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j OUR YOUNG FOLKS. GKANDFATUEB KNOW. BY CATERIN'K S. HALBERU. Grandfather Snow came down, one day, And what do you think? And what do you think? He’s as old as the hills, but bis heart is gay, And over the country he sped away. His hair was as white as a cotton ball; And what do you think? And what do you think? He gaily pranced over the highest wall, For his dear old legs weren’t stiff*at alL Wherever he went he raised a breeze; Aud what do you think* And what do you think? He climbed to the tops of the tallest trees, As cool and nimble as ever you please! A train went thundering over the ground, And what do you think? And what do you think? Old Grandther after it went with a bound — Sly old fellow! he made no sound. He caught the cars and he held on tight; And what do you think? Aud what do you think? The train had to stop in the road all night, And couldn’t go on till broad daylight! Old as he was, he stayed out late! And what do you think? And what do you think? He sat on the posts of the door-yard gate, And danced on the fence at a high old rate! But the children cheered for Grandfather still; And what do you think? And what do you thina? He spread himself out on the top of a hill, And they all coasted down ou his back with a will! He was none too old for a grand go-bang! And what do you think? And what do you think? T«» !h*» tops of Si,*, highest roofs he rprang, And down on the people he slid with a whang! He had no manners, ’tis sad to sayl And what do you think? And what do you think? For a chap like him to get in the way, And trip up people by night and day ? But his heart was white and pure within; Now what do you think? Now what do you think ? To be glad and iolly is never a sin, For a long-faeeo Granther I care not a pin. We none of us know what tee should do; Now what do you think? Now what do you think? If toe only came down for a month or two, And couldn’t stay here the whole year through. TIBS. BRIGG’S CLERK. He was a tall, thin, starred-looking boy, with a little jacket, the sleeves of which crept half way up his arms, anil a hat that was nothing but a brim; and when she first saw him he was eating a crust out of the gutter. She was only a poor old woman who kept a little shop for candy and trimmings; but as she said, he looked a little like what her Tom might, if he had grown up and been neglected, and she couldn’t stand it. She called to him; “Come here, sonny.” And the boy came. Before she could speak again, he said: “I didn’t do it. I ain’t so mean.” “Didn’t do what?” said the oid wo man. “Break your winder,” said the boy, nodding toward a shattered pane. “Why, I broke that myself with my shutter, last night,” said the old woman. “I’m not strong enough to lift 'em, that’s the fact. I’m getting old. ” “If I’m round when you shut up, I'll come and do it for you,” said the boy. “I’d just as soon. What was that you wanted me for ?” : f wrtnfeo 67 know \\iVi?you are thftt dry crust of bread out of the gutter for,” said she. “Hungry,” said he; ‘ ‘I've tried to get a job all day. I’m going to sleep in an area over there when it gets too dark for a policeman to see; and you eau’t have a good night’s sleep without some supper, even if it is dirty.” “I’ll give yon some that’s cleaner,” said the old woman. “That will be begging,” said he. “No,” said she, “you can sweep the shop and the pavement and put up the shutters for it ” “Very well,” said he. “Thankee, then. If I sweep up first I’ll feel better.” Accordingly she brought him out a broom, aud he did his woik well. After ward he ate his supper with a relish. That night he slept not in the area, but under the old woman’s counter. He had told her his story. His name was Dick; he was twelve years old, and his father, whom he had never seen, was in prison for life. The antecedents were not elevating; but tbs boy seemed good. The next morning the old woman engaged a clerk for her small establishment. The terms were simple—his “living and a bed un der the counter.” When the neighbors heard of it, they were shocked. A street boy—a boy no one knew! Did Mrs. Briggs really wish to be murdered in her bed? She had so much time now that she was going to take in sewing. Dick attended to the shop altogether. He kept it in fine or der, and had increased the business by introducing candies, dates, etc. Pennies came in as they never came in before, since he had painted signs in red and bine ink to the effect that the real old molasses candy was to be had there, and that this was the place for peanuts. Aud in the