Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 December 1879 — Page 4

gtenssqlacr Republican. MAJOR BITTERS A SON, r*biM*n a*! rrapruton. RENSSELAER, : INDIANA.

♦ A MOURNFUL TALE. A bctchxb loved a trader maid. To woo her were his deafeno. And he sent her copies of gushing verse. In fact real tenderloins. The girl, alas, he could not suet, Htae would love him aa a brother. But when implored to marry said “ Tripe, please, and llnd another.” The butcher still pursued the rtrl. Bis pleas became much bolder. The giri at last tb find relief 1 Gave to him a cold shoulder. He knew then that his hopes were vain, But as he left her. said: “ Since you have caused me soch distress • I’ll haunch you when I’m dead-” He pined and jrrew so thin and pale He felt bis end was nigh. But his woe was such he did not know . Whether to liver die. He tried In drink to drown Us cares. But there found no relief; He daily grew more woe-bogone, . ' You never sausage grief. At last his weary soul found rest. His sorrows now are o’er; No tickle makl now troubles him; Pork reacher, he’s no more. —BuriinaUm Hawk-Eye. TIIE OLD YEAR AND TER NEW. Thr good Old Year hath run hts race. And the latest hour draws near; The cold dew shines on his hoary face. And he bobbles along with a listless pace. To the lonely and snow-covered resting-place In the northern hemisphere. Bee how his stiff Joints faint and shrink As the cold breexc whistles by; He hath a bitter cup to drink As he watches the sand In bis hour-glass sink, Standing alore oh the icy brink Of the gulf us eternity. Ilia scanty robots wrapped more tight ' As the dim sun dwindles down; And no stars arise to cheer the night Of him whose temple they <•«.%• inftilc bright, When crimson roses and lilies white fiitlf hid bis golden crown. * He reels—he slips—no #>wer at hand To ebcck him from tlnnbllng o’er; The hour-glass dicks with its latest sand. And each movement fails like the stroke of a brand On one already too weak to stand— He falls—he Is seen no more, Aik), lo! in the east a star ascends. And a burst of music comes— A young lord, followed by troons of friends, I town to the broad equator wends. While the star that travels above him bends O’er a sea of floating plqmca. -MU'* OTRcmy.

THE NEW YEAR'S PARTY.

"Then you won’t go, Alice?” " No, Herbert —I’m so sorry—but tho baby!” "Ob, hang the baby!” and Herbert llnng out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Alice stood looking at the door, growing whiter and whiter. -Then she gave a heart-breaking cry, fell on her Knees by the cradle, and. holding her face in her hands, sobbed bitterly. She had looked- forward so long to going to this New Year’s party. It was given by Mrs.’ Mountjoy, one of the leaders of society in Washington, and all that was eminent in polities, diplomacy, or literature, as well as distinguished in the fashionable world, was sure to be there*. She had been kept at home so much sinee baby had been bom that she really felt the need of a little variety and relaxation. But baby had been threatened with croup a week beforehand the’ ford- mother had not yet recovered from her fright. Baby, she admitted, was now better, “ but not lit,” she declared, "to be left, at least with Only the nurse to look, after it. Nurses jure so earless, everybody had told her, even the best of them.” So she had not asked Herbert to give it up also, and bad even said there was no reason he should stay at home; but still, in her heart of hearts, she bad hoped he would. "He said, ‘Hang the baby;’ yes, he did, darling,” she murmured, with indignant emphasis, as she bent over the little unconscious sleeper. “It was your papa who said that, and he was gone to a brilliant party with such thoughts of his wife and child! Did you come-, dearest, to estrange us from eaeh id her?” This awful idea called for bitterer sighs: , Herbert had said such beautiful things in her trusting young maidenhood. "Never should their lives run in separate channels, as those of some ’ married people of their acquaintance did;” "never a joy he accepted that did nbt make theipoiie;” “nevera barrier should come between them.” And now to feel that this wee babe, with its golden curls, that this beautiful, little helpless creature should part them as never strong hands could! She pictured the gay assemblage, and her Herbert dancing with fair young girls, smiling on others, and leaving he'r to die of heart-break. . Her imagination, always too vivid, viewed him iu the midst of his triumphs, until her misery look almost the form of marl ness. “He didn’t want me to go,” she criyd; "he acted as if he didn’t, and then he pretended to throw all the blame on dear, helpless baby.” Suddenly Slie heard the sonnd of carriage wheels outside; they stopped at the door; the bell mug, 'and a fairylike figure stood ou the threshold oft the ro<>m in all wistfulness of expectancy, with dimpling smiles and laughing eyes. "Oh, Mabel!” cried Alice, starting to her feet with a glad cry. "This is, indeed, a surprise. I’m so glad you’ve come. My darling sister?” t ortliwith ensued a scene of rapturous •welcome. Then the bubv was exhibited, and one would not have dreamed that a tear had ever stained the cheek of the l proud mother. Then the visitor’s trunks were ordered to be carried up-stairs. " But where’s Herbert? In the study?” said Mabel, at last. Au the light went out of her sister’s eyes: her hands fell. " He—he is out. dear.”

, “Good! Don't be angry, because * I’m gl.w|, for we can have such a niec little chat. You didn't expect me?” Of course 1 didn’t” “ We'l, 1 didn’t think of coming, as you know. -for a month yet. But I thought it would be so nice to surprise you. It would open the New Year auspiciously, perhaps.” “Oh, Pm so glad!” “ And then Paul’s coming,” she said, blushing, “next week to stay a month; he has business here, and he wanted me so badly to be here, too. I declare,’’ she added, laughing: “I’ll have to marry him soon to get rid of him.” f “ Oh, Mabel, don’t marry him unless you’re certain you’ll be happy!” cried Alice, hysterically. “Be sure, first, he won’t go to parties and le—eave you a—lone with ba—by,” she sobbed. “ What? Is Herbert at a party?” . “ Yes, he is; and, when 1 told him I couldn't go on account of the baby, he said, -Hang ba—byP -Yes, you little angel, your father said those awful words—and then he sla—slammed the door.” “ He’s a viper!” exclaimed Mabel, with sudden vehemence. “ A nice way to treat a wife like you—a babv like that! But why couldn't you leave the baby?” “ Because he was threatened with the croup last week.” , ; “ But he’s well enough now—sleeps deliciously. He'll not wake up allnight, perhaps. And the .nurse would have taken good care of him.” “ I should have been thinking of lire and croup, and all that.” .

