Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 October 1884 — Page 2

A MONO or SIXPENCE. BT UZKTTE WOOD WORTH BljKxK. I will atiur • Bona qi «(> peno j. And you may laugh cr cry: Theawen grans grew, the wind 1 blow; And my ia<ly panned mo l>y! Wo the old churoh door; bb« In her silken gown; Tho dre *m In hor eyes an of yore;— Bat she looked not up nor down, The blrds-flcw lift, tho birds flew right; They sat In i ho windy trots. And sang and sang; and t here, In the light, My lady sank on her knees. Did she pray forwins to l>e fowlven? Pid.sho count herfl.rtlng sin? Did she pray ttiat the gates or Heaven Would open, and let her In? Was It wrong a fool to oho it. And with his heart to play? To shake it off—poor dust at lior feoi— And smiling go her way? Hey, fool! Hey, love and hate] I stood me there a’ the door; The folk came in through the clanging gate, And 1 saw lierfaoj once more. The dream was still In her eyes; Wljat lare dream could It ije? ~ Fainuiarbara in Paradise. Do. ked not more tair than she. Heigh-ho. my song of slxnenee! ■ - ~ The blossoms were w hit • and rod The church bell rang: the little birds sang, A singing over the dead. I laughed: “Oh, lady.we part, Vet come to our graves we must Vou with your face, and 1 with my heart, For we are both made of dust!” I have sting my song of sixpence: And have you aught to s.«v? All the world knows, love comes, love goes; And we break our hearts? Nay, nay! St Louis —

THE ADVENTURES OF A TRAGEDY.

Perhapsoneof the most etirious episodes of ilia history of tlie modern drama, is to be found in the experience of M. Legouvo in bringing before the public his well-known tragedy of Medea, which was written expressly for Mile. Rachel. The great success of Adrienne Lecouyreur had encouraged him to set to work anew to create a character for the great but capricious actress lo personate. And, apropose of Adrinne, M. Legouve lias revealed to the world sqme little time ago tho fact that the wonderfully touching scene in the last act, when 'Adrienne, dying and delirious, repeats in her frenzy fragments of her roles, and fancies herself upon the stage, was taken literally from real life. “Mademoiselle was dying,” writes M. Legouve, “At her bedside a pious priest, the Abbe Gallard, knelt in prayer. Suddenly from the lips of the delirious and dying woman came articulate words, connected phrases, which were incomprehensible to him. What wore these words? Whole passages of Fauasea Confidence, of the Jeu de 1‘ Amour ot du Hassard, and of lie Legs; the dying woman was rehearsing her roles. Her countenance, wasted by illness, gained a new animation to represent these theoretical personages ; her voice] assumed their accents, and then, pausing from time to time, she would harken as one who is listening and who applauds. She became her own audience. This persistence of the love of art and the remembrance of nr.t even in death produced upon mo a strong impression. 1 saw in it a novel and interesting effect for tho fifth act of Adrienne.” Yet Legouve, rude as was the blow thus dealt to his aspirations and ambition. writes with peculiar tenderness respecting this strange, gifted, contradictory creature, who resembled no person living so much as she did the Cleopatra of Shakspeare in the contrasted elements of her character, in her sudden transitions irom the dignity of an empress to tho wild freaks of a street boy. And in the wonderful mingling of the best and the meanest traits of feminine humanity in her nature. Once, when she was playing Virginia, M. Legouve surprised her in her dressing-room dancing the eau-pan in her classic robes. There is anecdote of her in the earlier portion 6f her career which paints her to the life. During these first years her great genius, her untarnished reputation, and the interest excited by her youth and her person&l charms caused soma of the greatest ladies of the severe society of the Faubourg St. Germain to take her under their protection. One of those, who bore one of the noblest titles and proudest names in France, wishing to demonstrate in the fullest and most public manner her respect for the great actress, took Mile, Rachel put to drive with hor in an open carriage in the Bojs de Boulogne, placing her daughter on the trout seat, while her gifted guest sat Inside her. On returning from this drive Mile, Kachel, on entering the drawing-room, sank on one knee before her hostess, and sobbed out. with streaming eyes: “Oh Madame la Dnchesse, such a proof of your esteem as that which you have now given me is more precious to me Shan all my talent!” The motion of the mother and daughter can well be imagined. They raised their cherished guest from the ground and embraced her fondly. Shortly after she took her leave. The drawing-room was preceded by two \ smaller ones, through which it was neces ary to pass in order to reach the outer door. Mile, lvachel on depart'ing passed through these two rooms without perceiving that the younger daughter of the house had accompanied her part of the way as a farther-mark of attention. Arrived at the last door, and fancying that she was alone. Mile. Rachel on opening it turned around and executed iu the direction of the drawing-room that gesture of supreme J and vulgar contempt which consists in ! putting one’s lingers to one's nose in the fashion known in Fiance as a pita/ de tier.” Unfortunately this last door was panelled with mirrors which reflected the gesture of Hie actress. It was therefore perfectly visible in the inner room, in which was the young girl, who hastened, choking with.indignation, to tell her mother what she bad seen. The success of Adrienne induced .: Mile. Rachel to re\ iveone of Legouvoa earlier plays, Louise de Lignerolles. f Having impersonate i the heroine with marked success, she next implored Leto write a tragedy especially for per. The dramatist turned his attention to a subject that hatWways tempted him. namely, Medea. *dne scene in particular m the Greek drama had made au especial impression on bis imagination. It is that where n Creusa receives from Media the fatal gifts of a

