Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 October 1875 — Page 1

HORACE E. JAMES Sc JOSHUA HEALEY, Proprietors.

VOL. VIII.

THE MAIDEN'S TEARS. She eat within her ivied bower—- - -A- maiden? lovely as the rnorn, — " ’Twas at the twilight’s holy hour, Before the silver stars were born. v Tears glistened in her tender eyes, And lay like pearls on her soft cheek; Her bosom heaved with anguished sighs, My heart grew sad, and faint and weak. * Earth holds no sadder sight than thi6 — A woman’s cheeks with griefs dews wet; " What tales they tell Of bygone bliss,” I softly said, “ and sharp regret! “Perchance she mourns a buried love,' A vanished joy, a broken dream! Sweet eyes, where grief broods like a dove, Thou showest of hope no cheering gleam. “ Sweet soul,” I cried, “ why dost thou weep ? What woes upon thy young heart weigh ?” I saw the rose flush upward sweep— Her perfumed breath came fitfully. She turned and met my ardent gaze, As by her side I shyly sat, Then said —I list’ning in amaze—“l kinder want a brand-new hat!” —Mary Middleman.

HOW IT WENT.

A Story for tlie Young Folks. Wyatt and Snaps were cousins—their fathers were brothers. Snaps’ real name was Horace Brownell; but when he w r as a very little fellow, without suspenders, he took to living almost entirely’ on gingersnaps. So his papa, who was a joker, began calling him Snaps; and then his mother took to calling him Snaps, because she was very apt to do what his papa did. Then his sisters, Mamie and Fanny, commenced calling him Snaps, because they always tried to imitate mamma, except when she did such things as mending and dusting. Then Mamie’s and Fanny’s playmates said Snaps instead of Horace; and so the matter grew until everybody called him Snaps, and almost nobody remembered that he had any other name. The winter that Snaps was twelve years old his father agreed to pay him eight dollars for the job of keeping the walks about the house cleared of snow. When Snaps told his cousin Wyatt about this agreement Wyatt insisted upon making with his father a like agreement. Thus it came to pass that about the last of March each of the cousins had the magnificent sum of eight dollars. The question for us to consider is how it went. Of course, some of it—not much, how. ever—went on April-fools’ day. Then some of it went kiting. Spring brings kites just as surely as it brings swallows. Snaps and Wyatt undertook to get up some fancy rigs—“ Great Easterns” they were to be among kites. They were to be nearly as large as Mr. Showers’ barn-door, which was a very large door. The boys sot a carpenter to make the kite-frames. 'hen they bought some strong, handsome paper, some gum-stick-’em (as they called the mucilage), and a great deal of strong string. I don’t know but that they expected their kites to fly to the moon. They were very handsome affairs when finished. Wyatt’s had a gilt star blazing like gold in the center; while Snaps’ carried a crescent moon in silver. The flying of the kites took place one bright Saturday morning at nine o’clock, amid the assembled boys and girls of the village. You would have thought, from the eager talk and the eager faces, that two balloons were going up from the Square, for the spectators were by no means confined to children. Men stood in theirshopdoors, and even on the Square; while women waited on the sidewalks or gazed from their windows. The kites behaved beautifully. They rose gracefully and steadily up and up and up, looking, with their scarlet and gold, like two magnificent tropical birds. One could scarcely put his head out-doors that day without seeing those bright wings sailing against the sky, and each time, doubtless, at the end'of the string was a different pair of hands —now a boy’s, now a girl’s —for Snaps and Wyatt let all the children take turns, until all had felt the strong pull of tho monsters. When I tell you how Wyatt and Snaps spent the next money I think you will laugh. They invested it in a razor and some shaving-soap. What for? Well, they wanted some whiskers, you see. After this investment each of the capitalists bought a bottle of cologne. The following day Wyatt said, as the two were walking home from school: “ Isay, Snaps, isn’t that Bob Davidson the leanest, hol-low-eyedest feller that your eyes ever lit on?” “He is so; and I’ll tell you what ’tis, Wyatt,” Snaps said: “I don’t believe he get 3 enough to eat. He always looks hungry to me.” “Let’s treat him,” said Wyatt, briskly. “Say we do,” Snaps answered just as briskly. “ Hello, Bob! come here!” Wyatt called back to Bob, who was walking behind them. “Come into this grocery; we’re going to treat you.” “Law! is year?” said Bob, coming up on a trot, grinning all over. “ You all’s mighty commerdatm’.” Bob Davidson was a black boy, you understand. The three boys stepped into the store. “What’ll you take?” Wyatt asked. “ What do you like best?” Bob rolled his great white eyes all about the store among the boxes and barrels and baskets. Then he turned them up to the ceiling in profound meditation. Then he studied the floor, and again looked all around the store, his lank body slowly revolving as on a pivot. “What’ll you take?” Snaps repeated. “ What do you like best?” Bob, as if about to take a fataiqffunge, drew a long breath, rolled his eyes from the boys to the smiling shopman, smacked his lips, giggled, and answered: “ Lasses.’\ Wyatt and Snaps burst out laughing; but they had the grocer fill Bob’s dinner pail with the thing he liked best? This brings,us to the grand speculation. One Saturday morning the cousins were on the Square playing marbles, when they saw a farm-wagon passing with ever so many baskets of strawberries. ** < “ How do you sell your strawberries?” Wyatt called. The man did not hear, but went rattling on. “**''

