Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1875 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. JAMES A HEALEY, Proprietors. BENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

NATURE AND LOVE. spring. The tender spring comes tremblingly; Quiv’ring the blossoms softly break; Each zephyr breathing gently by, New forms, new beauties seem to wake. So trembling wakes my lore for thee, So fetters burst, springs fair and free. O first sweet love! O maiden mine! O strange new love! O birth divine! SUMMER. Full summer now—the genial hours Lend radiant noon to glowing night. Full summer—see the gleaming flowers Basking in fervid life andj light. And love too has its perfect noon, Its summer sun, its summer moon; In thy deep, radiant eyes, my Queen, My triumph lies —there love is seen. AUTUMN. Adown the fields the golden grain Hangs heavy on -the burdened stems, Through shimmering leaves the fruits again Gleam ruddy ripe, mch autumn’s gems. » Hearts’ harvest too I gather in, Love, sweet to cherish, sweet to win; For future days’ o’erfiowing store. Love, could I ever love thee more ? WINTER. Where are the flowers? Where the leaves? Where the sweet zephyrs’ gentle breath ? Where mellowed fruits and golden sheaves ? Dead, dead; all icy bound in death! Is love tod dead ? Hence, needless pain! Lore only sleeps to wake again. Love dead? Ah, no, not so with love! Love only dies to live above. — Tinsley's Magazine.

“ MAMMY.”

It was a stony, neglected field, powdered with ox-eyed daisies and dotted with dandelions—golden dandelions that look like spots of sunshine on the green grass and among the crevices of the rocks and the gnarled roots of the oak trees that were scattered here and there. There were carriages and buggies standing aboilfef and horses, . some tied to the lower branches of the trees, others held by the little negroes belonging to the plantation. In this field, away off beyond the house, was a square wooden railing, painted black, and within it were grassy mounds, some large, some small; and now in one corner had been dug another long, deep hole, and the earth lay scattered around it red and fresh. Friends and neighbors had drawn near, some within the mclosure, others leaning against the black railing. The coffin had been reverently lowered ; and, while the sun slowly sank and bathed the grain in a flood of mellow light, and fiickered among the leaves that trembled overhead, clear and solemn on the summer air fell the words: “lam the resurrection and the life.’’ “Earth to earth; dust to dust; ashes to ashes.” And each time there was the thud of falling earth and the rattling of clods, and the hollow answer that so many aching hearts can recall; and there were half.repressed cries and chokingsobs, and still the grave was surely and inevitably filled; another mouncl was raised and spaded into shape; stones were placed, one at the head, another at the foot, to mark the sleeper’s place; and then she was left alone, the sweet young wife and mother. As Mr. Larrantree and his sister returned to his desolate home his eyes rested on his children, Nellie and Grace, two little, motherless things, with fair, curling hair and innocent blue eyes like those in the coffin ouUin the field. They sat on the piazza steps in little white frocks, their hair tied back with black ribbons; and Mammy sat between them in a white turban and cape and a black dress she had worn before their mother was born. She was about seventy years old, with a low, black forehead full of wrinkles, and a broad, flat mouth containing only the yellow remains of teeth, and the rim ot hair that peeped out from under her turban had been gray for many a year. The little black eyes had retained their brightness and cunning, but the balls had turned yellow and the lids grown flabby and Mammy could not fasten the children’s clothes so deftly as she had their mother’s; but ah! how indignantly would they have repelled the idea that she was growing or could grow useless and her place be better filled! How obedient they were to her delegated authority! and how tolerant of the little shakes and jerks she sometimes administered! How trustful of her love and emulous of the praises she was lavish in bestowing! Yes, Mammy, you were wrinkled and black, and old and ugly; you were ignorant and narrow-minded and superstitious, but you were true to your nurslings and tender as true; and they gave you back your love with a fervor which neither time nor taste nor reason could affect. As Mr. Larrantree and his sister approached, Mammy stood up and the children sprang forward to meet them. “ Papa,” said Grace, “ what you all been doin’ ? Mammy said for us not to go, you would be mad. Would you be mad,