golden diadem‘and a silken mantle, wheerein the young princess decks herself only to die, poisoned and in agony. M. Legouve conceived the idea of making Media her own messenger, and of causing her to be present at tho death of her rival. He set to work, nud after a year of assiduous toil he brought his tragedy to Mile Rachel. The capricious actress raised at first a thousand objections; she did not like to play another elasie personage; she had never impersonated a mother; she would not know how to render the accents of maternal feeling. Finally she consented to play tho part, and threw herself into hey studies with as much ardor as she had shown in studying Adribuno or Louise de Lignerolles. Her next idea was to persuodo the author to gut out tho grand scene, that of the death of Creusa. He acceded to all her wishes and the rfherals were proceeding prosperous ly, when one day Miie. Kachel set off for Russia, relinquishing her studies of Medea, which were never afterward resumed. On her return from Russia, Milo Kachel made a formnl announcement of her intention not to -play Medea. M. Legouve then brought suit against her, and gained his cause, partly through a rather comical incident. M. Cremieux was Mile. Bachol’s lawyer, apd he thought to serve the cause of his client by reciting in a burlesque mannor certain passages of the role of Creuza. Unfortunately for his cause, these lines wero simply a closo translation of a famous passage in Euripides. M. Mathura. the lawyer for Legouve, seized eagerly on this advantage, and after cjyietly ealling attention to the fact that his adversary had been ridiculing not M. Matliieu, but Euripides, he continued: “Moreover, gentlemen, lmd these lines proved a failure, that would, have proved nothing. They are placed in the mouth of a young ami lovely princess, a youthful bride with her hands filled with flowers and her heart, full of love. M. Cremieux does not look the character, it seems to me.” This allusion to the proverbial ugliness of M Cremieux set every one to laughing, and the day was won.

But the success oftlie lawsuit availed nothing in the way*of brisging Medea on tho stage. M. Legouve published his tragedy, which achieved a very quirked literary success, passing rapidly through several editions. Still he was but half consoled, when one day| ho learned that the famous Italian actress, Madame Ristori, had arrived in Paris with the intention of giving a series of representations. The namo cf this young artiste was not unknown to the dramatist. Some years before, Madame Allan, of tiro Comedy Francaise, had said to him: "Whilst at Turin I went to the theater. I saw there a wonderful young tragic actress, a woman of genius. She is called Adelaide Kistori.” M. Legouve hastened to witness the first representation given by the new actress at the Theatre Italien. The play was the revolting but powerful Mirra of Altleri. The dramatist has left ou record his impressions: “I shall never forget my surprise and my emotion. I was under the influence of n revelation. A new art’unfolded itself before mo. The powerful play of the physiognomy, the audacity of the gestures, tire amplitude movement, those glances, those lips from which passion poured in torrents, that voice which rose to the highest notes of the soprano register to descend to the profound and agitating notes of the contralto all recalled Malibran to hie.” He went behind the scenes to present his congratulations to the actress. Madame Ristori, as soon as ho was introduced, declared herself charmed at the meeting. She had successively played tho three roles of his Louise de Lignerolles, and~ she begged him to write a tragedy expressly for her. “I have one ready,” M. Legouve made answer. “ ‘lt’s name?’ ‘Medea,’ 'Medea—which Mile. Kachel— ’ ‘Refused to play.’ ‘Yes, that is true. But I think she made a mistake. At all events, will you read the piece?” This she promised to do, and I sent her a copy the next morning. Three months elapsed, and I thought no more of the matter, when one day I received a letter from Madame Riston's agent begging me to call to settle the terms of translation, etc., of Medea.” The facts iu the ease were briefly as follows: Madame Kistori had Carried off the piece in her trunk, not liking to wound M. Legouve by a flat refusal, yet 1 fully convinced that the play must be a very poor one to have been so summarily rejected by Rachel. One day, while get - ting her hair dressed, she took up the play and began to turn over the pages. Some passages struck her: she read on for some little time, and then, suddenly starting up, she rushed, with her hair half arranged, into her husband’s room. “Either Mile. Kachel has a mortal hatred for M. Legouve, or she is mad!" she cried. “Medea is one of the finest acting parts for a woman that I have ever met with.”

