Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1876 — Page 3

SINGING. Let me eouat «p Ue tntf «>r thrt life thet we Have euac lOKoUer from the Unit till new— The elmple l»aby rhyme* of bird or bee, Of eon had star, of stream end bloeeombougb; _ • The deeper mnsic of oar voutn e newsong, tn days when life looked wonderfully lUft; When bearia wore daring, pulses quick and strong, ~ . When woe wee not, and Joy was everywhere; The wilder strain of passion, smiles and tears. When love awoke with power to slay or eave; The calmer mulody of graver years. In minor key, like music by a grave. And now wo have another song to learnt . “Tie written for ui. wclrtrt W wait our turn. I often think thia unseen, unsung song. With all its eirangenees, will have notes wo know, And we shall hear It' awful chords among The mingled music ol our long ago— The simple snatcbee of our baby rhymes. The thrilling bars of youth's triumphant strain. The peals of melody, like wedding chimes. That bring our summer love-song back again. It may be this new sobg Is hard to elng, But shall we grudge to learu It who have grown Tired and voiceless in earth's caroling. Yet fain would have some melody our own? And though It is the song of death, we know That singing It to endless life we go. -All t/ie Year Hound.

MILLY’S FALSEHOOD.

“ I can’t stand it any longer—l can’t! I’d rather sweep the streets for a living. Oh, father! oh, mother! do you know how your poor child is treated, or can’t you feel any trouble in heaven?” Milly sobbed violently for a few moments, then raised her head resolutely, and dried her tears. “ Crving does no good. I must think what I" can do. I- won't be dependent on these horrible people any longer. But how shall I earn my living? I can’t teach—can’t even sew decently. All they have taught me is to drudge at housework. 1 may thank myself for any thing else 1 have learned.” She considered a moment; then said, in a determined voice: “I’ll do it—l’ll go out as housemaid. False pride sha’n’t atop me. What am I now? —only I don’t earn any thing, as I would in a place. Oh, mother!”—with a sudden revulsion of Feeling—“ if you had known I would come to this!” Tears rolled down her cheeks again, poor girl. She was scarcely seventeen, a child in many ways as yet. But the little tiling had a resolute spirit of her own, and. in moment she was on her knees before an old chest, looking hurriedly over a very scanty wardrobe. “ Poor and plain enough,” she mused aloud. “1 think, with all her wealth, Aunt Peters might have afforded to dress her orphan niece a little decently. But she wanted all the finery for her four lovely daughters.” Milly’s lip curled as she spoke: her naturally sweet temper had become somewhat imbittered during the last ten years. But her look softened again, as she took .from a secret corner a gold chain rather old-fashioned in style. It was her mother’s gift. She pressed it passionately to her lips. “ How.can 1 part with it!” she sobbed out. “ Oh, mother dear, forgive me! It’s all I can do.” “Another girl to see me?—oh dear! Very.well, Jane; I’ll be down directly.” Mrs. Young rose from her comfortable lounge with a gesture of weary impatience. She was a woman of about forty, plump and rosy-cheeked, with the look of one who would fain take the world easy if it would only let her. But a very unpleasant frown wrinkled her forehead just now. “ Dear, dear! now I must go down aijain to be questioned by one of those * highflown’ minxes who want every thing * first class’ except their own work. Or maybe it’s a creature like the last, in a dirty dress and a white lace bonnet. If it is, I’ll send her packing very quick.” She went down stairs to the diningroom, looking as grim as you please. No wonder the timid young girl waiting there felt her heart sink within her. “Rape up your heart, dear.” whispered akind though very common-looking woman beside her. “ Remember ye’ve got me to back ye now.” * But Airs. Young’s face had softened already. Such a fresh, sweet, modest girl! She looked trim as a daisy in her gingham dress and neat straw hat. Surely here was the treasure she had sought so

long. “You have seen my advertisement?” she asked, graciously. “Yes, ma’am,” said Milly’s companion, answering for her. |“This is my niece, ma’am, just come up from the country. I want to find a place for her.” Milly blushed more painfully than before. Deceit was so foreign to her nature! Never had she felt so abashed in her own eyes. Poor child, how she must have suffered, to make Mrs. Kelly, coming to her rescue with this falsehood, seem like an angel of relief! “ I suppose you can give me good references, Mrs. Kelly?” said Mrs. Yeung, after asking a few questions as to age, capability, etc. “ Dade I can, ma’am," said Mrs. Kelly, confidently. “ There’s a dale of families I’ve worked for will be glad to spake a good word for me, I’m sure.” Milly, or Maggie, as she now called herself, was engaged on condition the references proved satisfactory; and, promising to return that night, she left the house with her “ aunt.” “You’re in luck, Maggie dear,” said Mrs. Kelly, as they went down the street together. “ She seems a very nice lady, and twelve dollars is a good beginning for a young girl like you. What on arth are ye cryin’ for?” in a tone of stupid amazement. “ Oh, maybe ye feel a bit shy—and no wonder; but that’ll soon pass on. And I’m sure, when ye’re earning money, ye ■won’t forget them as helped ye in trouble, Maggie dear.”

