Decatur Democrat, Volume 26, Number 29, Decatur, Adams County, 20 October 1882 — Page 4

A BRILLIANT SPEECH. ( Address of Henry Watterson to the Toledo Democrats. A Scathing Arraignment of the Republican Party. Fellow-Citizens of Toledo: The present situation of public affairs in the United States is something more than anomalous. It is in the highest degree whimsical and picturesque. I should insult your intelligence and discredit my own if I should perpetrate the conceit of attempting to overreach your credulity with the pretense that there is a crisia There is no crisis. Dangers there are. indeed, as always; for amid the prevail ng incertitude and indifference the abs nee of organized conviction indicates a rank, unwholesome growth, which, while giving a show’ of current prosperity, is calculated to deceive the short-sighted, superficial observer. Our body politic, however, is not going to the dogs. It has at least escaped the dogs of war. Our national unity is stronger than ever it was. Among the peop'e there are no longer any irrepressible conflicts. Peace pervades the States and the sections which compose our Federal fabric. The war is over, ana the issues that begat it are settled irrevocably and forever. 8 a very is no more thought of or regretted in the South than in the North, and secession ra ses a snii e even in its very haunts. The frictions and collisions growing out of the war have passed into history. Our Government has survived the deluge. Unshaken and untarnished, our constitutional system has enened from an era of ■dachiewcsnatiheory, which, beginning with false notions of reconstruction to end with illusory notions of finance, for a long time threatened it All the while the people have got on somehow, in spite of their demagogues. And now, with Gen. Butler as the Democratic standard-bearer in Massachusetts and Gen. Chalmers as the Repub, ican standard bearer in Mississippi, surely the country is safe; it is more than safe, because what those great warriors and statesmen lack of making it so we may confidently look to see supplied bv Gen. Mahone. THE TIME-SERVING POIJTIUIANS. I congratulate you, fellow-citizens, upon this consummation so devoutly to be wished and shall not mar it by any forebodings that do not spring from the most ordinary suggestions of a prudent sagacitv. I rejoice in being able to feel and to say that we are fel-low-citizens; that we have a rich, prosperous and common country, and that, come what may, the future of the Republic is full of a splendid promise. But we have not reached the millennium; not even here in Ohio, albeit the home of the Truly Good. We possess a great property, and to the wise and just and fruitful administration of this belong certain obligations and duties. It is these which bring us together on this occasion. There used to be two parties in the country. To-day it is a question requiring the nicest casuistry, a field-map and an eveglass to determine whether we have one big party divided into a dozen factions, or a dozen little parties, all professing much the same thing, and each wrestling with the other, To get f>ome on ’em offis, An some on ’em votes. We have nard-money Democrats and sortmoney Republicans. We have free-trade Republicans and high-tariff Democrats. Fortunfitel** however we have onpst.io.a on which there is no disagreement at all. Everybody, from Jay Hubbell to Jay Gould, including the fusionists of Maine and the stiaightout stalwarts of South Carolina, is for civil-service reform, so that whoever is tormented with an apprehens on that there is a crisis anywhere has only to array himself under the banners of the two Georges, Senator George H. Pendleton and Editor George William Curt s, to find surcease for his sorrow and a remedy for every ill It is true the Senator calls himself a Democrat, and the editor has sometimes been mistaken for a Republican. But what does that matter? In our nolitios as in our decorat.ve arc. the li y and the sunflower may be made to pool tneir issues without affront to the laws of a true esthetic taste or outrage to the understanding of a well-ordered political conscience. All of which, fellow citizens, means that the people are foot-loose and fancy free —that the country is passing through a period of transition,* and that, for anything tl.atany party proposes in its organized capacity to do or not to do. differing e«<‘entially from what everybody or nobody proposes, it is a matter of practical indifference which is preferred. We hear a deal of loose talk about intentions. We hear some hot talk about antecedents. But, at this moment, the difference between the two political organizations, which are labeled respectively Democratic and Republican, may be summed up in the single word—tendencies; for neither, as a party, has the hardihood or the honesty to step out from the shadow of yesterday into the sunshine of to-day, to lay down spe< ificallv a series of public men.* ore < relating directly to the public business, to elevate these into par tv laws, to compel obedience to them, and, Inspired by common interests and cheered by a sense of duty, and dignified and emboldened by the courage of conviction, to say to the world, “Here we stand or fall.” If this be so, you will naturally ask me why I am a Democrat and why I do not favor the organization of a new party. The reason is not far afield in either case. lam a Democrat because I was bom a Democrat and have not yet despaired of bringing the old party back to where it wa< when I came into the world lam not in favor of organizing a new party, because parties do not grow on b’ackberry bushes, and, perhaps, because the Democratic party, though like the shepherdess in the play, an “ill-favored th ng.” is “mine own.” But, the di-contented Republican may say, why should you ask me to quit the Republican party and join you. when you admit that the one party is as unsat sfactory as the other? 1 don’t. I say that ihe two great parties are dillydallying with the public and shillyshally ng with the people I say that neither is wholly true to it- - convictions; but when I exam ne the bins of each, and consider the possib Ltlesof the one and the other -taking them inst as they are—my mind cannot escar e two conclusions: First, that the Republican party I eing in power and reiving on mechanical agenc es to keep there, is incapable of reforming itself and wil go on with one exped'cn' after another, from bad to worse, until its re ection may cost the country a revolution; and. second, that there is good hope of reviving in the Democrats heart the simple, free-born sp r t of its founders and of applying th s to the practical uses of our political life. THE DEVIL OF PARTY SPIRIT. I am afraid of t o long a domination of any party. I saw how that was and what it means un ier conditions favoring my partisan prejudices and predilections I saw a noble party, like a noble ship, iull-riggel and carrying the ensign of the republic, sail out upon the broad, oper waters of American politics. The mission of th s party was human freedom and national development. it was tne cieren ‘er or tn** const! ution. It was the fr en i of the Union It wa< the enemy of close corporations cla 4 s legislation, patrician sm, nli<.ar higm and sumptuary lav. It was fnr honest irocey, hone ru’e and tree trade. J' the p rty for progress and nat ona l honor It repre eat.-d the aspirations and need- of the people. It grew and grew and grow in popularity and t ower. At last it elected it n t onal ticket by the votes of all the States except four, and r tu*ned to power alter a brief interval upon pledges which constituted the issue of the campaign which t bad won by such an am zng m ijorit . I saw this great party disr gar ; those pledges, yet still r*’.ain its power. I saw it. maddenei by the arrogance of success, aban lon its honest principles. 1 saw it ter w over th<- doctrines of Jeff* rson and the precepts of Jack«on. I saw it I ecome the organ of oligarchic m, the advocate of slavery, the promoter of aw« ak, costly, sr end id an I corrupt Government And finally, I saw it so powerful that it was able to make ito exit from power—which h-id only been brought about by division in its own ranks—the signal for the greatest and most useless war of modern times. I saw all this. I was a vlet mto it; for I loved the Union and hated slavery, and yet. wi:h thousands of other young men of the t me, I was borne clown m the vortex and made—not by Democratic princ pies or tr iditions. but by irresistible conditions created by the devil of party spirit—to raise a sacrilegious hand against th ? flag and the hon »r of my country. Thank God. I am here te-night to confess it, and thank God I can say. with a full heart, •tancting on a sou which. when Virginia gave it to the she stipulated should i e forever free, that it is mine again no less than you? s, and that though you, who have never parted from it, may prize it, I, who know what it is to be an exile and an alien my own land, love it, and would ** it with my life. TO YOUNG REPUBLICANS. - Republicans of the pres**te that befell the They were ’"''nublicar *ves