The tragedy, after having been translated by the Italian poet Montaueili, was east and mounted in eleven days. Unlike Mile. Kachel, who at rehearsals never saw auything beyond her own pari, Madame Kistori infused the vitality of her genus into every personage of the piece. She taught Jason how to be brutal, and Orpheus how to be poetic: she imparted pathos to Creusa, and childish grace to the children. Finally Medea was brought out at the Theater Italien, in Paris, with an immediate and overwhelming success. Mile. Kachel had quitted the city in order not to be present on the occasion. She had previously assisted, hidden in the depth of a baignoire, at one of Riston's representations of Marie Stuart She remained till the grand scene between the two queens brought down the house in thunders of applause. Then, unable to witness any longer the magnificent acting of her rival, she left the theater precipitately. A few nights later, Madame Ristori, who had played Phedre some time before with comparatively little success, went to see Rachel in that role. Rachel, electrified by beholding her rival amongst the spectators, that night surpassed herself. The great Italian actress was almost wild with enthusiasm Leaning over the front of her box. she followed every movement, every glance of Phedre she gave the signal for applause, and was tke last to oease applauding Each actress had acknowledged the geaiua

of* the other after her own fashion. The o|he fled to weep; the other remained to applaud. Madame Bistori was superstitious like Legonuo tells a little anecdote of the, firsta-epresentation of Medea, which illustrates this not unamiable weakness on the part of the great actress. After the first act which had been one long triumph for her, he writes: “I went to her dressing room. ‘Mv dear friend,’ she cried,' on seeing me, ‘the success of your last two acts is assured. Look!’ I looked,, and saw a large gray cat installed upon her lap. 'What has the oat to do with our play ?”, I asked her, laughingly. ‘You do not recognize it?’ ‘No.’ ‘He was present at our rehearsals. He is the cat of tho theatre. I have seen him a dozen times come and sit beside tho prompter’s box whilst I r’el.earsod. I never would allow him to be driven away, I should have been afraid that it would have brought ns ill luck; but I watched him apxionsly.Why is he always there ? I wonder. Ho actually seems to be interested.’ 1 burst* out laughing. ‘Laugh away,’ she said, half jestingly, half seriously; ‘you French are all heathen. You have no superstitious ideas; but I believe most firmly in presentiments. Bo when this cat just now entered my dressing-room (where he had never come before) and sprang into my lap, I said to- myself, it is a good omen.* And at the end of the play, as soon as she saw me, she cried, ‘Well, was uot the cat right?’ ’’ The grfeat success of Madame Kistori in Medea wfts not confined to France. She appeared in it both in America and England, winning-fame for herself and applause for the tragedy with every, representation. Had it not been for the precipitate flight of Mile. Sarah Bernhardt from the Comedie Francaise, Medea would have been revived at that theatre with the brilliant -and erratic actress in the title rele. But her departure has left M. Perrin without a leading actress capable of sustaining so exacting a character, and Madame Kistori remains the only personator of Medea on the French boards.

Living Cameos and Bas-Reliefs.