evening, after the shop was shut up, she began to take him into her confidence. Her great dream was to buy herself into a certain home for the aged. It would cost her a hundred dollars. She had saved three years, and had fifteen of it. But it cost so much to live, with tea twenty-five cents a quarter, and loaves so small, and she had been sick, and there was the doctor and Mrs. Jones’ Martha Jane to be paid for minding her and the shop. After this Dick took the greatest interest in the savings, aud the winter months increased them as though he had brought a blessing. One night in spring they took tlio bag from under the pillow, and counted what it held. 11 was thirty dollars. “And I’ll begin to make kites to-mor row, Mrs. Briggs, and.you’11 see the cus tom that it will bring.” “You are a clever boy yourself,” said the old woman, and pressed his hand. It was a plumper hand than it had been when it picked the crusts from the gut ter, and he wore clean, whole garments, though they were very course. “How wrong the' neighbors were,” she said. "That boy is the comfort of my life ” So she went to bed with the treasure under tier pillow and slept. Far on in the night she was awakened. The room was utterly dark—there was not a ray of light—but she heard a step on the floor. “Who is that?” she cried. There was no riiswct, but she felt that some one was leaning over her bed. Then a band clasped her throat and held her down, and dragged out the bag of money, aud she was released. Half suf focated, she for a moment found herself motionless and bewildered, conscious only of a draught of air from an open door, and some confused noises. Then she sprang to the door and hur ried into the shop. “Dick! Dick!” she cried. “Dick! Dick! help! wake up! I’m robbed!” But there was no answer, The door into the street was wide open, and by the moonlight that poured through it she saw, as she peered under the counter, that Dick’s bed was empty. The boy was gone. Gone! gone! Oh, that was worse to poor Granny Briggs than even the loss of the money; for she had trusted him, and he had deceived her. She had loved him and he had abused her love. The neighbors were right; she was a fool to trust a strange street-boy, and had been served rightly when he had robbed her. When the dawn broke, the wise neigh bors came into poor Granny’s shop to find her erviug and rocking to and fro; and they told her they had told her so, aud she ODly shook her head. The shop took care of itself that day. Life had lost its interest for her. Her “occupa tion was gone,” but not with her savings. Money was but money, after all. He bad come to be the only thing she loved, and Dick had robbed her. It was 10 o’clock. Granny sat moan ing by the empty hearth. Good-natured Mrs. Jones from upstairs was ‘ ‘seeing to things,” and trying to cheer her, when snddenJ(r there was a rap on the door, and a policeman looked in. “Mrs. Briggs,” he said. “Here she is,” said Mrs. Jones. “Some one wants to see you at head quarters,” said the policeman. “There’s a boy there and some money. ” “Dick!” cried Mrs. Briggs. “Ob, I can’t bear to look at him!” But Mrs. Jones had already tied on her bonnet and wrapped her in a shawl, and taken her on her arm. "The wretch!” she said. “I'm so glad he is caught. You’ll get your money back.” And she led Mrs. Briggs along—poor Mrs. Briggs, who cried all the way, and cared nothing for the money. And soon they were at their destination; then, and not before, the policemen turned to the two women. “He’s pretty bad,” he said. “They’ll take him to the hospital in an hour. I suppose you are prepared for that. He is nearly beaten to death, you know.” “Did you beat him, you cruel wretch?” said Mrs. Briggs. “I would not have hail that done for twice the money. Let him go with it, if it is any comfort to him. ” “I beat him!” said the man. “Why, if I hadn’t got up there when I did he’d have been dead. He held the bag of money tight, and the thief was pumeling him with a loaded stick; and the pluck he had for a little one—I tell you I never saw the like!” “ ‘You shan’t take Granny's money from her,’ says he, and fought like a lit tle tiger. If it's your money, old lady, he's given his life for it, for all I know.” Then poor old Mrs. Briggs clapped her hands and cried: “Oh, Dick! Dick! I knew you were good. I must have been crazy to doubt you,” and "then she wrung her hands and cried: “Oh, Dick! for just a paltry bit of money!” aud so she knelt beside the pale face upon the pillow, aud kissed it, and called it tender names. And Dick, never guessing her sus picions of