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THEIR MEANING.
Jhat. doe* U mean when the bluebird flies
)ver the hills, singing sweet and clear T
J'hen violets peep through the blades of
grass T
I'hoHC are the signs that spring Is here.
|That does It mean when the berries are
ripe ?
When butterflies flit and honey-bees hum ?
When cattle stand under the shady trees T
These are the signs that summer has come.
What does It mean when the crickets chirps,
And away to the south-land the wild geese
steer?
When apples are falling and nuts are brown ?
These are the signs that autumn Is here.
What does It mean when the days are short?
When the leaves are gone and the brooks
are dumb?
When the fields are white with the drilting
snows ?
These are the signs that winter has come.
The old stars set, and the new ones rise,
And skies that Were stormy grow bright
and clear;
And so the beautiful, wonderful signs
Go round and round with the changing
year.
-M. K. N. HATHAWAY.
Nemesis.
In 1848 a circumstance oct-urred in
the city of New Orleans, which, at the
time, created an excitement which
affected the entire population. An old
merchant, highly connected, wealthy
and of distinguished social position,
one night mysteriously disappeared.
His family were in infinite distress,
and his business in consequent dis
order. He left his store at a late hour,
ostensibly to go home; but before
going, contrary to his usual practice,
he took a large sum of money. His
way led along Peters street, on the
bank of i.he river, far down into the
Third District of the city. His life
may have been sacrificed, and his
body thrown into the river that rolled
at his feet. Police regulations at this
time were bad, and crimes of this de
scription were not unfrequently per
petrated. A little way back from the
street was a ruinous building, half
tumbling to decay, and inhabited by
thieves.
Among the notes Mr, Conlay was
tknown to possess was one for $500
with the word "Canal” written on
*the back. The rest were of various
•denominations, and without peculiar
identity.
Mr. I— and myself visited the resi
dence of the missing man at the re
quest of his wife, and by her we were
charged with the duty of tracing out
and bringing to justice his supposed
murderers. She was a tall, eleg ait-
looking lady, of commanding pres
ence and great culture. The wealth
of her rich beauty and fine mind were
inherited by her daughter, a young
girl of about twenty. The terrible be
reavement had paralyzed the senses
of the mother, but had aroused the
energy and fire of the girl’s nature.
More like a beautiful Nemesis than
an ordinary woman she appeared to
us. As we entered the room, she was
in t^pi act of consoling her mother.
^The long, black hair had escaped from
confinement, and almost enveloped
ler person in its ebon tresses. The
[great, luminous eyes were tearful, but
■flashing and full of fire. The glorious
’beauty of the young girl fascinated
while it bewildered you. Starting .up
as we entered the room, she inquired
hastily, almost fiercely, I thought:
"Are you the detectives?”
“We are,” and I mentioned our
names.
“I must speak to y^u in private,”
le said.
“What do you think of the mat
ter?” she asked, when out of hearing
of her mother.
‘‘As yet an opinion would be mere
guess work,” I replied.
“Nevertheless, I have come to one,
I have no doubt he has been murder
ed, and that the deed was committed
somewhere near the old ruinous build
ing near the river.” #
“Some such idea has crossed my
mind, but there is no trace as yet
which can lead to the proof of it.”
“We will find it, rest assured,” she
said, “and to this end you must co
operate with me; and now listen to
what I have to say : To-night, at 12
o’clock precisely, do you two visit the
old building. I will be there. Ask
for the young woman who applied at
nightfall to them for shelter. Let your
object We to arrest her.
“But I do not understand.”
“But you will. I am going there
at dusk disguised as a beggar girl. By
the time you come my Information
will be collected.”
She rose to her feet as she spok
and now indeed she wore the app
anoe of the Nemesis I had likene
to at but rig
set, dete;
The lips were pale, but rigid as iron,
and the beautiful nostrils dilated with
an expression of heart-consuming
vengeance.
“I will read the guilty secret,” she
said, “if the criminal is there, how
ever deep in his heart he may bury
it.”
Strange as it may appear, I made no
attempt to dissuade her from her pur
pose. I could not, I felt as if the
beautiful creature exercised over me a
magnetic control. And with that uh-
dei standing we took our leave.
Those acquainted with the city at
that period can form some idea of the
danger of the plot we had formed. To
us it was only a matter of daily occur
rence. But for the young girl, inex
perienced and tenderly nursed, to
thrust herself into the very house of
the unscrupulous and desperate
wretches who were suspected of this
crime, was simply appalling. It would
not do, however, to go to the place be
fore the hour appointed for our com
ing, for that would defeat the object
in view. It was, therefore, with many
a misgiving and uneasiness but poorly
concealed we bided our time. But we
determined to be there at the very mo
ment, and the clock was on the strobe
of m’duight when we knocked at the
door. The outside of the house gave
no signs of life within. There was a
momentary hesitation as if counseling
together, and then the door was opened
wide.
