Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 15, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 April 1880 — Page 10

THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL. WEDNESDAY. APBIL 14, 1880-8 UPPLEMENT

' FRIEITDS OF LONG AGO.

When I tit la the twilight gloaming. And the buey streets grow till, 1 1 drram of the wide, green meadows. And the old house oa the hill. I can the roeee blooming ; About the doorway low, 'Again my heart given greeting To the frtenda of long egoDear long ago! I can see my mother, sitting With life snowflakee in her hair. And ahetmih-e above her knitting. And her face is aai ally fair. And I eee my father reading . frvn th Bible n hie knee. And again I bear him praying A he need to pray tor me Ho long agol I axe all the dear old facet Of the boys and girle at home, Ae 1 aaw them In the deer old days. Before we learned to roam. And I sing the old tonga over With the friend I need to know. And my heart forgrts lie eorrowa In it dream of long ago! Deer long ago! Bow widely oor feet have wandered - from onr old home'i tender ties; Soma are beyond the ocean. And aome are beyond t&e tkiee. My heart grow sad wiih thinking Of the frienda 1 used to know; Perhapa I thail meet in Heaven AU the loved ones of long ago, Drar long agoi ALtt03r TOO LTE. The Leuon that Helen Archer Learned From Bitter Experience. I am going now, Helen." Charles Archer stood at the door of the one room high up in a noisy tenement-house in New York, which he called "home." It was not the wedded home he had dreaired of 12 years before, when he uttered the Valedictory" at Tale, when Ilelen Gordon blushed and smiled at the applause that greeted his appearance on the stage. Nor was that crouching figure beeide the window, in the untidy print dress, with the pretty, sullen face, and the uncombed golden hair, much like the graceful belle, of whose company he had been so proud, so happy to monopolize upon that golden day. Ilia wife looked up and canght the expression of pitying regret upon his dark and handsome lace. Her heart was full of angry rebellion against her fate, agaiiut herself, against him almost against Godt Why do you look at me like that?'' she said peevishly. "I know that the room has not been swept, and that I hare not made my toilet for the day. "My toilet," she laughed bitterly. "When shall I make a toilet again, I wonder? I once set the fashion in New Haven 1 Who would believe it now? And, oh, to think only to think what my life might have been, if I had been wise." Her husband's face darkened all over. "I understand,'' he exclaimed. 'YoumeaQ if you had married Paul Uayden in instead of me." "How can I help such thoughts? 1 saw his wife early yesterday morning when I was out. She was driving to the railway station on her way to their country house for the summer. I heard the footman say so to some one when he went to buy tickets for her. And, oh, what a difference there was between us two I No wonder she has kept her beauty. No wonder I lost .mine. Beauty and healtnand youth and happiness, they are all going away from me because we are so poor.' 'Better days may be coming, love," said the husband, after a pause. "I have heard of a good situation this time, you know. If I get it, it will be a stepping-stone to other things of more consequence. And when I am rich, you know well, my darling, that I shall refuse you nothing." "You have thought so many times that better days were close at hand. And every time you have been disappointed, and we have lived on the same horrible life," was the discouraging reply. I know, my dearest; but this is really good newi, I trust and hope. If you will kins me and wish me good luok, I have faith that it will come." He bent down his dark eyes wistfully searching hers for one glance of love, such as he had so often seen there in the happy days of courtship. But love, so far as she was concerned, he sometimes feared, had flown out of the window of his home when poverty entered. The heat, the dust, the discordant street-cries without, the shabby, disordered room within, the general sense of her own untidiness, and the galling memory of the freshly beautiful summer costume worn by the wife of Paul Hayden, as she lounged in her carriage on the previous day 11 these things combined to banish the aflectionate glance for which the husband's heart so vainly hungered, and to make the. wife's parting kiss so cold and formal that it lingered like ice upon the young man's lips as he turned away. He said nothing. But the deep sigh, that seemed to come from the very depths of a tired and overladen heart, silently reproached her. She caught the last glimpse of his face as he closed the door. It wore the look of repressed sorrow that would haunt her to her