Md 2,285 2u4 2,4*0 Aisxaii&ria, La 524 772 1,906 Alexandria, Vii 3,402 130 8,62* Andarßonvffia, S 12,703 921 13,714 Aanetom, lid 2,868 1,818 4,671 Arfmgto*. Va ....31,015 4,349 ]*;2#4> Bali's Bias, Va 1 24 25 Barron caa, lift 788 W 7 1,455 Baton Rouge, Lft 3,469 405 2,964 Ra-dft timad, D. C 48 .... 43 Beaufart, 5.C...., 4,748 4,493 9,241 Beverly, R. J 146 7 162 Brown vilk, Texas 1,417 1,379 2,196 Butter, 111 1,007 355 1,362 ©amp Eelaoa, Ky 2,477 1,165 3,642 Cave Hill, Ky 3,344 683 3,927 Chaonette, La. 0,837 5,674 12,511 Chattanooga, Ttua 7,999 4,963 12,962 ny Point, Va 3,788 1,874 6,162 Cold Harbor, Va 673 1,581 1,954 Gortnth, Miaa 1,789 8,927 6,716 Crown Hill, In# 681 32 713 Quipeppor, Va. 456 911 1,867 Ouster Battlefield, M. T.... 262 ... 262 Cypress Hills, N. V 3,710 76 3,786 Danville, Ky 885 8 343 Danville, Va 1,172 155 1,327 Fayetteville, Aik. 481 781 1,212 Finn's Point, N. J 2,644 2,644 Florence, 8. C. 199 2,799 2,998 Fort Doneieon, Fean 158 511 669 Fort Hihaoa, I. T *ls *,212 2,427 Fort Harrison, Va 29 676 814 Fort Leavenworth, Kan.... 836 928 1,763 Fort MoPherson, Neb 152 291 443 Fort Smith, Ark 711 1,152 1,881 Fort Scott, Kan 390 161 551 Fredericksburg, Va. 3,487 12,770 16,257 Gettysburg, Pa. i,867 1,608 3,575 Olcndak, Va 284 961 1,196 Grafton, W. Va 34 629 1,254 Hampton, Va.... 4,930 494 5,424 Jefferson Barracks, M 0.... 6,684 2,9c# 11,490 Jefferson City, Mo 849 412 761 Keokuk, lowa 612 38 64# Knoxville, Xenn 2,090 1,046 3,136 Laurel, Md 232 6 238 Lebanon, Ky 694 277 868 Lex.ugton, Ky 885 198 918 Little Rock, Ark 3,26# 2,337 6,60* Logan Crose-roada, Ky... 344 366 711 Loudon Park, lid. 1,637 166 1,863 Marietta, Ga.l 7,188 2,968 10,151 Memphis, Tenn 6,160 8,817 18,977 Mexico City, M 0............ 284 753 1,0*4 Mobile, Aa 75# US 86# Mound City, 111 2,505 2,721 #,226 jSaahviLe, Tenn 11,826 4,701 16,626 Ratchet, Mi 55....... 308 2,780 3,088 Raw Albany, Ind 2,139 676 2^815 New Borne, N. C 2,i77 1,077 3^k>4 PhiiadeiphiU, Pa 1,881 28 1,909 Pittsburgh landing, Tenn. 1,329 2,361 3,590 Poplar Grove, Va 2,198 4,001 6,199 Port Hudson, La 696 3,223 3,819 Raleigh, N. C 619 *62 M® l Richmond, Va 842 6,700 6,542 Rock laiaud, 111 277 10 296 Sadsbury, N. C 94 12,032 12,12# Ban Antonio, Texas 524 167 491 Seven Pines, Va I#o 1,208 1,3*8 Soldiers’ Home, D. C 6,314 288 6,6c2 Staunton, Va 233 620 ‘SB Bicneßiver, Tenn..,..;... 3,821 2,324 6,145 Tiefcsburk, Miss 3,896 12,704 16,000 Wilmington, . 0 710 1,398 2,408 Wincheeter, Va 2,094 2,365 4,459 Wood awn, Elmira, N. Y... 3,074 16 8,090 Torktown, Va 748 1,434 2,182 Tetel 171,305 147,568 318,87 CM the whole number of interments indicated above there are about 6,900 known and 1,500 unknown civilians, and 6,100 known, 3,200 unknown Confeder ates. Of these latter the greater por tion are buried at Woodlawn Cemetery, Elmira, N. Y., and Finn’s Point Cem etery, near Salem, N. J. The inter ments at Mexico City are mainly of those who were killed or died in that vicinity during the Mexican war, and include also such citizens of the United States as may have died in Mexico, and who under treaty provision hate the right of burial therein. From the fore going it will appear that after making Ml proper deductions for civilians and Confederates there are gathered in the Tuiotn places mentioned the remains of nearly 300,000 men, who at one time wore the blue during the late war and who yielded up their lives in defense of the Government which now so graciously cares for their ashes. — National Trib une. A TOUN3 lady ate half a wedding cake, and then tried to dream of her future husband. Now she says she would rather die than marry the Hum that she saw in that dream. THE BROKEN-HEARTED. I Mtw that fh light of her beautjr had faded ; The eye that illumed it gazed wildly and drear : The treaeea, neglected, hung loose and unbralded, And shrouded a cheek dewed with memory’! tear. Yet she breathed not the name of her orael de ceiver; The solace of friendship *twae vain to impart. She had loved with the warmth of a guileless be liever ; But man had been faithless and broken her heart The dwelling is low where she withered in sadness, The bower is deserted, her harp is unstrung; The roses she twined, the light notes of gladness, No longer shall blossom, no more shall bo sung. The dove hath a refuge, a house of protection, When rent 1b the storm-cloud, and vivid its dart; But desolate wanders the maid of affection When truth has been slighted and broken her heart. She has gone, and her relies the willow weeps over; In the grave’s quiet slumber are hushed her deep woes; She hears not the sigh of a recreant lover, No promisee blighted disturb her repose. Her spirit, too pure for the bonds that enchained it, Now hallowed in realms whence it ne’er shall de- Looks radiantly down on the wretoh who disdained it; On hire who has rifled and broken a heart. Retribution. He