though a generous and good emotion—there came to it an opportunity, which the eminent and astute men who led ir, were not slow to see and s ize. The folly of the Democratic party laid the found turn as it has since made the fortune es the Republican party The repeal of the Missouri compromlse, anticipating the guns which opened upon Sunit r, eave the cue to the Repu >- lican chiefs The Democratic party had. m a manner laid aside the garments of Jeffer‘““nd Jackson. The Republican leaders picked them up. put them on and not in vain, to the people to vindicate the mine pies of liberty and Union which they IvmboHzed. There were Lincoln and heward and Chase and Sumner sr ‘ < e v ® r< T:*\' ! “?|. host of able and true men. Why, the Rcpu'>lican platform of 1860 contains as good Jeffersonian doctrine as may be tound, ailda few verbal alterations, might be adopted bv Democrats as a protest against the pro--1 ceedlngs of the Republicans during ihe whole period of reconstruction. But. pardon me, I do not mean to go into ancient history. REPUBLICAN SHORTCOMINOS. In the rep irt of a speech delivered the other evening by Senator John Sherman, for whom, let me say, I have very great respect, I find the following passage, which, as I can well remember the Senator's first appearance in the national Capitol as a Representative in Congress, is to me not without a touch of pathos. Senator Sherman said: “I am already getting old and my hair is turning gray’. Im: mv attachment to the Republican party is all the stronger, and It Is so because I believe that party is the bulwark of our country's liberties and progress. It' I could believe that the Democratic party was fitted to be intrusted with the power of this great nation, I would not be here making speeches to you. I am here because I believe the Democratic party cannot manage this country of ours. ” I have no doubt the Senator is sincere. He declared a little while ago that, m his opinion, anything was justifiable to keep the Democrats out of power. This is precisely the spirit which brought on the war between the States. It is the spirit which sees nothing wrong within, everything wrong without, the party lines. Yet there is scarcely a criticism which I might pass upon the present administration with which Senator Sherman would not concur. Does he indorse the alliance with Mahone in Virginia? Does he indorse the alliance with C halmers in Mississippi. Do he indorse the course of the President m forcing his Secretary of the Treasury upon the Republicans of New York? Upon iwo leading measures at least in the last Congress he voted aga'nst the administration, and he is everywhere saying: “I will stand by and defend the River and Harbor bill which the I*resident vetoed. Now. fellowcitizens, I am not growing old and my hair is not turning gray, but I will love no party better than I love my country, honor, justice and truth. I have seen the Republican par. v violate its obligations to each of those c .rdlnal virtues, and because it dkl so I have seen one after another of it l * fathers and founders leave it. Seward, Chase, Blair, Sumner, Greeley, all died outride the party fold Fessenden and Trumbull were on the eve of quitting it when the one went to his grave and the other went into retirement. Ju*t as the Democratic party did before it, the Republican party nas been do ng the last feM' years. The work appointed to do it did thoroughly. It gave freedom to the slave It united the people in defense of the Union. Somebody had to save the national credit, and, being in power and having the fiscal responsibility of tne , Government on its hands, by a sort of God’s | mercy, it did not take the wrong shoot, though many of its foremost leaders, nota- I bly Senator Sherman and the late Senator Morton, started out originally as wrong as theDemocra's whom they afterward denounced. And what has it been doing since? Disregard ng all its traditions, it has been conspiring and respiring to keep itself in power. By a stretch of State rights, which would made the gho-t of John C. Calhoun open its eyes, it has counted and refused to count Electoral votes. Professing to be the sole guardian of the national honor, it has leagued itself with repudiationists, and became a vehicle of repudiation iu the States. Up to a very recent date Mr. Jay A Hubbell was its one* official civil-service reformer, and a likely specimen he was, I do admit But, as if jealous of Mr. Hubbell's name and fame, the Republican President of the United States—although as Vice President he had won some civil-service laurels at Albany and elsewhere—resolved to submit his claims to a competitive examination. With the treasury at his heels he appeared, in the person of Judge Foiger, at Saratoga where, by the aid of Gould’s mil’ions, and the opportune and undetected interposition of forgery and fraud, he was able to secure the last and greatest triumph of civil-service reform, the defeat of a Governor who had made himself obnoxious to corporations, and the nomination of a Governor d ctated by the administration. These are rough words, fellow-cit-izens, but they are true ones, and thev expose the Republican tendency, which, if it be not checked, will ultimate! v wreck our admirable system of checks and balances. THE REPUBLICAN TENDENCY. That tendency is undoubtedly the consolidation of interests designed exclusively for the many in the hands of the few; the concentration at Washing? on of powers hitherto divided among th” States, and the elevation of the Stock Exchange into a department of the Government I do not mean that there is any present purpose to create a new place in the Cabinet for Mr. Gould or Mr. Vanderbilt under the tit e of Secretary of the Loaves and Fishes and Keeper of the President’s Pocketbook. In politics, as in private business, there may be such a thing as a silent partnership, which, as we have just seen in New York, can be relied on to work with effect. But Ido not mean to say that the policy of the Republican party has steadily courted the money power; that it is shaped to produce aggregations of vast wealth, and that it looks for its perpetuation to the union it has achieved between the politicians and the capitalists. There are two railways :rom Washington to New York which are known to the public. But there is a third which has not yet appeared on any of the maps or in any of the guidebooks, although it is the most important of all. It is a narrow-gauge air-line, connecting the White House with Wall street This is not a mere figure or speech. Just consider for a moment what monev can do, and how much money the policy of the Republican party has enabled corporations and indiv duals to’ amass. Forty years ago the most florid imagination among the writers of extravagant romance, racking its invention for a fab.e of untoward riches, put the entire fortune of the bpada family, co lected through generations, concealed for ages, and finally unearthed by the Count of Monte Cristo, at 1C0.000,000 francs—>2o,ooo,ooo. With this sum that redoubtable hero work* d miracles, almost a social revolution in France. Later, another French novelist, of what the critics call the realistic school, j roduced a colossal millionaire, whom he christened the Nabao. Still, he did not venture to put the figures beyond the limit set by his illustrious predecessor. One hundred millions of francs—twenty millions of dol ars! Why, there are fifty men in and about New York worth