papa?” He beld her in his arms and his eyes ■were blind with tears: “Mammy was right, baby—papr did not want you to go.” “ An’, papa, what you reckon?” asked Nelly. “ Mammy was tellin’ us ’bout Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Wolf, an’ she cried ’cause Mr. Wolf eat Mr. Rabbit up. Mammy keeps cryin’ when ain’t anybody been doin’ a thing to her; an’, papa, ” continued the child, beginning to cry herself, “I want mamma, an’ Mammy says she’s gone to sleep, an’ the door is shut, ah" we can’t get in. Can’t we go in, papa ? Won’t you wake mamma up?” How could he answer except by tears? And poor old Mammy! As night came on and the children grew tired of play or were sickened with sweets, it almost broke her heart to see the blue eyes full of tears and the corners of the little mouths drawn down, while the red lips trembled and the childish voices cried over and over again; “I want my mamma: I want my mamma!” And as night after night the black ribbons were laid aside, and the motherless children put on their little white nightgowns, Mammy racked her poor old brain for marvelous tales, and got down on her stifi'old knees by the little trundle-bed, and placed her left arm under Nelly’s head, while she patted Grace’s shoulder with her right hand till she was stiff and sore,'and the white turban bobbed suspiciously up and down; but there was no break in the chain of events that took place between “Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Wolf,”and Mammy did not steal her arm away till the curly heads were motionless and the little lips had ceased to ask why mamma slept so long. < Daysdragged slowly by, and crystallized into weeks, and at length the governess had come, and Mr. Larrantree’s sister felt

compelled to return to the charge of her own family. Before she did so, however, she requested that Miss Ennerby would be vgry tender with the children, as they were of a nervous temperament, and had been accustomed to much indulgence. “ I shall not deny them any reasonable indulgence,” said Miss Ennerby stiffly; “ but children have norightto be nervous. I shall make it my business to conquer the tendency.” “ I do not mean to say that they arenerv ous,” replied Mrs. Allerton, who was very unfavorably impressed by her new acquaintance. “ I meant merely to call your attention to the fact that they are of a nervous temperament, and should be favored with greater indulgence of a certain nature than ” “ Permit me to differ with you,” said Miss Ennerby. “My decided opinion is that they should be hardened before this tendency becomes a radical evil.” As Mrs. Allerton regarded the .light, cold eyes, the short lashes, the thin lips and square jaw of the woman before her, her heart misgave her, and she trembled for the happiness of her little nieces; but it was now too late to do aught but wait, and hope, and pray. Miss Ennerby had been recommended by a neighbor, and Mr. Larrantree had met her once or twice at this neighbor’s house, but that was all. He had not observed her sufficiently to form any clear impression of her character, and his mind was now in a state of such depression that he accepted at once the aid first offered, and had employed Miss Ennerby in the confidence based upon his neighbor’s judgment.

Unfortunately, as she feared, for the matrimonial designs with which Miss Ennerby entered on her duties, Mr. Larrantree was called away on business the day after her arrival, and she had only time to ascertain that he agreed with her fully on one point: children [ should be taught to be self-reliant and induced to develop their moral muscle. She had, therefore, no doubt of his approbation when she commenced the hardening process by commanding Mammy, after the children were undressed, to put put the light and leave them to go sleep by themselves. To a great many good-liearted and intelligent people—people who honestly desire to be kind and reasonable—it were vain to portray the agony of some children on being left alone in the dark, the unreasoning, uncontrollable terror of that something which, by its very lack of form, its vagueness and indefiniteness, becomes so awful, so dreadful, so indefinitely horrible, that the anguish of substantial torture cannot be compared with it. The child’s whole soul is pervaded by a terror which cannot be shaken off by any effort of the child’s own will. Its entire being is the subject of a terror which it has no power to subdue, and its whole nervous system lies at the mercy of this shapeless, shadowy foe; it is reeling and staggering and fainting, and suffering a shock which will tell in after-life as surely as a shot in the eye or a cut on the brow. Oh, why is there no Mr. Bergh who can prevent cruelty to children ? A great many excellent persons without nerves fail to appreciate this state of feeling, and Miss Ennerby was not only without nerves, but by no means an excellent person. She was cold and hard and cruel, and full of vindictive feeling toward those above her, which she could gratify only by grinding those whom Providence pla«ed temporarily under her heel. Mammy, with unerring instinct, at once discovered that Miss Ennerby was “ poor white” —that is, that she had not had a crowd of negroes at her command, and ridden about in her own carriage—and, with the aristocratic tendency of her class, despised her accordingly. The old woman knew her place too well to make any intentional display of contempt, but she conducted herself with dignified formality, more offensively suggestive than the most elaborate impertinence, and Miss Ennerby felt it with a keenness she could not disguise from herself.