wits a pretty little fellow of per haps 5 years, and he looked through the window of the restaurant with hungry, longing eyes at the big oakes and rows of tempting pies; at last flattening his little noee against the glass as if to be nearer the beautiful viands was more satisfying. There was something in his appearance which was so different from the ordinary little street boy that 1 first stopped and looked, then addressed him with : “ Are you hungry, little boy?” He then turned quickly, gave a little nod, and said laoonieally : “Awful!” “Well, suppose we go in there and get something to eat ?” The child’s face brightened ; then he hesitated and said, dubiously : “Maybe mamma wouldn’t like me to.” “Where is your mamma? How came you here alone ?” “She’s home, sick. I’ve runned away;” and he looked up in my face with big, brown eyes in which there was a sparkle of mischief. “ Run away, have you? lam afraid that is very naughty; won’t your mam ma be anxious ?” “ Qh, she’s sick, she’s awful sick! And I ain’t had anything to eat to-day. ” “ Have you any brothers and sisters?” The little face sobered at once as he said : “ No, only EJoise, and she’s gone away, and papa’s gone away, and mam ma says maybe she’s going away, and she don’t know what'll come of me.” “ Who is Eloise ? Your sister ?” “Yes’m.” “Where has she gone? Won’t she come back ? ” “No, she ain’t never coming back; they put her in a little black box and took her to heaven, and mamma cried; she said she wouldn’t never come back again, and I haven’t anybody to play with now.” “Eloise!” The name had struck a chord in my heart which awakened painful memories, and while the little fellow was talking my mind had strayed back to years ago, and a vision of a beautiful false friend rose before my eyes. Suddenly I asked the child his name. “ Edwin Alexander Anderson.” For an instant I felt faint and siok, happy wife and mother though I now am. That name brought back to me a time of wretchedness never to be forgot ten, and I almost felt like turning away and leaving the child— his child—to his fate. But, thank Heaven ! the impulse was only for a moment; I knew now why those brown eyes thrilled me so; but with the impulse to turn away came a whisper from my good angel: “Do good to those who despitefully use yon.” And, seeing the little fellow still looked longingly at the cakes, I took him in, gave him some bans and a glass of miik, and a bag of cookies to take home; but he oould not go alone probably, if, as he said, he had ran away; so t asked biro where he lived, and if he knew the way home. “ We lives now in No. 10 Pine street, but I dunno where ’tis.” I was not at all sure of the locality myself, so hailing an omnibus I re quested to be carried to my destination; and then the awkwardness of meeting his father flashed across me, till I recol lected he had said “Papa’s gone away.” “ Where has your papa gone?” “He’s gone to the dogs.” The answer was certainly startling, and notwithstanding, or perhaps in con sequence of my nervousness, I smiled, and felt in my throat a mingled incli nation to laugh and cry. Then I said seriously: “ What do yon mean ? Who told you that ? ” Oh, I heard a man tell the doctor so when he came to see Eloise, and I found it in the big map-book mamma let me have to ’muse me.” “ Found what ? ” “Isle of Dogs ; that’s where he’s gone. I guess he ain’t coming back.” A little pause, then in a low, frightened tone, “ he’s awful cross; he made mamma cry, he did.” I felt guilty of learning family secrets, so I turned away from that subject and said: “ Is your mother very ill ?” “ Oh, sbe's dreadful sick! She coughs and coughs, and spits up lots of red spits ; it’s awful! Poor Eloife, the brilliant beauty, was in deed dying ! Ilooked down at the lit tle boy in bra shabby clothes, and I re membered the elegance of his mother’s attire when we were girls together ; I re membered, oh, so well! But I was awak ened from my painful revery by my lit tle companion’s exclaiming: ‘ * Here we are I ” I paid the driver, and we got out and mounted three flights of stairs in a shab by lodging-house. He opened a door, and there, lying on a stretcher, with a hard mattress, was the wreck of the brilliant beauty I bad not seen for tea years, and who, but for the child, I should never have recognized. Not so with her, however; as the door opened and her child entered she held out her hand, saving in a low, breathless voice : “ Eddy dear, where have you been ? ” Then she raised her eyes, and, seeing me standing in the doorway, she turned deathly pale, and, throwing up her hands, said, wildly: “ Oh, God, she has oome, she has come I Alice, Alice, forgive me! lam dying now ! ” Forgive her ? Yes, with the grim shadow of death hanging over her I could not do otherwise. 