“Oh, Tom, I am so-perplexed and troubled! She really I never took such comfort in a girl before. So neat and quick about her work; and so sweettempered and obliging. I felt—” “ Well, aunty, why need you worry so? Just take the comfort of her. It may be All right.” “All right! How can you talk so? And what comfort can I take in a person I suspect of beim* an impostor?- All sorts ofhorrible suspicions come into my head. I think you might help me, Tom.”— “How can I help you?” asked Tom, with a quizzical air. He was a tall, dark young fellow, with a face almost too sharp-featured for beauty, but the goodnatured gleam in his large, black eyes softened their keenness. A smile crossed Mrs. Young’s anxious face as she looked at him. He was evidently a favorite of hers. “Why, you are a sharp boy—nobody knows that better than yourself—and if anything is to be found out " Tom looked gratified; he was only twenty-three, and nothing flatters a young man of that age more than to be credited with an uncommon degree of penetration. Mrs. Young knew his weakness, and took advantage of it in a way scarcely creditable to herself. \ “ Come, my young detective, you must help me. I’m sure you’ll clear matters up." ± -a- “ It seems kind of mean, though, for a young fellow to play spy upon a nice, pretty girl like that,” said Tom, in a tone that showed some disrelish of the task imposed upon him. . ■, “ Il’s a great deal meaner to allow your aunt to be imposed upon—to harbor a disreputable person in her house, perhaps," said Mrs. Young, vehemently.- “There’s no help to be got from your uncle—he won’t hear a word of the matter. And I

can’t apeak to the girt; I may be mlxtaken, and then—” “ There, there, aunty, I’ll db my best tor you; only—don’t expect miracles from DM. “I don’t; I only expect help. It’a lucky you're boarding here—you've more chance for observation." ' “ Well, to business!” said Tom, leaning forward, and trying to look like his idea of a detective. ” State your grounds oi suspicion, madam.” “ Well, the first time I saw her it struck me queerly, the difference between her and her aunt Mrs. Kelly is a decent sort of body, but this girl is so gentle, so refined, numbers of people have asked me who that young lady was. She speaks excellent English, writes a very pretty hand, and I’m sure has read a great dealThen—” »• All this is very well, but hardly proves her an impostor. Don’t Judge the poor, child too hastily, aunt.” “ I don’t intend to! But can you explain her being confused and turning as red As fire when I questioned her about the place she came from? And see what Cousin Lu found in her room." “Lube hanged!” said Tom, pushing the little pocket-book angrily aside. •* What business has she poking over the poor girl’s things that way? I tell you, aunt ”

“ Tom, Tom, be quiet! we shall be overheard. This pocket-book is a sort of diary; that is, it has a lew blank leaves to be written on. And on one of these leaves ” “Don’t!” said Tom, surprised and almost dismayed at his own agitation. “ Poor little soul! It’s too mean to haul over her diary and things!” He shoved back his chair violently, ready to beat himself for the almost agonized "desire he felt to “ know the worst.” “On one of these leaves," repeated Mrs. Young, resolutely, “is written a name, Al illy Westermann, and right under it, Boston, April 17, 18—. That’s just three months ago. The handwriting is Maggie’s—there’s no mistake about that. What am Ito think of that, when her aunt told me this was the first city * the poor child ever set foot in.’ ” “ It’s queer, but may be explained. Perhaps she wrote a friend’s name. I must think it over, aunt,” said Tom, as he left the room. - Once in his own chamber, he bolted the door, and lighting a cigar, sat down to think. An unpleasant frown darkened his face. “What got me into this scrape?” he soliloquized. “Partly my own vanity, partly a wish to quiet aunty, and make her let the girt alone. But it’s dead earnest now it!” Here an ejaculation more emphatic than pious came hissing through hisshut teeth. “Little serpent! to impose upon honest folks with your baby face and soft, innocent ways! But you’ve piet your match now, miss. I’m on your track, and if I don’t find you out before the week’s over ” Tom never stopped to ask himself the reason of his excessive agitation and wrath. He only shook his head grimly three or four times, in a manner very portentous to poor Alaggie, and resumed his cigar. “ What »s the matter? Have they found me out? Airs. Young is so cold to met And for all Air. Tom’s so polite and smilal feel he’s watching me all the time, help me! A falsehood always brings its own punishment; but if ever a girl was tempted ” Poor Alaggie thought all this to herself, dusting the parlor mantel-piece the while as if her life depended on it. A few hot tears would fall now and then. “ I’ve a great mind to confess, and ease my heart of this load. If only ” “ Alilly!” “ Sir!" said Alaggie, turning with a great start, in the direction of the voice. Then she recollected herself, turned scarlot and pale by turns, but braced herselt as only a woman can when on her selfdefense, and said quietly: “Did you call,

sir?” “Yes, and you answered,” said Tom, coming forward. His voice had a pleasant, half-humorous tone, but there was a gleam in his eye that was almost a threat. Not less defiant shone the light in the blue eyes looking back into his, though she dropped them immediately with a simple, “ Did you wish anything, sir?” “On her guard, ” thought Tom. “ What the deuce has made her suspect? She looked fit to murder me just now." Aloud he said, carelessly, “Oh, nothing. I run down to Westbrook to-day, and as your uncle lives there—- < Maggie’s face grew deathly white. She turned away without a word. “As your uncle lives there,” Tom went on, pretending not to notice, “I thought; you might like to send some word." “ Thank you; I won’t trouble you, sir,” said Maggie, in a cold, haughty voice. “ Oh, no trouble,” said Tom, cheerfully. “ Shall I tell him you are well and happy?” “ You needn’t tell him anything,” said irritation mingliug with her alarm. “How! not a word to the old gentleman ! What an undutiful niece you are, Maggie!” Maggie struggled a moment with her tears, then took refuge in anger. “I can manage my own allairs, sir, and send messages when I choose. Please leave me alone.” Tom stood silent a moment, then said, in a tone of cool surprise, “ Oh, very well, if that’s the way you feel. Excuse me for asking you.” And with a brief goodmorning he went out, very hot and angry inwardly, and more than ever determined to find the mystery out. Maggie clasped her hands with a look of utter despair. “ How cruel he is! I wouldn’t have thought it of him. Oh, that wicked lie. and stupid lie, too; for how could I think to pass for her niece ? And I’m sure she hasn’t told her brother. It’s but two weeks since I came here. Oh dear, oh dear! what »hall I do?”

