Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 February 1876 — Page 3

GXIIALDINt. L* ■ Only ■ row-bad,— AH freak with the dow; ■ A wee bit or Heaven rec»ix>d from the bine, s' Only a floak ’ Of the brigtit, golden morn; But the earth grew in glory the day aha waa born. A train la the lltb-toMi; . ___... A leaf on the tree; Bat a whole world of love la my darting to me. Only a gleam Of the aanahlne to come. To tinge with new loater the day-dream* of home; Only a dtop In life's deep-rolling aea. But that drop la an ocean of Joy onto me. . Only a unit In earth's cenana-roU, But what is all apace to my little ooe’a aoal! Twi tiny feet, waiting Life’s ladder to climb, dost pressing the verge of the causeway of Time; Bright eyes, full of wonder And beauty and grace, Looking out on the Infinite, forth into space; A smile lingering ever, The angel’s last (las As she passed through the gate between that world and thia. 0 dewdrop of Heaven, Sent down from above! O fresh life, God-given, to hearts full of love! O princess of babies! O sweetest of elves I La! here at thy altar we pledge thee ourselves I To crown thee with wisdom And rear thee in truth Shall be onr one task through thy oncoming youth. Only an atom. M. A monad, a clod! But gleaming aud glowing with life, fresh from God. Only a mite! 1 And a little one, too; But without her, o wise man! say, what should I dot . Only a whisper In life’s shifting acene; . Bnt she’s still my own daughter, my wee Geraldine. —E. 8. Brook), In Ni Y. Independent.

KITTY.

CHAPTER I. “He will be sure to come before the summer is over,” said little Kitty to her" self. She was always called little Kitty, although nineteen years old, but she was round and soft and pretty and pettable, and looked like a little Kitten, so the, name and the adjective suited her perfectly. And she was very careful, in spite of many a temptation to the contrary, not to wear her new white muslin dress "at the doctor's wife’s or the lawyer’s wife’s party, and none of her best bows were seen at the church, though on many a Sunday the sun shone so brightly it seemea to be almost insulting not to wear them. She was keeping them all for the benefit of John Laurence when next he came to stay at the Laurels, which he was sure to do soon, for he always turned up about twice in the year. Old Mr. Hughes was very fond of bis big, handsome nephew, who had not long attained the elevated position of a lieutenant in the artillery, and having no son of his own, and the estates being entailed, it was perhaps only natural that he should make him his heir. x There was another reason, too, why old Hughes made much of John—he wanted him to marry his daughter; nay, it had always been considered a settled though undiscussed thing that he should do so, and people said that they were engaged. Kitty believed this gossip wa»<all nonsense, for Caroline Hughes was tall and thin, with two large white teeth sticking out in front of her mouth (though she was otherwise agreeable), and, moreover, whenever John Laurence came to Cragford he made love to Kitty. He always did it in a half-clandestine fashion that annoyed Kitty excessively, and never paid her marked attentions before other people; still he did not make love to her, that was certain, and she did not believe that he cared for Caroline. Kitty did not often go to the Laurels. Kitty's father was only a retired solicitor, though well off, and Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Hughes ranked among the big swells of Cragford, and only invited the professional men and their wives once or twice a year to dinner, and tneir daughters once or twice a year to a ball or a croquet party. It galled little Kitty to think that tills social difference in their station at Cragford was perhaps the reason why the love that John Laurence made to her was clandestine. Poor little Kitty! she had not a very nice time of it at home. “ I can’t imagine why you do not give Mr. Baverstock more encouragement,” Mrs. Horton w’as always saying to her. “He will be snapped up soon, for there are very few chances for girlsin alive place.” Mr. Baverstock was a young surgeon who had settled down in Cragford about a year previously. He wore spectacles, had thin legs and red hair, and was not by any means a charming object to behold. He was very devoted to Kitty, as all Cragford knew, but Kitty always snubbed him unmercifully. “ I detesthim, mamma.” (Kitty’s papa had unexpectedly taken to himself a second wife during a visit to London about two years since, and Kitty called her mamma to please him, but there was no love lost between them.) “ Why, he’s as ugly as-a toad.” “ He is getting a very good practice.” “ I would sooner marry the man in the moon;” and she settled restlessly down to read “ Lallah Rookh” for about the twenty-seventh time that year. It was a beautifully bound edition, radiant in crimson and gold, and illustrated with beautiful pictures by tissue-paperff Tirtty on her lastbirthdav. She declared she did not know where It came from, and it was quite true she didn’t, but she could have made an excellent guess if she had tried, . /

CHAPTER 11. Only a week later, and John Laurence had arrived at the Laurels. Mr. Baverstock brought tlie news, and when Kitty heard it she looked so sweet the surgeon felt himself encouraged, and ventured to stay the evening. There was only one vexing thing, that he had brought his friend Mr. Fletcher with him again. He __ had accompanied John Laurence on his last two visits to Cragford, and Kitty had felt on each occasion that he had been decidedly in the way; for whenever, quite by accident, John had met her when she was out for a walk, Mr. Fletcher had not been far off, and she devoutly wished him at Jericho. “ I hear Miijs Hughes’ marriage is to come off this summer,” Mr. Baverstock said, in his weak alto voice, “and now that the young gentleman is here I dare say it will be all arranged.” “No doubt,” said Mrs. Horton, a little spitefully, for she had noticed his attentions to Kitty, and/felt they boded her no good—p»obably--tfut ridiculous ideas into her aira prevented her from accepting the ITiustrious Frederick, who was ready to throw himself at her feet on tlie slightest psovocation. “I have always heard that they were very much attached to each other." Mrs. Horton had not heard anything of the kind; but no matter—shew-as given to fibbing. The very next day the hero called. He looked handsomer than ejer, Kitty thought. Jlis shoulders were broader, his hands bigger, and his face more sunburnt. He talked chiefly to Mrs. Horton, but he kept looking across at Kitty—that pretty, innocent; round-faced Kitty, with the sparkle in her downcast eyes, mid the flush cm her dimpled cheeks—till he made her heart beat with happiness and excitement. ” /‘By the way,-Miss Kitty,” he said, suddenly ftimbling in the big pocket of his loose tweed coat, “ I have a note for you. There’s to be some croquet up at the Laurels on Thursday, ana my aunt wants you to come.” ....

