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After his experience with them dur ing his “ V<>j age of tlu* Beagle,” Dar win pronounctd tie Patagonians to be a race degraded below possibility of improvement. But tliirty years later, on learning of the changes wrought by English missionaries there, he frankly admitted liis mistake, and be came a corstr butor to the funds of the South American Missionary Society. Congressman Carpo’s curious cog nomen had, it is said, the following origin: In early puritan times a French bark was wrecked on the Cape Cod coast, and all on hoard were lost save one little boy. Him the sturdy colonists rescued, and dubbed, because of bis red hair and French origin, Bufur- Crapaud. And from that little waif the present member from the 1st Massachusetts distric 1 is in the seventh generation of duect descent. Yokoot) Khan, ex-ameer of Afghan istan, has been indulging in a glorious fit of sulks. IIi refused to receive anything from the Brit ! sh Indian government, and began selling his jewels and spare clothes to meet house hold expenses; and all because the gov ernment, which has paid so dearly for his weakness and cowardice, in addi tion to splendid summer and winter residences, furniture, horses, carriages, elephants, etc., would only allow him a pension of $2,225 per month, when he modestly demanded $11 125. Alphome C*rr said : “You can prove nothing to women. They believe only with their hearts or their imagina tions.” Alphonse had evidently been tryi g to make his wife believe that the billiard chalk on his coat was the whitewash fiotn ihe office wall. Some say bread and butter is the dress of this world, love and kindness its trimming. We’llbet twenty 1 ouuds the man who wrote that isn't married. Any married man knows that the trimmings cost four times as much as the dress. Adversity borrows its sharpest sting from our impatience. A Miracle of Honesty. At a party one evening several con tested the honor of having done the most extraordinary thing ; a reverend gentleman was appointed judge of their respective pretentions. One pro duced bis tailor’s bill with a receipt attached to it. “The palm is his,” was the general cry, when a second put in his claim. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I cannot boast of that, but I have just returned to the owners three lead pencils and two umbrellas that were left at my hou«p.” “I’ll hear no more,” cried the as tonished arbitrator. “This is the very acme of honesty. It u an act of virtue which I have never knew any one capable. The prize ” “Hold!” cried another, “I have done more than that.” “Impossible,” cried the whole company. “Let us hear.” “I have been taking my county paper for twenty years, and always paid for,it in advauce.” He took the prize. A Fable of the Period. A treasurer once went to one of his bondsmen and said, while the tears stood in his eyes : “You have always been a good friend to me, and I have not stolen a cent. What will my neighbor. 1 think? The bondsman replied: ‘‘This is a serious case, but perhaps if you run away with somebody’s wife between now and next week, your reputation as an officeholder may be brightened up a little.” In a few days there was a great scandal in the papers, and people said : “This man is not eo bad as we pre sumed. Of course he failed to steal any ot our money, but he has broken up a family, which is better than nothing. In time he may make a good < ffloeholder.” Song of Solomon. A member ot a fashionable congre gation called at a music, store and in quired, “Have you the notes of a a piece c. 1!* d the ‘Seng of Solomon ?’ ” adding, “Our pastor referred to it yesterday as an exquisite gem, and my wife would like .to learn to play it.” ' Early Rising. It is now announced on authority of an “eminent j hysician” that it is un- “Look not, long on the f of the dead; Leave the Past In the Past,” they said. “Dili some grave lor the old despair; Bury It tar out of sight and sound; The years bring nothing but sorrow and care— Bury the last ere the n' xt. comes round, Or the burden will grow to great to hear. * I said not yen, and I said not ? ay, But I wept when they carried the corpse away. I flung to the wind the flowers that were dead; I covered their places with new-turned mold; I watched and watered Ihe empty bed Thro’ the dark anu the dearth and the biting cold— But, lo! no others came up Instead. t looked the door on the unused stair; I broke In pieces the vacant chair; I looked not back as the days went by; [ let ihe grass grow over the Fast. I could not smile, and I w ould not sigh— I thought that I should forget at last: I would not believe that 1 wished to die. Till, behold! one day I awoke to And That the whole of my life was left behind, That I walked alone In a world of air, A world of all sound and speech bereft, The Past may hold but a song of despair, 3ut take it away,and there's nothing left, Only the silence everywhere. wandered back to the desolate place; I looked ac a in on the dear dead face. I counted the sorrows the years had sown; I kissed them and gatLered them into my heart; And l ielttliey weremlne, my all, my