more than that, who don’t consider themselves very well-to-do either, and are work ng, toiling, slaving, suffering day and night to earn a competency for themselves, cheered by the single hope that, whatever happens to them, they may in the end be able to leave something behind to keep the wolf from the door of the widow and the orphans. If he were living now the Count of Monte Cristo would be a beggar beside Jay Gould, who has 000,000 francs; so much money, indeed, that, not satisfied with his millions, he must carry the redress of his private wrongs into the public business of the country, and make accomplices of Chief Magistrates and Secretaries of the Treasury in the punishment of recalcitrant Governors. I instance th s case merely byway of illustration. Mr. Gould may be within himself harmless enough. His recent operation may be merely an epi v o<lr. It may have been necessary to protect himself. But we have seen how a great capitalist, joining forces with a weak President, may stifle the voice of the people and direct the deßtinies of a party in the Empire State of the Union. What might not be accomplished by a g eat capitalist having the ambition and the genius of Julius Ciesar? THE RECORD OF CLASS LEGISLATION. From 2to 1882 th ? whole p wer of the Republican party has been l>ent to the creat on and multiplication of great capitalists. It b gan its career of robbing the poor to enru h the rich with a war tariff it has never modified < r reduced, and one of its last acts was to and pick a commission to trot ab'mt the country at the people’s expense, making ma*er.aJ*< and arrangements lor the continuation of -his mastei piece of in n«tice, oppression ai d rapine. It has driven our flag from the high s as in order that a few d. meat c ship-builders may plunder what little comm- rc-« we have est, and grow fat» ff the r coun ry’s honor. Tue raTroad monarchs have lad only to tickle it w th a bar of ron to m .ke it Jan h a harv< s of land-grants. All ihewhle it ba< ch’;ck*d th” workingman und rlhe chin, whis; end pwe-'t words to him about the pauper classes of Europe, g ven him >1.50 a day w« ges. wh m it- didn’t suit it to cl< se shop, and charged him >2.50 for a suit c-f woo tn< worth >l. And t i', we are told, is protect ing “cur infant industr.e .” THE NEW SLA VEST. Ido not mean to enter upon a long and wearisome discussion of the tariff. There is one among you(Fiank Hurd) who has brought its wanton hypocrisv and* its vicious features to your familar knowledge more pointedly and more luminous y thin lean hope to do. lam area king the ra’her cf collective forces, as they apply in their and relations to the business and * men. and of political tendencies *'*‘ir rise and impetus in party

fortunes, but It has by its subserviency to the power of money, its truckling to corporations, and its disregard of the simple precepts on which its fathers . founded it, done not a little to enervate American manhood and break down the , spirit of tralernitv amonjr tin; people. It bus quite forgotten the homely win-lorn ot the couplet, once quoted so forcibly anil bo ap positelv by Mr. Seward,when B]ieaking of the degTadkig influences and oligarchic character of slavery, he sa -1, with a solemnity that gave a prophetic reach to the lines: in tares tne lan-1 to nast nlng ill- a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay. African slavery has gone. The overseer with his lash has'gone. But th-’ Republican party is setting up a new slavery. It is | slowlv but surelv transferring the seat ot | power from the people to the politicians and the capitalists, and preparing the way for a [ great commercial empire and moneyed aris- [ toeraev, and a race of Medician Princes masquerading as Presidents of the I nited States. ; We hove already had a President who was , beaten bv a quarter of a million votes. Why may we hot have, under the inspiration of money, and by the operation of mechanical I agencies, a succession of Presidents representing the ruling principle of our political - lifcl It a habit of the apostles ot the neslavery, who have a design In all they say and do, to belittle the office of President, as if it were a mere figurehead Yet in his letter of acceptance. Just issued, every line and word of which we may be assured were deliberated ami have their meaning and pur pose. Judge Folger, the President's Secretary of the Treasury and nominee for Governor of New York, says: “ It would be my aim. if elected, to be the representative of the whole partv, subservient only to my duty to the Chief Magistrate of the whole people," a somewhat confused confession of faith, but sufficiently intelligible to disclose two things —first, the purely partisan spirit of Republican candidates tor office: and, second, the real Republican estimate of the overshadowing power of the President of the United States. THE NEED OF A CHANGE. Fellow-citizens, is it not time to try the | virtue of a change in the political complexion of the Government? Senator Sherman says that none but Republicans are fit to govern the country. It used to be a maxim in business that when an employe got to thinking himself imdispensable that was a good time to discharge him; for that man mighv die. This ought to lie equally sound doctrine in politics, though in whai I have said of dangerous possibilities you will bear in mind ti nt I have been speaking solely of Republican tendencies. I do not believe they will be realized, because I believe the people will recognize the menace in time to arrest the | danger. But to come down to current, every day affairs, could we, as a matter of tact, do much worse than Rol-eson and Keifer? Unless, indeed, we should stumble upon Charley Foster for President an 1 Mahone for Secretary of the Treasury—certainly not. | At anv rate you will agree with me that [ there ought to lie a change in the political complexion ot the next national House of Ri-pre eutatives, and if secured it will do for a beginning. tiisabetta Siranl. Among the followers of Guido Reni this young woman, who died when bul twenty-five years old, is conspicuous for her talents and interesting on account of the story of her life. She was the daughter of a reputable artist, an<i was born at Bologna about 1649. Sh< was certainly very industrious, sinc< one of her biographers names one hun dred and fifty pictures and etching! I made by her, and all these must havi been done within a period of about ter years. Much has been said of the ease anc rapidity with which she worked; on- I anecdote relates that on an occasiot when it happened that the Duchess o. Brunswick, the Duchess of Mirandola and Duke Cosimo de’ Medici, with oth er persons, all met at her studio, sh< astonished and delighted them by th< ease and skill with which she sketched and shaded drawings of the subjects which one after another named to her The story of her life, aside from hei art. gives an undying interest to he: name, and insures her remembrance foi all time. In person she was beautiful and the sweetness of her character am manner won for her the love of all thoss who were associated with her. She was also a charming singer, and was evei ready to give pleasure to her friends Her admiring biographers also com mend her taste in dress, which was ven simple; and they even go so far as t< praise her for her moderation in eating She was well skilled in all domestic matters, and would rise at daybreak tr perform her lowly household duties never allowing her art io displace thhomely occupations which properly, as she thought, made a part of her life. Elisabetta Sirani’s name has conn down through two hundred and seven teen years as one whose “devoted Alia, j affection, feminine grace, and art les: benignity of manner added a luster tr her great talents, and completed a per sonality which her friends regarded as an ideal of perfection.” The sudden death of this artist ha. added a tragic element to her story The cause of it has never been known but the theory that she die-1 from poi son, lias been very generally accepted i Several reasons for this crime have been given : one is, that she was sacri ficed to the jealousy of other artists, as Domenichino had -seen; another belief was that a princely lover, whom she had treated with scorn, had taken hei life because she