“ (Hi, nonsense! Yon ought to hare gone. Bat Herbert had no right to behave as he did, and he most be punished; and Mabel threw her wraps on the bed, and took her seat by the glowing fire. “It won’t do to let him get the upper hand. Ah! I have it. rVe thought of a splendid plan. A charming, delightful little plot!” and she clapped her hands in glee. “ Oh, Mabel, what is it?” and Alice slid down at her sister’s feet, gazing in her face with expectant smiles. “ Wnat are yon going to do.” "Fm not going to do it- I shall stay here and watch baby. You are to go to the party.” • “ Mabel, impossible.” “ Quite possible, In fact, it must be done. You must let Herbert see that you’re as pretty as anybody, quite as much admired. It is decided. You are to go to the party and play a part. Let me arrange the programme.” “ But, Mabel, I haven't a dress prepared- or anything. I gave up going a week ago, you see, wnen baby was threatened with the croup.” “ Pshaw! You shall wear one of mine; one of the most bewitching, bewildering of dresses, bought from my last allowance from Uncle Curtis. Only to see it will throw you into ecstasies. Worth never composed anything more lovely. I want to see it on you. Come, come; call your maid. I am all impatience. We’ll shame our bad husband into good behavior; see if we don’t. No irresolution, pretty sister of mine. I'll stay at home and count your pictures and vases and pretty things, and catalogue them, so as to make mamma happy with k letter to mormow. Order John or Jack or Bill, or whoever your coachman is, to get the carriage—if that's impossible, send for a hack.” In less than an hour Mabel led her sister to the. great French mirror, and laughingly introduced her to tho loveliest and best-dressed woman she had almost ever seen. Alice trembled a little when she found herself actually .on her way to Mrs. Mountjoy’s, butlier sister's urgent will, had conquered, and her heart was hardened by Herbert’s emphatic expression concerning the baby. She was reassured, however, by Mrs. Mountjoy’s hearty welcome. “So glad you’ve come, my dear,” she said. "Your husband said he feared * baby’ would keep yon at home; but I told him it was nonsense. You did right to reconsider the matter.” Herbert, like many handsome society men, was a little spoiled and selfish without knowing it. He loved Alice devotedly; but he was not unwilling to receive sweet smiles and honeyed words of others; while, with a man’s inconsistency, he was not desirous that his wife should play the part of a married belle.

It was while he was dancing with one of the most noted and beautiful women of the metropolis, who was more than willing to listen to his nonsense, that Herbert, looking up from the face leaning against his shoulder, while the dreamy waltz music thrilled hearts sensitive to sadness as to joy, encountered the sparkling face of his wife, and saw her arrayed in the freshest and most graceful costume in the room. She was moving quietly along with an escort iu uniform. "Pray don’t stumble,” said his vis a vis, petulantly, for from that moment the grand repose of his manuer was gone, and the lady on his arm might nave been made of wax, or any other ductile material, for all he cared now. "How the dickens came she here?” ho muttered to himself, as he led his I>artncr absently to a seat, deaf to all icr pretty words, blind to her fascinations. “It certainly is Alice —but that dress—the prettiest thing here! and I left her quite determined not to come. I don’t understand it. Dancing with that military puppy, Guinett, too. She knows I hate him.” With these amiable thoughts, he laid himself out to gain the attention of his wife, and make her explain. It was some time before he had the chance so he was obliged to content himself with following her graceful motions, angry with himself and with her. “Alice! Can I believe my eyes?” he said, at last, in the pauses of the dance. " I should think you might, rather,” was the nonchalantreply. Pray, how did you come?” " Pray, how did you come? I rode: Did you walk?” "Well, but—” “Excuse me. I’m engaged four deep, already;” and Herbert Was forced to move aside, as a pompous acquaintance claimed her hand. “ I’d like to knock that fellow down,” he muttered, angry in earnest. Another pause, and another tete-a-tete. No satisfaction given. Herbert had hardly the grace to redeem his dancing engagements. “ About the baby, Alice?” he asked, anxiously. She put her rosy lips to his car, and, in a subdued voice, exclaimed: “ Hang the babv!” Herbert started and changed colon To be sure, he had used the same language. But from her it was too exasperating. How he got through the evening He could hardly tell. When, at. last, they were in the carriage driving home there might have been an open rupture, but for the determined calmness of Alice, who took everything as a matter of course.

One glance in the beautiful nursery unsealed his eyes. There by the fire sat Mabel in all the abandon of a neglige toilet, her luxuriant tresses falling in glossy freedom over her shoulders, while the little fellow on her* lap, clutching at one long, shining curl, crowedjtnd laughed as well as lie could for *'auntie’s” smothering kisses.. A sudden revulsion of feeling came to the father's heart at sight of this sweet home picture. “Ah! 1 know now who contrived this plot,” lie said. “ But lam glad to see you, Mabel, nevertheless.” “Wasn’t she the belle of the ball?” answered Mabel, saucily. - , “ There’s no doubt of that. At any rate, I didn’t get a chance to dance with her.” “Of course. Who ever heard in society of dancing with one’s wife?” she said, sarcastically. “ I see that she followed my directions implicitly. You must learn, sir, that a house divided against itself cannot stand—that is, if one-half is flirting at a party, and the other half is at home crying her eyes out—” . “Oh, Alice—were you really?” “ I should think she was. I can ttssurc you that I myself saw half of, the house dissolved in tears, and so wretched that—” “Mabel, hush!” said Alice, imploringly: “Traitor, do you turn on me?” exclaimed Mabel, with mock displeasure. “ My child,” she went on, tossing the crowing cherub, “ tell your selfish papa that he also has some obligations, and that, if you had known you were to be the bone of contention in this family, you’d have stayed in the garden of angels, where you were wanted.” Herbert was strongly affected by this audacious outburst, but it had the effect of leading him to see his duty in a new light. It taught him to reflect; opened his eyes to his selfishness; and made him, from that evening, a better and more considerate husband. Six months from that time Alice was dressed for a party. But this time the party was given at her own home, and in honor of Mabel’s marriage. Even the bride did not look any lovelier; for nothing now ever occurred to mar Alice’s happiness, and happiness, after all, is the best preservative of beauty.