“Tom, how late you are! Make haste and dress yourself. Dinner will be ready directly, and we have company you know.” “What company have you?” asked Tom, pausing. He looked pale and much disturbed; but his aunt scarcely noticed this in her haste. “ Oh, only the Shaws, and a friend of theirs from Boston, a Mrs. Peters. Run up and dress yourself. I will delay dinner a few moments.” Then, in a whisper : “ Maggie had done »o beautifully all day, Ido hope she’s all right. And ” “Humnh I” muttered Tom, under his breath, as he turned away. Half way up stairs he met Maggie, who had escaped from her work a few moments to change her dress. She was very pale. It was easy to see she had been crying a good deal, but somehow she had never looked prettier, Tom thought. Her dress of blue and white striped calico was becoming to her fair complexion. She wore a jaunty white apron, and bright blue ribbons at her throat and round her pretty brown head. She started with a half-frightened exclamation as she met him; but he only gave her a cool little nod, and passed on. The poor child felt her heart swell almost to breaking. Tom had always been so kind, so civil, to. her. She had grown to like him so much; and now this young fellow, but six years her senior, seemed turned into her inexorable judge. She hurried on as fast as she could, pausing a moment on the kitchen stairs to wipe away her blinding "tears. r

Ab for Tom, ha dressed hlmaelf in a halfsavage mood, foaling the stern satis faction common to iw poor mortals when intent on “doing our duly” by *omc unfortunate fellow-creature who has wffended us. How much boyish vanity and selfimportance was mixed.up with this feeling is difficult to tell. We only know Tom kept repeating to himself, in an excited manner, that “she"—Maggie presumably—should “ hear of it” before the dav was out. He would say nothing ta his aunt—at least as yet—but that little Jade should know her wickedness was discovered, and confess everything to him, Tom Fox, or he’d know the reason wliy. The dinner-bell rang in the mklst of these meditations. Hastily Concluding his toilet he went down stairs. Ere he reached the foot, he heard somebody rushing along the ball in frantic liaate. It was Alaggie. She shrank back, terrified, as she encountered Tom at the foot of the stairs. “What’sup now?" asked the young man, rather sternly. “ I was taken ill—a little faint," gasped Maggie; and indeed she was deathly pale, and looked frightened out of her wits. “ Please let me pass, Sir.” she went on. “Jane has told Mrs. Young—she will wait on the table, and—” Here the tears began to flow; she wiped them away, and made a motion to pass him. “ No; come into the parlor with me,” said Tom, decidedly. “I want to speak to you.” “ And I want to be let alone,” said Maggie, firing up as she marked his determined look. “ Let me pass, Sir.” “ Look here!” said Tom, taking her arm in his strong grasp, “ either you come into the parlor with me, or I take you down stairs and say what I’ve got to say before my aunt. Take yourchoice now.” Poor Alaggie hesitated a moment, then made a motion toward the parlor door. He understood her, and led her in. “ Dinner is all ready, Sir," she murmured, faintly, .as he released her arm. “ Dinner be hanged!” said Tom, vehemently. “Now, Miss Milly Westermann,” in a tone of stern decision, tell me who and what you are.” Alilly gave a frightened little gasp, and was silent. “ I’ve been to Westbrook,” Tom went on, mercilessly. “ I saw that worthy old Irishman you called vour uncle —I saw his niece, Miss Alaggie Reilly. Now I want to know who you are, and why you’ve been imposing on us all.” Then, in a solemn voice, and with very little idea of what he was talking about, “Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know the penalty of taking another per son’s name that way?” Alilly was young—only seventeen. It never entered into her head that Tom might not be so hard as he seemed. Dim visions of chains and dungeon cells rose before her. She stretched out her hands to him with a little imploring cry. “Oh, forgive me! I didn’t know!” she sobbed out, and burst into an agony of tears. “ Darn it all!” thought Tom, “ I might have foreseen she’d turn on the waterworks.” Aloud he said, in a considerably softened voice, “ There, there! stop crying, Alaggie—Milly, I mean. I won’t be hard on you; only”—a shade of sternness in his voice again—“ you must tell me everything. I’ll stand" your friend with my aunt, if you’ll only be honest and own up.” “ I will,” said Alilly, trying not to cry. “I wanted-to tell Airs. Young many a time, but my courage always failed me. Mr. Tom, that woman down stairs is my aunt.”