had dared to place herself, in her lowly station, above his rank and power. A servant girl named Lucia Tolonielli, who had been long in the service oi the Sirani family, was suspected and tried for this crime. She was sentenced to banishment; but, after a time, Elisabetta's father requested that Lucia should be allowed to return, as he had no reason for believing her guilty. And so the mystery of the cause of her death has never been solved: but its effect upon the whole city of Bologna, where it occurred, is an exact matter of history. The entire people felt a personal loss in her death, and the day of her burial was one of general mourning. The ceremonies of her funeral were attended with great pomp, and she was buried beside her master, Guido Reni, in the chapel of Our Lady of the Rosary, in the magnificent Church of the Dominicans. Poets and orators vied with one another in sounding her praises, and n l-ook published soon after her death. ' called “DPennello Lagrimato,” is a colI lection of orations, sonnets, odes, anagrams, and epitaphs in l>oth Latin and Italian, all telling of the love for her which filled the city, and describing the charms and virtues of this gifted artist. Her portrait is in the Ercolani Gallery at Bologna.— “ Stories of Art and Artists," by Mrs. Clement, in St. NichoI LAS. Caliroriiin Reilwooil. A quality of California redwood is its ready absorjition of water when heated, which for a time makes it almost fireproof. The quickness vith which fires are extinguished in San Francisco has often been remarked, and the celerity with which blazing buildings are often ransformed into charred remnants i greatly facilitated by the entire lack oresinous elements in the redwood lum- : tier. Resin, familiarly known as ' “pitch.” is not only inflammable, but is insoluble in water and will burn while . being drenched with the element, with which it will not mix. At a recent fire in that city the advantage of redwood over other lumber in the construction I of buildings became apparent. The i moment water struck the side of the building or roof timbers it not only quenched the flames, but the wood absorbed water like a sponge would and i it became incombustible. Hundbeds of thousands of men die annually from strong drink.— Kansas | I‘rohibitionist. We never undertake j to cri icise any other editor, but we do not believe that any man can die annually. Annually means every year, and no man cm die every year for any great length of time, unless lie has a great deal of practice and experience at the —Taras Siftings.

Some New York Interiors. Perhaps one of the first conspicu- | ously artistic interiors in New York was that of the house of Dr. W. A. Hammond in West Fifty-fourth street. After giving his walls time to settle, he began a series of internal decorations, which i it will be difficult for artists to surpass for some time to come. His diningroom is hung with a frieze copied from the Baveux tapestry-patient Matilda’s chronicle of the stirring times of William of Normandy. The ceiling is painted in the early Saxon ornamenta-tion-ribbon winding through a conventionalized pattern. The room is decorated with the choicest specimens of uorcelain and china, and the win- i dows are of stained glass. The portieres 1 are of Algerian stuffs, heavy and handsome. The dining-room is a large room, thirty-six by sixteen feet; the walls are hu ig with deep crimson maroon leather | stamped in gold, with figures of chim- I erical animals of medieval design; the ceiling, Renaissance of the fifteenth century. Opening out of this room is an Egyptian retreat, with the lotus, the scarabiens, and the procession of slaves, huntsmen, and animals (in the strange but expressive drawing with which Brugsch’s book has made us familiar). It would be in vain to describe the hawk-headed goddess, the dog-faced deities of Egypt, the inscrutable eye of the high-priest as he presides over the fire-place. This room is devoted to consultations on the mysterious diseases of the brain, and is fitly dedicated to that Egyptian intellect which saw so clearly behind the veil, and read as no other people have read the enigma of life. The house of Edward N. Dickerson. but lately finished, is one of the triumphs of both a new and admirable I system of ventilation, and of internal decoration of a high order. The staircase roaches np through four stories, is of solid unvarnished mahogany, with panelling of the same at the side. This is a sujierb feature of the modern house. The frequent landings, the broad low stairs, all are improvements on the old-fashioned narrow, ugly stairwav of the immediate past. Mr. Dickerson has much beautiful stained glass; his drawing-room windows are made to repeat the delicate scarlet and dove- : color of the pajier and window curtains, while in a bedroom swallows fly through apple-blossoms, and are in more im- | perishable form represented in the glass window. Here also we see that nothing is more effective than stamped leather for din-ing-room walls, and carved buffets with painting on leather, let in after the fashion of tiles, ably supplement this finish. Mr. Dickerson has a famous window in his dining-room, which is outlined by a fine bit of Japanese earvI ing. This piece has given the key-note ! to the room, which has also a ceiling of painted plaques, very harmonious, curious, and ornamental. Brass sconces of cinque-cento and Henri Deux add much brilliancy to these darkly ornamented rooms. A laradoir in ebonized cherry, with tile fire-place, the tiles painted ; with bright flowers, and much ornament al brass-work about, is extremely prettv, as is the whole of this artistic dwelling. In some of the fine interiors we see deep crimson hangings and carpets, with dead gold and bronze paper, , chandeliers of silver and brass, and fire- ! place of burnished steel. This introduction of steel is one of the most lieaui tifnl of the modern improvements. In others we see, as we enter. Algerine striped portieres and rugs of Persia or Turkey, the furniture made in forms suggestive of lounging, and covered with Eastern stulls. The sideboard has a severe simplicity, however. The lines are straight and formal, the outline definite. No shallow curves, no feeble-minded ornamentation. Perhaps shells cut out of hard wood, with some good brass-work to use for handies, key. and hinges. The richest brocaded Chinese silks, with the heavily carved teak-wood furniture of our Oriental brethren, fitly furnish forth the rooms where the pottery is collected. The Moorish vases, the Egyptian water bottles, Japanese cups. Thuringian porcelain, crackle-ware, cloisonne. Spanish faience. Palissy, Etruscan. Kioto, Dresden. Russian, biscuit, Nankin, majolica, and Hungarian porcelain can not be better lodged than in the Chinese room. It is a fitting tribute to China, which has given its name to every species of pottery. It is, however, now a reigning fancy to have rare plaques hung on the walls of every room.—M. j E. W. Sherwood, in Harper’s Magatine. The Gold-Seeker. The Dantziger Zeitung relates a •urious anecdote of the superstition .vhich prevails among the peat-cutters if Littau. In the great peat fields at .Viederung, where boggy places extend n long lines, the Will-o'-the-Wisp, or Irrlichter (wandering light), as it is ■ailed in Germany, is often seen. The gaseous miasma in this district gives he uncanny light a remarkable briliancy. It is the fervid belief of the Littauer, in spite of the schoolmasters, hat wherever the wandering fire is rindled, there the devil is busy smeltng the gold which he pays to those luman lieings who sell themselves t > aim. If any person will lay a pair of ilipjiers. with their soles upward, upon ihe spot where the light is kindled, the power of the devil over the gold is immediately broken; he is compelled to eave it, the light is extinguished, and the fortunate owner of the slipper can it once dig for the gold, and when he : finds it, appropriate it to his own use .vithout sin and without danger. A few lays ago, according to a Dantzig paper, i Littauer peasant samed Eigenkartbner i saw one of the errant lights, or, as he ■vould have expressed it, caught the devil it work in one of his own peat bogs. He seized a pair of slippers, rushed out of , lis house ami followed ihe light. The fight moved further and further, and the >easant, forgetting everything else in lis determination to spoil Satan of h s ?old, hurried onward and onward until ;ie stuck in a deep boggy slough and ! vas drowned. Early the next morning lis lifeless corpse was dragged out of :he sludge. It was only discovered by | ;he accident that his cap was floating ipon the surface.