" Ah! how charming you look!” whispered Mabel, with anarch look, os they passed eaeh other in the dance. " Prettier even, and it is saying a great deal, than when I cured your nusbond by sending you to that New Year’s P*rty-” ______

A Dog's Burial.

The body of a large Newfoundland dog was buried in Greenwood Cemetery on Sunday. It was taken to the cemetery by an undertaker, and Mr. and Mrs. Wilmarth of 106 East Fifteenth street, to whom the dog belonged, were present at the burial. "It was perhaps unusual,” said Mr. Wilmarth last evening, " but we did just what yon or any one would have done under the circumstanoes, I think. The dog has been in the family for fourteen years—since he was a little puppy—and my wife was very much attached to him. He was a great pet of Mrs. Wilmarth’s former husband. The dog became so old that we had to etherize him, and then, as we did not want to throw the body of tbe faithful old fellow away, and as we had no yard in which to bury him, we concluded to bury him in our plot in Greenwood, at the feet of his old master. So I procured the services of an undertaker, who sent him over there on Sunday. We had previously had a grave dug, and my wife and I, who were spending the day in Brooklyn, went to the cemetery and saw our old pet buried. It seemed to us a natural thing to do.” . "It isn't such an unusual thing to bury a dog in Yireenwood,” said Mr. •Clawsen, tne undertaker who had the funeral in charge. "There was Mrs. Hamblin; she buried her dog in Greenwood. There are several (logs buried there; hut I don’t know of any monuments erected to their memory. A friend of mine, an undertaker, was telling me recently of an old gentleman who hail a dog that he thought everything of. The old gentleman died first, and he gave orders that when the dog died it should be placed in_the vault by his side, and it was done. I heard the other day of a maiden lady living on Washington Heights, who has a passion for dogs. She has several of the pets, and they are given an airing each day in her carriage, whether she is able to go with them or not. When one of them dies he is buried in her yard. There is a handsome monument erected over her pets.”— N. Y. Sun.

The Child on the Door-Step.

" Did she leave any children?” "Yes, this bit of a child.” “ And who’ll take her?” "I don’t know. We arc all very poor around here, sir, but wo must find her a place somewhere. God help the little girl, for she’s all alone now!” The sexton had called at an old tenement house on Lafayette street east to take a body lo a pauper’s field—the body of one whose life hail been worn out in the tread-mill of hunger and despair. Nobody knew that the mother was dead—hardly suspected that she was ill, until one morning this child appeared at a neighbor’s door and quietly said: "Would you be afraid to come over to my house, for nia is dead and I'm keeping awful still, and I’m afraid to talk to her when she won’t answer.” The mother had been dead four hours. Long enough before day came the flame of life had burned low and died out, and that child, hardly seven years old, had been with the corpse through the long hours, clasping the cold hand, kissing the white face, and calling for life to return. When they asked if she had any friends she shook her head. When they told her she was alone in the great world she looked out of the old window* on the bleak November day and answered: “ I can make three kinds of dresses for doll-babies, build fires and carry in wood, and I’ll work ever so hard if somebody will let me live with them!” There was no funeral. There was no need of a sermon there. The lines of sorrow around the dead woman’s mouth counted for more in Heaven than any eulogy man pould deliver. There was no crape. In place of it three or four honest-hearted women let their tears fall upon the white face and whispered: "Poor mother—poor child!” The child’s big blue eyes were full of tears, but there was hardly a tremor in her voice as she nestled her warm cheek against the lips stilled forever and said: “Good-bye, ma—you’ll come down from Heaven every night at dark, won’t you, and you’ll take me up there just as soon as you can, won’t you?” The landlord locked up the house, and the child went home with ono of the women. When night came she stole out of the house and w r ent aw r ay from those who sought to comfort her, and going back to the old house she sat down on the door-step, having no company but the darkness. An officer passed that way, and leaning over the gate he .peered through the darkness at something on the step and called out: " Is anybody there P” " Nobody but a little girl!” came the answer. "Whois it?” “ It’s a little girl whose ma was buried to-day!” He opened the gate and went closer, and as he made out her little bai’e head and innocent face, he said: "Why, child, aren’t you afraid?” "I was afraid a little while ago,” she said, "but just as soon as I asked ma not to let anybody hurt me I got right ovm* it. Would anybody dare hurt a littrc girl whose mais dead? They could be tooken up,'couldn’t they?” He offered to go with her to the house where she was to have a home for a few days, and taking his big hand with the utmost confidence she talked beside him and said: “ I ain’t going to cry much till I get to bed, where folks can’t see me!” "I hope every one will be good to you,” he remarked, as he put his hand over her curly head. "If they don’t be, they’ll never go to Heaven, will they?” she queried. " No.” There was a long pause, and then she said: ‘ ‘ But I guess they will be. I can make a doll out of a clothes-pin and a piece of calico, and I guess somebody will be glad to let me live with ’cri. If you see me over oh> the step some other night yon needn’t be a bit afraid, for I ain’t big enough to hurt anybody, even if I didn’t want to cry all the time!”— Detroit Free Press.

The Fly’s Proboscis.