him, whispered: “I was so fraid he’d get off with it if he killed me, Granny, and you in such high hopes last night, ” He did not know what she meant by begging him to forgive her. It would have fared ill with him if he had, for he was very near death. But Dick did not die. Ho got well at last, and came back to the little shop; and though Granny Briggs had her sav ings, she never went to the Old Ladies’ Home; for long before she died Dick was one of the most prosperous merchants in the city, and his handsome home was hers, and she was very happy in it. —Primitive Met. hodist. Mr. Lane’s Mistake. It is amusing how knock-kneed some people are in their hearing—never get anything exactly right. The other morning, up at the revival meeting, while urging the “almost persuaded” among his hearers to come forward and join the salvation army, Mr. Moody said: “Let any still doubting sinner among you come right up on the platform here, aud I will wrestle witli him.” In the fervency of his invocation, Mr. M. did not perceive a man climb up out of the audience and take off’ his coat with scientific calmness. The stranger was Mr. Homer Lane, the champion collar and elbow wrestler of the United States, and he had just caught the great rc-vivaUst a catcli-as-catch-can hiplock, and about flipping him over the me- lodeon when Mr. Sankey interfered and the matter was explained, Mr. Lane be ing much impressed by the jolly and amiable manner in wliicn his apologies were accepted by the great campaigners against the old original spine twister himself.—Derrick Dodd. Why He Wept. As an illustration of the ease with which the one step can be taken from the sublime to the ridiculous, the fol lowing anecdote of the great French caricaturist, “ Cham,” is good: Once they were talking before “Cham” of the effect of a powerful painting upon the mind, and some one said enthusias tically, “ The painter with his brush can bring tears to the eye as well as the poet with his lyre.” “That is indeed true,” replied M. ds Noe; “I was in Ary Scheffer’s studio yesterday and lie was showing me one of his pictures, and though I am not usu ally in the meliing mood, I fairly wept for ten minutes.” “Ah, I had heard that Scheffer was treating a very pathetic subject, and you found his wonderful brush 1 ’— “Oh, that isn't it—he stuck his won derful brush in my eye while gesticulat ing.” The highest mark of esteem a woman can give to a man is to ask his friend ship, and the most signal proof of her indifference is to offer him hers.—Gil bert. The Worship of Humanity! The “worship of humanity” has now in London a chapel, a priest, and a ritual. Its chapel is situated in a dingy street, and is a small room capable of contain ing a hundred persons. Its sole decora tions are engravings, busts, mottoes, and flowers; its pulpit a small desk above which is an engraving of the Dresden Madonna—mother and child having been Comtek highest type of humanity. Compto, the founder of the Positivist, oi Humanity School, redivided the year, into thirteen months which he named respectively Moses, Homer, Arisotlej Arcliimedes, Csesor, 8t. Paul, Oliarloj- magne, Dante, Gutenberg, Shakspeara Descartes, Frederick the Great, ana Bichat, representing ancient poetry, philosophy, science and government, Catholicism; and modem poetry,: philosophy, industry, science, govern] ment, etc. Busts of these persons adorn the room, together with engravings o| Osesar, Archimedes, Scipio, Plato, Aristoj tie, Pythagoras, Virgil, Homer, Com fucius, Paul, St. Bernard, Aquinas, Mohammed, Charlemagne, Shakspeare, Dante, Milton, Louis XI., Columbus, Hume, Bacon, Moliere, Mozart, Sid many other worthies. There are now about sixty worshiper^ in London belonging to the religion of Humanity, but even that number is an increase; for some years ago Profess® Jewett, visiting them, said he found there “three persons and no God.” TIB ‘ ‘Festival of Holy Women” was celebralM ou the day when Mr. Conway, who writes an interesting letter about it, was present, and the discourse of the Priest, Dr. Congreve, a scholarly, white-haired man, pertained to eminent and holy women of the past—St. Monica, Beatrice, Heloisc, Joan of Arc, and others. He read George Eliot’s famous Positivist hymn, “O, Might I Join the Choir In visible,” and lessons from the “Imita tion of Christ,” by Thomas a Kempis, a volume which, after her death, was found by George Eliot’s side. Prayers are offered to the “Great Power whom we here acknowledge as the Highest Humanity.” There is also a ritual, with prayers, and a benediction as follows; “The Faith of