THE RENSSELAER UNION.

“ Ho, there!” shouted, Snaps; “ what’s the price of your berries ?” ’ Both boys now rap after the farmer. calling for him to stop, which he did after a time. “ Twenty cents the basket,” replied the farmer, lifting the grape-leaves from one basket and another of the scarlet beauties. “ Just picked this morning,” he added. The boys climbed upon the wheels- and looked longingly at the fruit. “ Let you have three baskets for half-a-dollar.” ‘ ‘ What’ll you take for the lot ?’ ’ Wyatt couldn’t have told, to save his teeth, why he asked this question. He had no more thought of buying the whole lot than he had of buying out Jhe circus that was expected next week. “ Well, let’s see,” said the farmer; but, instead of seeing, he shut his eyes up close and bent his forehead on his hand. “They’s thirty-five baskets. I’ll let ye hev the hull uv em fer four dbllars, seein’ it’s you; that’s less’n a shillin’ a basket. That’s dreadful cheap, an’ I wouldn’t let ye hev um fer no sich money es ye wus men an’ women. But bein’ ye’re boys ye kin take um. Ye kin easy git twenty-two cents the basket. I’d git that es I had time to wait on the sales; but, ye see, I want to git back to hum. I’ve got a lot uv young beets that’s that full uv weeds they’re nigh choked to death. I want to git hum to weed um ’fore Sunday, else the weeds’ll git clean the start uv me. Weeds don’t keep no Sunday, ye know; ’pears like they growed twicet as fast Sunday as week-days, anyhow. Ye kin hev the hull lot fer four dollars,” he repeated, “ an’ that’s just givin’um away. Ye’ll double your money fore sundown.” “ Say we take ’em,” said Wyatt. “ All right,” was Snaps’ answer. Then the subject of the baskets came up; so the boys promised solemnly to leave them, when emptied, at Mr. Nodler’s grocery, where the farmer would call for them. Then Wyatt ran over to the savings bank to draw the money. Well, the money was paid and the strawberries were delivered on the sidewalk. After discussing matters the boys agreed, in the first place, to eat each a basket of the berries. Then they decided to set up a stand on the corner of the square for the sale of the remainder. Wyatt borrowed one chair from his father’s office, which was near at hand, and another from his mother’s kitchen, which was quite removed. By the way, while at home he offered his mother the whole or any part of the thirty-three baskets at twenty-two cents. But she had already bought 'six baskets that day at eighteen cents. Then Wyatt offered his at eighteen cents for canning; but it was baking-day and cliurning-day, and the mother decided that she could not possibly take any additional work. This was a disappointment to Wyatt, for he had confidently reckoned on disposing of a dozen baskets to Ms mother. Snaps’ mother was out qf toty6. The speculators-hOTrowed a plank; this, resting on the/jtmairs, made the stand for the baskets. These were speedily put in artistic and tempting array. Then the boys wiped