dying day. What evil spirit had tempted her to try him so? Was it his fault, that by the sudden failure of a bank in the great "panic," the savings of years of steady toil had been lost in a moment? Had he not labored faithfully ever since for her support? for her ungratful sake, had he not stooped even to menial toil, when no other employment could be procured? And now she had sent him from her, uncheered by a look or word of fondness. What if some accident should happen to the train by which he was to travel I What if he should never return? For a moment she sat dumb, almost paralyzed by the shock of that idea. Then she sprang from her chair and rushed to the door. Übe would call him back and ask him to forgive that careless, cruel parting. She was too late. He was already in the street. A moment later she heard the shrill whistle of the train. He was gone. Tne day parsed sadly enough. Thought after thought came crowding into her mind to unsettle and reprove her. They bore their fruit. In less than one hour after Charles Archer's departure his home wore a different aspect. By nightfall the one room was trim and clean as willing hands could make it. Before the clean windows a pair of snowy muslin curtains were drawn. The stove shown like mirrow, and from its open front a bright welcome to the absent master Bashed out, flooding the very walls with warmth and light. And summer evening though it was, both lieht and warmth were needed. At sunset avngry clouds rose in the South, and the rain came sharply down, with an accompanying

wind that knew little of Its own mind, and veered sharply round continually from south to cast. Amid the wailing wind and dropping rain, Ilelen Archer worked steadily on. At 9 o'clock the train, which was to bring her husband home was due. Her last task -as finished, when siie dished up his favorite viands and set them, covered over with a basin, upon the hearth to keep warm. She leaned from the window, looking out, through wind and rain, for some sign of his home-coming. She wore the dress he liked the best, ller hair was arranged in his favorite fashion of braid and curls. She had kissed him coldly as he left her, but now, with her heart upon her lip, 6he waited to welcome him back, even if he returned as unsuccessful as he went. What did that matter, she thought, as she glanced at the window of her opposite neighbor, who had been left a widow only one snort montn ago. "Only let him return to me safely, and I will make him amends for all," she half thought, half prayed, as memory recalled the countless times in which ehe had grieved him during the past half year. Nino o'clock came andpassed, yet she did not hear the usual whistle of the in-coming train. Hulf past nine and yet no footstep on the fcU.rs. Her heart lay like a leaden weight in her bosom. The color faded from her lips and cheeKS,and her blue eyes grew w ild with silent drdiid. At 10 o'clock she could bear the suspense no longer. She left her room and ran down the stairs, with a half formed purpose in her mind of inquiring at the neighboring station about the laggard train. Dimly in the darkness she saw a crowd of people gathered at the outer door of the tenement house. They were all talking con fused ly, but now and then some word broke plainly through the medley of sound. "His poor wife." said one "how is she going to bear it I wonder? It is well that she has no little ones to look after. She is nothing more than a child anyway." 'Make way there,'' said some one outside. "We must carry the body upstairs. Which room is it? And some woman ought to go up before us and tell the wife." The crowd surged and parted Between the ranks six men came steadily onward, following a policeman. Ilelen knew him well, and when he looked up the staircase and saw the slight figure bending forward, and the pale face full of fixed and settled horror, he turned again to the crowd and called out: One of you women come up here to break the news; and take her away," he added in a lower voioe: Itis no eight for her." Good-natured Bridget McCarthy came forward and ran up stairs to where Helen stood. You'll come back into your room wid me, my darlinV "he said, putting her strong arms around Helen's slender waist. "rture it'll destroy you entirely to look at the like ofthat." "Bridget, is he dead?" asked the pale lips pitilully. "Sorry I am to say that he is. It was thetrain, my dear. Off the track they sav, and 10 strong men killed outright beside him that they are bringing up from below." Helen fell senseless at the Irish woman's feet. Halfan hour later she struggled slowly back to life and loneliness a gain. She opened her eyes to find herself lying on her own bed with the kind old doctor of the neighborhood bending over her with rather an anxious face. "We shall do nicely now," he said, making a warning gesture to some one in the back