own, That [ and ms Past could never part, Flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone. MAY PKOBYN. Behind The Scenes. I will tell you of an incident that happened in New Orleans many years ago. It possesses to me now, as I think of it, all the vivid interest it had then. It was among the first cases intrusted to Mr. I—and myself and we devoted to It an unwearying patience and assiduity that fitted us for their exercise many a time after ward. It was in mid-winter that the ciucumstance I allude to occurred. The theatrical season was at its height. The St. Charles was nightly thronged with the beauty and fashion of the city. A new star had appeared on its boards. Her beauty, grace and ac complishments were the topic of every club room. Her name was Adele Larondu. Very young—scarcely twenty—and very beautiful was this young girl, around whom a web of mystery was woven that seemed to defy human ingenuity to unravel. I say she was beautiful; but that word does not convey an adequate idea of her exceeding grace of mind and per son. Petite in form, the sltnder fig ure was exquisite in symmetry. A wealth of bright, golden hair shaded a face rosy with health and brilliant, with genius. The clear, hazel eyes flashed with intelligence, and the delicate curve of the exquisitely chis- eleel lips expressed hatred, or scorn, or intensified emotion. Night after night the theater was filled with her admirers. Passion in every phase—the very well springs and impulses of our nature—seemed to find in her an interpreter that never erred. Her analysis of character was perfect; it was true to nature and there fore perfect. The night of which I speak had witnessed her greatest triumph. She seemed iuspiied and the feelings of her audience appeared absolutely undir her control, as if she wielded the wand, of an enchantr .-s. The curtain fell on the lost act ot the tragedy, and the audience dispersed. Some mes meric powtr held me on the spot, and I lingered around the entrance of the theater. An hour must pave past by and the last of the company crept out of the narrow aisles leading to the stage, and sought their homes. Stnl the actress lingered; her carriage at the door—the driver impatient. Suddenly from behind the scenes came ^scream so piercing, that it cut to the heart like a dagger. In a moment more I dashed open the door and rushed into the theater. Close at my back Mr. I , the driver, and the porter of the establishment. The light of the greenroom was still burning. The large mirror that hung from the wall reflected from the opposite sofa the tinsel and mock jewelry of a queen. I noticed this as I dashed open the narrow door that led to the dressing room assigned the actress. It was empty. I called her by name. We searched everywhere in tire tmildiug, but all in vain. The actress had disappeared. The screams that had so startled us were not re peated. There was no avenue of es cape ; still she was gone. Mr. I visited her apartments at the hotel. She was not there. The lit in the theater and our search was resumed. Shp was not to be found. Her friends were visited ; the most transient acquaintances cal lei on, with a Ike result. Each hour, instead or reveal’ng the mystery, only deepened it. In the light of the morning, we continued the search. A single object was discovered which could possibly afford a clew to the mis ng girl. Ou the floor of the dressing room was a diamond ear-ring. It looked as if it had been torn from its place. It was not such a one as was worn by the actress. It estab lishea beyond question the presence of another person in her room, and that person a female. This was all. The mysterious interview and its termina tion were shrouded in a veil of dark- ne»s our ingenuity could not pene trate. What was to be done ? We knew she was a native of France, brought here lu childhood. Her relatives had died, her friends knew nothing save that she was an orphan. Genius had aided her rise, industry ha l pecured her fame. The architect of her fortunes, she had climbed alone the steep whose ascent is devious and hard to sur mount. One day I stood leaning negligently on the counter of a fashionable jeweler. I loved to gaze upon the brilliant gems that strewed the case. My attention was absorbed iu viewing them, and I did not notice the entrance of a lady —her foreign accent in addressing tbe jeweler caused me to turn around. She held an ear-ring in her hand, and was inquiring the cos-t of one, if made to match it. The first glance I had of it made blood leap like fire in my veins It was the counterpart of the one found in the theater. You may imagine I do not lose sight of that woman. I knew that I had struck on the right clew. I traced her home. The panther never stole on his victim more silently than I on the footsteps of the dark- brown stranger. I scarcely knew how to get back to the office. I seemed to have triumphed over space and time. More like a maniac than a detective, I rushed up to Mr.I and imparted my intelli gence. He was not less excited than I. We both felt an interest in the beauti ful girl an strong as it she had been a sister. But we knew