— London Globe. Perpetual lee and Snow. The Hon. G. W. Stapleton returned yesterday from a business trip to Glendale, and while there was told of a lake which a hunter had seen near the head waters of Wise river, aboW eighty miles south of Butte. It is situated liigh np in the mountains and surrounded bv steep crags, and the water is froze solid, , notwithstanding the remarkably warm weather in this section. The hunter is ■ convinced that it never tliawi, and. states that in the center of this great J body of ice is an avalanche of snow piled up to a great height, which has evidently slid down from the crags surrounding the lake, It is described as a beautiful spot, scenery grand, and the whole country alive with game. A glorious place, no doubt, for a summer I excursion. Fashionable Babies. Next to dogs (says a Saratoga correspondent! in importance comes the babies and their maids. These are a decided feature on the porches of the great hotels. Some of the nurse-maids have on their white caps, two long streamers of gay striped sash ribbon, reaching nearly to the ground behind: i others wjl] have a square of diaphapous

veiling pinned over their nurse caps from the front. In one way or another the maid’s attire must minister to the whim or the pomp of the mistress. One particular girl-baby of the States, rejoicing in the name of Catalina, is carried about on a pillow resting in her nurse’s arms, the pillow and the baby s dress being stiff with costly embroidery on a sheer white ground-work, displayed one day over a pink foundation, another day over a bine or lavender, and the maid’s dress will be chintz or gingham of exactly the same shade. Thus baby, pillow, and nurse form a symphony in blue, or pink, or purple, as the ease mav l»e. This is called the “prize baby” of the States, and the Union has one nearly as fine. I don t know just why I am' sorry for such pampered babies, but I am.' Said Emerson: “When I think how lam sparing my boy all that made me—the barefooted chambers and the stern denials of poverty— I know I inn making a mistake; but, he added, after a pause, “I can not hepl it.” Koooea. Conspicuous among the heroes of the English novels of fifty years ago, is the good-looking, gentlemanly highway- i man. His method of robbing was so polite, and so gracefully emphasized bv the motion of his white, handsome hand, that fine ladies responded without apparent fear to the courteous request. “Mav I trouble your ladyship for that elegant timepiece at your girdle?” That the characters of these rascals were not overdrawn may l»e seen from the following anecdote related by Mrs. Frances Anne Kembel. She says: My mother had a slight personal acquaintance with some of the very last 'of these genteel Tyburn rascals. She ' lived, before her 'marriage, in a small j country house beyond Finchley, to [ which my father and other young men of her acquaintance used to resort for an afternoon's sport of pigeon-shooting. On one of these occasions some one !of her habitual guests brought with i him a friend, who was presented to my I mother, and joined in the exercise of skill. He was like a gentlemen in his appoarance and manners, with no special pe Mliarity but remarkably white and handsome hands, and extraordinary I dexterity in pigeon-shooting. Captain Clayton was this man’s name, and his visit, never repeated to my mother’s house, was rememlx'red as rather an agreeable event. Soon after this several outrages were committed on the high-road which passed through Finchley. Moody, the celebrated comic actor, was stopped one evening as he was driving into town, by a horseman, who addressing him politely by name, demanded his watch and purse, which Moody surrendered. Having done so, he was obliged to request his “very genteel” thief to give him money enough to pay his turnpike on his way into town. Whereupon the “gentleman of the road” returned him half-a-crown, and bad him a polite “good-evening." Some time after this, news was brought into Covent Garden, at rehearsal one morning, that a man arrested for highway robbery was at the Bow Street Police-office, immediately opposite the theatre. Several of the actors ran across the street, and among others Mr. Moody and Mr. Camp. The latter immediately recognized my mother’s white-handed, gentlemanlike pigeon-shooter; and Moody his obliging MacHeatb, of the Finchley common highway. “Halloa! my fine fellow,” said the actor to the thief, “is that you? Well, perhaps as you are here, you won’t object to return me my watch, for which I have a particular value, and which won’t be of any great use to you, now, I suppose." “Lord love ye, Mr. Moody,” replied the highwayman, with a pleasant smile, “I thought you were coming to pay me the half-crown I lent you.” Fortunately such fellows were hung, as thev deserved to be. Telegraphic Secrets. In Mr. Plum’s interesting work on the military telegraph as used in the late rebellion are many interesting stories. Tapping the wires to steal the secrets of the enemy, as well as to send misleading dispatches, was a frequent performance on both sides, but the results of this kind of enterprise do not seem to have been often very large, the military commanders being too cautious. The success of Stoneman’s raid into West Virginia, however, in September, 1862, is attributed to the information which that general’s operator obtained while holding a confederate telegraph office. Mr. Plum tells a droll story of a raw colonel, who set a guard over the operator at Smithland, on the Cumlierland river, to prevent his “talking” by the wire, not aware that while apparently sending an unauthorized message the man could “talk” as much as he pleased with any office on that line and the guard would not know it. A superior officer at Paducah, informed of the state of affairs, was about to order the telegrapher's release, but General Sherman interfered, declaring the precaution a proper one. Presently Sherman, anxious to know if a division under General Nelson had passed up the river, went to the Paducah office and the following conversation was opened with Smithland: “Has the steamer Tarascon passed yet?” “I’m under arrest and can’t answer yon.” “General Sherman wants to know.” “I don’t care if it’s Halleck himself. I’m under arrest and can’t talk about such things.” “Sherman asks. Do you know?" “Os course I know.” “Sherman wants to know if General i Nelson has passed up?” “Tell Sherman to send a message, then.” “Do yon know ?” “Certainly I do.” “How far is the Colonel's headquarj ters?” “A mile and a half.” i Here General Sherman interrupted the dialogue by asking the Paducah man : “What kind of a fellow is that ; operator?” “He seems to be good at I obeying orders,” was the answer. Sherman revoked the order of arrest and got the information he wanted. Miss Anthony a Philanthropist. A St. Louis paper states that as Miss I Susan B. Anthony was leaving that citv recently, on her way to Leavenworth, | with two medium-sizixl trunks, the bag- | gage-master objected to check them , both on a single ticket, and dem Hided : pay for extra weight. “But.” said she, ; "th e . v together weigh less than the or-ainary-sized ‘Saratoga.* I distribute ■ i the weight in this way purposely to | save the man who doas the lifting.’’ ■ The clerk looked at her incredulously. ' " A nt l J OO me seriously that you do I this simply out of consideration for the baggagemen?" “I do.” “How long have you done it?” “All mv life I never purchased a large trunk for fear I might add to the overburdened bag- . gagemau's afflictions.” The clerk walked off and <x>nferred with the bead of the department. Then the two returned together. “Do I understand,” said the chief, “that you. of all women, have been the first to show humanity toward railroad people?” “That is tenet of my creed. “Check that baggage, ” said tne chief, with emphasis, “and when you run for office, Miss Anthony, von snail have my vote.”