The gratification of the latter could be measured only by Mammy’s dismay at the order to leave the children alone; and indeed so great was the panic created in the nursery that even Miss Ennerby would have made a temporary compromise had it not involved a triumph for Mammy. As it was, she persisted in tltefenforcement of her order, and it was with grim satisfaction that after the first two nights she observed, the light having been extinguished and Mammy gone down-stairs, that the children seemed to resign themselves to their fate and quietly go to sleep. She did not know that Mammy stole immediately back and was at her post, with her arm around her bantlings, nor how, as Miss Ennerby’s step was heard, Mammy would throw herself on the floor behind the bed, and the little ones, taking their first lesson in deception, would shut their eyes and feign sleep till she had retreated, satisfied with them and her “system.” - But one night they failed to hear her coming, and she stood a moment listening. Mammy was saying, “An’ Jack, he were in lub wid de King’s dorter, an’ were always a-cassin’ sheep’s eyes at her; but de King, he didn’t want Jack to hab his dorter, so he guv a gret ball an’ axed eberybody blit Jack. So de ole bar (he were a gret friend uv Jack)—de ole bar, he say, ‘ I’m gwine ter roll in de ashes, Jdck, and den I’ll go inde ball-room an’ shake myse’fan’ make such a dus’ dat de King can’t hardly see; an’ while his eyes is fhll o’ dus’ you kin run away wid his dorter.’ So ole Mr. Bar, he went an’ laid down in de chimbly, an’ got hisse’f full o’ ashes, an’ while dfey was a-dancin’ he went and shuk hisse’f, an’ ” “ Aunt Maria!” Miss Ennerby opened the door.

No answer. Miss Ennerby advanced: “ Grace!” “ Ma’am ?’’answered the child faintly. “ Who was that talking?” No answer. They were truthful children. “Aunt Maria again called Miss Ennerby. “Marm?" said Mammy with an unsteady voice. i “ Go down this moment." Four little hands clutched Mammy silently, but convulsively, and she replied by condescending to beg humbly for permission to remain, but it was of no avail; she was sent down-stairs,&the door locked, and two little motherless babies were left to cling to each other in an agony of terror, foolish and wild and groundless, of course, but so real to them and so inex-. pressibly horrible that few' grown persons ever have an experience approaching it. The next day Mammy petted and caressed them even more than usual, and took them out under the trees, and then she said to them: “Nebber mind, chillun. Don’t you all be skeered to-night, ’cos Mammy gwine to be right at de do’. Mammy gwine to lay down right close outside de do’ es Miss Edner locks it; an’ es you all gits ’fraid, you jes’ say ’ Mammy!’ kind o’ easy, an’ Maminy she gwine ter say ‘Meow’, meow!’ like ’twere a cat meowin’.” “What you goin’ to say ‘meow’ for, Mammy?” asked Nelly. “ ’Cos I' kyarut amser no oder way,

honey,” said Mammy. *< Es I was to talk human, ’course Miss Edner would cotch me. Gord bless my babies! Now don ’A you all be skeered, ’cosdar ain’t nuffln’ to be skeered ’bout, nohow; de good Lord is a-watchin’ uv you night an’ day, an’ boldin’ uv you in de holler uv His han’; an’ Mammy’s gwine ter roll yo’ bed close ’side de do’an’ den alie gwine ter lay right down by it an’ stay dar tell spang day.” Sure enough, the door was again locked and Mammy sent down stairs. Presently there arose little soft, hesitating, doubting voices, “Mammy! Mammy!” '• “Meow!” came from the hall. “ Mammy!” “Meow! meow!” Then there were little giggles and whispers, and the next time Mammy’s name was called they could hardly do it for laughing: “Mammy! Mammy!” “Meow! meow!” “ Oh, Mammy!” “M e-ow!" Mammy was alarmed less Miss Ennerby should overhear them, and this time gave such an expressive “meow” that it produced an unrestrained burst of laughter, whereupon Mammy ventured to whisper “Hishe, chillun!” and the sounds presently subsided again into giggles and whispers. Then Mammy placed her mouth to the crack at the sill of the door and whispered again, “Go orn to sleep now, chillun, ’cos sumbody might hear you. Don’t make me meow no mo’. Mammy ain’t gwine away.” And Mammy did not go away. The giggling grew faint and the whispers few, and presently the drowsy lids fell quietly over the sweet blue eyes, and all was still; but Mammy never moved till morning’s cheerful beams dispersed the shadowy terrors of the night. Only when it had become “broad day,” and she knew her babies no longer trembled—only then, chilled and weary, she gathered up her stiff old limbs and softly crept away. Night after night: “Mammy! Mammy!” “ Meow!” answered a voice at the sill of the door. “ Oh, Mammy!”