“ What!" “That woman—Mrs. Peters.” Somewhat composed by this time, Milly took breath, and with a simplicity that touched Tom and impressed him with her truth, told her pathetic little story from beginning to end. “ You have done very wrong, Alilly, no doubt,” said he, gravely, when she had finished; “but there’s great excuse for you, afterall. And if that old hag hadn’t put it into your head— ’’ “Oh, don’t!” cried Alilly, piteously. “ She isn’t an old hag. She pitied me, a poor girl all alone in this great city. I was most to blame; I knew better? And I’ll never forget her kindness as long as I live.” “You’re a pretty good little soul, I think,” said Tom, “ after all that’s come and gone. Dry up your eyes now—that’s right—and come down stairs with me.” “ Down stairs! To my aunt! Oh, Air. Tom!” “Yes. What else?” responded our hero. And before poor Milly could gasp aut another remonstrance he had whir’ed her down stairs and into the dining-room with the speed of a young locomotive. Dinner was nearly over, and poor Airs. Young sat trying to entertain her company, while she fretted inwardly over the absence of Alaggie and Tom. Suddenly that young gentleman burst into the room, and, marching straight up to a handsome lady on Mrs. Young’s right Ifand, said, in his blandest voice, “ Pray look here, madam.” Such a scream as Airs. Peters gave when she saw the pale young girl on his arm! Further explanations were rendered almost unnecessary. Our story grows too long. Suffice it to say that Mrs. Young forgave Milly, and retained her in her family, the young lady declining absolutely to return with her aunt. Day by day she grew in the affections of her mistress, till she seemed more like a daughter than a servant of the house. “ The dearest girl in the world,” Airs. Young calls her, and some say Tom Fox is of his aunt s opinion. But that is only conjecture as yet. — Harper'» Bazar.

Tins bleaching of silk is now accomplished in a manner scarcely less simple than in the case of wool or straw. The fiber, it is well known, has a coating resembling a gelatinous substance, which is soluble in water. It imparts a stiffness and elasticity to silk, .and must be removed in order that the latter possess the requisite softness and luster. Simple scouring by soAp is the method employed, some thirty to forty pounds of soap to one hundred pounds of silk being employed. The soap is dissolved in boiling water, and, when cooled a little, the silk is hung over it or may be immersed in the solution. A second repetition in a solution of soap is applied to silks designed to receive dark dyes, but silks designed to be of a pure white are subjected to the action of sulphurous acid in a sulphur chamber, and, while still moist, are treated with soap water. After sufficient sulphuring the silk is washed and passed through a warm soap bath, in order to restore its pliancy. Silks designed for blonds, gauzes, etc., are merely stripped of their yellowish color by steeping them for two days in alcohol, with a small quantity of hydrochloric acid, this being the easiest and most effective process known.—JV. K Sun. The Paris correspondent of the London Tima mentions a story which is in circulation as to the cause of the collapse of the Carlist war. It is said that the late Duke of Modena ordered in his will that the legacy which he left to Don Carlos’s wife should hot be paid before peace had been declared, resulting either in the victory or definite defeat of Don Carlos, who was to acquire this fortune either on the throne of Spain or in exile. Hence, since he had lost all hope of ascending the thronj, Don Carlos thought it wquld be useless to prolong his resistance, and that it would be better to bring the was to a close, quit Spain, and take possession of the fortune left him under these conditions.

A Defense of Society.

Society Is an organization for entertainment. It resembles a vast picnic. Thereto each guest brings whatever he or she has to offer for the entertainment of tljji whole. The amateur singer brings vocal and artistic delight. The dancing young mnrf offers his leadership of the German. The young .girt debutantes contribute the charm of theiryouthful grace*. The wit and M rsprit devote the sparkle of their conversation, the keenness of their intellect. And wealth and hospitality contribute gay balls and sumptuous dinners, the dazzle of diamonds and ths luster of gorgeous dresses. Therefore, like all organizations, society has no place or room for individual feeling. A lady with a visiting list numbering a thousand names can scarcely expect to be loved devotedly by all that thousand. She does not herself take them all to her heart of hearts. The phrase “ dear five hundred f riends” is a misnomer. Nobody on earth has five hundred friends, unless, perchance, some great hero or some noteworthy' public benefactor. Blessed, indeed, is the Individual who possesses five. As to acquaintances, that is another matter. Their number may be indefinitely extended. And society is made up of mutual acquaintanceships. Our friends hold a dirtrent post. The sacred tew that we cheriba in our heart of hearts are not to be confounded with the crowd on whom we leave cards and whom we invite to our largest balls and most general receptions. Therefore, if we give our love, our trust, our tenderness, only to a few, we can expect return in kina only from that few. Society, so-called, is like a lady's ball-dress. It is a delicate and airy fabric, fit for festive occasions, not for daily i'se. And if any misguided dame were to brave the frosts of December or the winds of March, clad in tulle or tarlatan, she would not have much cause to blame her unsubstantial garb if she were to catch cold. She alone would be at fault for perverting the flimsy attire to a use for which it never was intended. And such is the fault of those that blame society for its heartlessness. True affection, firm friendship, warm sympathy are, indeed, to be found therein, but they are not the objects of pursuit. It is an association for mutual amusement merely. We do not expect to gather pumpkins from rosebushes, nor to dig potatoes from a hyacinth bed. Society gives us what she can—gay parties, pleasant receptions, agreeable mutual intercourse. It is not her province to teed our intellects or to fill our breasts. If we love her unwisely because too well, that is our fault, not hers. And the men and women of society are not one whit the worse or weaker than is humanity elsewhere. We know more about them, that is all. They are actors in the dazzling comedy of real life. The “fierce light” that is said to beat upon a throne shines broad and brilliant on the Kings and Queens of the gay world. Under that pitiless illumination every defect becomes cruelly apparent. Human nature is the same all the world over. There are as many weak and vain and frivolous girls on tire Bowery as there are in Fifth avenue. A point-lace berthe as often hides a true and warm and womanly heart as does a black stuff gown. Folly and emptyheadeduess are usually sald to abound in the masculine ranks of the army of society. Yet, if every fool in those ranks were led to instant execution, the race would be very far from becoming extinct. It would thrive and flourish ana wax numerically strong, even if society itself were to have the fate of those suppressed memlters. Alany a wise man is a graceful dancer and a well-bred guest. Alany a fool is an ill-mannered and unsocial boor. Many a so-called woman of the world is a true wife, a good mother, and a devoted friend. And many a home-keeping dame is lazy, slatternly, heartless and disagreeable.— Parie Register.