OUR LITTLE FOLKS. A Hunting Morning. Halil the cook to the tsrmer's wife, "Ma’am, t* YOU please. . . __a»v The mice have been nibbling the new Rkim-raliK It only this morning I’ve found what they re And I’ve wasted a whole hour in calling the cat." J'u»t then came the dairy-maid, giving a scream, "The cat’s in the dairy dhpen-dng the cream. I-h >oe<i her, and oca*ted her, Misßuy, but laws. She scared me to death just a-showing her caws!" "Never mind," said the wife, "she’s a famous good mouser, We’ll eoon have her out of the dairy—call TowSo thev whistled until they could whistleno , more. But no sign of Towzer appeared at the door. Then a farm-hand ran in like a fury let loose, ShuU’iniL "Towzer’s made off with the very i>est "oo.se!* ; Said the farmer’s wife grimly, “I’ll shorten his j »y!" Just cut a good stick, and then find me that boy.” For the hoy they all shouted, and hunted around, But, strangely enough, he was not to be fonnt., Ti 1 th- dairy-maid, going the dairy to close, Was struck by a pear on her sensitive nose. The farmer's wife, grasping the newly-cut stick, To the |. ar tree adjourned ala brisk doublequick, And the bov. wakened up to the state ot affairs. Set off to catch Towzer—he'd had enough tears. After vainly pretending the goose was a rat, Towzer all of a sudden rememljered the cat, So. hiding the goose in a well-sheltered place, He scented the cat out and gayly gave chase. The cat's sense ot duty awokein a trice; She persuaded herself she was hunting for mice. And the mice, though they would not admit that they stole, Found th-y had an engagement, and whisked to their hole. So no one was caught, yon suppose, after all? The eat was not caught—she went over the wall. The dog was not caught, and he barked for pure joy. But a striking example was made of the boy. I Perhaps von will ask, is this story or song? Whichever you call it. you'll not be far wrong. But If you've a mind to sing it, you'll see it will go very nicely to “Bonnie Dundee." —Margaret Vandegrift, in Youth's Companion. — Kadishvllle. “What is it, Charley —what are you digging for now ? Is it mice ?” “Mice! Wnd he go for mice wid a rake? An’ it’s not mice, begorra,” said j Pat McCue. “No, it isn’t mice; but, if you boys want some fun, you can climb over and take hold.” “We’re coming. I’ll call Grip. What < on earth is it, Charley?” “No, sir! I don’t want Grip. Not this time. I don’t care to have any : small dogs in mv town.” “Your town?" Hal Pinner had reached the top rail of the garden fence, and he paused for a moment to look down on the puzzle. “Town!” echoed Pat McCue. “I'd like to know what wnd a town be wid | no dogs?” Charley Brayton had not stopped i work for an instant. He was plying a long-handled garden rake upon a patch of soft earth near the fence, and his vonnger brother stood in the path, a few feet away, watching him very seri- } ou-ly. “Well, I’ll tell you, boys, it’s just this way. My Uncle Frank is visiting at j onr house. He lives away out West. None of onr folks have seen him before for years and years. I didn’t know him at first. They had to tell me who he ! was. “Well, you see, boys, Uncle Frank's been building a new town, and they let me sit up till 11 o’clock last night, hear- ■ ing him tell all abont it—” “Elivin o’clock,” muttered Pat. “And it was all a bare prairie when he began. Not a house, nor fence, nor i so much as a field of corn on it—” “That’s it,” said Pat; “it’s aisy to do anything at all, as there’s nothing at all in the wav.” “And Uncle Frank went at it, and now it’s a young city, with two railroads and a river, and all sorts of things, and the people that live there buy town-lots if him and pay him rent for their houses, and buy sugar and coffee and things at his store, and he has a big . farm outside.” “Bui what's all that got to do wid ; your rakin' for mice in the garden toi u y ? ”. i “Mice?” said Charley. “This bed ivas full of radishes till they got ripe, riien we pulled 'em up and' ate them. Uncle Frank says they have radishes j three times as large out West. And I isked father if I might have the bed for z town." Hal Pinner was on the ground now, md both he and Pat McCue began to tee the fun in Charley Brayton's “quare loshin." The rake had nearly done its parr in ihe work of making that town, and the latch of earth, alsmt six feet wide by :wice as many long, was as smooth and ievel as a table. A hoe, a shovel, a lot of half-bricks Mid a pile of shingles were lying in the j oath, and little Bub Brayton was doing , bis best on a building of his own with I Kime of the bricks. “That’s our prairie,” said Charley. 'We’ll want a river next.” “What for?” asked Hal Pinner. “What for?” said Pat McCue. “Did 'ye never see a river ’ it s to put bridges over. What wnd ye do wid ver bridges av ye didn’t' provide a river?” “And to rnn steamboats on,” said Charley. “111 put in this end of ver river wid the spade,” said Pat. “What shall I do?” asked Hal. “Piek out a good big brick tor a corner grocery store, and another for a college, and another for a hotel. Then von go and cut some soils lor a city Hall square. That’s got to be green, till the people kill the grass by walking on it. Uncle Frank says they’ve killed all his grass, except some that grows : wild in the streets.” The new river was rapidly ting ont, but no water made its apjiearence. “Well do vithout wather for a while,” said Pat, “but we’ll build twice as many bridges, so they’ll know it’s a river whin they coom to it.” The sods were cut and brougnt, and Charley went to the house for a long pole, and, with that laid flat on the ground, he began to mark out of ground into little squares 6f about twelve inches each. “What are ye doin’ now?” asked Pat. ” Living out the streets. Uncle Frank did that, first thing. Only he says the cows can’t find some of them vet, and there's two he wishes he'd lost liefore he let ’em lie built np the way ; they are. This is the main street.” ' i “Make it wider,” said Pat. “Think for all the processions therell be on that street! Make it wide enough for any kind of a Fourth of July to walk in.” “I say, Charley,” said Hal, “here’s a lot of bricks just alike. Let’s have a block of stores. ” ‘AU right. And these stones are for j meeting-houses. ” There’s just abont shingles enough for bridges,” said Pat. “But what are ye raisin’ that hape o' dirt for at the corner?” That s onr fort. Well cut a liberty}>ole and S wi nß O ut a flag, and IH monnt all three of mv cannon on it ” “And my p itol,“ said Hal. . ve a cannon of me own ” added I at. “I can put it behind the fort Inkin’ over into the town. They’ll all be paceable enough whin thev ink into the mouth of it.” It was grand fun, and the boys worked ukp beavers. They were so busy, in fact, that thev were not listening for the sound of coming feet, and their first warning of ■