“ Meow! meow!” Till one night Miss Ennerby, wearing a red-flannel sacque, her hair in disgusting little crimping-plaits, a candle flaring in one hand and a broom raised in the other—Miss Ennerby came suddenly from her room with intent to punish the cat, and beheld —Mammy! Little was said at the moment, but that little was to the purpose. Miss Ennerby was angry-at having been so successfully imposed upon, and Mammy was not only angry at having been discovered, but alarmqd as to the consequences for her cliildren, her ideas being very indefinite as to the extent of Miss Ennerby’s authority. Very little was said at the moment, but the next evening, as Mammy was about taking the children,off to bed, Miss Ennerby sent for Uncle Sawney, detaining Mammy till he came. When punishment was to be administered on the plantation it Ws the duty of the overseer to doit, and, as Uncle Sawnpy was acting in that capacity this year, he was sent for to perform his functions. No one at first understood the position of affairs—neither Mammy nor Uncle Sawney, who stood to receive Miss Ennerby’s orders; neither the chiltireir,who were waiting to be taken to bed, nor the housemaids, who, feeling that something unusual was-about to take place, were hovering curiously in the rear; and when they did, when it became apparent that Uncle Sawney had been sent for to punish Mammy, the state of feeling is qtiite indescribable. Uncle Sawney himself was aghast. “Good Lord, Miss Edner,” he exclaimed, “I darzn’t touch that nigger. Mas’ Jack ud peel me all ober. Lord lia’ mussy! Mas’ Jack ud have me on de block fus’ trader cum along.” “ I will be responsible to your master,” said Miss Ennerby. Uncle Sawney scratched his head and dropped his jaw, and “walled” his eyes at Mammy very much as if he would like to punish her for being the sourco of his perplexity; but his whip remained trailing on the floor, and his heart failed him as he essayed to lift it, for Mammy was a dignitary whose importance was not to be trifled with; besides which, Nelly and Grace were clinging frantically to her, despite Miss Ennerby’s commands, and the feelings of liis master’s children were not to be disregarded. Still, he hesitated to disobey bliss Ennerby, for, like Mammy, he had very vague ideas as to the extent of her authority, and did not know how far he might safely venture to defy her. “Will you do as you are ordered ?” demanded Miss Ennerby, imperiously. Uncle Sawney again scratched his head and muttered: “Lord ha’ mussy!” but finally said sullenly to Mammy: “Ornfassen yo’ coat!”

Mammy began with trembling fingers to unpin her dress, while the children hung around her with cries of distress and Grace endeavored to hold it together. “Oh, Mammy, don’t undo it! Stop opening your dress! Don’t let him whip you!” cried Nelly. “ Oh, Mammy! please, Mammy!” “Nebber you mind, honey. It don’t make no difrunce;” and the withered old lips were trembling like the poor black fingers. “ Mammy ain’t got long to stay here, nohow, an’ it don’t make no difPunce ’boat de path gittin’ narrer. ’Tain’t you all’s fault, chillun; an’ es yo’ ma was livin’ ’twouldn’t be hern’, bless de Lord!”

“ When my mamma comes back,” said Grace, sobbing and looking defiantly at Miss Ennerby, “I’m goin’ to tell her what you been doin’ to Mammy.” She ran to the door of the solitary chamber and, beating against it with her helpless little fists, cried over and over again: “ Mamma! mamma! please, iflhmma, open your door! Come out here just a minute, /namma, an’ make ’em stop troublin’ Mammy. You can''go to sleep again. Won’t you come, mamma?” An imperative gesture tfrom Miss Ennerby induced Uncle Sawney to repeat his order: “Qrnfassen yo’ coat.” “ Oh, make haste, mamma!” cried the children in agony. Mammy pulled off her sleeve, baring one arm and shoulder, while she turned toward the weeping child and said, in a voice thick with tears: “Come away, honey; your ma ain’t dar. Her do’ wouldn’t a a-stayed shot dis long es she had ha’ been. Come away, baby. Don’t call her no mo’. It jes’ makes Mammy feel wus.” She slowly bared the other black shoulder and bony arm, and Miss Ennerby motioned to Uncle Sawney to advance, while the children, with frantic cries, rushed forward and threw themselves before her, Nelly spreading her little baby hands over Mammy’s bare back, and Grace laying her fair curls and flushed cheek on the withered black breast. “ Go away, Uncle Sawney,’) said Grace, sobbing so„that she could hardly speak; “ g<? awfty. You know—know papa—(didn’t ever—let—let you—whi—whip