ground. Helen gave a great sigh as he toot; her hand. "Oh, why did you bring me back, dactorT I have driven my husband away to his death, and I hoped I could die, too. 1 blamad him because we were so poor, doctor, and 1 would scarcely kws him when he went a way this morning to look for another place. Un, I have been so cruel to him. And nw just when I was Börry for it, and when I had re solved to be a better wife, God has taken him away from me, and he will never know how bitterly I repented." 'How do you know that he is dead, m f dear? asked the doctor. 'Oh, I saw them bring him up the stainsAnd I heard them talking about me." "Not about you, my dear, but about poor little Mrs. Gray, who lives in the room at the back. Her husband was badly hurt on the train when it ran off the track this even g. We thought he was dead at first. But since then he has revived, and I feel sure that, by God's mercy, he will recover beforo long." "But where is my husband, then 7 ' cried Helen, starting up. "God ha3 been very good to you, too, my dear," said the old physician. "Is he alive? Where is he? Oh, tell me." her rery gesture struggling between hope and fjar. "Here." The doctor stepped back. From a dark corner of the room a tall figure rushed forward and clasped the wondering, weeping wife in a close embrace. Is it you? Oh, is it really you?" she exclaimed, bursting into tears. "Oh, dear Charles, I have been so miserable since you went away. How could I treat you so? You never, never can forgive or love me again." "As if I could help loving you as long as I live, Helen. And you shall be so happy after this. I have found a good place, I shall have a gcod salary, and, to-morrow, if you are well enough, we will take a trip into the country where we will find some pretty cottage where you can amuse yourself all through this beautiful summer among the flowers and birds." 'I don't want a cottage. I want nothing but you, Charles, and now God has given you back to me, that will be enough to make me happy," said his wife, giving him the tender kiss which she had refused him that morning. Nevertheless the cottage was taken, and the summer was as happy a time as mortals may ever hope to enjoy this side of Paradise. Once, on their journey thither, after a shopping excursion in the city, they chanced to be overtaken by the magnificent carriage of Paul Hayden, millionaire. Mrs. Hayden. resplendent in a toilet fresh from the alelier of Worth, sat therein. Shejwa brown-eyed and pink-cheeked and very handsome. Yet her face looked worn and wearied. It larked that look of true and perfect happiness that Helen's wore. Helen caught the somewhat anxious look that her husband turned upon her, as the great lady drove slowly br. She smiled. Under the cover of her pretty silken shawl her hand stole into his.

Never for one moment had she forgotten the lesson of that long, past summer's day. Never had she ceased from thanking God 1 that it had been given, although' it came

"Almost too late." S ratter the Genna of the Beautiful. Pcatter the germ of the beaatlfal . In the holy brine ot home. v."-' Let the pure, the fair, the graceful there la their loveliest Intter come. Leave not a trace of deformity In the temple of the heart. Bat gather about its hearth the gems Of nature and of art. Plant I be need of the Jasmine By the waytlde let them fall; Let the roee print; np by the cottage gate, And tht. viae near the garden wall. Scatter tb- wordi of truth In the depths of tbe human wl. Tbey will bnd and bloom, and bear their fruit, While endleaa agee roll. W. P. Shaw. Familiarity. 8crlbuer's Monthly. Of all the sources of bad manners, we enow of none so prolific and pernicious as the license of familiarity. There is no one among our readers, we presume, who has not known & village or neighborhood in which all the people calied one another by their first or Christian names. The "Jim," or Charley," or "Mollie,r or "Fanny," of the young days of school life, remain the same until they totier into the grave from old age. No , th'tre may be a certain amount of good fellowship and homely friendliness in this kind of familiar address, but there is not a particle! of politeness in it. It is 11 very well, wi thin a family or a circle of relatives, but when it is carried oulsid, it is intolerable. Tbtn courtesies of life are carried on at arm's length, and not in a familiar embrace. Every gentleman has a right to thi title, at least, of 'Mister," and every lad!y to thatof "Miss,'' or "Mistress," even wbien the Christian name is used, For an ordinary friend to address a married woman as Dolly," or "Mary," is to take with her an unpardonable liberty. It is