Humanity, The Hope of Humanity, The Love of Humanity, bring you comfort, and teach you sympathy, give you peace in yourselves and peace with others, now and forever, Amen.” Dr. Congreve, the priest, has distin guished himself for his sympathies in behalf of all the popular movements, and his opposition to slavery aud all oppres sion; of the French under Napoleon III.; the wars of England against Afghans, Zulus, Boers, and other weak and help less people; and has just delivered and published a forcible discourse in favor of granting Irish independence. Many, if not most, of the disciples of Comte’s philosophy, like John Stuart Mill, George Henry Lewes, George Eliot, John Morley, editor of the Fort nightly Jteview, have never approved of the religious or ritualistic phase of Positivism, and whatever progress it has made has been a mental and inwardlh- fluence upon the thought of the tine, and not the buildiufj up of a sect, or even a congregation, Concerning Bedrooms. A" physician was called to presci^) for a young lady who lives in one of the most charming villas in Leamedville. “Nothing the matter with her,” she declared, “nothing but terrible head aches.” Every morning she waked with a headache and it lasted nearly half the day. It had been going on for months —ever since they moved into their new house. The doctor tried all the old remedies and they all failed. Biding and archery were faithfully tested, study and practice were cheerfully given up. Nothing did any good. “ Will you let me see your bedroom?” asked the doctor one day, and he was shown up into the prettiest little nest imaginable. Nothing wrong about the ventilation. The windows were high and broad, and were left open every night, the patient said. The bed stood in one comer against the wall. “How do you sleep?” said the doc tor. ‘ ‘ On my right side, at the back of the bed, with my face to the wall. Lou likes the front best. ” “The dickens she does!” says the doctor, “ So do I. Will you do me the favor to wheel that bed into the middle of the room and sleep so for a week ? Then let me know about the headache.” Doctors are so absurd? The middle of the room, indeed ! And there were the windows on one side, and the two doors on the two other Bides, and the mantel with its Macrame lambrequin ou the fourth side. There was no place for the bed but just where it stood, in the corner. “Never mind ! Sacrifice your lam brequin,” urged the doctor—“just fora week you know. ” The lambrequin was sacrificed, the bed moved where it had free air on With sides, and the headaches disappeared It may be only an exceptionally del icate systor-'. that would bo induced to actual headache by breathing all night the reflected air from a wall. Yet pos sibly some of the morning dullness we know of may be traceable to a like cause. At any rate, plenty of breathing space around a bed can only be an advantage to everybody. Two Women Wedded. The Boston Herald prints the follow ing strange story from a correspondent at Dover, N. H., and it is given for what it is worth. The writer vouches for its truthfulness: Ten years ago two persons were united in marriage by a Congregational clergyman of this State. The ceremony was performed in a small town not many miles from this city. They lived together as husband and wife for more than nine years, having resided in several different places, a part of the time in this place. A few months ago the wife petitioned for a divorce on the ground that her husband was a woman. On examination it was found to be as she had said. That she dressed in female apparel when she first became acquainted with her, but told her Rlie was a man. It was proved that she was the divorced wife of a merchant of New York, and had one chi'id. SCRAPS OF SCIENCE. TAat lightning does so little damage in large cities is said to be explained by the fact that the many telegraph and other wires, and large quantify of iron in use in building, ere., dissipates the electrio fluid as it approaches the earth. Anatomy is one of the oldest sciences. Ever since man was man has man been studying man. Hippocrates, who lived 460 before Christ, was famous for his knowledge of anatomy, though he was densely ignorant compared to the learn ing of Aristotle and some later students. A remarkable instance of devotion to science is furnished in the case of an English physician in Pernambuco, who caused himself to be bitten by a rattle snake, with a view of discovering a rem edy against its bite. He, fortunately, recovered, to give his fellow-men the benefits of his experience. The rains of a