It was a long, low room, dusty and
brown from age. About a dozen per
sons were seated around ; but every
eye was tuined to ihe door. Two men
had risen to an attitude which might
mean defense, before the fire place,
but the object that attracted our atten
tion most was a young girl sitting in
the centre of the apartment. Her face
was as dark as a gypsy’s, and her long
hair hung loose on her shouldeis; her
dress was of poor material, ragged and
unclean. Patches and rents had al
most changed its hue and disguised
its texture. She seemed too thinly
clad f r that cold night, and her slen
der frame shivered, as if from cold, as
the chill air from the open door swept
in.
“What do you want?” was the
stern question addressed to us by one
of the men at the fire.
Before I had time to reply the young
girl sprung to her feet and spoke in
stead :
“Arrest these men!”
Her voice was low, but the face,
flashing in the light of the fire, was
that of Nemesis I had seen that
day.
There was a short, fierce struggle,
and the men were in our power. The
girl then walked to a place in the
floor and touching a concealed spring,
lifted a trap door. Bhe bade Mr.
lift the box that lay in the hiding-
place. The lid was wrenched off, and
in it were the old merchant’s money,
papers and pocket-book. With the
money were found the bill and the
word “Canal” written across it.
It was not long before the men con
fessed their crime. The old man had
been murdered and his body thrown
into the river.
The daughter had accomplished her
mission. Bhe had carried out her te-
sign, and traced to their hiding places
the*proofs of the murderers’ crime. It
is useless to relate what followed.
Long years have fled since then, and
the young Nemesis is yet among the
living. Beautiful still, there are many
hearts to grow glad at her smile, and
share with her the joys of the home
she charms. But this strange incident
in her life will never be effaced from
her mind, or fade from the memory of
those who saw her then.
Another Use of Electricity.
A letter from Rome announces that
a priest of Ravenna, named Ravaglia,
has constructed an electrical appara
tus which can be set in operation by
simply pressing a button, and by
which the doors of a large building
can be instantaneously opened. The
apparatus was tried during the last
week of April at the Alighieri Thea
tre, in Ravenna, with the most satis
factory result. All the nine doors
opened simultaneously, as if through
so^ne spiritual agency. The inventor
hopes to improve his apparatus so that
should a fire break outjon the stage of
Burke’s Eloquence.
From Leckey's “ England in the
Eighteenth Century.”
Grattan, who on a question of ora
tory was one of the most competent of
judges, wrote in 1769: "Burke is un
questionably the first orator among
the Commons of England, boundless
in knowledge, instantaneous in his
apprehensions, and abundant in his
language. He speaks with profound at
tention and acknowledged superiority,
notwithstanding the want of energy,
the want of grace and the want of ele
gance in his manner.” Horace Wal
pole, who hated Burke, acknowleged
that he was “versed in every branch
of eloquence,” that he possessed the
quickest conception, amazing facility
of elocution, great strength of argu
mentation, all the powers of imagina
tion and memory; that even his un
premeditated speeches display ‘a choice
and variety of language, a profusion of
metaphors, and a correctness of diction
that was surprising,” and that in pub
lic, though not in private, his wit was
of the highest order, "luminous, strik
ing, abundant.” He complained,
however, with good rtason, that he
“often lost himself in a torrent ef im
ages and copiousness,” that “he dealt
abundantly too much in establishing
general positions,” that he had “no
address or insinuationthat his
speeches ofteu show a great want of
sobriety and judgment, and “the still
greater want of art to touch the
passions.” But though their length,
their excursiveness and their didactic
character did undoubtedly on many
occasions weary and even empty the
House, there were others in • which
Burke showed a power both of facina-
ting and of moving such as very few
have attained.
Sir Gilbert Elliot, describing one of
Burkes speeches on the Warren
Hastings’ impeachment, says, “H i did
not, I believe, leave a dry eye in the
whole assembly.” Making every al-
lowence for the enthusiasm of a
French Royalist for the author of the
“Reflections on the French Revolu
tion,” the graphic description by the
Duke de Levis of one of Burke’s latest
speeches on the subject is sufficient to
show the magnetism of his eloquence,
even at the end of his career. He
made the whole House pass in an in
stant from the tenderest emotions of
feeling to bursts of laughter; never
was the electric powei of eloquence
more imperiously felt. This extra
ordinary man seemed to raise and
quell the passions of his auditors with
as much ease and as rapidly as a skill
ful musician passes irto 1 lie vrioua
modulations of his harpsicord. I have
witnessed many, too many, political
assemblages and striking scenes where
eloquence performed a noble part, but
the wboleof them appear insipid when
compared with this amazing effort.
a theatre the rise
would itself set ti
motion.