neither courteous nor honorable; in other words, it is most unmannerly. We have known remarkable men. living for years under the blifht of their familiarly-used first names mem who9e fortunes would have been made, or greatly mended, by removing to some place whre they could have been addressed with the courtesy due to their worth, and been rid forever of the cheapening process of familiarity. How can a man aft his head under the degredtttion of being called "Sara" by every man, young and old, whom he may mevt in tie street? How can a strong character be carried when the man who bears it has to bow decently to the name of "Billy." This is not a matter that we have taken up to sport with. We approach it and regard it with all seriousness, lor this feeling and exhibition of familiarity lie at the basis of the worst manners of the American people. We are not asking especially for reverence for age or high position, but for manhood and womanhood. The man and woman who have arrived -at their majority have arrived to a courteous form of address, and he who withohlds it from them, or, presuming upon the intimacies of boyhood, continues to speak to them as still boy and girl, is a boor, and practically a foe to good manners. We suppose the Friends would obiect to this statement, but we do not intend to embrace them in this condemnation. They look at this matter from a different standpoint, and base their practice upon certain considerations which have no recognition in the world around them. We t hinkt hey are mistaken, but their courteous way of using the whole of the first name is very different from the familiar use of names and nick names of which we complain. There is no use in denying that the free and general use of first names among men and women, in towns and neighborhoods, is to the last defree vulgar. Gentleman and ladies do not o it. It is not a habit of polite society, anywhere. There is undoubtedly a gTeat deal of bad manners in families, growing out of the license engendered by familiarity bad manners between husband and wife, and between Earents and children Parents are much to lame for permitting familiarity to go so far that they do not uniformly receive in courteous forms the respect due to them from their children as gentlemen and ladies. Of the degrading familiarity assumed by conscious inferiors, it is hardly necessary to speak. Nothing cures such a thing as this but the snub direct, in the most pointed and hearty form in which it can be rendered. "The man that ball yon 'Tom' or 'Jack,' And proves by thumptupon your beak How he eetfemi your merit, la auch a friend that one bad need Be wry mach hie friend, indeed, To pardon or to bear it." The Danger of Almleesnes. A gTemt deal of time is wasted by young people who have no particular, aim in life. Aimlessness and lack of motive are the chief obstacles to the best and most profitable use of time. With a goal to attain, an end to accomplish, and force of character sufficient to bold the mind steadfastly to his purpose, the sands cf time are easily transmuted into ? olden rain. Life is made worth the living, 'hen, boys especially if you live in the country utilize your time. Resolve to turn to good account your hitherto wasted momenta. Most men of rank have easily learned the lesson of utilizing the minutes. Ehhu Burritt, "the learned blacksmith," found time during his work at the forge to master several languages, and surprised cultured Europe by addressing its chief learned body in Sanskrit. Hugh Miller learned the secrets of the old Bed Sandstone in the capacity of a day laborer. While his fellow-workmen idled, during their mornings, he was actively at work finding out the why of the specimens and fossils his hammer disclosed. Lord Chesterfield relates of one of his friends, that he wrote a book of abstruse character during the intervals of waiting for his wife to appear at breakfast. Why not follow such examples as these? The Dawn Will Come. The night may be dreary, and sombre and and And awlttly may speed tie wild rack. In the tky; Tb ocean my roar on the wave-beaten ahore. But the dawn of the bright, golden morning it nigh! The tempeet may gather, and thnnder may roll, And tbe frightened birda bide from the lightning's aheea; Bat far In tbe Etat, from ita slumber releeawf, . Tbe dawn of tbe bright golden morning la seen! The bitterest sorrow may gather around, . And baoiab tbe am 11 to give place to a tear; Bot time will reite all who tremble and grieve. Tor tbe dawn of tbe tweet-tmiling morning to near! Then do not despair, O ye weary and eed. For Joy will disperse e'en tbe abada of a aigh; Bricht daji will com back, and tb tight sod ths rack WUl fla when tbe dawa of the moral mk la nlghl Jtdward OaeaXord.

AN OLD SAILOH'iS TARNS.