The white muslin dress was donned, and the coquettish hat and the little makebelleve wrap twisted about her shoulders to the beet advantage, and Kitty was ready for the party st the Laurels. Bhe did look very pretty, as eveu her step-mother secretly acknowledged. “ Remember, Kitty, I shall expect you home by seven for you to come later through those woods alone. Indeed, I think Mrs. Hughes ought to have asked me to sAopsrvn you.” “Yes, mamma " and Kitty went on hex joyful way.. The woods Mrs. Horton alluded to were privateones, belonging to tiie Laurels, but they made a short cut for Kitty and saved her a good liajf-mile at road. “ Perhaps he will come and meet me,” she thought, shyly, and strained her eyes to catch sight of bis awkward figure in the distance, but it did not appear. Then presently she heard the distant church-clock chime half-past three. “ There! I’m much too early. We were not even asked till four. I know what I’ll do when I get further ,ou; I’ll sit down in a shady part of the wood and wait till about five minutes after the hour.*' Bo she went on, and when she was within a quarter of a mile of the house branched off into a thick part of the wood and followed a sleepy stream that wandered on beneath the tall trees and among the tangled underwood, flecked with water-lilies and fringed with yellow iris, which nodded their golden heads to the sun. Bhe found a quiet, leafy nook close to its edge and sat aown and waited. Then suddenly through the distant trees she saw coming along the edge of the stream two figures—those of a man and a woman. The one she knew at a glance —it was John Laurence; the other she saw a mihu’e later was his Cousin Caroline. With a bound her heart seemed to come into her throat. “ It’s Miss Hughes,” she said to herself, “ and how nice she looks, and what a pretty dress she has on!” She drew her white muslin 'closer round her, and retreated a few inches further back behind the thick busline, so that they might pass her unperceived, and waited. On they came, arm in arm, talking earnestly and in a loiv voice. The color fled from Kitty’s cheek and the light died out of her eyes as she saw them, for surely only lovers walked as they did. They stopped as they got to within three yards of kitty’s hiding-place, while Caroline Hughes stopped absently to pick one of the yellow water-iris, and Kitty heard her say “Doyou know, John, I never liked you so well as I do to-day, and I thought you did not care for me." “My dear girl, I was always awfully fond of you. I think you ought to give me a kiss to make up for all the unkind things you have been spying.” She put up her face and Kitty looked away, with a pain which almost made her cry. Then they passed on and were soon lost to view. Kitty did not move from her hidingplace, and went to no croquet-party that afternoon. Mrs. Horton almost screamed with surprise, an hour later, when Kitty suddenly appeared, her muslin dress crushed, the. rose in front of her dress all faded and her cheeks and lips as white as the Jasmine about her head, as shestood in the window leading from the garden. “Mamma, I felt ill and my head ached, and I sat down in the wood and felt too ill to go on, and I have come back.” “Didn’tyou see anyone?” Mrs. Horton asked, doubtfully. “ I have not spoken to a soul,” she answered, and went to her room, saying she wished to lie down. In the dusk of the evening Kitty came down-stairs again, to find Mr. Baverstock talking with her father and step-mother. “We were talking of getting married, Kitty,” Mrs. Horton said, making way for her to sit down; but she stood staring at the group before her almost as if in a dream. “And Mn Baverstock says he would not marry an heiress for the world.”- “ No, indeed, I would not, Miss Kitty. I should only marry because 1 loved the young lady, and felt I could devote my life to her.”

“And why do you expect to be married, Mr. Baverstock?” she asked absently. He shuffled about uneasily and answered in his squeaky voice: “ Well, I hope—l hope the young lady will have an affection for m-e-e-e.” Kitty would have laughed at any other time, but now she only stared at him and passed out into the garden. _ She went through the gate and wandered just a little way down the lane again, feeling as If she would give anything to walk straight on and out of the weary world altogether. “ Kitty!” a well-known voice said softly, and John Laurence appeared from behind a tree and stood before her in tlie dim light. “ I have been waiting here on the mere chance of seeing you. Why didn’t you come to-day?" “ I was ill,” she said faintly. “ My poor little girl,” and he drew her hand through his arm. “Why, whatwas the matter?” But she shrank back. “Nothing,” she said, drawing herself up; “ only lam going home.” “ Something is the matter now,” he exclaimed. “ Why, Kitty, wfiat is it, my little darling?" ' “You have no 4 right to speak to me like that,” she said, while the hopeless tears filled her cyes- and tricked crown her <?!lt?eki.'"“lVhat wou'fd your cousin say—you who are engaged, and going to be married?’’ “I! I’m sure I’m not—at least it’s not arranged yet—though Caroline is going to be splicea.” • • “Yes, to you.” “ O dear! no; it’s to Fletcher.” “Why, I saw you kiss her this afterheard you say you were awlul- “ Wejl/what then? She’d been telling me in confidence about Fletcher, and getting me to manage it with my uncle, who’d had some ridiculous notions in his head, and I was congratulating her and telling her what he’d said, ana thought I deserved a cousinly kiss for my pains.” “ Was that it?” she said in amazement. “ Yes, it was, you little goose”—for he could not help seeing the state of the case —“ and you see, I’ve been hanging about here on the chance of seeing you. I wanted to tell you how fond I am of you, you little darling, and to askywfn be my wife.” And then he did to Kitty whatlie had done to his Cousin Caroline in the afternoon, and But never mind, the story is told, and you can guess how pretty Kitty lookecfeon the day she was married to her hero. —CZasseZZ’s Magazine.