once magnificent bath ing establishment have been recently discovered by Professor Giuseppe Novi, not far from Herculaneum. They are covered with a layer of ashes and lava of ten meters in thickness. What has been brought to light up to the present is said to eclipse all previous discoveries of a similar nature both in Herculaneum and Pompeii. The fountains and tanks of these “Terme” are made of Oriental granite and adorned with sculptures. The floors are of colored glass mosaic; unfortunately it is but badly preserved. TVva ■vralis varisycis VaMwrgs sit elegantly ornamented with paintings and stucco-work. The excavations are to be continued. At Zurich, Switzerland, where the Siemens crematory furnace has been in troduced, there is a distinct stipulation that the ashes of the dead must remain in separate urns at the crematory fur nace for twenty years. At the end oi that time the nearest of kin to the de ceased may take the urn to his dwelling, and if this is not done the ashes are in terred. Before a body is burned every precaution is taken by the authorities to ascertain that no crime has been com mitted. Other furnaces of the same type are in use at Breslau, Dresden, and Gotha. Indeed, throughout Germany the prejudice against disposing of a dead body by burning is rapidly disap pearing. The furnace named will consume a body in an hour and a half without causing any odor or sound. It costs about 85,000. The weight of the ashes varies from three and one quarter to seven pounds. The fan is of very ancient origin. Tracing its history, the Journal D'Hygiene states that the papyrus was one of the first plants used in making fans. In ancient Greece the first fans were made of branches of myrtle, acacia, and plane-tree. It was not until the fifth century, B. G., that the peacock was known ’ in Greece, and from this epoch dates the use among Grecian ladies of the peacock’s tail as a new and elegant kind of fan. As the fan-maker’s art extended, the use of feathers alone became discarded, as they were found too pliable, and the idea was conceived of placing between each pair of feathers a thin strip of wood. Fans are often mentioned in Latin authors. Plautus refers to the flahclifferrce. o$■ female slaves, who carried parasols and fans to shade and drive away the flies from their mistresses. Fans of peacock’s feathers remained in fashion through the middle ages np to the seventeenth century, not only in Italy, but in England and France. Fans of ostrich feathers came into favor gradually, excluding those of peacock feathers, and such fans appear in Titian’p. pictures. Leaves of palm trees, reeds, anil odoriferous woods are among the substances of which fans are now made in foreign countries. An act by which we make one friend and one enemy is a losing game, because revenge is a much stronger principle than gratitude. An American Authoress to Marry an . English Lord. The Home correspondent of the Phil adelphia Bulletin writes: Before all other matters I must mention a piece of news which will be interesting to voui readers. Amongst the American society of Home at present there is a young American lady of twenty-five years of age whose name is Miss Fletcher. It is no sin to write her name in full, because Miss Fletcher is somewhat of a public character, having written a book which has met with success and insured for its authoress an honorable place in present literature. She had, therefore, a pleas ant and productive career before her. I say had, because it has pleased an Eng lish nobleman, Lord Wentworth, to in terrupt that career and to offer, instead of a laurel crown, a more substantial one in theshapeof acountess’ coronet, which Miss Fletcher has wisely accepted, to gether with the heart and hand of the noble lord. So little Miss Fletcher, as she was called last winter, becomes next month an English peeress, and those who care for rank and titles well know that an English peeress, in the aristocracy of Europe, ranks above an Italian princess, or a German baroness, or a French duch ess. Here is, then, our little Miss Fletcher at the head, not only of Roman society but of European society in gen eral. “And she isn’t a bit pretty!” ex claim the envious. “No. But she is a bright, sparkling girl—and that is bet ter,” say the gentlemen. Afterall, they are the best judges of the good points ill the fair sex. I can state, however, that Miss Fletcher, if not quite as beautiful as most American women (who came over here to astonish our eyes), has lovely golden hair, and this alone would be a great charm, even if she had no other. The