Greasing- tbe Cook's Fiddle a Very Serious Result of a Tractlcal Joke, f Sew Tork World. ' Boys, sir," said the old sailor, wiping the froth off his mustache and peering at me curiously through a cloud of smoke, "when I used for to go to sea was brung up properly on board of merchant ships, whatever they wsj in the navy. As to how it is now, I can't say, but I presume some of the salutary lessons of obedience is still teached. I've heern tell, and don't see no reason for to doubt it, that it have been the ruination of the the navy the boys are treated into it. Why, sir, you'll hardly believe me, but it are a fact, as can be vouched for by any officer of the navy, that boys u coddled and cared for jist as if they was dogs or horses. Every mornin' they are brung out and stood along in a line on deck, and then the master-at-arms goes along the line with a sheet of white paper and a catcher and tries every boy's head, and next fullers tbe doctor and takes a look at each individual boy's tongue, and last of all the first lieutenant inspects their clothes, any defect, of course, brung out by either inspection bein' to be immediately remedied, and the offendin boy punched after a fashion; but they don't never git properly punished onboard of a man-of-war cause it ain't allowed by the rules of the department; consequently the boys grow up to be a sort of pusillanimous set, kind of a cross 'twixt a loblolly boy and a old woman, and the navy has deteriated. "Now, in the merchant sarvice there weren't none of that fiddle-faddle nonsense at all, but a boy were jist put through a course of discipline to once. It were rightly said as they got 'more kicks than coppers, but it were all for their benefit and hardened 'em up to a proper condition so as they were good for somethin' arter they got to be seamen. One old man ae I know'd used to be very reg'lar with his boys; he licked 'em reg'lar every Monday mornin' and then as often through the week as they deserved it, which accordin' to him, were about every day. Boys never know what's good for 'em, and he didn't ginerally have the same boy two v'yages, but they never forgot him and always looked back on their treatment under him as bein' the beginnin' of the makin' of ,'em. "It were in the forecsjtle, hows'ever, that the boy got the bet part of his discipline, and very few there was but what arter a v'yage to Liverp 1 in one of the packets could dodge a sea-boot if flung at 'em, to all ad miration. All this put life into 'em and made 'em playful and spry, as well as respectful to their elders. A boy ginerally were allowed 21 hours for to enjoy his sea sickness, and arter that he be to turn to. This were a merciful provision, "cause if let alone he'd be sick for three or four days, and a there ain't nothing worse than sea-sickness, of course the sooner he was cured of it the better for the boy. There are various ways of curin'. One mate I were with uei to make 'em drink a pint pannikin of salt water til1 cured. The boy were ginerally well after one dose. Another n .te used to ship a capstan bar and let the boy heave tbe empty capstan round till he felt quite well. If there was more than one boy he allowed one to ride on top of the capstan while t'other hove round, and permitted 'em to fpell one another every 10 minutes. The gineral way, hows'ever, were to set 'em a sweepin' of the decks, touchin' of 'em up in the bunt with a rope's end once in a while to lam 'em for to sweep clean. "What blessed cures I've seen, sir, under these systems. I've know'd a boy as limp as a wet dishcloth in the mornin' stiffen up and brace up by night so as he could sign his name to the mes kid equal to a old sailor. The first thing a boy larnt aboard of them ships were that there weren't no sich words as can't.' One of the most naturalist things in the world to a boy right from home, where of course he got no train in' worthy of the name, were to say when asked why he didn't go alft, or do somethin as he'd been told for to do, I can't, sir,' and frequently he forgot the last word and simply said 'I can't,' in the which invariable, if in a well-regulated ship, he were at once knocked into the lee scupper with the remark 'There ain't no sich word aboard the ship as can't,' and one lesson ginarally done it- It would be a good thing, sir, for boys if they could have some of the same kind of teacnin' ashore as they have at sea. There's many of 'em as would be made men of aa now grows up to be poor useless trash. ''A peculiar thing about boys aboard of a ship were the animosity they manifested toward the cook. I never know'd a cook yet as were able to get along with bop, and it were ginerally a open warfare between 'em. In the ship New York, when I were into her, there were an old darkey for a cock as could play the fiddle equal to any man as ever-made a duff. There was two boys aboard of that ship as was the most perfect imps of mischief as ever crawled through a lubber-hole. They were onto their second v'yage, which are the most villanous time of a boy's career aboard of a ship, and bein' some sort of relatives of the old