that our steps must be wary and our movements secret as the grave. We had no com mon criminal to deal with. If not the arch fiend himself, we knew she was almost as cunning. The myster ious abduction of tbe actress disclosed a quickness and sagacity at once in genious and profound. The same spirit we did not doubt we should have to encounter again. It was not, there fore, with a feeling of success th^t we prepared to enter the residence to which I had traced the foreign lady. It was not as officer# of the law usually go that W’c went on the occa sion. We employed rather the subtle cunning and perlect Bbill of a man brought up lo the business. For once his nefarious art helped him to do a noble deed. A life of crime was whitened by a single virtue. Before the skill of this man the door sprung back on its hiDges and we stooA within the portals where the issues of this strange mystery were to be de cided. Silently we ascended the steps. A gas flame flung a mellow light along the stately corridor. At the further end of the hall a door opened into a lurge apartment. We moved toward this and as w r e approached it sounds of weeping struck on our ears, and then v e beard a voice of supplication. Sor rowful and sad the strange sweet voi e floated out on the air. It was like the wail of a broken heart, that cry of one in distress. “Oh, God! is there no help ?” It thrilled to my heart. Even in that pitiful cadence I knew those well- remembered tones. Burdened with anguish, I knew them well. In another instant the door Sew open before our impetuous weight, and there, in the gloom of a luxurious room, her young limbs fettered and a single garment kliroudlng the wasted form, was the young actress. We were not a moment too soon for the next instant, furious as a demon, the dark-browed woman entered the room. It took a moment to secure her and ilien the u ystery was solved. She was the aunt of the actress. Her niece was lieireas to a fortune in France; she removed, her own child would inherit the wealth. It must be done secretly and silently, so tha^no clew could be found. She had secreted herself in the passageway of the theater, and taking advantage of a momentary delay, had secured her victim. In the struggle an ear-ring was torn cff. A powerful narcotic, suddenly applied, drowned her senses and stoppi d resistance. Sue w r ns be hind the drop curtain as we rushed in. L aving while we were yet in the green room, she made her escape ulong the aisle Uiat led to the street. This was the end. It made a sensa tion at the time, but it was au un written history of crime in New Orleans about thirty years ago. Domestic Economy. Strawberry Sid rt Cake.—Make a rich cius-t with baking powder, fl-ur and shortening, roll out rather thick and bake; split with a sharp kuike Into two parts, butter them well, mash ripe berries with sugar and cream, and place between the two crusts, eat warm. The sugar and berries make the juice needed. Strawberry Short Cake Lay ers.—Make a crust, with one half more shortening than for biscuit, roll out onet-hird of tbe crust, lay it iu a bake tin, spread bulter over tbe top, do tbe same with the other thirds of crust, except not buttering the top of the last one; lay one on top of the other, bake in a quick oven ; when baked the parts will separate easily; mix berries with plenty of sugar and some cream and place between the layers, and send to the table warm. Stuffed Veal—Take four or six pounds of the breast of veal, have the butcher make a pocket for the dress ing of soaked bread crumbs and a spoonful of sw’eet milk marjoram, bound with two <ggs, prepare in the baking pan a bed ef carrot mim ed till it is fine as meal, with two middle size chopped onions, salt, and a half cup of water. Lay the stuffed veal on these vegetable# and bske slowly for an hour and a half, then dredge with flour, pepper and salt the meat, and strew finely chopped suet and a little ground maijoram over it. Vt&l ia a delicate, dry meat, and needs some such basting, and leave it to bake half an hour longer. Serve the meat on a bed of the vegetables in a hot platter, straining out the juice for rich brown gravy. Cream Puffs.—Into half a pint of cold water stir until smooth one and a half cupfuls of flour, turn the same into a spider with a small cup of but ter, cook and stir all the time until well done; when cooled, add four beaten eggs, beat well and drop tbe dough in small round balls on a tin, eo that they will not touch one another, and base them; they will then probably be hollo balls; cool them on a paper soon as pos ible, so they will notsweat. For tilling, take half a pint of milk, two beaten eggs, half a cup of flour or corn starch, rub smooth and add a cup of sugar, cook in a tin pail set in a kettle of hot water, stir wtll ; when cool, flavor with extract of lemon and vanilla; open the puffs with a sharp knife and insert the custard. Itemical. Dr. Peters, of Utica, now asserts that Wells’s comet isn’t much of a comet after all. At Bath, Me., a firm now has con tracts for building nineteen ships, eleven of which are on the stocks. A London paper says American tools, cheaper and