the approach of a visitor was from a deep voice behind them, which suddenly said: " All right, Charley. I see what you’re np to. Didn't I hear yon say that all those stones were meeting- ' houses?” “Oh. Unde Frank! Are you here? Yes, sir.” Ho rapidly ran over the names of several denominations, and could not see why Unde Frank should laugh as I It® did. . “That's it, Charley. Me went at it i just in that way. We’re doing a good | deal what von are, to this very day.” “Whats'tliat, sir?” asked Charley. “Waiting for population, my boy. Some of it has come, but we want more.” “ ’Dade, sir, and some of ours has come, too," suddenly exclaimed Pat McCue, “and it’s diggin’ cillars, first thing.” Charley turned to look, and instantly shouted: “Hal Pinner, call off Grip! He’s scratching the main street right into th* river! Bub, jump ont quick! You've put the Baptist meeting-hon-e on top of the Town Hall. Stop!” “What is the name of your new city, Charles?” asked Unde Frank, soberly. “Name? I hadn't thought of that. J suppose it must have a name.” “Certainly. That’s the first thing, when you build a town.” xzitiu v ye say mere was ratusues here, wanee, on the l>ed that was ? * asked Pat McCue. “Yes,” hesitated Charley, "That's it. thin—onr town is named, l sir. Its Radishville!” “ Capital,” exclaimed Undo Frank. “All your letters'll come straight. It’s the only town of that name in the whole country. But you'll have to look out for o ;e thing.” i “What’s that, sir?” “The right kind of population. We let in some that made us all sorts oi i trouble.” “So did we, sor," said Pat McCue. “There he is again. Was it dogs of that size, sor?” Grip was put over the fence again, and Unde Frank walked away, but the boys spent more than one morning, after that, in building up and ornamenting and fortifying Radishville.— IE O. Stoddard, in St. Nh holas. k Modern Wood Deity. In very ancient times, when men believed that almost every mountain or river, brook and grove, was presided over by a deity of some sort, it was said that nectar and ambrosia were the drink and food of these gods. Because those old poets and philosophers in- ; lulged in those fine stories about nymphs and satyrs, fawns, naiads, and dryads, we call them heathen; but, after all, their myths, like the fictions of onr own writers, are lieautifiil ami entertaining, I have often thought of a charming story which might lie w ritten by some imaginative l>oy or girl alxmt a wood deity which haunts some of the groves of America. It can be said with much truth that nectar and ambrosia fill the cups and ]>ots of this bright and joyous Iteing. I have seen him sipping oedtar more fragrant than the fabled ! sweets of Hybla and Hymettns. This ■ is saying much, for Hybla used to be the most famous town in the world for its honey, and Hymettns was a mounI tain southeast of Athens, in Greece, where the bees stored their combs with the purest distillations from the flow- | ers. But I have looked into the clean, curiously-wrought cups of onr American grove-god, when they were full to i overflowing with clear fluid. I have j even tasted the nectar, although the cups were so small that only the merest bit of my tongue could enter. It is slightlv acrid, this nectar, but it has in its taste, hints, so to speak, of all the perfumes ami sweets of the winds and leaves and flow ers—a fragrance of green I wood when cut, and of the inner tender ! bark of young trees. And a racy flavor, too. which conies from the aromatic roots of certain of onr evergreens, is sometimes discoverable in it. The being of which I speak is an industrious little fellow. Many times I have watched him making pots to catch nectar in. and cups to hold the ! precious ambrosia. These he hollows : out so neatly that they all look alike, and he arranges them in rows around the hole of a tree — sometimes a maple, often an ash, may lie a pine, and frequently a cedar. He has a great manv ! of these pots and cups—so manv. indeed. that it seems to keep him busy ; for a great part of the day drinking their delicious contents. He has very quiet ways, and yon must 1» silent and ' watchful if you wish ever to see him. He rarely uses his voice, except when i disturbed, and then he utters a keen ! cry and steals off through the air. soon | disapiiearing in the shadows of the | w oods. In the warm, dreamful weather of j onr early spring days you max- find him by keeping a sharp lookout for his pota. which are little holes or pits Wed through the bark and through the soft outer ring of the wood of certain trees. Very often you can find rings of these pits on the trunks of the apple-trees of the orchards, every one of them full of nectar. And now you discover that, after all. j my winged grove-deity is nothing but a little bird that many persons call bv the undignified but very significant name of Sap-sucker! Mell, what of it? My story is truer than those of the old Greek and Latin poets, for mine has : something real in it. as well as something lieautiful and interesting. I suspect that many of the ancient myths are based upon the facts of nature 'and are embellished with fantastic dressing, just as some imaginative bov or girl might dross up this true storv of onr i sap-drinking woodpecker. In fact, how much happier, how much more redolent of joyous sweets, is the : life of this quiet bird than that of anv : such beings-—if they could have existed | —as those with which the ancients peopled their groves and mountains! I Ihmk of flying about on real wings among the shadows of the spring and summer w oods. alighting here and there j to sip real nectar and ambrosia from , fragrant cedar pots!—Maurice TkompI son, in St. Nicholas. Hunger. There is nothing like hunger to take I the energy out of a man. The most awful cry cn earth is the erv for bread This was the cry of the Prodigal Son : when he would fain partake of the ! husks that the swine did eat, and could not get even that without stealing it. It was a wise thing for the prodigal to get home. He felt the pangs of hunger, the wages of sin. M'e know that Satan promises large wages if we will serve him, but he pinches his victims with hunger. He promises us luxuries. Liar! Down to the pit with thee! The wages of sin is death. But this young man was wise in time and went to his father's house.— Rev. Dr. Talmage. Dr. ( minor's Adi ice. Hot v. t ■ in the treatmant of eve disease is highly recommended bv Dr. I.eartus Connor. He believes it to lie the sole agent which will induce contraction of the blood vessels without irritating the eye. The w ater must be as hot as can be borne, and must lie thrown against the eye with the hand. It should be used two or three minutes three times a day, or for five minutes every half hour, according to the indications.—l'hiladelphia Record, >