Cookies.—Three cups of sugar, two tablespoonfills of rose water, one cup qf butter, three eggs, one teaapoonfui of soda, one-half cup of milk, flour enough to roll out well. Beat the eggs very light. Bub the butter, sugar and rose water together; then add soda dissolved in the milk, and the flour. Rollthin. One cupof sugar, one-hdii cup of butter, two egfflh half a teaspoonfill of soda, mix soft anobake quickly. One cup butter, two cups sugar, two eggs, half a teaspoon soda, half a. cup of milk. Flour to roll out. Add caraway seeds and spice. M. BtRNAUM has. found that when the feed water of a boiler is heated by the injection of steam, fatty matters are Occasionally carried into the boiler, Which form insoluble soapy matters with the lime salts present in the water. These soaps form a deposit which is not wetted by water, and this may lead to the' destruction 6f the boiler, inasmuch as the part of the boiler under the incrustation becomes more heated than other parts and is apt to occasion rupture. •

The 3.65 Interconvertible Currency and the Greenback.

Im a recent ls«gthy article ia the Spring.field (Mato.) JfopubbeaM Benalor Newton Booth offer* a clear and strong argument in favor of 8.«6 interconvertible bonds and the greenback, from which we take the following extracts.- ' , , ; By thi. time jm will acknowledge I am enoaxh of aballlontat lot sit the “■trefgbte.lof ths sort." It does not follow, however,.that baenuea gold Is nectoiorlly ths “world's money’’—Us material oo which labor can moat easily mark the units at value for the pnrpoae of universal measurement, that it should or ean be made the circulating medium of the various oountriea of the world. Perhaps It follows, for that very nanon, that ft should not and cannot ba. If It were abundant enough to circulate through all tho channels of daily business In the civilized world, it might bo so common as not to bo precious enough to perform Its great office of final adjuster. If It oonld have met with both there eoudiliona I am enough of a believer in the “ survival of the fittest’’ to auppooe It would have been adopted for both, by oo turnon consent, as certainly as It has for one. I have said that our present banking system was, In many particulars, tho boat wo have ever had. It is so because it is baaed upon the beet credit. There in absolute security that bank notes will be redeemed. Redeemed In what?—tho notes of the United States. It Is not tho credit of the banks which makes their notes good and gives them uniformity of value wherever they claculate, but the credit of the Government. The Government could only have two objects in Issuing greenbacks; first,to obtain a loan without interest; second, to form a credit which should circulate as money. A national bank Is organized; it deposits SIOO,OOO in United States bonds and $5,000 in greenbacks in the United States Treasury, and receives $90,000 in bank notes signed by the United States Treasurer, upon which It agrees to pay the United States one per cent per annum. In plain English, what is this bnt the bank borrowing the credit es the Govaniinent for one per cent, per annum and having security. With a fair margin, upon which security the Government pays the bank five or six per cent.; that is, the bank pays the Government upon one form of its credit one per cent., and the Government pays tho bank upon another form of its credit five or elx per eent. in the same transaction—and that not for one year, but while the bank charter continues. Now If tho first object- a loan without Interest—controls the Government in Issuing the greenback, that Is defeated by this operation to tho extent of al! bank circulation. In the second, it is unnecessary, for the bank note never can be boner than the greenback in which it is payable. Now suppose for any cause the bank goes into liquidation. The Government sell* the securities, and, after redeeming the bills of the bank in Government bills (for which as yet there is no plan of redemption) pays over the residue to the stockholders. All this circumlocution from the first establishment of the bank to its liquidation to get back to the United States note, which could have Just as well been issued directly in the first instance. It seems to be apprehended on the one hand that without the bunks of issue there would be a deficiency of currency, and on the other that with out them tho Government would ''inflate'’ the currency. Suppose the Government to-day could substitute greenbacks for the bank notes in circulation, the volume of currency would bo tho same, the quality no worse. Do you fear there would be a failure of the necessary machinery for the proper distribution of currency to meet the wants of the people and the accommodation of business 1 Have the receiving of deposits, drawing exchange and lending of money suddenly become aa unprofitable or irksome a business that no one will engage in it without the added premium of a power to issue money? Suppose the substitution made, and to-morrow the currency should be made convertible Into a perpetual 8.65 gold bond, would not that Improve the currency to ths value of such a bond? Make the bond Interconvertible with currency, will not that give it additional value by making it the receptacle of the money of estates of decedents and bankrupts under administration, and giving it a power of absorbing money temporarily idle, but wanted “on call ?” Is there an apprehension that its absorbing qualities would become so great that the currency of the country would rush into it -and disappear from circulation. That could only haopenwuen smfhla bond was worth a premium in gold; tfieuthe gol&d! the world would seek it as an investment, until our six per cent, bonds could be exchanged for 3.655, a Cegult I would contemplate with very philosophic composure, even if it were nearer than I anticipate—whileHtocptastrophe of an entire disappearance of our currency would be effectually prevented by the option of the Government to redeem it in gold. When that period arriyes, men will take their gold to tho United States Treasury and exchange it for Government notes on account of their superior convenience. Very seriously, my dear Mr. Editor, I do believe tho bond I have mentioned would appreciate to par, carrying the greenback with it with reasonable rapidity and certainty; that it would eventually take up all our bonds; that, as such a security would for many purposes be more valuable at home than abroad, it would bo held in larger proportions at home; that our present bonds are largo enough to afford an ample basis for any expansion of currency, if any should become necessary. Under such a system, if more currency were necessary, in place of lending Government credit to bapks, tho capital which now organizes banks would take Government bonds to the Treasury, get notes for them, with the absolute certainty that when, for any cause, the notes came home, they would find tho exact security left in pledge forthem. Government promises, under all circumstances, would be fulfilled to the letter, and paper money would no longer be a lie. The plan may not be the best conceivable. Is it not the best practicable? Ido not imagine that it would start at once the laggard wheels of in--duetry and make the waste places glad, but I believe It honest, practicable, and that it offers the most favorable conditions for gradual improvement and healthy growth of any yet suggested. At the risk of becoming prolix, let me recap! talite:

JW—Greenbacks will be worth aa reach aa the bonds into which they may be made convertible. Second— Making bonds and greenbacks interconvertible will give the bonds additional value by making them desirable for a large class of Investments which would not otherwise seek them, and, by ae much aa is added to their value by this quality, the interest will be reduced when the Government is required to pay in order to bring its bonds to par with gold. Third— As the English eonaol, a perpetual three per cent, gold security,is worth 95,an American gold bond on long time or perpetual at 8.65, with the added vaine of the interconvertible clause, would appreciate to par with gold ae its credit would become established, which wonld be as rapidly as the country can return to tho specie standard in Justice to existing contracts. Fourth— The “interconvertible” character of the bonds would enable the Government credit to circulate as money in. Just such volume as the business of the country would demand, without the intervention of the cumbersome, extensive and unnecessary machinery of banks of issue, whose notes have no valnedxcept that of the Government credit. Fifth— There would be no occasion for the exercise of a power of doubtful constitutionality and dangerous policy in the creation of corporations by the General Government. Sixth— When Government notes appreciate to the specie standard, the legal-tender qualitiy can be renwvwlepposlttefc, xsde -we shaft ssgafobe w&Sin fr’nutatfdfu on the subject of finance.

A Coincidence.

Yesterday, at a little social gathering on Walnut Hill, two young ladies, one from Newport and the other from Covings ton, were introduced, and eaclipffiled out a half-finished slipper and began work, while chatting cheerfully. At last said the young lady from Newport: “ Will you tell me who you are making your slippers for?” “ Certainly,” said the young lady from Covington. “lam making them for my sister to give to her fiancee, a well-known young gentleman in Cincinnati. Now, for whom are you making yours?” “ Why,” replied the young lady from Newport, “ singularly enough I am making them for my sister to present to her fiancee, also a well-known young gentleman in Cincinnati.”

“ That’s a coincidence, isn’t it?” said the young lady from Newport. “It is, indeed,” said the young lady from Covjpgteri; "may 1 ask, in conndenote/ wqp the young gentleman la who is engageato-yami sister*" , “ Certainly,” Mid the young lady from Newport. “It is ,” naming a young gentleinan quite prominent in this city. “ Why," said the young lady from Covington, Iff lifter astonishment, “ that is ths young man my sister is engaged to.” And then there was trouble on the Wabash. That young man is probably in several pieces by this time.— Cincinnati Timet. c It was at a dinner party at Mr. Pres ott’s Nahant resiijcpce a good many years ago, the honored guest being an English Baron. Just as the first course was removed the historian and host, turning to his guest, said: “ I'm afraid you’ll miss your soup. We have given you instead Our usual aide dish.” "Indeed," answered the Baronet; “and what do yott call it?” “ Chowder.” “How?” “Chowder." “ Would you kindly spell it for me?” “ C-h-o-w-d-e-r. How do you like it, Sir John?” “Midi,” fiiid the noble Briton, “ I’ve-traveled a good deal in my time, and I confess that I’ve eaten thing-? that were, worse; but not much, not much.” The guests kept thbir faces straight as long as they could, but thg roai came at last, and it was a hearty one.— Boston Transcript. , * ■

RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL.

—The appropriation* of the American Board of Oommlssionera tor Foreign Miaaioua for 1876 are laaa by $120,000 than those of 1875. —There la a sect in Scotland calling themselves Christian Israelites, who claim to have received • revelation from God that they are descendants of the lost tribe* of Israel, whom the Lord is thus gathering from among the nations, according to Ilia promise by Hie propbeta. They keep Bixlh-day night, null also the hour from 10 to 11 a. m. of First-day aa sacred time, by special revelation. —A correspondent of the Leader (L’nlveraalist) expresses the opinion that the doctrinal advertisements inserted by Universalists in the New York and the Brooklyn daily papers, during tiie past year, had an appreciable effect in enlarging their congregations. The advertisements were issued* as “ condensed tracts,” and were intended to convey information. —The colored schools in the State of Delaware are said to be in a demoralized condition. According to a law passed by the last Legislature the taxes paid by the colored people were to be disbursed by the Delaware Association for the benefit of colored children. None of this tax has been paid over as yet, and as a consequence only thirteen or fourteen colored schools are now in operation in the State. —The changes certain to occur in a .twenty-five years’ pastorate are well illustrated In a sermon delivered by the Rev. Dr. H. O. Pish, at the completion of his connection for that period with the First Baptist Church or Newark, N. J. Of his original congregation only forty-nine remain; all oi his first corps of deacons have died. His church has received in the quarter of a century 1,781 members, and has now a total of 961 members. It has raised for its own support and for benevolence $850,000, an average of $14,000 yearly. There were 400 Baptist communicants in Newark in 1826; there are now 2,988. —Mr. George William Curtis is supplying the pulpit of the Church of the Redeemer, Staten Island, as a lay reader, and he has of late read to the congregation on Bunday mornings from the sermons of tiie Rev. Btopford Brooke, of London. It may become a serious question with us hereafter, as It was in the Old World long ago, whether a preacher should always depend upon his own compositions, instead of reading at his discretion the best productions of the masters of sacred wisdom and eloquence. In England, and in this country now, clergymen who pever think of passing off borrowed sermons as their own do not shrink from reading openly from the old Book of Homilies and other approved selections.—N. Y. Evening Poet.