Professor George Macloskie, of Princeton College, read a paper before the New York Academy of Sciences last evening on “The Proboscis of the House-Fly.” The wall behind the desk at which the Professor stood was decorated for the occasion with diagrams showing highly magnified sections of the bod}' of the common house-fly, or Musca domesticus. There were also some pictures of exaggerated cockroaches, and a representation of an enormous lobster, more than three feet long—so large, in fact, that the teeth in his “ spoon-shaped jaws” could be distinctly seen. As for the picture of that instrument of torture, the proboscis of the house-fly, it resembled both in shape and size a rifle with the barrel .broken oft’where it meets the stock, and a large warty jxitnto stuck on. The potato would represent what some naturalists call the “tip,” and what others call the t'knob,” of the proboscis. Professor Macloskie declared that it was a mistake to say that flies bite, the testi-

mony of all mankind to the oontrary notwithstanding. They didn't bite — they only filed. It was for along time said by naturalists that this knob at tbe end of the fly’s proboscis was made up of muscular tissue, by which the owner ■ was enabled to rub his teeth, so to speak, into the flesh of suffering humanity. Later investigation had demonstrated the fact that this knob was made up principally of small rods, the sharp enas of which projected a little beyond the end, making a surface similar to that of a very sharp and effective file. Tbe lecturer went on to describe just how the flies go to work to file a person’s face. Having discovered a minute speck of something palatable, tbe fly first dropped a little saliva upon it to moisten or dissolve the dainty morsel. This done, he went to work with his file, executing a movement like that of the snout of a pig when rooting up the earth. Having gathered up enough for a " swallow,” Tie drew up his proboscis, emptied the food into his mouth and chewed it. To prove that flies had teeth, although they were so located as not to enable him to bite any external object, the Professor passed around a specimen of a fly’s jaw adjusted under the objective glass of a microscope, and showing off the fly’s back teeth to great advantage. The mosquito’s apparatus was very different. That interesting New Jersey bird was provided with a number of laneelets set in among a system of sucking tubes. This enabled it to bore for blood and draw it up at the same time. Professor Macloskie said he had made a new discovery in the anatomy of a fly’s proboscis. He had found two small tendons attached to the knob on one end and running back to the other end, where they were attached to the hard tissue of the thorax. These tendons also represented the endocraniura in tbe head of the ily, a part hitherto supposed by Huxley and others to be absent, although it was known that the lobster and the cockroach had cudocrania.—N. Y. World.

The Moon and Earth.

Then if we pass back into the preceding ages we must compute the time for the earth to cool down from a molten state. Bischoff, the German, determines by experiments with molten rock, and he is supported by Helmholtz, that the period required for the earth to cool from 2,000 deg. Centri§rade to 200 deg. is 350,000,000 years. ischoff probably erred in underestimating rather than in overestimating tho period; but if we take this period as probable and add to it the succeeding time, we have 450,000,000 years since the earth was a nebular mass, and in round numbers may declare 500,000,000 years the age of our planet. Much longer periods are required for the larger planets. In estimating time in planetary life wo must apply Newton’s principle that the larger the planet the longer the stages of its., existence. We find that if we heat two iron balls, one an inch in diameter and the other two inches in diameter, it will take twice as long for the latter to cool as the former, for although it has four times as much mass it has eight times as much surface from which all heat must depart. The planet Jupiter in mass is nearly 843 times as large as the earth* 843 is equal to the cube of seven; for Jupiter, then, to reach the same density of the earth, it would -take seven times as many years, or seven times 350,000,000, equal to 2,450,000,000, and allowing the same proportion for subsequent changes, for Jupiter to reach the point the earth has would require 3,500,000,000, or 3,000,000,000 more years than the earth. But Jupiter is still far younger in development than is our planet. When we turn to the sun we reach far higher figures. Following the same rule, as the mass of the sun is 340,000 times greater than that of the earth, its age will be seventy times a 3 great, and we find that it would take 35,000,000,000 years for the sun to reach the earth’s present state. Considering the smaller orbs, as the moon, we find that the past period is comparatively brief; but that the earth will reach the same condition far in the remote future. The moon in mass is 81 times less than the'earth, and its surface is as 1 to 13. By dividing 81 by 13 we find how many times the comparative age of the moon is less than the earth’s. This gives 83,000,000 years as the time it took for the moon to reach a condition similar to the pres-' ent stage of the earth’s existence. The earth is behind the moon about 420,000,000 years, and, as the moon goes on six times as fast as the earth, 420,000,000 multiplied by 6 gives us 2,500,000,000 years before we shall see the earth as the moon now is. From the present condition of the moon we learn what to expect on our ear tip Our planet, now in full life, will in 2,500,000,000 years be in extreme old age. These periods of enormous duration of time sink into insignificance before the history of the solar system as a whole. We find a wide relation between the parts of the solar system, in that all the planets, from the mightiest globe to the smallest satellite, except one of Uranus, move in their paths in the same direction. Astronomers would be as muA surprised to see one of the asteroids — of which 200 have been discovered—going in the opposite direction as to see the sun rise in the west.

All the heavenly bodies are pails of some mighty whole. By the nebular hypothesis, the whole solar system was once an enormous mass of gaseous matter, which began turning like a disc. Then the outer part became dissevered and formed one orb; the next and the next followed, until there was only a central sun left to rule the entire systefli. Each planet went through the same process, rings after rings and satellites after satellites were formed. This nebular theory accounts for the general features. It is not opposed by facts. The meteoric system must also be considered. Professor Newton, of Y ale College, estimates that the earth is increased by 400,000,000 every vear. This may amount to t housands of tons of matter, but it is nothing as compared with the mass of the earth. Still we may say the earth is growing; but her growth is only like that of one who has already attained full stature. These meteors are only the residue of a residue, the few left out of the millions of the past. In the remote ages the earth must have met far more. From a rough calculation I made, I find that my assumption must have been wrong, or the earth would have increased ten-fold more than she did. But we may rightly contend that no small part of the mass of the earth is formed from meteoric aggregations. If we tak,e La Place’s theory with the meteoric, we may account. for the present condition of our planet. And as the earth, and indeed all matter we know—our bodies and brains—have come down from the heavens, is it any wonder that all our higher thoughts 'and aspirations are heavenward?— Rcj>ort in N. Y. Tribune of a licccnt Lecture by Prof. Proctor.

—Elucidation: Rector’s Wife—“ How do you do, Mr. Wiggles? We have not seen you at church lately. Have you been away?” Mr. Wiggles—“ Yes, mu'm; I’ve been a-visitin’ my old ’aunts at Manchester, niu’m.” Rector’s Wife— * ‘ Really! I hope you found the old ladies quite well.” Mr. Wiggles—“l didn’t say myhamts, mu’rn - l said my old ’aunts—revisitin’ the ’aunts o’ my youth, you know, mu’m!”