^vas only in
rom Amerl
[From Sei
n 1.
temperature
.machinery in
that the first
[crossed the A*
;>er 1, 1880, to
■mount of
fork ha*
Science of Perfumes.
By a process known as infleurage,
which is the exposure of beef fat to
fresh flowers in close boxes until it
is thoroughly permeated and charged
with their odors, the perfumes of six
flowers are obtained which could in
no other manner known to science be
preserved apart from the fresh petals.
Those flowers are violet, jasmin, tube
rose, rose, orange flower and cassic
(cinnamon flower). From those six
there are fifty or more combinations
made for the simulation of the odors
of other flowers. Sweet pea is made
with jasmin and orange flower ; hya
cinth is counterfeited by jasmin and
tuberose ; lily of the valley by violet
and tuberose. But the resources of
the perfumers are by no meaus con
fined to the pomades, as the scented
fats are termed. He uses many es
sential oils, the principal of which
are sandal wood, bergamot, lemon,
rosemary, neroli, (made from bitter
orange flowers), patchouli and ottar
roses. It is very difficult to get the
last named in a pure state, because its
great cost tempts to dishonest adul
teration. Very often rose geranium
oil is substituted for it. Musk is an
other important ingredient, entering
as it does, into almost all perfumes,
except those which are actually imi
tators of flower odors, or, as styled by
perfumers, “natural”—as, for iustance,
heliotrope, tuberose, white rose and
violet.
■ ■ ♦ •
To understand the world is wiser
than to condemn it. To study the
world is better than to shun it. To
use the world is nobler than to abuse
it. To make the world better, lovelier
and happier is the noblest work of
man or woman.
The Chinese written language oon-
■1st* of 100,000 characters.
Statistical.
The oleomargarine factories of New
York have a producing capacity of
116,000,000 pounds annually, while
the production of dairy butter in the
State is only 111,000,000 pounds.
Wool-growing and spinning in Rus
sia is almost universal, being as much,
if not more, of a home industry than
a factory business. Almost every
peasant keeps a few sheep, whose wool
seldom enters commerce, but is spun
and consumed at home.
The yield per acre on Australian
farms is as follows : The average of
wheat per acre is 14J bushels this year,
or one bushel less than the year before;
maize, 85 bushels, or one-third of a
bushel lesB; barley, 20 bushels, or 1J
bushels less; oats, 19 bushels, or 4
bushels less; potatoes, 2jj tons, as
against 3} tons last year, and hay $
ton.
The Government Surveyor of Ja
maica reports that there are at present
800,060 acres of timber-producing land
in the island; that out of this there
might be cut each year, without per
manent injury, 400 feet to the acre—
say 320,000,000—as an annual timber
supply; and that out of this large quan
tity only about 3,500,000 are actually
cut for building purposes every year.
At the sheep shearing at Miduie-
bury, Vi., the first week in April, four
teen rams, aged three years or over,
cut 377 pounds 12 ounces of wool, or a
small fraction less than 27 pounds
each; sixteen two-year-old rams cut
381 pounds 3 ounces, average, 23 15;
fitteen yearling rams cut 262 pounds 3
ounces, 17.7; fourteen two-year-old
ewes cut 242 pounds 2 ounces, average,
17.4; fifteen yearling ewes cut 199
pounds 12 ounces, average, 13 5 of wool
each. Among the sheep was a ewe
three years old, with a lamb by her
side, which was sheared the next day
after the exhibition, before witnesses,
yielding 21 pounds, 9 ounces ; carcass
weighing 65 pounds, a per cent, of 33 1
of wool to live weight—364 days
growth of wool.
A Kentucky cow, raised on the farm
of Erastus Ellsworth; of East Windsor
Hill, has a remarkable record. On
April 16th, 1877, she gave birth to
twins, one male and female; on March
16th, 1878, she gave birth to triplets,
two males and one female, making
five calves in eleven months and three
days ; on July 9th, 1879, she gave birth
to twins, both males; on October 7(.b
1880, slie gave birth to triplets, two
males and one female, making ten
calves in three years five months and
twenty-one days. The calves have al
been of good size, healthy and hand
some, and have all been raised on the
farm.
Personal and General.
Mine. Gerster and her husband, Dr.
Gardini, have sailed for Europe.
Ex-Vice President Wheeler has
offered to give $10,000 toward a new
Congregational Church in Malone,
N. Y.
During last year the number of per
sons killed by being run over or
knocked down by vehicles in the
streets of Paris was 103, besides whom
there were 1084 who in their injuries
required the aid of the police.