1 went to the bedside and took her hand. “I am glad to have found you, Eloise; kll is forgiven.” I could say no more ; the poor, thin face, feverish eyes and shrunken form made my heart ache. She raised her self up, and, clutching my hand, said : ‘ ‘ Listen, Alice, lam dying. I must speak now; my punishment is from Heaven ; he has left me. You are re venged, and my little girl has gone, and he ” —pointing to the boy—“ the image of his father, will soon be alone, all alone ! My father and mother and sister are all dead, and his father—l dc not know if he is living or dead, but he should not have my innocent boy to ruin. Oh, Alice, you look the same as ever; will you take care of my boy ? ” For an instant I recoiled; I take Edwin Anderson’s child to my house to live with my children ? It seemed impos sible ; but those large, wistful eyes were fixed on me ; I must answer. “ I will find a home for him, Eloise.” “You will not take him yourself, Alice ? ” And she raised herself up, and excitement lent strength to her voioe. “Alice, I heard of your marriage to a good man. Have you children ? ” “ I have a little girl 3 years old and a baby.” “ Then for God’s sake take my boy and make him good; let him be your child, and, when he gets old enough to understand, give him that desk,” point ing to one on a table at her side. “ I have written out my history as a warn ing to him, and all my papers of any value are there; I have nothing left of my father’s property ; he has sold it all and squandered the money. I believe he went to Europe and is living some where in Italy with another of his dupes ; my boy is portionless. Will you, oh, Alice, will yon forgive all and take him?” “ I will.” I could say no more, and, the excite ment being over, she fell back exhausted. I summoned assistance from one of the other rooms, and begged them to go f° r the nearest physioian ; but it was too late ; he came but to say that she was going fast, and ere night she died with her head on my shoulder. I had sent a note to my husband ex plaining my absence, and he was there with a carriage to take home myself and our new child. He knew all. I had told him the sore secret of my heart before I married him. As Eloise had said, he was a good man, and when I told him her wish about her boy ha said quietly: “ The child is ours now.” There was a quiet funeral, and Eloise Anderson was laid beside her lost little girl. And this is the story of our two lives. Years before, Eloise Grayson and I, Alice Browne, were together at Madame C.’s boarding-school for voung ( ladies. Her father was called wealthy, and she and a sister several years her senior were all that were left of a large family. Eloise was very beautiful, and, when at school she had admirers who would meet us and bow in our daily walks. After we left school I made her a visit of a few days and invited her to come and see me in our quiet country home when she liked. She had, however, too gay a life and too many admirers to care to accept my invitation then. Mean while I settled down at home and helped my mother sew and learned to keep house, and also learned something else —to love with all my heart a handsome, daubing young man who had come to our quiet village to stay for a few days, but had lengthened out those days into weeks. Edwin Anderson almost lived at my father’s house, and, at last, with my father’s full consent, we were en gaged. Of course in the fullness of my joy I wrote to all my friends, and Eloise among the others. Not long after, she wrote to say she was coming to make me that long-promised visit. Well, she came, and at her very first meeting with Edwin she completely monopolized his attention; she came to my room that night and declared herself charmed with bi.n—“a perfect Adonis.” She envied me, called me a sly puss for catching such a handsome man in that out-of-the way place; then kissed me good-night I and left me with a strange chill at my heart. Ido not know how it was, but she was always with us; we never seemed to be alone, and she engrossed him completely; sometime® she would laugh and say so carelessly: “ Oh, Ally, you must not mind; but your Edwin’s voice just chords splendid ly with mine; yon will lend him to me, won’t you? ” Bo they sang together and I listened. I, too, could sing, but my voice was nothing to hers. She wee very fond of riding, and we had but one lady’s horse SUBSCRIPTION-$1.5. NUMBER 21 md she had forgotten to bring her habit ; so nearly every morning she would borrow mine, and the two would go off for a ride and not return until din ner-time. My father began to look coldly at her, and my mother often sighed m she saw them together. I was too proud to show what I felt, but I locked my door at night now; I oould not bear to hear Eloise rhapsodize about my lover, whom I never saw now except in her society. She stopped for six weeks— six weary weeks to me. Then