their hands and faces, combed their hair with their fingers, touched up their neck-ties, straightened themselves up and made ready for the rush of customers with which they would be assailed. They sauntered about the plank, sniffing at the berries, occasionally eating one, looking meanwhile up and down the street for customers. A half-hour went slowly by. “ Yonder comes Billy Barlow,” said Snags. “ I’ll bet he’ll want trade his old barlow-knife for some berries. He’s been tryin’ for a year to get somebody to trade something or other for that old, brokenbladed, rickerty knife.” - Billy Barlow’s right name was William Williams, but, as Snaps had said, he had a barlow-knife. It was the only thing in the world over which he had undisputed control. The one blade was broken and the rivets were loose. But Billy ever had it on display and was ever trying to trade it for any conceivable boy-property. Hence his schoolmates had given him the name of Billy Barlow. “Why, what sights of strawberries!” exclaimed B. B. “Are they yourn?”— and he ran his hungry eye up and down the double line of baskets. “Of course they’re ours,” replied Snaps, with quiet superiority. “Goin’ to sell ’em?” “Of course,” said Snaps, in like superiority. “We didn’t.buy them to give away,” he added, by way of forestalling a possible request. “How much are they?” asked Billy Barlow, with his hand in his ragged packet. “ Twenty-two cents a basket,” and then Snaps winked at Wyatt, as much as to say, “ Look out now for the barlow-knife.” “ That’s what I ask for a knife I’ve got,” said B. 8., rummaging around for the said article, amid the balls and strings and marbles and slate-pencils which a bov’s pocket is sure to hold. Here ’tis,” he said, directly, holding out the knife before Snaps’ eyes. “I’ve seen it before,” said Snaps, coolly, looking away down the street. “ I’ll swap it for one of them baskets of strawberries.” “ I don’t think you will,” Wyatt answered. “It’s a first-rate knife,” said B.B.,with the sad light of disappointment in his eyes. Snaps whispered a few words in the ear of his partner. “ All right,” Wyatt answered aloud. “ Look here, Barlow,’’'Snaps said; “ I don’t want your knife—l wouldn’t give jt pocket-room. You’ve tried to trade it to every boy in this town. We’re all tired hearing about that old barlow. Now, if you’ll throw it as far as you can send it we’ll give you a, basket of berries.” “ It’s a bargain,” said Billy Barlow. He placed himself in position, and threw the knife half-way across the Square. “All right; take your basket,” Snaps said, with a good feeling at his heart. Billy walked down one side of the plank and up the other. Then,he picked out the basket which seemed the nearest fufl'and to have the largest, ripfest berries. With this he.walked off in the direction his knife had gone. A few days after he was discovered trying to trade it to a little girl for a half-stick or liquorice.

RENSSELAER, JASPER COUNTY, INDIANA, OCTOBER 7, 1875.