JOSEPH HOAG'S VISION. VThat an Old Quaker Saw in th® Rky in IROj CoucerMlng the Future of the United Ktatag. From the New York World. Joseph Hoag was, abont 50 years ago, a celebrated Quaker preacher of New Hampshire. Bom at Sandwich, N. H., of Quaker parents, be was brought np in strict accordance with the tenets of the denomination, and early gained the high character for moral worth which he l>ore throughout his life. His business, which was that of a farmer, he pursued with diligence and success, but while still a young man lie took an active interest in religions matters, and soon became known as an earnest exhorter at the meeting house. He traveled as a preacher throughout His native state, and was well known at Sandwich, M'olfborongli and Dover. Those who rememlier him describe him as a staid, sedate Quaker of the old school, verv clear-headed, a zealous Christian, but without a tinge of fanaticism. One day while at w ork in his field he had a remarkable vision, during which he said he received a revelation from heaven. He kept it to himself for some time, but it at length became such a burden to him that he wrote an account of it. This was published in a New Hampshire paper of that date, and the vision became a topic of general discussion in the New England Quaker communities. Hoag is said to have made frequent reference to the subject in his sermons. Milch comment has taken pliM-e among those who have known of the vision since it was first published bv the comsummations they have witnessed of events fore-shadowed in it. The following is a copy of the account of the vision, as written by Mr. Hoag himself: “THE REMARKABLE PROPHECY OF JOSEPH HOAG. “In the year 1803, in the Bth or Jith month, I was one day alone in the field and observed that the sun shone clear, but a mist eclipsed its brightness. “As I reflected upon the singularity of the event my mind was struck into ' silence the most solem I ever remembered to have witnessed, for all my faculties were slow and nature was brought into deep silence. “I said to myself: ‘M’hat can all this mean ? Ido not recollect ever before to have been sensible of such feelings.’ "And I heard a voice from Heaven saving: ‘This which thou seest is a sign of the coming times. I took the forefathers of this country from a land of oppression; I planted them here among the people of the forest, and while they were humble I blessed them and fed them and they became a numerous people. “ 'But they have now liecome prond and have forgotten me, who nourished and protected them in the wilderness, anil are now running into every alximination and every practice of which the old countries were guilty, and have taken gratitude from the land and suffered a dividing spirit to come among them. Lift np thine eyesand behold!' I saw them diriding in great heat. The division liegan iu the churches on points of doctrine. It commenced in the Presbyterian society and went through , the various religions denominations, i and in its progress and close its effects were the same. Those who dissented went off with high heads and taunting language, and those who kept to their original sentiments appeared exercised and sorrowful And when the dividing spirit entered the society of Friends it raged in as high a degree as many I had noticed or before discovered; and, as liefore, those who separated went o 3 with lofty looks and taunting, censuring language. Those who kept their ancient principles retired by themselves. It next appeared in the lodges of the Freemasonsand it broke out in appearance like a volcano, inasmuch as it set the country in an nproar for a time. Then it entered politics throughout the United States, and did not stop until it produced a civil war. An abundance of Idood was shed in the course of the combat; the Southern States lost tlieir power, and slavery was annihilated from their borders. “Then a monarchical power sprang up. took the government of the States, took a national religion and made a 1 ! tributary to support its expenses I saw them take property from Friends. I was amazed at beholding all of this, ami I heard a voice proclaim: ‘This power shall not always stand, bnt without I w ill chastise mv church until the’ return to the faithtuluess of their forefathers. “ ’Thon seest what is coming upon thy native country for its iniquities and the blooil of Africa, the remembraucj of which comes up before me.’ Genera! Sam Houston. General Houston was one of the peculiar products of Ixirderlife. Born in he wilderness, in the midst of all the lerils of pioneerbool, possessed of a laturally strong intellect, with talents lor leadership, living nearly all his life n the midst of stirring events, and for io small part of it in the point of incip ent or actual revolution, hs biography , •eads like a romance. All that can be 'ecited here is a mere memorandum. He was born near Lexington, As-> March 2, 1793; was an ensign in Gensral Jackson’s army in the war 1812-15, »here he was distinguished for his darng courage. In 1823 he was sent to Congress, and again in 1825. In 182' tie became Governor of Tennessee. In 1829 he married the daughter of au ex - Governor of Tennessee, and iu the next j April for reasons never made known, j iliandoned his wife and all his brilliant I KX'ial and political surroundings and | opportunities, and joined the Chero- I keen, among whom he had spent about I three years of his boy life —from hi’ 15th to his 18th year. The tribe received him with favor, and soon elected him to be one of their chiefs. M hile with them he encouraged them in the progress toward civilization, and iv friended them in various ways, among I other services going to Washington and . securing the removal of several tillering Indian agents. M’hen the Texans I rose against their Mexican rulers he ap- w peared among them, and was soon made | commander-in-chief. In the battle ot , San Jacinto, April 21, 1836. lie routed | the Mexican army, took their President and commander-in-chief, General Santa - Anna, prisoner, and secured the independence of Texas, of which he w» j forthwith elected the first President. | He was re-elected in 1841, and on the i annexation of Texas to the United . States, in 1845, was sent to the Unite H States Senate, where he remained nut" fl he was elected Governor in 1859. - ’ |j Governor he opposed ,»eceßsion and " 3 ‘ M deposed by the State convention which R proclaimed the secession of Texas. > n 1861. He died in 1863, liefore he pei-mitted to see the w isdom of his o sistance to secession demonstrated the re-establishment of the Feder authority. Eve As A Fashion Maker. There are some women who are tr >w I to the instincts of mother Eve. 1 “ nl I of a lady, who, during the the hot -, I son complains bitterly of the fi“ ■''■' I that demands such a superabund:.ii‘, | of clotliin«~, and declares, when re 11 e | aliout this idiosyncrasy, that there is I law, human or divine, compelling 1; than one garment as a covering- I "Yes,” was the reply on one of 11. _ | occasions, “the Bible tells ns that rrecognized rhe need of clothing , 1 "True.” was the response, “bnt to I was after the fall, and I also ainperto r | ly satisfied to wear a goodly suit at j I the fall. Tt is the summer clotl-tos I complain Pro<Ji' (s