Bulbs.

There is a great deal of bogus humility floating around; the most humble critter you ever see is a hornet who has lost his stinger. We should always remember this, that while there is but few in the world disposed to help us, there is not one but what--is able to hint us. The great art of conversation is to know what to say, where to begin and when to stop. I contend that pity is of more consequence to the one who gives it than to the one who receives it. I never have met a man yet who didn’t have a more comprehensive knowledge of his neighbors’ character than he didoi his own. The man who has got nothing but the truth to tell always uses the first words he can lay his hands on. Give every man you meet, my boy, half the road and the timeof day, and you will be surprised to see how easy all things will slip along. There is no greater fraud than artificial happiness, and I believe there is much more of it than of the real kind. I admire patience, but I know lots of people who are patient just because they are too lazy to. be anything else. There is so much ingratitude among mankind that I wonder there is any charity at all in the world. A traitor is a common enemy, and those who profit by treason despise him as much as those who suffer by it hate him.

The lower down a man keeps the safer he is, and when he gels six fpet under ground he is perfectly safe. The more laws a "people have, the less likely they are to execute them. There is but very little power to sarcasm unless it has truth for its sting; without truth it sinks into mere malice. I don’t believe there is one single man livingonthe face of the earth from whom all the restraints of the law cuuld be removed, with safety to himself and to others. You will find plenty ofjneif who are red-hot to hunt tigers (and wildcats, only just muzzle the varmints nd place them ten or fifteen miles off. It won’t pay any man to fret about the past, and the future will be sufficiently provided for if we look well to the present. If a man c n’t find happiness in himself there isn’t any use to hunt for it anywhere else. There are lots of able-bodied people lying around loose who might have preserved their importance if they had remained fourth corporals, but making them captains has ruined them for life. The most odious compound I know of is wealth and snobltery; it is rather worse than pride and poverty. The dog that barks at everything is the poorest kind of a watch dog. There is a kind of economy that don’t pay, it is the kind that people resort to after they have squandered all their money. The torments of the world make but little impression on the man who is at peace with himself. A gentleman can’t hide his true character any more than a loafer can. The man who can control his wants is the only one who can control his happiness* Death is one of those kind of warriors whom it is safer to face than to fly from. ♦- The man who talks and acts different from anybody else is generally a conceited fool. ’ Epitaphs are like circus bills; there is

• great deal tn the bills that to nercr performed. ■lt don’t pay to be mean; no man ever did a mean thing yet without being dis,satisfied with it. I suppose we ought to conceal our joys, but I uiink half the fun in being happy consists in telling of It. The hardest thing I know of is to argue against a success; it is like kicking against the bricks. He who disputes with a fool Is sure to always come off second best. I hare seen people who were neither good, had, nor indiflurent. The best way to overcome danger that has been discovered yet is to face it. How strange it is tlist we shoqld bate those whom we have injured full as much ns we ao those who have Injured us. It is a great deal cheaper to work than it is to beg; any man can earn two dollars while he is bogging one. The most painful recollection of my life was the time spent, when I was a boy, waiting to be whipped. If a num slips trom the top round of fame’s ladder he has got to fall to the bottom: there is no half-way house. In moet arguments the truth is lost sight of; the parties roll up their sleeves and g< in simply to win.— Jonh Billinqs, i r N. P Weekly.

Gold and silver Basis.

Thk bullionists couple gold and silver together in theft phrase as to what they term basis. The basis is that upon which something else rests. This base should be level; but instead of level, we find this as much out of level as the heads of the advocates of the bullion theory. The gold side is one-fifth higher than the silver side. What kind of a superstructure in architecture would stand with one side tipped up one-fifth higher than the other. How long would a house stand with the foundation on one side continually sinking while the other was continually rising. The house would surely topple to its fall. The heads of the bullionists are as much out of plumb as the “ base” idea upon which they found their theory. Will these theorists still assert that gold and silver are steady? It would be better for them to reconstruct their set phrases by which they have heretofore falsely represented a thing as true which never was true. Gold and silver metals as metals never had a fixed value in market. They have always daily and hourly fluctuated in price. The grandfather of bullion writers, Adam Smith, never claimed that they were stationary in value; but upon the contrary states that they are commodities, being the products of 4abor. The - point he insisted upon was that they fluctuated in value the least of all commodi. ties, and as a consequence were the best commodities to use as the medium in exchanging other commodities. The prices of these metals in the market are sometimes higher and sometimes lower in like manner as all other commodities. This fact is and always has been so plain to all observers of ordinary capacity, that it is inexplicable upon any grounds that will maintain the honesty and integrity of these bullion gentlemen, if it is true that they have been favored by their Creator with even a moiety of the sense and ability they claim to possess.