Mammy. ,I’m goin’ to—tell —tell him—: tell papa, soon as ever he comes—comes home.” “ Never mind, Uncle Sawney!” said Nelly, “ mamma is going to open her door an’ come out; an’ I’m goin’ to ’plain ’bout you troublin’ Mammy.” This appealed to Uncle Sawney’s superstitious feeling, and he had again lowered his arm, when there was heard a firm, quick tread on the piazza, the front door closed with a bang, and Mr. Larrantree stood before them. He looked with some surprise at the picture presented, but after a hasty bow to Miss Ennerby lie caught Grace up in hjs arms and asked, smiling: “ Why, what’s the matter, piggy-wiggy? And what in the world are you all doing to Mammy?” “ O papa,” said Nelly, still protectively clinging to the old woman, and unable, even though her father had come, to check her sobs —“ O papa, Uncle Sawn— Sawney was—was goin’ to whi—whip Mammy.” “All right, Uncle Sawney; go ahead. No doubt Mammy deserves it,” said Mr. Larrantree, but his laughter met no response, and he felt a little puzzled, having thought it all a play got up to amuse the children, and was dismayed to find their grief unassumed. He looked around with indignant, yet perplexed, astonishment, for he could hardly realize that Miss Ennerby had transceuded her authority to this extent; yet it was evident that something very serious and painful had occurred. Miss Ennerby stood in embarrassed silence, becoming suddenly conscious that she had made a false move and placed her “ castle” in danger. Alas for the airy fabric! Uncle Sawney’s fingers were buried almost out of sight in the grizzly wool that crowned his head, and his jaw fell more stupidly than ever, while ho rolled his eyes, not at anyone in particular this time, only to be generally on the defensive. No sooner had relief arrived than Mammy’s heroism deserted her, and now from head to foot she was shaking with nervous tremor. “Miss Ennerby, will you be kind enough to explain this scene?” Miss Ennerby cleared her throat once or twice and hesitated so long that Mr. Larrantree turned with perhaps discourteous impatience to Mammy: “ Mammy, is anything really the matter, or is this just tomfoolery for the children?” “ ’ Tain’t de kind o’ tormfool’ry I been usen ter, bias’ Jack. Miss Edner were ’bout havin’ de ole woman whipped, bless de Lord!” answered Mamnfy. “ Whipped! You! ” Capitals fail to express it. lie turned to Miss Ennerby with flashing eyes. “ She persisted in disobeying me and defying my authority over my pupils, and there was nothing left but to have her punished,” said Miss Ennerby. “ She didn’t, papa,” said Nelly. “We was ’fraid of nights, an’ Mammy didn’t want to lock us up in the dark; an’ ole mean Miss Edna maked her go away, an’ then Mammy stoled back anyhow and meow’d, an’ Miss Edna caught her, an’ ole mean Uncle Sawney was ” “ Will you do me the favor to explain this matter, Miss Ennerby?” Mr. Larrantree was one of those men who turn pale when they become angry, and Miss Ennerby began to feel insecure as she saw liis features whiten. She hesitated, and Nelly continued: “Since mamma went to sleep, papa, an’ don’t let us come in her room, we gets ’fraid every night, an’ want Mammy ” “Well, baby, what has Mammy to do but to stay wilhjyou?” asked he, pressing his bearded face against the little tearstained cheek.