MECHANICAL AND SCIENTIFIC.

—A brass measure in the shape of a flat fish has been found in Yarmouth, the name of T. Browne, who was Mayor in 1748, still being legible on it. The length of the fish is six and five-eighth inches, its width three inches, ana it was used by the water bailiff to measure the meshes of fishermen’s nets m order to prevent the taking of small fish, for whose preservation the English Legislature is again making strenuous efforts.

—The London World gives the following description of the “latest thing” in coffins r “ You are placed in a glass box, to the top ot which is affixed a metal rod. As soon as the earth is filled in, a battery is connected with the rod and an electric shock shatters the coffin into a thousand pieces, thus allowing the earth to press upon the dear departed and allowing him to return to dust even quicker than m one of Mr. Seymour Haden’s wicker baskets.”

—M. Lostal, a French railway contractor, noticing that the boards of mortarbeds become very hard and resist decay, has invented a process for preserving wood by impregnating it with lime. Lumber is piled in a vat and covered with quicklime, which is slaked by sprinkling. The vat is filled with water to the top of the wood, which remains some days undisturbed and is believed to absorb the lime through its whole structure, becoming hardened and secured against dry rot. —M. Buchwalder, in a letter to M. Dumas, remarks that a recent invention of M. Mouchot for the industrial application of solar heat was virtually anticipated in the time of Numa Pompilius by priests of the Temple Vesta, for kindling the sacred fire, should this from any cause go out. Plutarch describes the contrivance, which was a hollow vase (formed with the sides of a right-angled Isosceles triangle), so arranged that when turned to the sun all the rays from the sides united in the center: “There,” he says, “ they subtilize the air so strongly that they inflame it, and when any and and dry matter is brought near, the fire seizes it, because the air by means of reflection takes the form of flame and forces it to be inflamed.”

—A French engineer named d’Adhemar has invented a coating or paint which is said to preserve iron from rusting better than anything known, besides being cheaper than red-lead paint. Some years ago, in exploring some salt wells among the balls in them unoxidized; later, in Gaudaloupe, he found iron scales or scraps which had lain in the ground without rusting. In both cases he observed that the soil contained sulphur; and the exterior films of the metal in both cases proved to be substantially the same, being sulphuretted. Acting on these hints, he has prepared a pigment which can be applied with any of trie ordinary painter’s vehicles, and which vulcanizes, as he says, the surface of the iron as sulphur does India rubber, remaining unchanged for years.

New York Fashions.

Nets are gradually coming in fashion again to wear when the hair is loosely plaited or coiled at the back of the head. These are made as a general thing of soil, wovlfr braids, though the Figaro nets of thick chenille of all colors are equally in style. The invisible nets, composed of hair And coming in all shades, so that the hair of the wearer can be perfectly matched-*to wear over the front of the head—are fast gaining ground as protec'tors to crimps or frizzles, as the case may be, taking in large measure the place of the little mask veils wom heretofore for this purpose. For ball and evening coiffures, feathers are popular, especially white and creme ones; also, very pale tints of blue r mauve and rose; these are used both with and without lace. High combs are now placed much'bn one side, instead of straight in the center of the back of the head, Among the novelties in hoods and other evening wraps for the head, are white zephyr ones, embroidered in silks of all colors; also, capulets of ecru Spanish blond lace, forming a sort of hood, and finished with bows ofolack velvet and those of black' blond trimmed with cardinal ribbons. Black lace is rarely used for millinery purposes, but the white and creme assist with gold, silver and steel braids and buckles, to Birther embellish the feather-covered hats ahd bonnets of the season. Capotes are the Very newest models in bonnets, and show, sh very diminutive form it is true, the anticipated curtains; these revived ap. pendages, while not yet popular, are received by the elegantes of and it is thought Will grow, larger when they are more commonly worn. In illustration ot the capotes was seen, an im-