better than those of English make, are now sold in that city. Chicago,'like New York, is liable to become so enthusiastic over the new German prima donna that it Matcrna head. The astronomers tell us that the great spot on the sun awhile ago is again in sight, circular, and of enor mous extent. The death is announced in England of J. N. Darby, founder of tbe com munity or stet known as “The Ply mouth Brethren.” A convicted horse-thief gave a New Haven lawyer a sail-boat for defend ing him, and it now proves that the boa: was stolen. Three nice African snakes have been received at a New York museum, one of which is twenty-live feet long. The snaky trio eat a calf a day. May 0 David Walker completed the thirtieth year of his service as drivor of a 31 avenue car in New York, having been absent but eighteen days in all that time. The observing New York Dlupatch notes that many beautiful ladies when walking out seem angry if they are gazed at, but are Hftdiy disappointed if they ai e not. ealtby to rise before eight, o'clock in lornlng. Thisappllesonly tomen. it is said, can rls as .early as Rules for Spoil.ng ClMdren. Try to forget as much as possible that you were young your-elf. When they amuse themselves tor- turiug animals, look on and laugh. Always tell them to hit back when annoyed by neighboring children. Tell them all the lies you like, and half kill them if they tell you 01 e. When they tell you they won’t do a thing, laugh at them and let it go. When they fall and hurt theuselves *cold them for their a vkwtrdness. Dress them in style that they will 1 e afraid to play for fear of spoiling their clothes. Make religion «uch a long-faced, poky thing, that tli Q y’ll hate the name of it as long as th y live. Don’t give them anytl iug to read but bible stories, Sabbath-school books and dime novels. D >11 t give them the habit of kissing them good-night; if you happen to die they’d be awfully lonely without it. Tell Ihem it is a sin to be dishonest, butiftbty bring you back too much change from the grocer’s, keep it an' tell them to say nothing about it. Let them sleep until you have start ed to work iu the morning, and have them put to bed before you get home at night, to avoid becoming too inf* mately acquainted with tbern. Threatened to tell their father am get them punished for every blesset thing they do,so that by degrees they'll come to the conclusion that a father some sort ot a whipping machine. Tell them it is a sin to laugh or play on Sunday, and make the day as dull and stupid as possible for them. Then when they grow up and goto Congress they will be apt to pass a bill doing away with the observance of the day altogether. If you happen to be in a grufFmood, and feel a little palm trying to nestle In yours, or a little arm trying to twine itself around your neck, give a growl to be let alone. The offense won’t be repeated. Womanly Economy. There is much talk of the extrava gance of a woman, and there is no doubt that when a woman puts her hand to the spending of money she cin do it with a perfect looseness. Women are naturally extremists, and do whatever they think with all their might. But to this question of spending money there are two sides, and the balance decidedly inclines to ward saving rather than spending. Wom*n are naturally economists. They have twice the skill ofsaving that men have. Thiuk of the “ayjkt clothes made to look amaist as well as new,” think of the old bonnets re trimmed and brought out iu the latest style ; thiuk of the twisting^md turn ing, the contriving and saving to which many a woman resorts to keep her family looking respectable, while her husband never thinks of stinting himself in cigars or liquor. Many a man is kept from pauperism by the contiiviugs of his wife; many a fam ily owes the comfortable house they inhabit more to ttie economy of the mother than the savings of the fatfeer. Before men talk of the extravagauce of a woman, they should strive to learn a lesson from their economy. - • How to Train a Child Mentally. Children think much more deeply than we imagine: we should there fore answer the^r questions to the best of our ability, unless evidently asked in a spirit of frivolity, and try to ex plain to them reasons for things they see occurring around them, aud for tbe acts you yourself perform. But gain their confidence in every way in your power. A mother should be more of a mother than a teacher, or rather she ought to be both combined. You like to see your boy clever, doubt less, but do not make a show child of him. Do not even let him know you think him clever, aud discourage all pertn#ss In conversation, for this too often borders on impertinence. Never permit him to contradict you. If he contradicts liis mother may he not, when old enough to go out, be guilty at table of very great rudeness ? At the same time, mother should never de erve contradiction. When., you have o.ica ion to repiove, beware of doing so angrily. It is far better to speak gontly and make the child fsel ashamed of himself, because shame breeds sorrow and contrition, an'', this in its turn, the <bsire to behaJ ur better in the time to come.