“But, papa, don’t you know, Mammy stoled back at the crack of the door an’ meowed, an’ Uncle Sawney was goin’ to whip her, an’ you was gone away, an’ we kep’ callin’ flaamma, .an’ callin’ her, an’ callin' her; an’ she wouldn’t come. Papa, is mamma ’sleep yet?” “ Get out, Sawney,” said Mr. Larrantree, “ and thank your stars if I don’t cut four ears off to-morrow. Miss Ennerby, may forget myself if we discuss this matter at present, so I will not detain you for the purpose. Open the door for Miss Ennerby.” This hint being unmistakable, Miss Ennerby curved the corners of her mouth and ungraciously withdrew, i He buried his face in the child’s curls, and when he raised his head, though he tried to make the tones cheerful, his voice was choked and hoarse: “Fasten Mammy’s dress, piggy-wiggy. And now, Mammy, if you know what is good for you, you will make Tip bring in that valise and you and Nellie and Grace will open it; and then if you don’t like what is in it, why, you can just send it back where it came from. That’s all papa has to say about it; so here’s the key.” Tip brought in the valise, ana Mammy and the children eagerly poured forth its contents, Mammy receiving her gorgeous turbans and “ store shoes” with the same innocent delight that the children derived from their bonbons and babies, the old woman and her nurselings throwing aside with equal facility all thought of their recent trouble. Mr. Larrantree’s subsequent interview with Miss Ennerby must have been decisive, if not agreeable, as her baggage was sent to the “ crossing" in time for the next day’s train, and she departed without bestowing a kiss on the children or bequeathing her blessing to Mammy.—Jennie Vs oodville, in Lippineott for November »

Artistic Skeletons.

A New York correspondent writes: “ Every physician must have a skeleton as part of their outfit, and therefore their preparation is an important feature of their profession. The students have neither the time nor the facilities for this work, and hence it naturally falls into the hands of the janitor. Skeletons are with him an article of merchandise, the quotations being SSO for a fine specimen, while an ordinaiy article is afforded for S3O. The important but difficult task is to clean the bones without marring them or leaving the mark of a knife. It is not necessary to tell how this is done, but the process is clear, though very simple. Each janitor may get up twenty-five skeletons in a season, sometimes more. This forms a. very important perquisite, and, indeed, if rightly improved, his berth can be made very profitable. There is also a constant importation of skeletons from Paris, which is carried on by the dealers in surgical instruments. The French have the art of whitening the bones in a way never attained in this country, and the price is generally from S6O to SIOO. The Parisian establishments excel in turning out the best skeletons of children, and even of infants, and some of the latter look like dear little doll-skeletons that one mfght want to handle in one’s arms or rock in the cradle. They are very cunning-look-ing things, these dear little baby-skele-tons.’’ A kind of tobacco all men ehew-ses—A pretty girl with money to-back-her.

RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL.

—The new Freshman class at Harvard College numbers 270, and is the largest ever entered. • t —Mount IJolyoke Seminary has supplied 115 wives .for missionaries, who have gone as teachers to all parts of the world. —The Methodists, according to an official statement of the Kentucky Conference, have increased 11,000 in the State since 1866. —The number of church buildings owned bjr the Southern Presbyterian Church is 1,797; of this number 520 are vacant. The number of preachers without charges is 208; the whole number of preachers is 1,084.' —The General Missionary Committee of the Methodist Episcopal Church is to meet in New York Nov. 10. The meeting of the General Committee of the Church Extension Society of the same denomination is to be held in Philadelphia, Nov. 18. —The Hebrew Leader laments that so many of the people of Israel are sO negligent of their religious duties, and that not a few men are more ready to pay for fine temples and music, and to own good pews, than to frequent the worship that makes these things useful. —lt is now probable that the place for the meeting of the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church next May will be changed from St. Louis to Baltimore. The financial embarrassment of the West and the nearness of Baltimore to the Centennial Exhibition are the reasons given for the change.— N. Y. Tribune.