ported bonnet of ecru faille and green velvet, the green being the new shade known aa the n dead-leaf green:*’ its plaited front wm very much turned up, and wm composed or ecru faille lined wlti. the green, with a small double green rushing and a green torsade that grew under toward the center, where there was a handsome green bow with four loops held by a silver buckle. The crown was of nutted ecru faille, and the space between it and the brim filled in with a wreath of large velvet leaves; the ecru curtain was edged with a ruching falling over a green bow. Hints for spring wraps are gained in the new cloaks, which fall to show short backs and long points, but are invariably long and round. A stylish model, recently imported, extends Its back seams about six Inches below the waist over the tournure, where the skirtAs plaited on in two deep box-plaits or In the Russian plaits, to make the mass hang the rest of the way full and long. Where the corsage and the skirt unite is placed a wide ribbonsash, which, fastened od either side, ties in the center, to fall in ends over the plaits. Feather trimming is disappearing from cloaks, but only to reappear as feather fringe on drosses. A pretty costume recommended for little girls has its well-fitting bodice continued in a sort of plain basque down below the hips: the skirt is fastened on this basque in full plaits behind and plain In front; the garment is buttoned all the way down the front with buttons the color of the dress, which is usually gray or brown, and there are fancy little aumoniere pockets on either side. Little girls of nine and ten years of age often have their dresses made in pnneesse shape, trimmed with work of fine mohair braid, or black silk-plaited braid with steel edging, or with bouillons, tabs, pipings, etc., of faille, and passementerie buttons. For the same age is also given a dress having a plain cuirasse and skirt-plaited low down at the back under a wide bow of faille. The paletot is very short at the back", not coming below the sash bow, but lengthened into two wide square lappets in front. This paletot is trimmed all the way down the front with a quilting of cream cashmere lace and ribbon, matching in color the material of the garment. The lace is continued in a double bonier round the lappets and about a large pocket placed upon the left side. Lace quillings and faille bows also finish the sleeves. The two styles most popular for little girls’ outside wraps are the long, closefitting paletot, and the one Justdescribed — short in the back, with long lappets in front. The little hats or bonnets match in color,- at least, the costume with which they are associated. The drawn silk and velvet capotes are equally popular with the various shaped felt hats. In fans, those of feathers, mounted on bohe, tortoise shell, ivory, or smoked pearl sticks, are by far the most fashionable ones; though the folded ivory fan, painted and carved, the silk ones on sticks of ebony and violet wood, ornamented with hand-painted flowers, and the satin and silk fans, trimmed with marabout fringe, are equally in style. The feather fans range in all prices from five dollars up to $125 and $l3O, according to the rarity of the feathers and the value of the sticks employed. Very handsome ones are seen composed of natural-colored marabout tips, mounted on thin ivory sticks; also ostrich tips (natural color) on amber tortoise-shell. Amber and dark mottled shell are favorites for both feather and black lace fans. Lace fans, by the way, have lost none of their old favor. In white they are made of the combination lace so largely used now in all confections; one of those seen comprised point duchesse, point d’Alencon and Valenciennes; the duchesse providing the groundwork for the medallions and other ornamentations of the two remaining laces. Tainted designs represent landscapes and figures, more largely than flowers alone perhaps, and these cover the entire face es the fan instead of one corner.—N. Y. World.

Scene in a Virginia (Nev.) Restaurant.

In no place in the world can the seeker after knowledge and pleasurable excitement find more liberal provision of such pabulum for his mental economy than in this town. Wherever he goes he finds something transpiring that is quite as elciting ana much more real than anything to be seen in any tragedy ever put upon the stage; the actors are always earnest, most natural and business-like. A man need lose po time in hunting these scenes. They are furnished at all times and in all manner of places. Even while taking his breakfast, dinner or supper he is losing nothing. The cooks, waiters and most of the customers at the restaurants are provided with knives and pistols, and are always ready to while away the time in making use of them. This being the case, a man may very frequently combine business with pleasure. In most towns, for instance, the reporters count the time spent in taking their meals as good as lost. Here the case is quite different. All he has to do after he is seated at his table is to cock his revolver, lay it in his lap and await ths course of events. Of course he is not so impolite as to mix in any miscellaneous shooting that may be going cm.b^tJbc iftW act well his part in case of any gentleman present introducing himself and claiming the right to extend to him. the amenities of the occasion. Now only this morning, at the Kingsbury chophouse, on Union street, between B and C streets, there was a little passage-at-arms between a cook —Stephen Goodband by name—and Nick Jerry, a Greek, who is a waiter and part owner of the establishment. After a preliminary skirmish of words, which answered about the same purpose as the prologues did in the old plays, Mr. Gooabanalaid aside his fryingpan and took up hispistol, being desirous, if possible, of convincing his employer that he was right in the position which he (Goodband) had assumed. Seeing that the cook’s aim waa perfect, Mi - . Jerry dropped upon one knee and threw up his hand to avoid it. He was not wholly successful, as the cook’s bullet passed between his head and hand, peeling a streak of skin from his temple and barking One of his fingers. Mr. Goodband then walked out of the place in disgust at having so nearly missed his mark and has not since been seen, so ashamed is lie of his miserable marksmanship. Mr. Jerry’s pistol was in the next room Hnd not in order, therefore we can only take hisword for the kind of shooting he would have done. Some of the regular boarders are willing to put up money* that Jerry is the better that.—Virginia Enterprise.

The closing of the Franciscan monastery at Saiminister, in Germany, having been directed by the authorities, everything portable within the building was carried off by the monks, hot excepting the stoves. One gigantic stove, however, withstood their efforts, and was.purchased at the Government sale of the property by Prince Ysenburg Birstein. This mammoth stove, whicn stood in the refectory of the monastery, is said to have been built in the fifteenth century, and, according to the monks, is the identical stove at which Martin Luther, on his return froth the Diet of Worms, warmed hinWf in the house of his friend Ulrich von gotten. Robbers in the rural districts of Berks .County, Pa., are so numerous that farmers are epaploying private watchmen to protect thenragainst the depredations of thieves.