This fascinating .entertainment can be prepared by children, at short notice, with very little trouble or expense. ‘The articles required are two sheets of [large, card boards, two sheets of pink Siissue paper, and two sheets of white \eotton wadding, ono ball of white and one of pink velvet chalk, a lead pencil, a pair of scissors, six yards of black cambric, a few tacks, and a little paste. One sheet of cardboard is fastened ou the side wall of a darkened room, so that the shadow of the lace of ¥ person with large and regular features will fall upon the centei of it when a lighted candle is held iu front of the side of the face at a distance of three feet. A cup should be placed between the face and the cardboard and kept in position by the pressure of the head, in order, so far as possible, to prevent any movement on the part of-the sitter. The candle must be so placed that the shadow of the profile ia iu the center of the card board; the outlines are then to be traced w ith a pencil. The card board can then J>e taken down and the profile carefully cut out; buck of the had usually being enlarged, so that various methods of dressing the hair, may be permitted. This white card board will be ready for the bas-relief after the outer edge has been cut into the form of a circle, and mado thicker by several rings of pasteboard of the same diameter, but only three inches, wide. When cameos are to be exhibited, the outer surface should be covered with pink tissue paper. A curtain of cheap black cambric or any plain-colored material, reaching from the ceiling to the floor, is then hung at a distance of about two feet from the baqk wall of the room where the exhibition is to take place. The cardboard is fastened into a hole made in the curtain, so that the center of the opening is about six or. seven feet from floor, the and a chair or small table is placed close behind this curtain and another small piece of black cloth is tacked to the wall behind the opening. The person whoso face is to form the bas-relief stands upon a chair or table so that the face fits the opening in the card board, about one-half of it projecting in front of the frame thus formed. The side-face thus exposed isN chalked and the hair is covered" with white w adding, which conceals it, and also can be fastened in waves, plaits, or classic knots: for eameoes, pink chalk, and tissue paper take the place of the white. Very pretty art studies can thus be made by inexperienced persons.

When it is desired to show several of these art studies consecutively, it will be well to have a pink and white frame placed side by side about one foot apart, as then they may be shown together or separately : the one not in use being covered -with a little curtain of black cambric. Thus a pleasing variety can be produced by showing either a cameo or a bas-relief or both together. Faees of children or of grown people can be used as desired, as it is not absolutely necessary that the features should exactly fill the cut profiles in the card board. The eyes are always closed, and a little eaUi should lie rubbed on the eyelids jusv*l>efore the face is shown to the spectators. The frames may be placed between thick window curtaing draped above and below them: this will save the trouble of a black curtain, as the performers can thand in the window behind the curtain. The best manner of liglitmg them is from the top; and w hen the room has no chandrlier. a lamp can, be held at the left side as high as can bed one conveniently by a person who sands upon a chair or short step-ladder. —George B. Bartlede, in St. Nicholas. There are 100,000 deaths yearly inLondon, and all the bodies are buried in the surface soil around the city, that is. in thirty years 3 nOO.ODO bodies. In twenty years, says Sir Spencer Wells, a body becomes clay, and London has, therefor* always 2,000,000 bodies undergoing “harmful decay.” The much boasted at beautiful present is woven, in the loom of time, out of the tangled tatters, worn-out patches, and cast-off shreds of a long forgotten past— Gourerj*««- Herald.

CARING FOR CHILDREN.

Helpful Paragraphs for Many An Anxious Mother. If a baby cries warm its feet before [you dose it. Kemember that other people have children as well as yourself. As they grow older, win their confidence ; if you dp. not, somebody elsp will. Show the children that you love them; do not expect them to take it on trust. Cultivate them separately, and not as if you were turning them out by machinery. Sing to the little ones ; the memory of a nursery song will cling to them through life. Let the children make a noise sometimes; their happiness is as important as yonr nerves.. As the boys grow up, make companions of them; then f hey will not seek companionship elsewhere. ‘ Believe in a child’s statement until you are sure they are incorrect; mistrust breeds estrangement. Dress the children sensibly, cover up their limbs in winter, and study health first and appearance second. Allow children, as they grow older, to have opinions of their own ; make them individuals and not mere echoes. As long as it is possible kiss them good niglit after they are in bed; they do like it so, and it keeps them very close. Talk hopeful to your children of life and its possibilities; you have no right to depress them because you have suffered. Bear in mind that you are largely responsible —for your" child’s inherited character, and have patience with faults and failings. Attend to them yourself; a go-be-tween betwixt mother and child is like a middle-man. in business, who gets the largest share of the profits. Reflect that a pert child is an abomination ; train vour children to be respectful and to hold tlioir tongues, in the presence of their superiors, Kemember that, although they are all your children, each one has an individual character, and that tastes and qualities vary indefinitely. Kespect their little secrets; if they have concealments, worrying them will never make them tell* and patience will probably do their work. Kemember that without physical health mental attainment is worthless; let them lead free, happy lives, wliiclT will strengthen both mind and body.