marriage will be celebrated at the British Embassy. Good luck to her. The value of Erie Canal tonnage last year was $300,000,000. The wheat acre age of the West, which principally made this business, was more than two and a half million acres more than in 1879, and a like increase of acreage ,is expected this year. Although the paid tolls on the canal of $113,000 a year were abol ished, the toll receipts have leaped up nearly $300,000. The cost of keeping ap the canal is $900,000, and the revenues last year were $1,200,- 000, making a surplus of over $300,- 000. Before the State of New York discriminated in favor of the canals their business had run down to 700,000 tons in twelve months; and since that liberalizing of rates, the canals do 2,000,000 tons more business, and there has been a consequent lowering of tolls on the railroads. Works of Art Free ! WITH AS PER TERMS BELOW. HWplj 9fn$n’s (|rcflt paintings — OF — HOMEWARD, (Or, “The Curfew,”) AND FARM-YARD, (at Sunset.) THESE COMPANION PICTURES 1IAVK BEEN Stein-copied in Black and Two Tints in a high grade of that Art. The very artistic tinting has produced the most perfect and pleasing twilight and sunset effects. SIZE OF SHEET, 22 x 28 INCHES; PRINTED AND TINTED SURFACE, 17 1-2 x 21 1*2 INCHES. Published at $2.00 each | $4.00 per Pair. In successful combination of Rural Scenery with happy Farm Life, and exalted poetic sentiment, they have never been excelled by the brush of American Art. These miniature wood cuts but faintly suggest the beauty and merit of the large copies. The Curfew Tolls the Knell of Parting Day. Gray’s Elegy. t: g 1 i opjngbl lfc74, by Joeeph John. ^ 1 B’i vnilUfeil iiSlilfl ilfsliflf £■* £ ^ i’sj! a I ssSall is£ 22* |S?«3 i o 1 o c 5 '1 h *" £ 1 T 2 £ * g & 2 o a -a S a a s 5 S “ d £ .£ fc j» ^ •* The curfew toll* the knell of parting (lay, I The ploughman nomewarutiuumi«. »«.,;’ " “rf The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the It-a i I And leaves the world to darkness and to ine. “Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight.” * Give Me the Joys of a Peaceful Country Home. t 1571, by JoMph John. “ Give me the joys of a peaceful country home. 1 }X^ rre h hc From the City’s fevered brain afar remote, ! W hero Summer reddens, aud So grandly c-owned with sickle and golden sluat. 5 ® n ® ? ¥ ^ ° § a u . g « 13 „ S $s•2s t . O ec S - *■ -ri .t 3 g *§ * U 52 * >* ississ is miii a*|f111! » g cs’sjb Ilia!Sfia a £ S|“g gS i 2 -c .2 -* 5 - ° s; 1 f * -3 _ f 1 £ *3 -cf hi iim ! 11 slll-li 1 & J . V Jfg ‘ £ i 5 l --S i a rural life e’er flow, beams the rich Autumn OxE OF THE ABOVE PICTURES FREE t> each of our Subscribsra ai follows: Kir<t,—To all present subtcriber* who pay ail ar- re rage* an 1 one yedr’.* subscription ($2) in aivmce. SECOND.— To all New Subscribers w o pay one year's sutucription in advance. Third.—A pictu'e free to every one for e?e*v four new yearly ca h Subscribers obtained. Also one to every such Subscriber, ALL who receive one as a prmieu-n should possess the other, as they are cjmpau- ion pieces. F :r such other picture ; wanted, and for presents to friends, remit fifty cents add tional for each opy and possess a piir of charming works, that you will ever highly priz}. N. B. Those who have recently pai l their subscription can remit on« dollar and recive the match pictures by m lib Olher th m subscribers must pay the Publisher's stans dard price, $4 per pair. P)sta<e in all ewes prepaid by us, and the pictures warranted afely through, and satisfaction guaranteed, Address D. B. CL A. YTON, Editor 6a THE NEW VICTOR. SIMPLICITY SIMPLIFIED! Improvements September, 1878. Notwithstanding the YICTOB hoc long been tha peer of any Sewing Machine in the maiket—a fact supported by a host of volunteer witnesses—we now confidently claim for it greater simplicity, a wonderful reduction of friction ana a raro combination of desirable qualities. Its shut tle is a beautiful specimen of mechanism, and takes rank with the highest achievement* ■of inventive genius. Note.—Wedonotleaso ! or consign Machines, therefore, have no old ones to patch np and re-vamish for our customers. We Sell New Machines Every Time; Send for Illustrated Circular and prices. Liberal terms to the trade. Don’t buy until you have seen the < Most Elegant, Simple and Easy’ Running Machine in^the] Market.—The Ever Reliable VICTOR. VICTOR SEWING MACHINE COMPANY,-— Western Branch Office, 235 State St., Chicago, III. MIDDLETOWN, CONS*. “CLiSt *2 fattened MMUriurutt Sim* Saar, * PAa.../fear, fawm. of PXd • £ \ “ Jfutm yfdCeX- <£p Gfc. f“7* y