man, they had extra privileges. The life that they led that old cook was just dreadful. Frequent they'd slyly git on the galley and clap a paunch mat over the funnel, so as to fill the galley with smoke, arter havin' first fastened tbe doors, so as old George, as the cook were called, couldn't git out. Frequent if the cook went aft for any purpose, they'd put a lot of pump tacks along on his seat, and then watch for and enjoy the old man's wrath when he sat down on 'em. Old George on his part neglected no opportunity to git even with the boys, and many a dipper of bilin' water he managed to chuck over 'em. A visitation of this kind one day struck boy Bill full in the face as he went by the galley door, and howlin' with pain he came runnin'to tbe lorcas'l swearin' he'd be revenged. "That evenin' in the last dog-watch we was a reachin' along on a wind with all three royals set, headin' about west nor' west, and this here boy Bill he comes to me and sayB be, Tom, ask the "Doctor" for to giv' us a tune; he won't do it if I ask.' So I tays, 'Come, "Doctor," get out the old cremona, and giv us a tune.' 'All right, says he, fposin' you gits me a bucket of water to put the beans in soak.' 'This bein' done, Old George brings out his fiddle, gives the string? a screw or two, and after an artistic flourish, he drew the bow across the strings. No music followed, and Old George's face growed nearly white as, after passing his band along the bow, he shouted, What houn grease my fiddle?' JUt then he caught sight of boy Bill's grinnin face, and juinpin tor him he caught him and afore any of us conld interfere had flung him over the rail. ' Then instanly repentin' of the act he rushed aft and went over the taffral like a shot. "Of course there was the usual excitement. At the cry, 'Man overboard' the helm were

put down, and as the ship comes in the wind the lee main braces, main sheet and tack were let go and she were brought to with the main topsail to the mast. The boats was carried onto quarter davits which was swinged in and rested on chocks, the falls being racked at the davits and the ends coiled snug in the boat at each end. So you see it took a matter of 10 minutes for to swing the boat out and get her into the water, and all this time the ship, with maintopsail to the mast, was a-forgin' ahead. I've always thought that if they'd a let her come all the way round when the cook aaid the boy fust went over and then braced about the after yards, leavin' the head yards square, we

should have found 'em, because the drift of the 6hip would have been toward em all the time. And it were, bein' after dark, the second mate, what had charge of the boat, got confused, and likely as not pulled away from 'em. Anyhow, arter an hour's unsuccessful search it was giv' up and the boat returned to the 6hip and was hoisted up. Even then we did not giv' it up entirely, but arter fillin' away we tacked ber and reached back and forth over the spot where the cook and boy had gone overboard for over two hours, we ee nothin of 'em, but in one of the reaches to the suth'ard we come within an ace of run n in' down a fl&in' schooner as was bound to the west'ard. As we passed her the skipper of her hailed us and seemed to be a givin' vent to considerable indignation 'cause we came so nigh him, which were cheeky to say the least, we havin been on to the star-board tack and entitled for to hold our wind, and he had no business for to try cross our bow. Only but that we had her right up in the wind and deadened her way entirely we'd a hit this here schooners sure. "Well, we couldn't understand what the skipper of her said, but our old man not to be outdone in politeness cussed.1 ack athim, long arter he got out of hearin. Then we tacked ed and went on our way to the west'ard, and all hands very mournful on accounts of the I06S of the cook As for the boy, it didn't ciake so much difference, 'cause we had another; but, as everybody as has ever been to sea knows, the loss of the cook is next to th j loss of the rudder, the most serious one that can happen to a ship. We took a feller out of the port watch and put him into the galley, but, L rd bless your soul, he wasn't no more for to be compared with the old nigger as had fone overboard than nothin' at all. The uff that this chap turned out the next Sunday were more like a lump of putty than a Christian puddin', and the scouse he tried for to make weren't fit to eat. I've no doubts he done his best, but cookin', sir, can't be took nat'ral like swerain'; it are a high art, and like all other high arts requires futt off a genius for it. and then a long and patient application. Good cooks, sir, isn't appreciated as they ought for to be, either at sea or ashore, and very few people recognizes the fact that more lives are destroyed by bad cooks than by the sword. "We helped the new 'Doctor all we could split up his wood, brung up his coal and water and peeled his spuds, but it were banyan day continual aboard of the craft arter we lost the cook. We stowed away his fiddle, the innocent cause of all the trouble, in its box, and that and