Make your boys and girls study physiology; when they are ill try and make them understand why, how the complaint arose, and the remedy as far as you know it. Teach boys and girls the actual facts of life as soon as they are old enough to understand them, and give them a sense of responsibility without saddening them. Impress upon them from ear ly infancy that actions have results, and, that they cannot escape consequences" even by being sorry when they have acted wrongly. Find out what their special tastes are, and develop them instead of spending time, money, aqd patience in forcing them into studies that are repugnant to them. As your daughters grow up, teach them at least tbe true merits of housekeeping and cookery; they will thank you for it in later life a great deal more than for accomplishments. Maintain a respectful tone to their father before them; if he is not all you wish, still make them respect himr he is always their father, and disrespect to him is a reflection upon yourself. Try and with girlish flights of fancy, even" if they seem absurd to you; by so doing you will retain your influence over your daughters, and mot teach them to seek sy m pathy elsewhere.

A Rabbit Subdues A Boa Constrictor.

According to a Paris newspaper, a rabbit was placed in a cage of one of the larger serpents iu the Jar des Plantes, for the daily meal of the occupant. A poorer specimen of the rabbit tribe, in point of appearance, it would not be easy to find: but it was noticed that the little creature bad a peculiarly knowing and determined look. The boa hissed joyously at the sight of his dinner, and at once put all the power of iaseinatioa he possessed into his large round eyes. But the rabbit was not to be fascinated. Boldly, and even defiantly, he returned the reptile’s stare, till the latter, finding milder means of no avail, proceeded to unfold one of his coils. This menacing movement had the effect of producing a most marvelous display of saltatory activity on the part of the rabbit. His wild bounds and jumps, which he kept up uninterruptedly for several minutes, moving his ears terribly the while could only be compared to those of a red Indian “brave” in the heat of a war dance. The boa, who was evidently'unaccustomed to such a show of fight on..tiie part of his victims* drew back, thoroughly intimidated. Profiting by this moment of hesitation, the rabbit, who Was decidedly the Bayard of his race, jumped upon the back of his adversary who now. utterly cowed and discomfited, retreated under the folds of his blanket. The rabbit squatted himself on his hind-quarters at the other end of the cage in an attitude ot expectation; and in those positions —so the veracious history ends—lioth animals were found by the keeper next morning.— St. James' Gazette.

The Beat h-Struck Fall Forward.

i The critics do not seem to have noticed—at least they have not commented upon—the natural way in which Henry Irving counterfeits the death struggle upon the stage. The American actors invariably fall backwards when they come to the death scene in their tragedies; Mr. Irving falls forward fall upon his free, and this, we are told by physicians and sold:ers,,is the natural way with those suddenly overtaken by death. In a recent conversation, Capt. Lee, of tbe regular army, said that Irving’s death in “Louis XT was the most natural bit of acting he had ever seen. He had been a witness of numerous shooting affairs upon the border, and he had noticed that when a man was

shot his head fell forward upon his breast, and his body fell in the direction indicated by the head. Capt. Lee, visited the field of Gettysburg the day after the battle and he found the dead ninety-nine out of one hundred cases lying flat upon their faces. American painters invariably represent the dead upon the battle field as lying upon their backs. Perhaps they do this for the purpose of delineating death upon the countenances. The -French painters as invariably represent the dead with their faces downward, preferring to more subtly convey the idea of deatlyby an outstretched arm, a convulsively clutched hand, or some otfier small but hideously artistic deftail of the phenomenon of death. Irving is the only actor we know of who has defied every stage tradition and custom, and dies on the stage as people off the stage die. The innovation is a pleasing due, and should pass into custom.—Chicago News.

Women's Sixth Sense.