—The Westminster Presbytery, Pennsylvania, has published a series of resolutions which it passed at a recent session upon the spreading neglect of the Sabbath. In particular, it specified the running of Sunday excursion trains especially for the purpose of conveying persons to religious meetings, and the proposed opening of the Centennial Exhibition on Sunday. —The Catholics of Victoria, Australia, have sent a petition to the Parliament of the province protesting against their taxation for the support of free schools. They desire to obtain a State grant for their schools. An education Teague is being formed by the Protestant bodies to oppose the revival of the denominational system. —The long-contested church case, growing out of the suspension, in 1868, of George H. Stuart, of Philadelphia, by the General Synod of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, for singing hymns and communing with other churches, was finally settled by the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, recently in session at Pittsburgh, in favor of the Stuart party. —The Unitarian Church of Keokuk, lowa, announces a series of sermons on science to be delivered on alternate Sunday evenings. The topics include, among others, the Darwinian theory and spectrum analysis. The design of the lecture, it is stated, will be to show that even if modem scientific theories are accepted “ the foundations of true religion remain unshaken.” —The German Empire contains 60,000 schools, with 6,000,000 scholars. To every 1,000 inhabitants there are 150 scholars. There are 330 gymnasiums, 14 progymnasiums and 484 real schools and grammar schools. The normal schools contain 177,370 scholars. There are twenty universities with 15,557 students, Berlin, Leipsic and Munich having each more than 1,000. The polytechnic schools have 360 teachers and 4,428 students. —Mr. Long is illustrating in Baltimore a new mode of preaching. His object is to impress inspired truth upon the intellect and the heart through the medium of the eye and the ear at the same time. He has large paintings, said to be beautiful and correct, which represent the subject he proposes to present to the assemblv. These are placed above the pulpit and in' 1 rear of the preacher, and the different scenes and circumstances in the development of liis subject are as quickly and easily unfolded to view as the turning of the leaves of a manuscript. Lecturers well know the great advantage that maps and charts afford when they can be used in illustration of their subjects. Mr. Long hopes his new method will prove of great advantage to preachers and hearers. His efforts are exciting much interest and he has large congregations.— Chicago Tribune.

VARIETY AND HUHOR.

—New Jersey invests $2,000,000 per annum in cranberry culture. —Rush County, Tex., has the only chestnut tree in the State. —There is a piece of soap in Albany supposed to be 100 years old. —Several Atlantic cities are trying to put down the fiddling, harping and begging nuisance. —The Dalmatians in San Francisco are raising money to send to the rts(jef of the Herzegovinian sufferers. —lt is said that in each of the forty-five tobacco factories of Richmond are organized bands of colored vocalists. —Fall River operatives who have been left out of work are frequently found as stowaways on European steamers. —Arsenic-eating is universal among the Styrians, who believe that it is conducive to strength and the attainment of old age. —Those who doubt the utility of female colleges will be silenced on learning that 1,300 letters were mailed from Vassar College recently. —The tongue of* a horse became paralyzed in Oneida Valley, N. Y., lately. Being unable to take food or water he died. A very unusual case. —A French widower says that when a Frenchman loses his wife it is his first duty to cry over his loss, and then it becomes a habit and finally a pleasure, —A man who bought a chest of tea in Binghamton, N. Y., found in it a stone weighing twelve pounds—a sort of thing neither to cheer nor to inebri—Gen. Jefl(. Thompson is credited with the prediction Thar by Jan. 1 the Mississippi will have cut a new channel near Vicksburg, leaving that place two miles inland. —A small island has within the past twelve months formed in the Delaware River, opposite Borclentown. Vegetation has taken hold upon it and it is frequented by birds. —No news having been received for some time from Lieut. Cameron, of the African research expedition, the Royal Geographical Society of England, it is stated, have grown uneasy as to his safety. —The Twelfth Maid of Oxford died of a piece of wire about six inches long,such as is used in baling hay, and which, as a

post-mortem showed, had penetrated some distance into the substance of the heart. —Respect old age. If you have a maiden aunt thirty-three years old, and she is passing herself off as a girl of twenty, there is no excuse for you to expose her. The more you respect her age and keep still about it the more she will respect you.— Taunton (Mats.) Gazette. —An amateur sportsman in the Catskill regions was understood to have shot a* bear the other day, and the telegraph offices within 100 miles of the neighborhood were paid to send the news to the gentldmftn’s friends in town. It was subsequently ascertained that the bear was a cow. —Equestrian precocity is encouraged in Kansas. At the Leavenworth County Fair the premium of a saddle and bridle was bestowed upon “ the best boy rider under seven years of age.” The young Alexander thus bestriding the Kansas Bucephalus will grow to be a centaur in time. — N. Y. Tribune. —Said a wife to her husband: “ How is it that you can’t come home nights in some sort of season?” The gentle retort was: “You got me in the way of it. Before we were married you used to throw your arms about my neck at three o’clock and say: 4 Don’t go, darling, it is early yet,’ but now if I happen to stay out till two it is a terrible affair.” —The last Legislature of Nevada placed a price of three dollars on the scalps of coyotes, designing to exterminate them because they killed the\rabbits. The latter have now become so numerous in some sections of the State that the farmers propose to urge upon the next Legislature to change the statute —to place a small premium upon the scalps of rabbits, and let the coyotes alone. —Nothing tends more thoroughly to shatter one’s confidence in outward appearances than to see a young man, clad in the height of fashion, saunter into a crowded restaurant, pull off hfs kids languidly, seat himself at a table, consult the bill of fare and then immediately afterward to hear the waiter’s voice ringing out the magic words: “ One plate of hash and a glass of water. — New York -Commercial Advertiser.