But that Saturday morning he met, a little way on his walk (or run, rather), Bob Davidson--. Of cniirsa he told Rnk about the strawberries, and, of course, Bob took a bee-line across the Square for the strawberry-plank. It was during the war and .Bob Davidson had been from the South'only a few weeks. All the schooling with which the town had been able to innoculate him during that period had not sufficed to cure his Southern dialect. “Law! what’s you all got dar?” Bob asked, his hungry eyes looking hungrier than ever Billy’s had looked, as they ran along the bright line of baskets. “Law! is you all gwine lo hab a strawberry festibul fer Mass Linkum’s soldiers an’ de countryban’s?” “ No, we ain’t,” Wyatt answered, in a bluff way. “ We’re goin to sell ’em for twenty-two cents a basket.” “ Strawberries would tas’ mighty good ’long wid dem dar ’lasses you all gim me. You all’s de p’lites’ boys in town, showls I’s baun.” Here Snaps said in an undertone to Wyatt: “ I never saw anybody want strawberries so bad in my life. Let’s give him a basket.” Bob’s great eyes, rolling from one face to the other, plainly discerned that the boys were pleased with his compliment. “ I ain’t got no money dis berry minit, but es you all gim me some strawberries I’ll gim you all sumpum—will so.” “ What’ll you give us ?” Wyatt asked. Bob thrust one hand in his one pocket and assumed the meditative attitude of a philosopher. “What’ll you give?” urged Wyatt, after a pause long enough for Bob to make an inventory of a very extensive personal property. “ Sumpum mighty good,” said the noncommittal Bob. “Butwhat?” persisted Wyatt. “You must tell us or we can’t trade.” Bob took another meditative attitude and rolled his eyes in a frantic way, as if he was trying to see something very difficult to find. “ What’ll you give us ?” This question again urgently assailed him. “ I tell yer,” said Bob, with the air of one who has reached the solution of a difficult problem. “ I’ll take de berries long to de houss” (to his home he meant); “den I’ll fotch de what-you-may-call-it straight back —wish I may die if I don’t!” The boys had soft places in their hearts for Bob; they were aching to give him a basket, so they agreed to his proposal and he bore away the berries.

The next customer was Miss Burchett. She was a tall, thin woman, with steel-col-ored eyes and iron-gray hair. She wore a Shaker bonnet with a brown silk skirt to it, and her calico dress was very stiffly starched, t “I heard you had strawberries; are they perfectly fresh and perfectly ripe?” She asked this much as a lawyer would cross-examine a witness. Both boys were scared and subdued by her manner. “Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt meekly answered to her question. “ How do you know they are?” she asked in the same lawyer-like tone. “The man said they were.” All this time Miss Burchett was turning one basket and another against a pi ate she carried, inspecting the berries through her gold-bowed glasses, smelling at each lot and doing what seemed to the boys a most unnecessary amount of tasting. “ What man ?” she asked. “The man we bought them from,” Wyatt answered. “ And who is he? What’s his name?” “I don’t know, ma’am.” “ Then I don’t want your berries,” Miss Burchett said, with emphasis. “ I never buy any berries unless i know who picked them; nor any butter, or milk, or sausages, or anything, unless I know who made it. I’m very particular about my eating. Ido wish I didn’t have to eat any victuals that other folks had been performing over.” With this speech she transferred a few other fine berries from the baskets to her mouth, and took her departure. “ I wonder if she has to be introduced to the hens before she’ll eat their eggs?” Snaps said, with a petulant sneer. “ She yarns, anyhow,” Wyatt suggested, ’cause how can she know who makes the sugar and coffee, and tea and flour, and lots of things she eats? She kept eatin’ strawberries all the while, anyhow. She’s mean and stuck-up, too.” “Here comes Mrs. Pulsifer,” said Snaps. “She’s deaf, you know; you’ll have to split your throat to make her hear.” “ How d’ye do, little dears?” said Mrs. Pulsifer, smiling and giving a funny little curtsy. “We’re well.” Wyatt delivered this reply with such a shout that a man across the street turned and stared about. “She talks as if we were babies,” Snaps said, id an undertone of contempt' to Wyatt, thinking, meanwhile, of the razor and shaving-soap hid away in his cham-ber-closet.

“ How do you sell your berries?” asked Mrs. Pulsifer, still smiling, and hollowing her hand to her ear to receive the answer. ‘‘Twenty-two cents,” Wyatt said, with more moderation of tone. “Thirty-two cents? I’ll give you thirty," said the smiling old lady. “ I said twenty-two cents,” said Wyatt. “Oh! twenty-two cents! I’ll give you. twenty.” Mrs. Pulsifer delighted above all things on earth to make a bargain—to get things for less than other people gave. When the boys had agreed to her offer she proposed to take two baskets for thir-ty-five cents, and, when they had again acceded, she offered sixty cents for four baskets. The partners'accepted this offer, and then she was afraid, as it was Saturday, that she couldn’t use more than one basket. “ Four baskets at sixty will make fifteen for one.” She opened her purse. “I’ve just got fourteen cents in change,” she said; “but you don’t mind about one cent, I know,” and she smiled blandly as she laid the money on the plank. Then she helped herself to the best basket she could pick out. Snaps felt mad enough to cry, and might have cried if two boys and a small girl hadn’t just then come on the ground. They were soon joined by