Here is a singular instance of the working of that subtle, fine, sixth sense, which is apt to affect women more than men, and which is so mysterious in character that we often inolinlT to deny its existence at all. A lady sat sewing quietly in her room, and in an inner chamber the nurse had just put the baby to sleep and laid her in her basinette. As the nurse came out of the chamber she said to her mistress: “The little thing is asleep for three hours, ma’rn I’ll warrant.” The nurse went down stairs, and for about a minute the mother sewed on. Suddenly a desire seized her to go and take the sleeping child from its crib. “What nonsense!” she said to herself. “Baby is sound asleep. Nurse just put her down. I shall not go.” Instantly, however, some power, stonger even than the last, urged the mother to go to her baby; and, after a moment, she rose, half vexed with Jierself, and went to her chamber. Tl.q baby was asleep in her little bed, safely tucked in with soft white and nick blankets. One small hand was thrown above the little brown head. It was half open, the exquisite fingers slightly curved, and the palm as rosy as tho depths of a lovely shell. “My baby!” whispered the mother, adoring the little sleeper as mothers will. “My own little baby!” She bent over suddenly a third ’ time, impelled by that mysterious force that was controlling her, and, for no apparent reason, took the sleeping baby in her arms and went swiftly in the other room. She had scarcely crossed the threshold when a startling sound caused her to look back. Through a stifling cloud of thick clay dust she saw that the ceiling above the baby’s cradle had fallen, burying the heap of rosy blankets. and lying heaviest of all upon that spot where, but for- her mystic warning, her little child would have been lying. —Boston Courier. *

Why She Didn't.

A young woman from the country was suing her ex-sweetlieart for breach of promise, and the lawyers were, as usual, making all sorts of inquisitive interrogatories. “You said.” remarked one, “that the defendant frequently sat very close to you?” “Yes. sir," was the reply, with a hectic flush. “How close ?” “Close enough, so’s one cheer was all the sittin’ room >ve needed.” “And you say he put his arm around you ?” — —— : “No, I didn't.” “What did you say. then?” ‘T said he put both arms around me.” “Then what?” “He hugged me?” “Very hard?” “Yes, he did. So hard that I came purtv near hollerin’ right out.” “Why didn’t you ‘holler?’” ' “Cause.” “That’s no reason. Be explicit, please. Because what?” “’Cause I was afreerd he’d stop.” “The Court fell off the bench and had to be carried out and put under the hydrant for the purpose of resuscitation. — Xtereh an i Traveler.

A Far-Sightrd Official.

Bank President—“My dear, I suppose you know that I am not only the i President of the bank, blit the owner of most of the. stock ?” Daughter—“ Yes, pa.” “And if I am not mistaken you are becoming rather fond of Mr. Lightfinger, my cashier?” “4"es, pa; I confess it is true. But how do you know?” “I have eyes. But why have you tried so hard to conceal this from me?” “O, pa. please forgive me; but I knew you would object to marriage with a poor man. and dreading your terrible anger, I have tried my best to conquer my feeliugs. Indeed, indeed, I have! ’ “Conquer them? Great St. Bullion! I want you to marry him as soon as possible!” “O, you dear, darling® old pa! But what has wrought this strange metamorphosis ?” “O, nothing ; only I thought it would be just as well to keep all the bank funds in the familv.— Philadelphia Call.

A Sunshiny Husband.

A sunshiny husband makes a merry, beautiful home worth having, worth working iu and for. If the man is breezy, cheery, considerate and sympathetic, his wife sings in her heart over her puddings and her mending basket, -and renews her youth in the security she feels of his approbation and admiration. Yon mav think it weak or childish, if you please, but it is the admired wife, who hears words of praise and receives smiles of commendation, who is capable, discreet, and executive. I have seen a timid, meek; self-distrlist-ing little body, fairly bloom into strong, self-reliant womanhood, under the tonic and the cordial of companionship of a husband who really went out of his way to find occasion for showing her how fully he trusted her jnd mgnt and Low fully be deferred to her opinion.— The Household. H raven must be a beautiiul place, but if there’s a mnd-puldle bandy a 4-yeat old boy will take it in preference.

A SHORT TALR WITH THE BOYS.

BY M. QUAD.