the rest of his dunnage was took aft by the mate soon arter the accident. He atoo took ait boy Bill's chist, but strange as it may appear, there werent no dunnage into iL although when the boy come aboard in New York he had an awful nice lot of clothes. The mate said as how some villain had gone through the chist afore he got it, and it were reported round the ship that a chap of the name of Whitley had puckerowed all of poor boy Bill's dunnsge while the rest of the chaps was a gittin' the boat cleared away for to go to try to pick him up, and only for the cook's room bein' locked this here Whitley would a got the old cook's dunnage too, for he was a awful big thief. What ever made the old cook jump overboard arter the boy we couldn't make out Whether it were from remorseness at chuckerin' him overboard, and with the intent of drowndin' himself, or whether he wanted for to save the boy, we couldn't make out. Hows'ever they was both gone, and ' that was all there was about it. From this on we had nice weather and moderately westerly winds. We got a pilot off Nantucket, and three days arterward got in. Takin steam off the Hook, we towed up and made fast at the foot ot DoverstreeL As we draw'd in toward the dock, I were startled by bearin'this here Whitley sing out, 'Well, I'm bio wed t' and lookin' in the direction where he was pintin' whoever should I see among the crowd bu( this here boy Bill and the old cook what we'd dropped overboard in the Atlantic ocean. As Boon as the ship come nigh enough, this young whelp Bill climbed aboard and were soon in among us a tellin us of, tbe way tbey got home ahead of us, and then we found out that this here schooner what we'd nearly run down had picked up Bill and the cook, and it were that that tbe skipper were a tryin' for to tell when he passed by us. "It seemed that the old cook, repentin' instantly of bavin' chucked the boy overboard, and' knowin' that he were a fust-rate swimmer, had jist jumped arter him. Bill's daddy, who was pretty well fixed, bad pre sented the old took with one of the most spendidest fiddles that could be bought, but for all that the old man rejoiced to recover his old cremona, sayin' as he took it carefully out of the box, 'the new fiddle are a very fine instrument, but I think I lub iha one the best arter all.' This here chap Whitley were kind of disappointed to have Bill tun. up agin, but he done the square thing, and giv' him back all his dunnage besides clainain' all sorts of credit for havin' taken care of it for him. I'm told that this here cook and boy Bill had grow'd up for to be captain of a ship, and that the old darkey were never arter that know'd to have a cross word for a boy. A Foreboding. I do not dread an altered heart, Or that Ionic Una of land or aea Should separate my loe from me; I dread that drifting slow apartAll nnretltted, unrestrained Which comet to aome when they feared gained The dear endeavor of their souL Aa two light akh't that tailed together, Through dayt and ulghtaof irauqi.il aeather, Adown aome inland atream, might be Drifted asunder, each from rach; When, float I ig with the tide, they reach Tbe boped-for end, the promiaed goal, The tudden glory of the aea. Violet Fane. Any man pays too much for his whistle when he has to wet it 15 or 20 times a day. How many useful hints are obtained by chance, and how often the mind, hurried by its own order, to distant views, neglects the truths that lie open before it. As characters traced on white paper with sympathetic ink can only be made legible by fire, so our heart's character can not be read unless warmed by friendship.

COLONEL I.NGERSOLL' LOGIC.

A Secular Paper Analyiina; the Tlews ot the Infidel. The St. Louis Globe-Democrat has this oo In gersoll : It is, perhaps merely a question of taste as to Ingersoll's flippancy and vulgarity, although an infidel might be no less conscientious if he had some respect for the beliefs which have ennobled the lives and sweetened the deaths of thousands of millions of Christians through 60 generations. But a more serious fault than the lack of decency in manner is the lack of judgment and capacity which marks his treatment of the grave subject. It is not the fault of Christianity, but tbe fault of a curious distemper in Mr. Ingersoll's mind, that in Christianity, in the religion inspired by God, he sees only the errors and imperfections of man. Of his own absolute infallibility and personal perfection, Mr. Ingersoll does not seem to entertain any doubt; it has not entered into his mind to study himself, and to inquire whether he was wholly free from the faults and errors of which he proposes to convict his neighbors Such vanity i not uncommon, and though in his case it is ushed to a ludicrous extent, k is quite harm-ess.