one day, after a longer ride than usual with l2dwin, she announced that she must go home at once. Her talk and manner were flighty all day, and until late at night we heard her moving about her room packing her trank—such elegant clothes as she had, putting my quiet muslins and cambrics m the shade. Next morning she bade us good-by and went away, my father remarking after she had gone: “ Well, I don’t want to be inhospitable, but 1 hope that girl won't oome here again very soon.” - * All day I waited aiyjl watched for Edwin. Now, I thought, I will have him to myself once more; but he did not oome. The next day passed, and still he did not come. On the third day of weary waiting 1 took up the newspaper after my father had got through with it and looked carelessly and absently at the advertisements, the local items, and then my eye wandered to the marriage list. There I saw the marriage of Alex ander Anderson to Eloise Greyson. I did not faint nor scream. I only felt numb for a while, then I quietly handed the paper to my mother, pointing to that place, and as quietly left the room and went up--stairs to my own chamber, where I sat by the window, looking out on tiie moonlit garden, and tried to un derstand. My mother soon followed me, and then passed the most miserable hours of my existence ; my first love and faith and joy all shattered. Of course I felt as if I must die ; but I was proud; I would not be pitied by the neighbors ; and so I threw off the awful pain when I was with others. Youth is very buoy ant ; I had good health, a good home and good parents ; and soon two bright, teasing cousins were invited to make us a visit; so in time I crushed this love, which was sin now, from my young hefirt. Five years afterward I met and learned to love with a quieter, deeper affection, born of respect, my good husband, Hen ry Haiford, an elderly lawyer, who came to see my father about a lawsuit, and having come once came again and again, until at last he came to carry me to a beautiful house in the city as its mistress and his honored wife. We have two dear little children, and I am very hap py, and very proud of my “ elderly ” husband. We call our new son Alexander Hal ford, dropping the old name forever: and I pray that ho may be as good and honorable a man as his adopted father is. Longings. Though we seem grieved at the short ness of life in general, we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be of age, then to be a man of business, then to make up an estate, then to retire. Thus, although the whole life is allowed by every one to be short, the several divisions of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our span in general, but would fain contract the parts Gf which it is composed. The usurer would be very well satisfied to have all the time annihilated that lies be tween the present moment and the next quarter day. The politician would be contented to lose three years of his life, could he place things in the posture, which he fancies they will stand in, after such a revolution of time. The lover would be glad to strike out of his exis tence all the moments that are to pass before the next meeting. Thus, aa fast as our time runs, we should be very glad in most parts of our lives, that it ran much faster than it does. Several hours of the day hang upon our hands; nay, we wish away whole years; and travel through time as though a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at these several little settlements or imaginary points of rest. An Occasion for Boycotting. In reply to a correspondent who in dignantly asks if nothing can be done to stop the vandals who are transforming the face of the country into one vast ad vertising medium, the Springfield Re publican observes that one obstacle in the way of preventing such outrages is the melancholy fact that farmers and landed* proprietors “ don’t care, or, if they 1 do, it is only $1 or $2 worth. The disapproval of the advertising fiend is chiefly felt by persons who don’t own any fences or sheds or rocks—who have nothing but a sensitive taste and a pow erless indignation. These unfortunate people can’t do anything except swear never to buy a particle of the soape or dentifrices Or elixirs car suspenders or other contrivances so insolently adver tised, and never to deal with the adver tisers. We should like to see a league formed, bound by that solemn obliga tion—it is a perfectly proper Occasion for boycotting.”' Thk percentage of recoveries from habitual drunkenness (inebriety or dipsomania) is one-third under competent medical care. A man must love something; he cannot always be wounding and destroying, and the heart, weary of soorn and hate, needs repose in praise and tenderness. Not that which men do worthily, but what they do successfully, is what his tory makes haste to reoord. — Beecher.