Sometimes the market price of both goes down together; other times gold goes down and silver up, at others gold up and silver down. These variations occur in the same market. The prices of the same metal varies in opposite directions at the same time. While gold is declining in New York it will be rising in price in New Orleans, and viceterta. With these facts before the eyes of the very men that continually assert that gold and silver are steady and therefore the only proper basis for a paper circulating medium, what is to be said as to their honesty? It is a debasement of words to call u man honest who is continually asserting a falsehood with the knowledge, or the means of knowledge Unit his statement is false. Prof. Perry, of Williams college, in an address at Omaha, in the fall of 1874, told the people that the greenback had damaged them much worse than the grasshoppers, and then held up a silver dollar and then praised it as a steady dollar and gave as a reason why it was steady, that there had always been thirty-seven and onefourth grains of pure silver in every silver dollar that has been coined in the United States. What explanation eftn the Professor now give that wijl make his then false statement appear to harmonize with the truth. A silver dollar is now worth seventeen cents less in the markets of this country, than a gold dollar. There have continually been variations between these two metals. They are not a sale basis for paper for the reason they are continually varying, and for hundreds of other reasons, each one of which is sufficient. The scheme of having our currency powerless to perform the mission for which it professes to be created, except as it may be converted into another which has lawful power, is M cunninglydevised scheme to permit the bolder of the one to have advantage of the holder of the other. The precious metals are scarce, so limited in amount that they, if otherwise qualified, cannot form an honest basis for paper money. It b not honest to have five dollars of paper issued for one dollar of specie in possession. It is a scheme of robbery simply, for it is in its nature impossible to redeem the paper as promised, and such paper is not qualified to perform the functions ot money. It lacks the powers that are essential to those of legal tender and lawful money ; such currency is powerb i-s in and of itself to perform the functions of money; all that such specie-basis currency' could be lawfully' used for would be to obtain lawful money, and you stand four chances not to get it to one to get it where the basis is one to five. The whole specie basis scheme is only a scheme to give a species of credit to a paper circulation instituted in such a mode as to permit a few to draw a large interest upon it. Why not take the Government paper direct, which has perfect credit, cannot fail, is legal tender and always steady, and regulate its volume by cqnvertible bonds. —lndianapolis Sun.

Resolutions of the Ohio Greenback Convention.

The following resolutions were adopted at the recent mass Greenback State Convention held at Columbus, Ohio: Whbbkas. In view of the failure of the present Democratic House of Representatives and Republican Senate to repeal the odious and oppressive Specie Resumption act of Jan. 14,1875, anti to furnish financial relief to the depressed industries Of the country, disappointing the just hopes and expectations of a Buttering people, and In view of the alarming development of fraud, bribery and official coiruptioa that prevail and debauch every branch ol tne public sen ice. menacing the very existence of our free institutions, we o<v-r the suggestions lor remedy in the tious: ,i ■■ >' 4 ' Beeolved, That we earnestly appeal to the people of Ohio and other States to organize themselves for the purpose of carefully considering the perilous condition of me country, and to unite and wield their Ihuitetice and political power In Securing the renovation of the Government, aad especially for the unconditional repeal oftheaocailed Resumption act, au»l for the achievement of their reacne from the disaster of its enforcement,' ■ '■. }tr«olre<l That we believe that a United States note issued directly by the Government and convertible In hand into United Hutes Interest-bear-ing, obligations equivalent in value to gold and exchangeable for United States bonds at par, will afford tue beat circulating medium ever enjoyed by anysHlion; we belie .e such a System of currencr will finally prevail not only in the United States but In Great Britam and all enlightened countries in the world, t-uch United Stele* notes should be a legal tender, and receivable by the Government for all duea, including customs. Rttolved. That we hold that it 1* the duty of the Government to furnish a circulating medium to the country. ' Rockland, Me., has a cornel band composed entirely of women.

AGRICULTURAL AND DOMESTIC.

—A putty of starch and chloride of xluc hardens quickly and lasts, as a stopper of holes in metals, for months. —To make cheese pie use four eggs, two cupfuls of sugar, one cupful sweet cream, two-thirds cupful of butter, one spoonful flour. N utmeg to taste. —Washing the face night and morning in one-half pint of water to which the Juice of one lemon has been added is said to be a good remedy for freckles. —To cure tongues, take four quarts salt; two quarts molasses; sig ounces saltpeter; three gallons water. Boil and skim the ingredients, and when cold pour over the tongues. —ln washing calicoes In which the colors are not ftst, be careful not to l>oll them, but wash in the usual way with soap and rinse in hard water. For dark colored goods add a little salt to the water; for light a little vinegar. —True economy in eating requires us to select and combine a variety of food, so as to furnish the maximum growth or power moet desirable with the least waste of substance, and tiie least tax upon the system in assimilating what is useful and rejecting what is useless.