CALENDAR FOR 1880. rnniiin -^--zzzii-indkT-rinii 4567 89 M> ' 46 « 7 8 910 H K 1314 IS Wl7 1113 IJ 14 16 1617 18 19 202 1*2324 18 19 30 31 23 33 24! 29 26 27 28 29 90 31 25 28 27 28 29 30 91 F«fc_ i 2 3"i “a (5 7 Aig_ i 1 i 4 a is "7 1 9 M 1113 13 14 8 9K) 111113 14 IS W 17 18 19 20 21 15!l6 17 18 1920&1 22 33 44 25 20 2728 22123 24 2»38 27*28' l»T_ ~ 1 3 3 4 5 0 B*ft- 13 3 4 * 7 8 9K)II12 13 567891011 < 14,15 16} 17 18 21122 23,24 25 26 27 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 , „ 3*203031 262728930 j I*3 1 2 3 Oct 1 a 46678910 3 4 5 0 7 8 9 1112 13 14 16 16 17 10 tl 12 13 14 16 16 1819 92122(23 21 17 18 19 9 21(22 231 _ 25 36 27 28 29 30... 2425362728930; I*J - 1 . *1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 SOT— ... 1 2 3 4 5 6 9 10 11 12 13,14 15 7 8 9 10,11 12 13 1017 18,19 921 22 14 15 16 17 18 I9fco 23124 25 26 27 28j29 21(22 23 24 25 26>27 . -3031 ~.X7 26939 Joe 17.. 123 4| 6 Oft™ ..1 12 3 4 Gl 7 8 9 10 111 12 5 6 7 8 9 1011; 13(14 15 16 171"' 19 12|13 14 15 16 17 181 2031:2223 27i28|9t30|..7|„.|.„ 06)27(28)39 3031

USEFUL AND SUGGESTIVE.

A little ginger put into sausage meat improves the flavor. Tumblers that have had milk in them should never be put into hot water. A small piece of charcoal put into the pot with boiling cabbage removes the smell. Times are always good whon men pay as they go, and five within their means. — Exchange. A spoonful of stewed tomatoes in the gravy of either roasted or fried meats is an improvement. Cockroaches may be driven away by putting Scotch or other high-dried snuff round their haunts. Mulching should be employed around jiewly-*planted trees, cither in fall or spring planting. The mulch should extend out beyond the extremities of the roots. Any coarse manure or rough litter makes a good mulch. —lowa Stale Register. In view of the prevalence of diphtheria, it may be well to state that a prominent English physician testifies that he has always found that a teaspoonful of powdered sulphur mixed in a tumbler of water, the mixture being used as a gargle, will cure the most malignant form of the disease. To cuke chilblains, cut two white turnips, without paring, into thin slices;. {>ut the slices into a tin cup with three arge spoonfuls of best lard; let it simmer slowly for two hours, then mash through a sieve; when cold, spread it on a soft linen cloth and apply to the chilblain at night.— Exchange. The great tendency in winter is to keep rooms too warm. The foundation of pneumonia, pleurisy and pulmonary consumption is frequently’laid in overheated, ill-ventilated apartments. The inmates become accustomed to breathing hot, close air, the system is toned down and relaxed, and a slight exposure to cold and wet results in serious illness.

Firewood should be prepare and put under shelter, and that general family peace-maker, dry fuel, generously supplied and conveniently placed for use; where coal is used, a bin under cover, witli an opening at the bottom for taking out the fuel easily,,will save trouble and loss. Finally, prepare a suitable place for disposing of all household waste where it can be made available as a fertilizer, and all risk of infection from it be avoided. Lansing Republican. Borax water will instantly remove all soils and stains from the hands and heal all scratches and chafes. To make it, put some crude borax in a large bottle, and till with water. When the borax is dissolved, add more to the water, until at last the water can absorb no more and a residuum remains At the bottom of the bottle. To the water in which the hands are to be washed after gardening, pour from this bottle enough to mako it very soft. It is very cleansing and very healthy. By its use the hands will be kept in excellent condition, smooth and soft and white.— Prof. Beal.

Winter Employment.

It is not reasonable to expect that farming can prosper where there is not labor for the hands on the farm but six to eight months in the year. There must be something for the idle hands to do. In other years, and in other States, fanners employed their winters in preparing fire wood for the year, getting out fencing, splitting rails and posts, cutting saw-logs and marketing for lumber. These employment are not here. Coal takes the place of wood. Wire the place of rails, and saw-logs have not yet grown on the prairie. How then can a farmer profitably put in his time ? It must be in raising and feeding stock, milking cows, etc. Warm quarters must be prepared for all domestic animals, hogs, sheep, cattle and horses. More thorough care can profitably be expended on all Jiese classes. There is an abundance of straw and slough hay, with which the cheapest and most comfortable quarters can be made for all animals. Convenient filaces for feeding can be made by the abor on the farm, and all these cost nothing. Then by diligent labor the coarser food, such as straw, stalks, etc., can be manipulated into rich food. Make a new departure in caring for stock. Stay by them. Feed regular—curry often —keep clean and warm. Then feeil.up to the fullest healthy extent all stock intended for milk or meat. There is neither sense nor profit in allowing cows to go dry all winter, nor in allowing calves, stock cattle, or hogs to stand still in growth luring the months of leisure from the out-door work on the farm. The business boom will make no farmer rich except by close application to business. All the branches of trade have zealous and watchful competition. No slipshod style of agriculture will win in the future as in the past. Labor and brains arc united in competing in all the avenues of trade, and none more so than in this profitable branch of industry. If ten steers are carefully fed and cared for so they will increase 400 pounds eaeh during the winter instead of 100 each the difference will pay for two good hands all winter. If twentyfive good calves be placed in the care of a kind and attentive hand, who will water regularly with water at the right temperature, curry regularly anil handle kinuly, bestowing favors on the weakest which are usually pushed from their food, and the additional growth and good heart with which they will come out in the spring will well pay the wages. But he must be with them every working hour of the month, watching their health, stimulating their appetites. In this way there is work for all idle hands, and work which will pay. And farmers will find in the sharp competition no other style of farming will pay. —lowa State Register.

Quality or Quantity.