Now, my lad, if you have arrived at the age of 16 it is time you began to think of a trade or profession. This isn’t a Country ia which you' can live on your father's, name or moneWcr any length of time, and even if.yotßre calculating on coming into possession of a comfortable fortune at your nftjority you may see the day before yofl are 40 that a trade would clothe and feed you. Ninety-nine • out of every hundred young men of to-day must make their own future. What “that future will be depends, first, upon how you start in. It is easy enpugh to"answer that yOu intend to become a merchant, lawyer, doctor, editor, dentist, mechanic, carpenter, watchmaker, and so on, but just wait a minute and examine yourself. Take your horse to the blacksmith shop and you may see the smith look over a hundred ready-made shoes before he , gets one to fit. All are horseshoes, but a perfect fit is the question. Now, then,i examine yourself and seek to discover what particular fort you have. l r ou * were born to fill a certain place in the world. It may be that of a carpenter or it may be that of a poet. Make no mistake in starting out. When you hear a man who has nothing in particular to work at wishing that he had learned a trade, he is talking nonsense. He had no fitness for one. Had he set out to learn one of the dozen you enn name he would have been a failure. Every city has dozens of lawyers and doctors who live starvation lives, and more or less preachers 1 and artists who are seldom, if ever, mentioned by name. These men are mistakes. They have no heart in their professions, and never belonged there. I can name you carpenters, painters, blacksmiths, wagon-makers,and others,who are out of work half tho time, and the other half is mostly consumed in kicking and complaining against the times. It is their own fault. They are botch workmen. It is like putting an accordion under- a piano and expecting it to play piano music. Had each learned the trade he was fitted for he would have excelled. You have the same idea of being a merchant that I had at your age. It was simply to buy and sell goods. That seems easy enough, but the merchant 1 who hasn’t the “knack” for the business is doomed to certain failure. Not one out of fifty clerks ever become merchants. Probably not more than three or four out of fifty are fitted to do business for themselves. A boy’s idek of being a doctor is to visit the sick, cure them if possible, and collect SSO, and the one who answers that he is going to make a lawyer Of himself thinks of nothing but big fees and verdicts in favor of his clients. But, as I told you at the out et, if you have arrived at the age of 15 or 16 it is time you looked matters square in the face and-had some idea of your future. If you were to answer at once you would say that you would take a profession in preference to*a trade. A profession means several years of hard study, quite a large cash outlay and then trials and rebuffs To get a start in business. It is one tiling as a lawyer or a doctor, and’*quite another to pick up clients and patients. If you have fully decided on a profes3ioixbe careful of your first move. If you have a large head your grandmother has doubtless many times exclaimed: “What a great lawyer this boy would make.” Don’t try to make one on the size of your head. We’ve ■got any number of that class in the country now, and they can’t pay their grocers' bills. If you can pull a sliver out of your finger without winking it may be a sign that you would make a great surgeon. It may also be a sign that you are born to be a butcher. How will you know what to pursue ? Your own feelings are the safest guide If left to your parents and to circumstances you may be forced into a trade or profession which you can never make a success. Wlien you come to realize that you must make your own way in life your particular forte will be apt to reveal itself. One of the best lawyers in Detroit was intended for the ministry; another served three years as a journalist, but all the time feeling that he was not in his ele ment ; another was forced by his father to learn the trade of harness maker. I know a machinist who at first .studied medicine; of a watchmaker who tried to become a lawyer; of a carpenter who threw away three years of his life trying to become a dentist. After you have selected your profession or trade, what then? Strive to master it in all its details and to excel. If you become a carpenter don’t be satisfied when you can saw and plane and match. Don’t be satisfied with s'2 per day. Make yourself worth $3. Master details and push yourself from carpenter to builder. Don’t imagine that a man in s-areh of a lawyer walks down the street and drops in at the first sign hanging out. It is the lawyer who has climbed above his fellows that he seeks out. If our friends are ill we want the best doctor. We want the man who has made himself the best bv study and energy. The blacksmith who is content to mend old wagons will mever iron a new one. The machinist who stands at the lathe to do about so much work in ten hours need not expect to be better off. It is the men who put their heart into what they do who succeed. The business of preparing sumach for market is mainly confined to Richmond and some other cities of Virginia. The collectors take their small lots to the mills where they are bought. After the sumach is properly manufactured it is sent for sale to New York and other cities, where it comes in competition with the imported or ’Sicilian sumach, which is the leaves of Kltusc oriarui, a species cultivated in Southern Europe. However abundantly sumach may grow in a locality, unless the owner of some gmi-jnill will ihtroduce machinery to grind and bolt the leaves, or some capitalist will establish a mill for the purpose, the gaththe sumach crop cannot be made profitably i A correspondent a ants to know why some women are called Amazons. “Perhaps it is because they are uncommonly wide at the mouth,” suggests -a paragrapher. '