—A correspondent of the Jewish messenger says: The small boy sharpened his pencil and wrote the adventures of the day. The diary was passed around, and we admired the graphic description of sea life, couched in sentences like these: “June 13th, Very Ruff. June 14th, Ruffer to-day. June 16th, To-day we went Olnots. It is still very ruff. J une 17th, There were not many at dinner to-day, and I liked the plums. June 19th, I didn’t keep a diary yesterday. Ma said it was the plums. 94 nots to-day.” —All children can learn to sing if they commence in season. In Germany every child is taught to use its voice while Voung. In their schools all join in singing as a regular exercise as much as they attend to the study of geography; and in their churches singing is not confined to the choir, who sit apart from the others, perhaps in one corner of the house, but there is a vast tide of incense going forth to God from every heart that can give utterance to this language from the soul. In addition to the delightful influence music has upon the character it hfcs also a marked influence in suppressing pulmonary complaints. Dr. Rush used to flay that the reason why the Germans seldom die of consumption was that they were always singing. —American Magazine. —Alaska is not a Territory to which the emigrant has been powerfully attracted hitherto. Its settlement has seemed likely to be postponed until that remote time when the inhabitants of all the rest of the country should begin to feel uncomfortably crowded. If, however, anything can turn a steady current of travel toward a new land it is the discovery of gold therein. Report of such a discovery in Alaska has recently been made. It needs confirmation, it i? true, but that is all that is necessary to attract adventurers in greater numbers than could the most salubrious climate or a tropically rich soil. Golddigging is the least profitable of all digging—to the diggers; but that lesson is never learned by those persons who suffer most from ignorance of it.— N. Y. Evening Post.

Interesting Figures.

A man walks 3 miles in an hour; a horse trots 7; steamboats run 18; sailingvessels 10; slow rivers flow 4; rapid rivers 7; moderate wind blows 7; storm moves 36; hurricane, 80; a rifle-ball, 1,000; sound, 743; light, 190,000; electricity, 280,000. A barrel of flour weighs 196 pounds; a barrel of pork, 200; barrel of rice, 600; barrel of powder, 25; firkin of butter, 56; tub of butter, 84; wheat, beans and clover-seed, 60 pounds to the bushel; corn, rye and flaxseed, 56; bucxwheat, 62; barley, 48; oats, 35; bran, 20; timothy seed, 48; coarse salt, 85. Sixty drops make a dram, 8 drams an ounce, 4 ounces a gill, 4 gills a pint; 60 drops a tablespoonful, 4 teaspoonfuls a tablespoonful or half an ounce, 2 tablespoonfuls an ounce, 8 tablespoonful a gill, 2 gills a cof-fee-cup or tumbler, 6 fluid ounces a teacupful. Four thonsand eight hundred and forty square yards an acre; a square mile, 640 acres. To measure an acre: 209 feet on each side make a square acre within an inch. There are 2,750 languages. Two persons die every second. A generation rs 15 vears; average of life 31 years. The standing army in Prussia, war times, 1,200,000; France, 1,360,000; Russia, 1,000,000; Austria, 825,000; Italy, 200,000; Spain, 100,000; Belgium, 94,1)00; England, 75,000; United States, 24,000. Roman Catholics in the United Btates, 5,000,000. Mails in New York city are 100 tons per day; New York consumes 600 beeves daily, 700 calves, 20,000 sheep and 20,000 swine in winter.— American Journal of Health.

Roles for Milking.

The following rules are issued from a New Yopk-*heese factory for the use of its patrons, and are worthy of a wider dissemination : 1. Milch-cow§ should have free access, at all times, to good running water. 2. They should never beheated by being run, stoned or dogged. 3. The utmost cleanliness should be observed in milking, and by no means wet the hands in the milk while milking. 4. No can of milk should stand where it will absorb the Iwurnyard or stable odor, or any other scent. 5. The milk should be strained and well aired immediately after having been drawn from the eows. 6. Some arrangement for effectually cooling is at all times very'desirable and, when the milk is kept at home overnight, is indispensable. 7. Scalding all vessels used about milk at least once a, day with boiling water, and rinsing with cold watef at night, is essential.