The tendency in our markots is toward more careful discrimination as to quality. Meat buyers are growing more particular—if not much more willing to pay higher prices for superior quality, they are unwilling to buy inferior qualities at any price. Butchers, and those who buy to sell to butchers, are also becoming more earefnl and discriminating in their purchases. Tlie progress iu this direction is slow, but it is going on and will continue.

The rich and the fastidious will continue to be particular as to the quality of the meat bought; as, indeed, all sensible persons ought to be. Butchers will grow more, rather than less observant of the proportions of meat to offal, of high and low-priced meat; and the difference in prioe between good and poor “ butchers' beasts" wifi increase rather than diminish. There has been less discrimination in regard to the hog than with either cattle or sheep. Swine breeders and feeders on a large scale have much to encourage them in the belief that the best hogs to rear are those which will make the most pounds from a bushel of corn. So large a proportion of the pork products are not consumed in a fresh state, and so much is exported, that it is clearly true that too little attention has been paid by many buyers to the quality of the meat. But even here the tendency will be toward making greater distinctions. The breeder’s and feeder’s aim is profit. There is no objection to the statement, “ I want the animal which will make the most money;’’ unless, indeed, this desire for profit leads to dishonesty or a short-sighted policy. If two steers look equally well in all respects, they will sell equally well; but if it be found that those of one breed habitually dress more to live weight, or give a larger percentage of meat in tne best -places, they will come to sell higher. If they can be reared at the same cost, intelligent feeders will give up any prejudices they have held, and adopt this breed. There are many stock feeders who are neither intelligent nor enterprising; but there are also many who are quick to see methods of improvement; if any breed has marked superiority over others, it will come to be popular. It does not at all follow, however, that either the breed or the modo of feeding which produces the very finest quality of meat will be generally adopted, foj? neither will probably give the largest profits * On the other hand, it certainly will not do for breeders and feeders to look to quantity alone, entirely disregarding the quality of the meat. Very great size is rarely ever found united with very good quality. No one would select any one of the half-dozen largest steers and cows at the late Fat-Stock Show and expect to secure equally good beef, or to have equally as profitable an animal for the butcher, as were many of those of medium weight. No one of the very heaviest animals represented profitable feeding. It is questionable whether any one of them is now worth the food it has consumed. In a less degree this is true of swine. Remarkably heavy hogs are rarely a source of profit, ft is a point in favor of a breed that its meat is a finer texture and better quality than that of another. —Live Stock Journal, Chicago.

A Remedy for Diphtheria.

The New York Herald of a recent date prints a communication from Mr. Shishkin, the Russian Minister at Washington, by which he desires to make generally known, for the possible benefit of people here, the fact that great success lias attended in Russia the treatment of diphtheria with the benzoate of soda. The Herald says: “ Recently many parts of Russia have suffered as from an epidemic of this malady. Only a few days since we published a statement of its widespread ravages and remarkable severity in Russian towns. Diphtheria is a disease due directly to foul emanations, but which attains its maximum of activity iu a humid atmosphere. In the wretched homes or hovels • of the demoralized poor, where there is a general indifference to cleanliness and where drainage and ventilation are unknown, it flourishes most; but it also flourishes in the homes of the rich and invades the palaces of Princes whenever ignorance of sanitary science results in the production of those conditions favorable to its development whieh are always present in filthy tenements. Dampness, however, is as important a factor in its production as are poisonous gases, and an atmosphere surcharged with moistui-e has the same distinct relation to its prevalence as the heats of summer have to intestinal troubles. Perhaps its ravages in Europe this year may be fairly regarded as attributable in great part to the saturated state of the soil, due to the unusual rains and the extensive inundations of low districts. But, lpt sanitary science do what it may, the time is yet very remote when it can hope to extirpate diseases whose cause is distinctly known, and consequently the knowledge of an effective remedy is of the very greatest value to the people. Our doctors should give a failtrial to the remedy of which Mr. Shishkin writes. Little has been said of it, though in fact a full catalogue of the medicines that; have been tried in this disease would include almost the whole materia medica. Gum benzoin and the benzoate of ammonia have been used in a solution which was applied to the throat as a varnish to prevent the access of air, and the latter on the general principle that all the combinations of benzoic acid have a stimulant effect on the mucous membrane. It is very probable that the combination with soda may have some specific influence.” Mr. Shishkin’s letter is as follows: Imperial. Russian Lkoation, i Washington, November 16, 1879. f To the Editor of the Herald:

In view of the increase of diphtheria in several places of the State of New York I hasten to communicate to 3 r ou for publicity a very simple remedy, which, having been used in Russia and Germany, may prove effective here. Out of several others, Mr. Letzerich, who made extensive experiments in the application of this remedy, has used it in twenty-seven cases, eight of which were of a very serious nature, all of which had a favorable result except in one case, when the child died from a complication of diseases. For children of one year he prescribes the remedy, for internal use every one or two hours, as follows: Natr. lienzoic, pur. 5.0 solv. in aq. distillat aq. month, piper, ana 40.0 syr. cort. aur. 10.0. For children from one to three years old he prescribed it from seven to eight grammes for one hundred grammes of distilled water, with same sirup; for children from three to seven /ears old he prescribed ten to fifteen grammes, ana for grown persons from fifteen to twenty-five grammes for each one hundred grammes. Beside this he uses also with great success the insufflation on the diphtherial membrane through a glass tube in serious cases every three hours, in light cases three times a day, of the natr. benzoic pulver. For grown people he prescribes for gargling a dilution of ten grammes of this pulver for two hundred grammes of water. The effect of the remedy is rapid. After twenty-four or thirty-six hours the feverish symptoms disappear completely and the temperature and pulse become normal. This remedy was used also with the same success by Dr. Braham Braun, and Professor Klebs, in Prag; Dr. Senator, in Cassel, and several others in Russia and Germany. Hoping that the publication through yonr widely-read paper will prove beneficial in the United States, I remain yours, very truly. N. Shiskin, Minister of Russia to the United States.

—•* What is the difference between the masons and their tenders,” asked Mr. Practical, “so long as they pet the same pay?” “ The difference lies in the hods,” replied John, the Britisher. < —When is there a greater satire upon man than in nhcss, where tlio queen has to do the work and the king is to be protected.