Our Young Folks. ■*■ ■ ■T’M I ts > lI.MI * ,11 MIIRiIIHI »W*——*a*U*W**e*m—<*—<— TIMS KNOVOH. Two little aqnlml* out In the an, Ono gathered nuto, the otter ted now*; “Time enough yet," kl* constant rvfrain, “ Hammer to atfll only Jut oa tte wamo.’’ Llaton, tor child, while I toll yon hi* fete: Ho roueed Mm at laet, but be roueed him too Into; Down fell tte enow from a pltllea* cloud. And gave little aquirrel a apottow white ahroud. Two little 'boy* In a *ch.>olroom were placed; On* alwaye perfect, tte other dtograeed; “lime enough yet for ay learning," ho eat*, " I will climb by and by from the foot to tte heed,’’ / Linton, mv darling, their lock* are turned gray; Ono a* a Goremor altlelh to-day; The Otter, a pen per, look* out ar tte door Of the almehouu, and Idle* kto day* u of yore. Two kind* of people we nreet every day: One to at work, the otter at play. Living uncared for, dying unknown The bualeat hive hath ever a drone. Tell me, my child, if the eqnlrreto have taught The Jamon J longed to implant la your thought; Anawer me thli, and my atory to done. Which of the two wonld you be, little ones

SALLY WATSON'S RIDE.

“ Sally, can’t you go over to Uncle Ellen’s this afternoon and bring home those pigs’ There arc seven in the litter he promised me, and they are quite large. I must finish getting the wheat in, and he does not want to feed them any longer. The pen Is ready.” Sally, a bright-looking girl of about fourteen, raised herself from the tub over which she leaned, and said, as she wiped down her arms with her hands: “ How, father?” Mr. Watson had come in for his ten o’clock snack after his tarty breakfast. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, floor, a bowl of coffee in one hand and a S piece of apple-pie in the other. He a bite of the latter and » drink of coffee before he answered. “In the little light wagon. I stopped at Ebon's yesterday as I came ffdm mee£ ing. and he said he would put them up securely in a couple of old coops that would stand in the back of the wagon. You can have Dolly; we are not using her. What do you say, mother; can you spare her?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Watson, a neat, brisk little woman, who came in basket in hand, from hanging up the clothes; *‘ the wash will all be out by noon and I will clean up.” * “ Can’t I have one of the pigs for going for them, father? You saia you only wanted a half-dozen, and there are seven.” “ Yes, and you can buy your Sunday suit next fall with the money it brings.’’ He pulled her ear as he went out again to his work.

“ My!” Sally gave a little nod of her head as she began briskly rubbing her ear. “ I’m sure I’ll make it fat. Jane Burns got sixteen dollars for the one her father gave her last year. Mother, can’t I take Lot and Polly; it is such a long, lonesome way to go by one’s self?” “ Mrs. Watson assented, adding: “ Dolly is such a fast trotter you can stay there a while and get home before dark. Be sure you stop at the poetoffice, and go to the store ana get me some buttons.” There was a great deal to do; dinner was late, and the afternoon had quite set in wheu Sally started. Her way was through the village a half-mile off and then nearly five miles beyond. It was the first week in October, the day was warm and soft and the country beautiful. The road lay through the woods, steep in places, running up hills and down again in little valleys, through which many a creek babbled; it was not fenced off, and the wild grape and the pawpaw were almost within reach as they rode along. The trees had just begun to turn. The sugar maple swayed gently to the light breeze, scattering a crimson cloud to the earth; the Virginia creeper embraced the huge trunks or flung out long, graceful branches of purple and brown and scarlet:the pawpaw was flaming in golden yellow; the haw, with its red berries, dotted the road-side, while here and there, brilliant with the hue of royalty’s self, great clusters of iron-weed towered in the autumn light, and from the branches of the butternut, hickory and walnut, the occasional sound of dropping nuts was heard. Dolly trotted along briskly, and the children talked of the wonderful animals they had seen the Saturday before—for a traveling menagerie had halted on some fields near the village, and the whole population for miles around had turned out to visit it. Lot, who was a boy of eight, had been most impressed by the bears, but Patty, who was younger, seemed to have been most fascinated with the big snake. Then they fell to talking “ sposens,” what they should do if a bear or snake was to attack them there in the woods. Lot was extremely valiant; he thrust about with a stick; showing how he would put him to flight, and in the midst of their talk they reached their uncle’s house, having met but one person on the road. They made but a short stay, as it was getting late, and, with the pigs cooped and stowed in the back of the wagon, which had no top and was open all around, started for home. Seated floor, Lot- and -Pattypaksdbits of apple through the slats of the coop to the young porkers, speculating upon their appearance and advising Bally which to take for her own. Lot would have the black one if he were she, because it was the biggest, but Patty thought the little spotted one was “so cunning.” They were about a mile from the village at the top of a long hill, when Lot, who had exhausted his supply of applebits, and for the last fifteen minutes had been poking the pigs, delighted to hear them squeal, suddenly gave them such a thrust that Sally bade him stop the noise, and come and sit beside heron-the seat. He arose to do as he was bidden, and as he did so, stood for a moment with back to her, still poking the pigs. Just then the wagon jolted over a large stone, he was thrown on the coop, the stick was punched Violently into a pig’s side, it squealed, Lot screamed, and Patty began to cry. Considerably out of patience, Bally leaned back, and catching him by the arm, was about to seat him rather violently beside her, when she was arrested by h» exclaiming: “See! see! Sally, look! look! what an awful bear!” The tone of his voice more than his words—for he was a sensational child, and was constantly seeing wonderful things—caused Sally to turn her eyes in the direction indicated by his frightened gesture. , v .The wood was open at this spat, and there were no large trees near; but at some distance, almost alone, stood a great sycamore, the branches of which were nearly hare ; between tne tree and the road the ground was thickly covered with blackberry, pawpaw and other boshes.