two girls and a small boy. Things began to look brisk —business prospects to brighter Indeed-,*tbe children gChgTally had got wind of the strawberry-stand on the Square, and they were beginning to gather from all quarters, like yellowjackets about a molasses-jug. Big boys were seen hurrying toward the attractive spot, with their little brothers running and crying in the vain endeavor of keeping up; large girls came, impatiently tugging their little sisters. Soon there were assembled over two dozen ehildren about the straw-berry-stand. “Now we’ll begin to haul in the money,” Snaps thought. The children gazed and talked, and walked around the plank, and counted the baskets, and “hefted” them, and tasted the berries to see if they were fresh, and to see if they were ripe, and to? see if they were sweet, and to see if they were tart, and to see if they would make good shortcake, and if they would make good pies, and if they were good for jam, and if they were good for strawberry-vinegar, and to see if they were “as good as some we bought,” and for a dozen other reasons. Snaps and Wyatt inwardly chafed, but they felt ashamed to complain of their friends for taking a few berries. After an impatient while the noon-bell rang. There were some farewell peckings at the baskets, and then the flock of blackbirds flew away, and left the two speculators to survey the ground. They walked along the side of their plank, each mentally taking stock. There was not a full basket left. Not one had escaped depredations—some were nearly empty. “They’re thieves and said. Snaps, indignantly. “ I wish I’d called a policeman.” “Snaps,” Wyatt said, “we’re busted. No use, dodging; we’re busted. There ain’t more’n seven baskets left. What’re we going to do about it ?” “ Let’s sell out,” Snaps flashed brightly- “ Sell out to who?” Wyatt asked, in a tone of infinite contempt. “ Let’s eat ’em,” said Snaps. “ That would bust us sure,” Wyatt replied, attempting a joke. “ It’s ’most dinner-time at our house,” Snaps said, in a discouraged tone. “ And it’s ’most dinner-time at our house,” Wyatt added, impatiently; “but I ain’t goin’ to whine about it.” He felt sore about his speculation, and he was glad of a chance to scold atf somebodv. “ The last of our money’s in them her ries.” Snaps looked mournfully at the baskets. Wyatt answered shortly: “Well, can’t we earn some more?” “ I don’t think we got much good out of our money.” Snaps felt very melancholy. Then both boys fell to thinking how the monev had gone. “We ain’t got anything to show for it but them two empty cologne-bottles and that old razor that we daren’t let anybody see,” said Snaps. “ We’ve had lots of fun, though.” “ And lots of other folks have had fun out of it, too. And we’ve treated. Seems to me I’d rather treat than do anything else. Don’t it make you feel good to treat?” ——

“ Yesf I always feel like whistling when I treat,” Wyatt said. “ But I do wish I knew what to do with these miserable old strawberries.” He was getting hungry and wanted his dinner. “ Let’s treat with them,” Snaps brilliantly suggested. He, too, wanted his dirfner; he’d been hankering after it for an hour. “Who’ll we treat?” “ I’ll tell you; we’ll take ’em to Africa, and give ’em to the little darkies.” “ Say we do,” Wyatt assented. Africa was that part of the town where the colored people were congregated. The boys borrowed a pail of Mr. Noodle, in which they emptied all the berries. The baskets were stacked and taken to the grocery, according to the agreement with the farmer. After eating their dinners they proceeded together to Africa. Here they went from shanty to shanty, distributing the berries, and almost laughing themselves wild at the funny little negroes. As they suddenly turned a corner they collided with Bob Davidson. “ Laws a massy!” said Bob; “ I wus jis gwine to fotch it to you all. Here ’tis,” and he extended before the boys’ eyes a bottle with about a gill of some dark liquid in it. “ What is it?” said Wyatt. “ What in the world is it?” said Snaps. “ Mammy didn’thab nuffln else nicenufl to pay you all fer dem dar strawberries. Yer see, we all los’ all our prop’ty by dem rebul soldiers.” “But tell us what ’tis,” tyyatt said, turning the bottle over and examining it in every light. “Law! don’t you all know? It’s jis a few uv dem dar ’lasses,” said Bob, grinning and licking out his tongue. You ought to have seen those boys laugh! Snaps said, in telling of it afterward, that he really thought at one time that he was splitting. The boys gave the bottle back to Bob, and delivered also to him the remainder of the berries; and with this went the last of their money. —Sarah Winter Kellogg, in St. Nicholas.