—Biscuit pudding is very nice to? a poor man’s wife to make. Grate three large biscuits, pour ovfer them one pint boiling milk or cream, and cover closely. When cool add three eggs, half a nutmeg, a little molasses, spoonful flour, sugar to taste; boil this an hour. Serve with butter and sugar. —The Western Rural tells of a man who plants, two or three weeks after the crop is planted, a new hill of corn every fifteenth row each way. And this is the reason: If the weather becomes dry after the filling time, the silk and taseels both become dry and dead. In this condition, if it should become seasonable, the silk revives and renews Its growth, but the tassels do not recover. Then, for want of pollen, the new silk is unable to fill the office for which it was designed. The pollen from the replanted corn is then ready to supply the silk, and the filling is completed. He says nearly all the abortive ears, so common in all corn crops, are caused by the want of pollen, and he had known ears to double their size in this second filling. —An excellent wedding cake is thus made; Take one pound of butter, one pound of sugar, nine eggs, one pound of flour, three pounds of clean currants, two pounds of stoned raisins, from one-half to three-quarters pound of citron, one grated nutmeg, some mace and cinnamon. Rub the butter and sugar together; when light, add first the yolks then the whites of the eggs—the yolks and whites of the eggs to be beaten separately—then put in nearly all your flour, keeping out Just enough to dust your raisins and cement them; cut your citron in such slices as you like, and putinas you put the cake in the pan; after mixing your fruit in the cake, grease a four-quart pan carefully, line it with clean straw paper, a little grease (butter) on the paper; put your cake in and bake, in not too quick an oven, for it burns easily. After It is baked take it out of the pap, paper and all, and let it cool. The next day, to keep it fresh and moist, put it back in the pan, or in a tin caKc-Dox, ami Keep it iigiiiiy covereu.

The Feeding of Roots.

A correspondent in your last issue asks the question: “ Can any of your readers give the result of their experience in fattening cattle with turnips, as in England, Scotland and Ireland ?” I have had some experience in feeding turnips and other roots to cattle, fora dozen years past ;and can without hesitation or doubt answer that turnips cannot be economically or profitably used, as a substitute for com, in fattening cattle. In the purely agricultural counties of England, labor is cheaper by from thirty to fifty per cent, than it is here. A very large proportion of the cost of turnips—perhaps five-sixths—is in the labor. The English farmer can raise them at as small a cost as we can, but we can produce hay and born for less than 'half the value of these products in England, Let us look at the matter in another light: A peck of corn a day is a very fair average allowance for a fattening steer, weighing from twelve to fourteen hundred pounds; but experience agrees with chemical analysis in teaching us that it takes from two to three bushels of common' turnips to supply an equal amount of nutriment; say about ten times the weight and bulk of the corn. Now if your lowa correspondent, or any one else, will take time to think and calculate a little on the matter, he will find that if the turnips, after being grown, were given to him in the field, he can barely afford to gather them, store them in a root-house, and prepare and feed them out during the winter to fattening cattle; providing he can grow corn t: thirty cents a bushel. A peck of corn, when fed out, represents a value of eight cents, but I should be loth to gather, and store, and feed out-two bushels and a half of turnips for that amount. There is, however, a proper place and use for roots in producing beef; not as a substitute for corn, but as an auxiliary. They are of especial value to the highfeeder —the stock-raiser who calculates on wintering his beef animals only two winters. With good improved stock, good shelter and full feed, including about a peck of roots a day, through the winter, lor each animal, prime beef can be turned off at from two to two and a half years old; the heifers weighing from eleven to thirteen hundred, and the steers from thirteen to sixteen hundred pounds. Roots, even in small quantities, are a wonderful aid to the powers of digestion and assimilation in a young animal.—Cor. Prairie Farmer. ‘ ...

Laying Out a Small Garden.

“ How shall I arrange my little front yard, of less than thirty- feet square, to make it look the best?” writes a new correspondent. Having given our friend from Connecticut the English plan desired, we will now give a simple plan of our own, and we would like to see them both made, side by side. It is not well to have every little garden an exact copy of its neighbor, for there is beauty in diversity. In gardening it is best not to attempt more than we can accomplish, bat to do everything in the best possible manner. In so small a space the plan should be simple. Much has been written against straight walks, and in consequence there has, for some years, been a mania for curved paths, and many little front yards have been sadly disfigured by a desperate attempt to make a graceful curve in a little walk leading from the street to the front door, and perhaps not more than twenty feet in length. All suck walks should be straight, and the attempt to make them otherwise is ridiculous. With a good, neat and broad walk to the front door; from this a narrower one leading to the rear of the house, you have all the walks necessary, and all that will look well. In a lot only thirty feet in width, the walk Wading to the front door will be, of course, only a tfew feet from one side of the lot, leaving space for a 1 title unbroken tawn about IWenlV by thirty’feet, if the house should stand thirty feet from the sheet. The space on the other side of the walk will be only a narrow border. Have all the space not used for the walk graded nicely, and covered with grass, either by sodding or sowing seed. Seed must be sown in early fall or spring, and sodding should be done at the same seasons. Keep the grass in perfect order by frequent cut-