As she glanced quickly toward the great sycamore, a something huge, she could not tell what, leaped from the tree to the ground,and she could hear the underbrush erack beneath it She knew there Were no ferocious wild animate in Ohio, nothing in the forests to harm her, and had not been for many years, but her face blanched with fear. “ Lie down,” ?he said, in a tone which both terriftvd and quieted the children, aa she thrust Lot to the bottom of the waga* and tore the stick from his hands, Taking it quickly and forcibly on Dolly’s bate. The horse sprung forward in a gallop,

ward and with all her strength' befoßOrtrf the horse. There was a long level pfeffe of road now, but the nearest bonne we mile off. Poor Dolly was speedreg feel there was danger, for her earn tern and she u* the terrible aidmat not far behind, amid the cloud of date she struck poor Dolly., } . “Is the bear coming? Will kte tfet us?” came in smothered accents from the bottom of the wagon, where tha CtriMMM lay with their faces pressed close to th» boards.

Bally did not reply. She gave another look, saw that the thing gained ate and exerting all her strength in giving Dolly a last blow, which sent her bouadr Ing forward, she got over the seat bw the children, unheeding their question*, and seizing one of the coops threw ft over the tail-board out in the road. The pin squealed as it touched the earth, and the noise added to Dolly’s terror, which wfa now so intense she was entirely beyond Sally’s control. <so “Are we going to be eaten up J”. Lot whimpered in almost a whispet*. “ Hush,” she answered, “hush.” She let the horse take its way, and placed herself on her knees between the children and the other coop. The terrible creature had stopped. Mie could see it strike the coop with its paw, and see the piacasfljre < .hft..tow , hed it How long would It keep him, she thought; ana there came a throb of relief as she saw that meantime they were speeding further and further away. She looked round in vain; there wan no one in sight, the form-house was still a quarter of a mile ahead, and the animal she feared was becoming only a black spot in the distance; but ts she gazed with fixed eyes she saw the dust rise again. It was moving. * They reached the form-house gate. It was closed. She could not stop Dolly now, and, even if she could, she had not the courage to get down and open It, and drive to to the house some distance up the lane. She called aloud; bnt no one heard. There were turns in the road several; she eonld not see the animal coining. This was worse than watching its approach. She threw the other coop out, then stretched, herself between the children, closed bar eyes and drew an arm tightly around each.

As she lay thus clasping them afro feft Dolly’s pace slacken. She kept still, feeling that if she moved something would spring upon her. The horse was evidently wearying gradually her gait became slower; they must be near the village. With a great effort she raised herself, and saw the houses only a little distance in advance. She crawled over the children and the seat, and gathered up the reins. Dolly gave a start as she did so, but in a moment subsided—got into her usual pace, and dropped that for a wfflETIn a few moments she was in the street of the village, and at the store. Clambering out of the wagon. Bally tried to tell MrJones her story, but burst into tears, and was unable to speak. The children, who had followed her. now found their voices, and eagerly tola of the bear, and how she had thrown them the pigs. “Bless my souiwhatis this?" asked Mr. Jones in excitement. Then Bally recovered, and infosaaed him of what had happened to them. “ Why—why,” he stuttered in agitation, “it’s the panther that escaped late night from the menagerie at W . There is the hand.bill put up about an hour ago, offering a reward for ft. You're—wowre lucky he did notma-make a meal or you instead of the pigs.” Patty shook her head, “The poor things hollered so.” A crowd soon gathered, in the stoss, eager to hear all Bally had to tell; then the men of the village armed thesnoaiwaa to go in search ol the animal. Sally was still trembling, and poor Dolly, wet as though she had been through the river, was shivering and panting at the same time. The half-mile of road they had to pass over to teach home after leaving the village nut for the better part through a wood. Sally was too alarmed to venture there alone, and a couple of men, who had hastily seized some weapon, accompanied her. Bo excited were they that every cracking noise in the trees put them on the alert; and once they exclaimed: “There he throwing the poor children into now alarms. . z Mr. Wateon was incredulous when Lot burst out with “Oh, father, we have beak chased by a bear—nb, not a bear—-a dreadfal wila thing!” and he would have thought Sally the victim of her own fears, had they net told him a panther had eacaped fromttee Mimagextej thm he W» most thankful for their deliverance. Dolly was blanketed and cared for, and they went into supper, Lot’s tongue grime’ all the time about “the bear.” Sally could not eat, she was still unnerved, and Patty could only pity the poor little pigs. “ Indeed, father,” Bally said in answer to his commendation, '* it it had not been for that story in my reader, we might have all been eaten up. When-Lot talked about the beads as we were going over to Uncle Ebon’s, and what he would do it one was to attack us, I thought about the Russian woman throwing out herchildraoLto the wolves, to save, herself, ud that put it into ray head to throw out the pigs when I saw the panther.** For a long time Sally had an unedmfortable feeling in the woods, Ulthougb the panther was caught on the next day and returned to its cage.— Martha M. inSt.NieholM. Tas Housterepw says: “To free winter plants from insects trite waste tobacco stems and steep than in water until the liquid is of the color of stremg tea; with this water syringe the plants freely twice a week. This will not only effectually destroy the green fly, but wiM keep in check most other inseete that infest plants. Where only a few plants arekept m rooms the easiest way is to dip the plants entirely in the tobacco water, moving them up and down in the liquid to wash the insects off it if they have a Ron, hold. The ‘ red spider* is another pete to winter-blooming plants, and wherever it is seen you may be certain that the atmosphere has been toodry, and vmy likely the temperature too hot, as itis rarriy found in a cool, damp rimpepnteih treatment of this" insect in tee great* house is enpinnn but where but wfew I the house it is best to go tee especially on the under side, with a wet eye, but its destructive effects are quickly perceptible, as the upon which .ft works soon beemte bream, and ft the leaves are ctoseiv examined, particularly the under side, the minute insect will be Tnoi to.e is a 1 and It will only