At Ems, the ex-Empress Eugenie
lives in great retirement, and avoids
all society as well as unnecessary ap
pearance in public. Bhe occupies the
rtsidence which was inhabited by
her in 1878, and which was often the
abode of the Princess Dolgorouki.
Florida papers say that the bronze
or rusty oranges are much the s weetest
and can be kept longer than the light
fruit, but they will not sell for half
the price of the fair fruit at the North.
It is said that this country is indebt
ed to Richard Storrs Willis more than
to any other person for the introduc
tion of college songs, he having taught
the Yale students the Latin song of
“Guadeamus,” which he had learned
in the German universities.
At Oroville, Cal.‘recently, Mr. J. G.
Vanmeter was moving a hive of bee3,
and it is supposed that a bee flew in
his throat, stinging him so that his
throat closed. He entered the house
uttering the word “bees,” and imme
diately went into convulsions, dying
in a short time.
A father and sou living in Water-
bury, Conn., joint owners of a sick
dog, determined, after Borne discussion
in the poor beast’s presence,to put him
out of his misery. “Have you a pis
tol with you?” asked the father; but
before the son had time to answer, the
dog staggered to hi* feet, limped out
of the barn as fast a* be could, and
disappeared.
Carving.
In carving fowls, as the legs are al
ways bent inwards and tucked into
the belly before it is put on the table,
the skewers by which they are se
cured ought to be removed. The
fowls should be laid on the carver’s
plate and the joints as they are cut off
placed on the dish. In taking off the
wing, the joint only must be divided
with the knife, for by lifting up the pin
ion of the wing with the fork, and then
drawing it towards the legs the mus
cles will seperate in a much better
form than you can effect by cutting
with a knife. Next place the knife
between the leg and body and cut to
the bone ; turn the leg back with the
fork and the joint will give way If the
fowl be young and well done; the
neck bones are taken off by putting ia
the knife and pressing It under the
long, hard part of the bone; then lift
the neck-bone and break it off from
the part that sticks to the breast. The
breast itself has now to be divided
from the body by cutting through the
tender ribs clcse to the breist quite
down to the tail; then lay the back
upwards, put the knife into the bone
half way from the neck to the rump,
and on raising it the lower end will
readily separate. The first thing to be
done is to turn the rump from you
and neatly to take off the t wo sides.
Each part should be neatly arranged
on the dish, or served out as desired
by the guests. A turkey should not
be divided until the breast is disposed
of. Begin cutting close to the breast
bone, scooping round, so as to leave
the mere pinions. Each slice should
carry with it a portion of the stuffing
or force meat, with which the craw Is
stuffed.
Partridges are carved like fowls,
but the breast and wing are not often
divided, the bird being small.
Pigeons may be cut in two, either
from one end to the other of the bird
or across. A goose or duck should be
cut with as many sliced from the
breast as possible, anj3 serve with a
portion of the dressing to each plate.
When the meat is all carved, and not
till then, cut off the joints; but, ob
serve the joints of water fowls are
wide spread and go further back than
those of land fowls.
A roast pig is generally slit down
the middle in the kitchen, and the
cook garnishes the dish with the jaws
and ears. Separate a shoulder from
the carcass on one side and then do
the same thing with the leg. Divide
the ribs, which are frequently consid
ered the most choice part, into two or
three helpings, presenting an ear or
jaw as far as they will go, and plenty
of sauce. Some persons prefer the leg
because not so rich or luscious as the
ribs. The neck end, between the
shoulders, is also sometimes preferred.
The joints may be divided into two
each, or pieces may be cut from them.
In carving beef, mutton, lamb and
veal, thin, smooth and neat slices are
desirable; cut across the grain, taking
care to pass the knife through to the
bone of the meat.
A ham may be carved in several
ways. First, by cutting long, delicate
slices, through the thick fat, in the
centre, down to the bone; or by run
ning the point of the knife in the cir- w
cle of the middle and cutting thii
circular slices, thus keeping the hi
moist, and last and most economically
by beginning at the knuckle and
ing upward.
A tongue should be carved as
as a wafer, its delicacy dependinj
great deal on this, and a well-
tongue will tempt the most fastidious.
A beef’s heart should also be out in
the same way.
Feminine Type-Setters.
Somebody writes of feminine y
setters: “As a class, female
are diligent and worthy. The!
‘sojer’; they never bother the]
for chewing tobacco; they ne^
around among the exehangl
Police Gazette; they never swt
the business manager; theyl
smoke nasty old clay pipe!
never strike for more pay ;
not allude to editorial mi
‘slush’ or ‘hog-wash’—in si
are patient, busy, consciei
ieliable.”—Ex.
Yesl we’ve experimented,!
last adopted the principle of j
type-setting, and heartily
the above.—Bristol limesj
The contribution plate
ln^i fashionable church is;
nickel plated.