-But something which is not harmless whieh is worse than his vanity, his flippancy! his vulgarity, and even his scurrility ux mocking at all the world's beet minds hold sacred, u his utter unfitness, his mental limitation and incapacity in treating the question he has chosen. Because Christians in direct and wilful disobedience of the teachings of Christianity, have persecuted each other; because sectarians, through strained constructions of the Bible, have supported narrow and harsh opinions, Mr. Ingersoll would abolish Christianity and repudiate tbe Bible. This Is neither h gic nor sense In the grand his tory ot mat religious neuer which has done so much to curb the fierce passions of our nature, subjugate the barbarism of the En. ropean races, to raite the world from the darkness of savagery, from the sway of ciuelty and rapine and luetto the pure light of civilization, to the rule of gentleness and justice and charity, Mr. Ingersoll can see nothing but a St. Bartholomew massacre here and a Puritan law there. Picking these oat, be holds them up to execration, and triumphantly demands. "Is this your boasted Christianity?' Beally, this is too stupid. Give Mr. Ingersoll a barge load of wheat, he would diligently search in it for a band.1 r lp j i : r . 11 lui ot cunu, buu, uaviug iouua it, would scuttle the barge and sink tbe wheat as a worthless mockery. Give him the Little Pittsburgh mine, he would assay the quarts and granite and forthwith order the min to be shut up. Yet wheat is good wheat though there be a handlul of chaff in i bu hel of it, and the Little Pittsburg mine pays its owners thousands of dollars each day in Dure ?old and silver: and the atnniditr which would see only chaff in a cargo of ' wheat, and only the waste and refuse in a rich gold mine, is not more dense than the stupidity which sees only the dross of hu man error and weakness amid the pure gold and boundless wealth of the Christian religion. To hold such argument needs only a little wit and a great deal of malice. It does not demand either learning or decency, or honesty; on the -ntrary, it does better without them. A little honesty would teach Mr. Ingersoll that in weighing a religious system in the balance its merits must be taken account of as well as its faults, and a little learning would have taught him that by tar the greater part of all the world has to-day which is worth having is due directly and solely to Christianity; while a little decency would have taught him that his rejection of a creed which he neither appreciates nor understands, would teem no less honest if it were free from the scurvy jests of the clown and the specious clap-trap ot the dema gogue. A Tear of Penitence. A goMea trust betrayrd, her tun went down Behind the cloud of disappointed hope; Sue conld nut live 10 meet tbe oold world's frown, Hhe did not witu death's myateries dare to cope. Bot eott-eyed Pity with a tender powrr Breathed o'er Ctr breakiug heart om toUms hour. A little hymn stole out upon the air. A Citing requiem for tue djiog day; It wat to aWret the fljwera b-nt down to thare Tbeir a.. ft dueteot fragrance with tbe prayer In holy reverence aa it paaeed away, . And like the Mtgdaleu ol old aba heard. And to ita inmoat deptht ber hears wat atirred. From out the mystery of the echoes cams A tubtie force that aougbt the portal fair' Of pleading Con.ciunc, and the alchemic flame ' Of deep reuioree buruel with to lie roe a glare The dra conumHl, and lol a pearl it here, Initial of a bleaiag hovering near; A priceless gem, a penitent's pure tear. ' Aana Bagg Halltday. "Woodman, Spare That Tree." Notes and Queries. In the year 1861 there died an American poet named George P. Morris whose fam principally rests upon the well known and once extremely popular song, 'Woodman, Spare That Tree.' This song first appeared in a volume of poems published by Mr. Morris in 1830. N w, in 1802 there appeared in tbe Morning Chronicle a poem by Thomas Campbell, afterward included in his collected works, entitled "The Beech Tree's Petition, which bears a very remarkable resemblance indeed, to Mr. Morris' original" song. The first lines of Campbell's poem are as these: '0 leave tbi barren spot to me; Spare, woodman, spare the begehen tree And these lines conclude each stanza. The opening lines and the refrain of Mr. Morris song are as follows: Woodman, spare that tree, Touch not a einle bough; In yonth it aheliertd me. And I'll protect it nw.n The sentiments in the two poems are almost identical, though Campbell s are incomparable the more gracefully and poetically expressed. If Mr. Morris had never seen CampDell's verses the resemblance is, I think, as I have called it, a very 'curious literary coincidence." Air ae a stimulant. The exciting and stimulating properties of oxygen are well known, and everyone has lelt the invigorating influences of fresh air. yet no practical application has been, made of these beneficial prop vtie of a substance so chesp and universal, When the body is weak, the body fatigued, and tbe whole system in a state of latsitnde, just g into the open air, and take a few vigorous inspirations and expirations, and the effect will be instantly perceived. The individual trying the experiment will feel invigorated and stimulsted, the blood will course with fresh net-, the lungs will work with increased activity, tbe whole frame will feel revivified, and nature's stimulant will trt found the best.