Religious. THE BALANCE SHEET. Life’s Ledger opens, and a strange new date Is on tlie page that else were pure and wWta, And we must cast our balance sheet of fate. Bum up the columns of the past, and write What we have gained from the great circling year; What we have lost In hours swept idly by; What we have spent In follies all too dear; What we have saved in life’s great treasury; How much of worldly wisdom we have gained; What dear illusions lost, like fleeting breath. And for our gold and peart what poor exchange In gaining knowledge and in losing faith; What notes of promise written in our name Have gone to be protested in life’s bank; What checks for charity and virtue drawn Our souls have never sigupd but with a blank; Alas! what double entries hare we made! The world on one side, on the other God; Who bolds the balance? can our debts be paid? Where is our stock, and is Its value good? Have we placed all our winnings in the dust? Put them on interest in some earthly mine? Or are they high and safe from moth or rust, In human sympathy, In love divine? Rich, not in the abundance that we have. The year’s full horn Is emptied at our door; The soul hath other merchandise to save. ’Tis what we tu e that maketh rich or poor. The deeds that*we have done with vaulting pride. Hoping that some largo interest they would pay, May count for nothing on that other side. Where angels keep the books a different way. Our souls dream journeying, wander down the past To that forever that lies far behind; The sum of shine and shadow that are cast Counts more than all the present wealth we find. Memory, the treasurer of our golden dreams. At the old fireside ever keeps us room. Tired of the tumult of life’s busy schemes, Our pilgrim hearts to-night are going homo. Whut muffled echoes fall aeross our path. Footsteps of loved ones that are caught away, What have we lost in this time-circling tide? What have they gained in that Eternity? And do they give good gifts to those they love. These angels overleaning from the skies? a Now Year on the heights above? What are they doing now in Paradise? What have wc gained by all that wc have lost ? Patience and strength to bear anew, the strife; The soul climbs upward only by the cross. And sorrow isthc crowning crown of life. Our future lies close folded in the now. Each precious moment that we throw away, Like wanton spendthrifts of our golden sands. Is heavy with Eternal destiny. In God’s arithmetic no cipher’s lost; Each bears a stamp of value that’s divine. O may our souls at last be found at par With earth’s great duties and witli Heaven’s design. And mny the page of lilc whereon we write— However blotted and with tears made dimlie Tmnined ever by the failing light Reflected from the Star of Jlethlehcm. —Lizzie Y. Cane, in Detroit Free Press.

Sunday-School Lessons.

FIRST QUARTER, 1880. Jan. *—The Infant Messiah Matt. 2: 1-12 Jan. 11—The Flight into Egypt.... Matt. 2:13-21 Jan. 18—Jesus Ilaptized by John. .Matt. 3: 1-17 Jnn. 25—The Temptation of Jesus. Matt. 4: 1-11 Feb. I—True Disciples Matt. 5: 1-16 Feb. B—The Truly Righteous Matt. 5:17-36 Feb. 15—The Tongue and the Temper.. M itt. 6:33-48 Feb.22—Giving and Praying...,. .Matt. 6: 1-13 Feb.29—Our Father’s Care Matt. 6:24-34 Mch. 7—TheSavior’sGoldenUule.Matt. 7: 1-14 Mch.l4—The False and the True.. .Matt. 7:15-29

Revising the Bible.

A call for a meeting in the interest of the revision which is now being effected in the English translation of the Holy - Scriptures by leading Biblical scholars in England and this country was the cause of filling the greater part of the pews of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity, Nineteenth and Walnut streets, last evening. The Right Rev. Dr.. Lee, Bishop of Delaware, presided. After an opening prayer and the singing of a hymn, Bishop Lee spoke to show how important the subject of Bible revision should be to every Christian heart. Being the ultimate standard of appeal in all matters of faith, the Bible should be free from any foreign admixture. It held a position unrivaled and incapable of being reached by any other book, and it was of the highest importance to give an accurate rendering of its every part. It was for the purpose of attaining* this end that the revisers in England had been engaged’since 1870 and the American revisers (acting in conjunctiqiKwith the European) since 1871. It } was hoped that the revised edition oi'the New Testament would appear next year, which would be just five hundred years after the publication of the Bible of Wickliffe, who made the first great effort to place the Holy Scriptures in the hands of English-speaking people. The Rev. Dr. Philip Schaff, President of the American Committee of Revision, began an address by remarking that when Walter Scott drew nigh to death he called for the readiig of the Book, and when asked what book hd meant he significantly said: “ There is but one Book, and that is the Bible." “The Bible,” said the speaker, “being of more importance to the people than are all the libraries of the world, the utmost care should he taken to give that book in its purity and integrity. Next year the semi-millennium of Wickliffe’s Bible will probably be celebrated throughout the Christian world. The present version did its work most admirably, and it does it still. The movement in which we are engaged now is not to make a new version, but a revision cf the present one, whose idiom and vocabulary, of course, must be retained, Some people will be astonished to see how much like the old will be the new revision, anil others will notice how numerous are the improvements made in the old. Some words have become obsolete, and others have changed their meaning. The same may be said of phrases. But far more important changes have taken place in Biblical scenes. Manuscripts of great value, bearing upon the Bible, have been brought within the reach of every scholar in Christendom, and these; with all the ancient translations, have been examined with a view' to obtaining all possible light upon the subject. Hundreds of scholars in Europe and this country have devoted their lives to the study of the Bible in all its particulars, and the very earth. has ‘ given up its treasures to confirm and illustrate the Holy Bible. The only real objection to this revision lies in the question whether we might not lose more than would be gained. The spirit of God, however, gave to the Mother Church of England the courage to start this movement-. That ehnrcli associated with itself distinguished Biblical scholars from other countries, and the revisers have been sitting together in Westminster Abbey. The old Bible was made when the other denominations had not ‘branched oft from the English Church, but now a chance is given for them all to say: ‘ This is our Bible.’ Whatever Providence undertakes will succeed and must succeed, and if the hand of Providence is in any movement I believe that it is in this. Like every good work, it may have to stand the test of martyrdom, but it will come out triumphant. As the New Testament will probably be finished next year, and the Old one three or four years afterward, the committee thought it well to ihform the Christian community of the fact in order that the work might be assisted by the prayers of the people.” The Rev. Dr. Hare, of the Episcopal Divinity School, West Philadelphia, for the sake of illustrating the imperfections resulting from' the exercise of mere interpretation instead of accurate translation, called attention to several passages in the Bible. One of these was the Verse: “Moses went out and saw an Egyptian smiting a Hebrew, and Moses slew the Egyptian.” “Smiting” in the present sense of the word, might not seem sufficient warrant for the 5 action of Moses, but the reader