A Curious Geographical Problem.

A curious geographical problem is suggested by the appearance at the moutfif'of the Seine, near Havre, in the course of the present month, of one of the-hermetically-sealed bottles, in wooden cases, which were thrown overboard during Prince Napoleon’s North Pole expedition in 1860. Wooden-covered bottles of this kind were thrown into the sea daily in the month of June In that year from the Prince’s ship, in the expectation that the course taken by them would lead to the elucidation of the direction of the greater oceanic currents ; but during the fourteen and a half years that have intervened since then none of these bottles have been seen till the present one was washed ashore. Its appearance at the mouth of the Seine seems to indicate that a polar current must be borne into the German Ocean, and must be carried thence through the channel to the western coast of France.— Eclectic.

Pleasures of Memory.

There is something very touching in the fondness with which old age clings to the recollections of the past, when memory with her magic wand has called up the scenes of years gone by—years which, rounded and sealed, have lam since their dearth in the tomb of eternity. We have a venerable grand-aunt—Mrs. Betsy Parsons—whose unimpaired memory thus often delights those of -us who revel in the stories of a past generation, and one day we invited Mr. Chardon, who is collecting material for a forthcoming book, to come over and see the old lady and listen to some of her old-time stories. He brought with him Miss Peters, to whom he is engaged, and we introduced them to Aunt Betsy. “Chardon, Chardon,” murmured the old lady, as she scratched her head reflectively with a knitting-needle—* 1 lemme see. There was a Sam Chard’n lived over to the corner nigh to forty year ago—’member he stole some pork outer Deacon Haines’ cellar —hope ’twant you, was it?” —and the old lady smiled pleasantly, and Mr. Chardon, who is twenty-six years old and painfully modest, blushed violently as he said that he didn’t remember of ever doing anything of the kind. “ No—come to think of it, it couldn’t ’a be’n you—this ’ere Chardon was a dre’dful hansum feller, praps ’twas yer father, or mebbe yer uncle,” said Aunt Betsy, placidly, as she resumed her knitting.

This wasn’t very pleasant for Mr. Chardon, especially as Miss Peters, who had never been in our vicinity before, began to look somewhat dubious, and so we mildly suggested'to the good lady that Mr. Chardon was bom in Noblesboro’, a long way from the corner, and that he was going to write a book, * “ Law, yes,” said Aunt Betsy, “ curi’s I shouldn’t a’ known ye. I was brought up up to Nobleboro’, an’ ’member now all about yer family. Yer pa failed, didn’t he, when you wos goin’ on fer nineteen year old, an’ Nancy Cousins giv’ ye the mitten on ’count of it? That was jest afore you had the scrape with ” Just at this terrible crisis, and while Mr, Chardon’s face seemed as though a match might be lighted at it, and Miss Peters majestically gathered her shawl around her, we trod on the old lady’s foot with a desperate hope that the tide of recollection might be cut short. “O-w-w-w!” exclaimed Aunt Betsy, “ who’s that a treadin’ on my foot? don’t ye know no better ?” and she regarded us with such a vindictive glare over her spectacles that we have no hope of ever being remembered in her will. “ I think, Mr. Chardon, we had better be going,” said Miss Peters, in an impressive voice, rising from her seat. “ Don’t be in such a hurry, Miss—Miss —I don’t quite git your name,” said our worthy relative.