J?™ P K?^uc n S r K a e < Gr2sr ijt'Cu to BOW« fhw troSf an oral. Thia would look well filled with caladickua and be too expensive, ten cents’ worth of striped ana blotched petunia seed would give plants enough for two such beds, and would be exceedingly showy, and endure all summer. Thanks to a kind Providence, beauty is cheap—almost, and often entirely, without money or price. A few ■ shrubs around the edges of the Httie lawn, perhaps to screen the fence or any other object, some climbers over the front door, like the astrolochia. and a climbing rose at or near the corner of the house farthest from the front dbor, and you have done about all that can be done to beautify so small a space. Instead of the flower-bed in the center of the lawn it would not be a bad plan to substitute a flue, well-filled vase, with a small bed of flowers near each comer, or a few half-moon shaped beds near the fences. Garden work needs a large stock of patience, and we are pleased that it is so; it is an excellent discipline for an irritable temper. Things will not all prove satisfactory for the first season; but we see reason to hope for better things next year, and we have enough success to give us faith in the future. What a grand school for the culture of patience, faith and hope! Then some of our work proves to be in excellent taste, while a portion we dislike, and resolve to chan ire and improve another year. Thus, while we improve our gardens we improve ourselves, and while they get handsomer we get, at least, better. We propose no model, therefore, for any garden, and only give a few suggestions to set people thinking and working—jnat the key-note to get the tune properly started.— Vick's Floral Guide for

Seeding Land With Grass and Clever.

Most tillers of the soil cannot be con vinced readily that it is a better practice to sow grass seed and clover seed where no grain is growing than to sow such seed in connection with the seed of some cereal crop. The argument in favor of stocking down land with grass and clover where rye, wheat, oats or barley may be ■ growing is that the young grass and tender clover require shade uotil their own leaves have . Attained sufficient sixe to shade the surface of the land. If young clover and grass could have the benefit of a partial shade the argument would be reliable. But the tender plants need the shade moet just when the seed-leaf of the clover is unfolding and when the delicate spikes of grass are Just at that particular period the broad leaves of the growing grain will spread out over the entire surface, and in many places the foliage will be so dense that the young clover and tender grass will be smothered. Every observing person knows that young clover and grass will often be entirely killed in places where seed grain was sowed so thickly as to cover the ground with a dense foliage. If clover seed and grass seed could be rowed on a fresh and mellow seed-bed when a thin crop of growing rye, wheat, oats or barley was about two feet high, the grass and clover would then have the benefit of a partial shade, aad none of the tender plants would be smothered. But as that would be impracticable, the better way to insure a good and satisfactory “ catch” is to sow the grass and clover seed on soil recently worked, where do crop of grain is growing. Some farmers prefer to sow J their grass and clover seed among their growing Indian com just before the tassels appear. If level cultivation is adopted, (his practice will seldom fait to insure an excellent •• catch” of grass apd clover, as the growing crop of com trill afford ' a partial shade without smothering any of the tender-plants. If the ground is in a state qfmedium fertility whore corn is growing, and if clover seed and grass seed be sown Xmong the corn about the middleof summer, the young forage plants will become ao firmly rooted before winter that cold weather will not heave out the clove/ unless the soil is excessively wet. The practice of stocking down land in

connection with a crop of cereal grain has been in vogue so long that few farmers can be persuaded to prepare their ground bymanuring, plowing, harrowing, grading and rolling, and sow nothing but grass seed and clover seed. Yet this would be the better practice. When bay seed is scattered along the beaten track of - the high-wav, wherever there is sufficient depth of soil to effect germination, grass will soon cover the ground, which proven t conclusively that if grass wifi grow in the highway without any preparation of the soil, and without the advantage of a coo-genial-seed bed, and without any shade at all, surely the young plants will grow luxuriantly where the soil is fresh, mellow and fertile. The frost important consideration in stocking clown land is to have the surface mellow and sufficiently fertile to promote the growth pf young clover and grass after the sbCd have germinated. In numerous instances the land is in such an impoverished condition that young clover and tender grass cannot find any plant food in an available 'state. Hence, shortly after the little substance in the seed is exhausted the plants will wither and die. During several seasons past our practice has been to plow the. land in the former part.of the growing season, about the time to plant com, harrow the surface, making it smooth a* practicable, then sow clover and grass section the fresh soil be-, fore rain Jails. By scattering the seed before rain has fallen, most of the little kernels will roll down in fee depressions, and the first rain will wash the soil over them so completely that everyone will germinate. If the surface is at all lumpy, the sods and clods should be placed in hollows,a roller should be passed over the field, and the gras* seed should be sowed after the ground is rolled. If grass seed be harrowed in, more seed will be lost by being buried too deep, by the harrow and the feet of heavy teams than will fail to germinate, in consequence of remaining on the surface not covered with earth.— N. X. Herald. '* ,l «

‘ To square any number ot two figures ending in five: Multiply the ten’s figure by one more than itself, and annex the square of the unit’s figure. Example: ? Square 45. The ten’s figure is 4; multiply this by one more than itself; 5, and the product is 2ft; annex fee square of 5, the unit’s figure, which > 25. «d4he answer is 2.1K5. This can all be done mentally, which is the advantage. To square « auv number endiM in 25: I* nunPSiSSsS unit’s figure and then dohWtrthe number... tIIUS The rule m*y be MMk more gen««b thus : Annex the nnlFs M fee hundred a figure, multiply by the hundreds figure, v; and annex the sqttafehot •». Example: Square 225. Annexing W bun- £ hundX-MSSK VIW UUDUreu S. v»V m«vv vy t the square ot 23, we have 50,625, the answer. Thi* can ail bo done ik