of the Bible would see the matter in a different light when he was informed that the word translated into “ smiting” meant “slaying.” Examples like the four or five to which the speaker called attention could be found, he said, at least once in every five chapters of the Old Testament. The necessity for a removal of these imperfections was obvious. It was also important to bear in mind that, while the old version ' originated with private individuals, the reused edition originated in a general ecclesiastical tribunal. The Rev. Dr. Green, of Princeton College, did not expect that the revisers could remove all imperfections, for like the greatest master-pieces of other literature, the Bible in its original form possessed a. beauty that must suffer more or less by translation. But the best that could be done was being done. - Not every commentator's propositions would be accepted, and no change would bo made except where general scholarship was agreed The rule observed was to preserve the style and character of the existing version, •while bringing out the spirit of the original text as accurately, clearly ami distinctly as, possible. —Philadelphia Times.

Passing it Along.

There is a certain amusement of children in which a number of boys or grls stand in a row, and each one of em, receiving a blow from his neighbor on the left hand, “ passes it along,” with good interest, to the child next on his right. All try to give a harder blow than they have received, and the child who has hsfd the fun of making the first stroke, receives at hist the most vigorous push of all. In this childish sport, which too often degenerates into real unkindness, there is a lesson and a warning, for the principle upon which it is based runs all through the lives of grown men and women. Somethings ought to be passed along, and some ought not. Without wise passing along every good thing iu life would come to an end. ’“Come, let us live (for our children,” said Froebel; and i that is the motto upon which the whole fabric of society and of religion is I based. “All literature,” says Holmes, “lives by borrowing and lending. A good image is like iv diamond which may be set a hundred' times in as many generations, and gain new beauties with every change. A good story once told fats itself with fresh scenery and new heroes and heroines, as it lasts from age to ago and passes from land to land. A great ideal character once projected is &h-~ mortal.” All this is as true of life as of literature| every harvest is grown from last year’s seed; every fire is kindled from a spark which has been given us by somebody else; and the whole world is a school in which the past is the present. If a person is possessed of knowledge or power which he puts to no* use, he is grossly abusing a sacred trust; he is a borrower who refuses to repay; he is a thief who steals from children too young to protect themselves. Talents arc not given us to be hidden in napkins. It is folly to talk with Matthew Arnold About culture for its own sake; so long as people need to be taught and helped; so long as any one person.is inferior to us in any wisdpm or wealth or power for good—it is our bounden duty to give them of such as we have. The scholar who studies . all his life, and .never speaks or writes, is a miser -whose soul is the more warped and twisted by every new (possession that comes to him. The traveler who passes* by on the other side is not excused by the fact that he “knows more about medicine that the Good Samaritan who binds up the sufferer's wounds. What wo do, not what we can do, is the measure of our success in life. The clumsy builder is better than the lazy sneeror. Negative goodness is positive badness in that it leaves half undone. In morals, as well as in law, doing nothing may be as, bail as arson, or theft, or murder. The possession of truth carries a duty with it. A recent writer has thus restated this law in vigorous phrase: good carries a privilege of service; anil it is the highest joy of life to hold a place, and have the power to serve, in the grand list of those who build the kjngom. * * * The world is full of people poorer than we—poorer in knowledge, in chances, in homes, in associations. We are apt to demand thgl those less favored should be diligent and honest. To what higher standard, then, do oiu* superior advantages summon us? For every iuch of excellence we ask of them, God wants a fnile of us. He will not take average goodness of (people with such chances. Fit motto, not only for the old mediaeval chivalry, but for that whole higher order of nobility for which the Christian name stands as a pledge, is this beautiful text: ‘We, then, tiiat are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, anil not to please ourselves.’ ” - But if it is a duty to speed some things, it is no less a duty to stay others. There is a kind of “passing it along” which is the most effective work, for Satan. If we hear a slanderous story or an evil jest; if we, become possessed of means qj injury to others; if there falls iiito our hands a weapon against sound morals, or social good, or Christian faith—it should get no further than our own breasts. There is no more horrible sin than that of leading others into sin. To teach, by word or example, lessons of intemperance, or profanity, or hate, or dishonesty, or unbelief, is to pass along a flame that shall destroy unknown thousands. It is hard to fight our own battles; the battles of others we cannot light, if we have once stirred up war in their lucarts. Every man’s life ought to be a kind of moral filter, through whieh nothing but good shall be allowed to pass to other lives.—b. S. Times.

—The Cincinnati CommerfHaJ, in commenting upon the introduction of a telephone in a Columbus church, says: “It is not impossible that the use of these instruments will work as great a revolution in church-going as the lettercarrier system has wrought in the postollice. Indeed, it-will become a question whether the enormous expenso incident to building costly places of worship may not be avoided without any detriment to the cause of religion. The pastor can as well deliver his discourse from the parsonage as from the pulpit. And it will be all the more enjoyed that it is heard in the privacy of; the family circle. Another economy, and one of great magnitude, will be in the saving of dress. The Snnday suit, the new bonnet and the fashionable dress will no longer be indispensable in every well-regulated family, and the Gospel can be preached to the poor as well as the rich. The occupation of the sexton, however, will be gone, but some provision can be made for him. The car-driver and the coachman will also have a rest, and everybody will be contented to spend the day under his own vine and fig trese.” The quantity of silver obtained in 1878 from British mines was 897,471 ounces, and most of the precious metal w'as found in combination with lead. The total value of the silver thus obtained in the year in question was estimated at £88,296 19s. 6d. In the same year the gold found in British mines weighed 702 ounces, 16 dwts, 8 grg, and was estimated to be of the value of £2,848 15s. 2d. Nearly all this British gold, namely, a fraction over 697 ounces —was procured in Wales. —Some men pay attention who never pay anything else.