“ Peters,” we suggested, as the young lady stood undecided, and the wretched Mr.Chardon made a frantic effort to smile pleasantly. “ What, one of the Peterses to Sheepscot?” said the old lady, eagerly; “ the’re r’lashuns of mine.” “My grandfather and father lived id Sheepscot,” said the young lady, frigidly, “ but it was very many years ago.” contentedly, “ I ’member all ’bout ’em, an’ y’r mother too; she never freckled as you do, an’ her teeth was as white as yourn. Yourn ain’t false ones, be they?” said our relative eagerly, to which query Miss Peters shook her head faintly, and said she really must go. “ Why, I never see no one in sech a hurry,” remarked Aunt Betsy, detaining the young lady by her shawl, while Mr. Chardon looked as cheerful as though he had killed some one. “ How old be you ?” With some . hesitation the young lady murmured: “ Twenty-three.” “ Lemme see,” said the old lady. “ Sam, he marri’d yer ma—she was old Billy Bixby’s darter—in forty-five—l ’member p’ticklerly ’n account of Sam’s borryin’ $lO of my husban’ to go on a honeymoon with; you was born nigh about a year after, an’ now it’s seventy-five, an’ accordin’ to that you mus’ be, lemme see,” and Aunt Betsy commenced counting her fingers with a mathematical precision that would speedily have evolved thirty years from the past had we not contrived to recall her attention by telling her that Miss Peters was going, and that she had better say “good-by.” “ Wall, if you must go,” said our relative, reluctantly, “ I suppose you must. That’s a proper pooty dress you’re a wearin’, but what made the dressmaker cut it so scrimpin’? ’Taint big ’nuff round an’ it’s too tight.” “ You ain’t had a fever, nor nothin’, have ye?” continued the old lady, in a loud whisper, glancing at the young lady’s pull-back attire; “you look awful thin,” and, shaking hands cordially with Miss Peters and her escort, with a pressing invitation for them to call again soon, our good Aunt Betsy bade them “ adoo.” Chardon don't speak to us now, and Miss Peters looked straight before her as she passed us on Main street. What have we done?— Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.

Wind and Rain.

The regular and periodic winds and their effects are known to all. Although there are many strange circumstances attending their action, yet all are explicable on natural principles, by well-understood laws. The exceptional winds are those which attract most attention by their remarkable effects. Local winds are genetally most noticed for their singularity, since they affect but comparatively small districts of country at the same time. The Bora is a local wind which blows on the shores of the Adriatic and Black Seas. It is a very cold wind, and drives along with it showers of fine ice and snow, blinding to anyone exposed to its fury, and often doing the greatest damage to shipping, sometimes even to the extent of sinking the velsqls by the masses of ice clinging to their sides. The Harmattan is a healthy wind that blows on the coast of Guinea; it is hot, but very dry, and causes evaporation with singular rapidity. The skin of the hands and face becomes dry and hard, scales off, and sore spots are caused, which, however, are soon healed. The * extreme healthfulness of the wind is its

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greatest recommendation. At the first breath every trace of fever disappears, and complete health is restored to all parts of the country. Livingstone describes a similar wind which blows over certain <lxn~ tricts in Southern Africa. This is- also dry, and so electric that the movements of!" a native in his skin cloak cause a succession of sparks. The “ Fon” is a hot wind which blows from the south over the mountain valleys of Switzerland, It comes in the spring, and, owing t& its high temperature, does more in a day to dissipate the winter’s snow and ice than would be accomplished by the ordinary heat of the sun in a week. In many valleys there would be no spring without the “Fon,” and in many plains without it there would be no harvest.

Of devastating tornadoes and hurricanes we have heard a good deal during the past few months, but the half has not been told of the injuries wrought by them. Riga was visited in 1872 by a terrific water-spout or tornado. People who were attending a funeral were struck by the tornado ; some of them were rolled along the ground like balls by the violence of the wind; others were instantly killed by the stones and slabs carried along by the storm. A striking peculiarity about tornadoes is the ease with which they bound over space without harming anything but the tops of the trees, then, descending, they strike the earth Ivith the mosft tremendous violence. A curious feature of these flying leaps is the circular hole often bored deep in the earth at the spot whete the tornado gave the ground a parting kick before jumping. Water-spouts, in spite of their forbidding appearance, are not dangerous. It is barely possible that some ships which have never been heard of were swamped and sunk by a bursting water-spout, but no authentic Instance of injury to vessels by a moving spout has ever been recorded. Homer says that water-spouts have a diameter of from two to 200 feet, and a height of from thirty to 1,500 feet, but land-spouts are often much larger, some even attaining the height of two miles. Accounts of destructive tornadoes have been so frequent of late that little interest can be attached to those of bygone days, and for that reason the further consideration of this part of the subject is unnecessary. Rain without clouds has been sometimes noticed. It commonly tails in tropical countries, and at or after the close of a very warm day. The cause is supposed to be the descent and gradual melting and aggregation of flakes of snow. Those countries which have rainy and dry seasons have advantage, but the discomforts more than counterbalance them, particularly as the moisture of the rainy season drives myriads of noxious reptiles and insects into the house, where their bites and stings often prove fatal to the inhabitants. As the annual amount of rain, of course, is the result of condensation of moisture, we find the greatest rainfalls take place in the torrid zone, where the evaporation is greatest. In the forest regions of South America the rainfall is often as much as 100 inches annually; and in Guadaloupe, in several years, the rainfall has amounted to 274 inches. It is very difficult to conceive of the violence of a tropical rain. It comes, not in drops, but in strings of water. Dampier says that, while on a visit to the sea-shore of New Granada: “ We made some chocolate, which we were obliged to drink standing. The rain was so strong that, however much chocolate we drank, our calebasses remained constantly half full, and some of us even swore that it was impossible to drink as much as it rained.” This fishy story is equaled only by one told very gravely by Prof. Maury: “ Old sea-faring men men?, tion such heavy and constant rains in the region of calms that they have scooped up fresh water from the surface of the sea.” The little incident would do well enough were it not for the well-known reputation “ old sea-faring men” enjoy of being the greatest liars on the green earth. As it? is, the truth of the story may well be doubted.

In distinction from these countries, where it may be said to rain always,there are some countries where it seldom or never rains. In the island of Margarita a few drops of rain occasionally fall in October, and never in any other month. On the Indus it rains, on an average, about once in three years; and the Canaiy Islands are little more fortunate. In Egypt it rains perhaps once in a lifetime, ana on the Sahara it has never been known to rain. Occasional heavy rains have repeatedly fallen in many localities. Perhaps the best authenticated of these heavy rains was one that fell at Genoa in 1822. In twenty-four hours a fall of thirty inches of rain took place, converting every branch into a roaring torrent, and causing great damage. Another example is given of a rain which fell on the Catskill Mountains, N. Y., in 1819, when in seven hoars there fell, by actual measurement, eighteen inches of water. The great English floods of 1872 are well remembered, as well as the ghastly sensation caused by the washing of hundreds of corpses from their cemetery bed and sending them drifting into the streets and lower stories of Manchester houses. All these floods, however, are but a trifle when compared with the violent outpouring sometimes seen from a water-spout. When one of these bursts the rainfall is not unfrequently from two to six inches in an hour, and, of course, when such a flood of water is emptied no ordinary means of egress are sufficient to carry it off, and the most violent effects are experienced.—“ The Aerial World," by S. Harting. —Connecticut is agitated over a reformschool teacher named Goodale, whose method of administering chastisement is in advance of the age. He always gently anaesthetizes hft patient by fracturing his skull /»and then pounds him as long as his ruler holds oat. The operation is consequently painless to the offender. Connecticut can stand a good deal, generally, but this one is too much. —They have a new zoological garden in Cincinnati, and one Oscar Nixdorf, an inmate of the Soldiers' Home, at Dayton, Ohio, knows it He visited there the other day and petted the grizzly bear until until he got his hantf chewed onj&wbile, and had hisjeft arm broken in two places. Amputationmas since been performed.

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