Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 December 1875 — Page 1

HORACE E. JAMES, Proprietor.

VOL. VIII.

THE FLO WERS' GIIOIG E* I heard the flowers on a day ■-» Confess in turn the fate which they Would deem most blessed. The timid Violet whispered: “I Would choose to live—l dare not die! Let me be pressed.” The Moss-Rose raised its dainty head. And blushing: “Ah! what bliss,” it said, “For aye to rest On some fair maiden’s bosom soft, And with her loving Angers oft To be caressed!” The gaudy Peony declared, As arrojrant around it stared: “ To be admired ,Is all I ask. And ’tis my due; My loveliness leaves nothing new To be desired.” - The modest Daisy said: “ I know, Alas! Earn not tit to grow ’Mid such as ye; Tet God has given to each a place To occupy a little space, • Though mean he be. “ Content with my estate, I pray, Where He has placed me, there to stay Till life is done; Enjoying warmth, enjoying light, L'ntil my everlasting night Obscure the sun.” t . At last the Lily, fair and mild, Spoke, sighing: “When a little child Is snatched by Death, I’d love to nestle pure and bright Within its hands so cold and white; Or in a wreath “I’d twine me o’er the coffin’s lid, Till from the mother’s sight ’twas hid; And I would make The hideousness of Death appear Less foully hideous, almost fair, For her poor sales.” » The Lily Spoke, and for a space The dewy tears were shed apace; And all confessed Who heard her gentle words that she, So full of love and sympathy, Had chosen best. — Harper's Bazar

A LIFE’S REGRET.

I am the youngest of three sisters —Margaret, Louisa 'and Helen, the last-named being'of course myself. We reside in a small villa on the outskirts of the town of Norton-Folgatc, and from all appearances are likely to remain for the rest of our lives pnrsujng what strangers would suppose the calm and even tenor of a colorless existence. Our income, though small, admits of our keeping two domestics; and when we pay visits, which at rare intervals we do to some of the county families, we jointly subscribe and charter a close carriage, which enables us to make our calls with something like dignity. Not that my two elder sisters are lacking in that respect, for they never, either sleeping or w’aking, I believe, forget that our late father was descended from an ancient and honorable family, and that the name of Howard, which we bear, is derived from a source which, even though it does not acknowledge us, is ours justly, and on the tree which testifies to our pedigree our relationship is clearly set forth. Our late mother could also boast ot gentle blood, so that on both sides of the house our connections were undeniable. In addition to tlipse advantages, nature had not been Unkind to us—indeed, in our younger days we had had our owu share of admiration, and the three Misses Howard had on many occasions been pro-, nounced the best-looking girls at the numerous balls which, chaperoned by our mother, we used regularly to attend. Our admirers were not few, and we -were always engaged for every dance whenever we went; but there to" all appearance it ended, for, after more seasons than I care to record, none of us were married. Plainer girls by far, even penniless ones, iu due time made their appearance, had an interval of gayety and then announced their engagements, which duly ended in marriage, and they would return in all the dignity of matronhood to patronize and remind us in more ways than one of the gulf that separated our unappropriated selves from them and their ‘"position” as married women. At first it was not so galling, but by and by I began to feel it keenly, and to; long —as every woman does sooner or later—for ties of my own; but my longings were not to be » gratified, sot the one hateful reason that no ordinary man was supposed to be good enough to mate with f ‘ a Howard,” though one degenerate descendant dared to wish it could be otherwise. By- degrees it became known that we were hard to please, and though it was true enough of Margaret and Louisa still I felt so differently from them on the subject that it w T as rather hard to be included; but I was “a Howard,” and so Trad to pay for my privilege. Margaret was seven years my senior, and Louisa five, consequently I was accustomed to beingconsidered quite a child until I had attained the ripe age of twenty-five, when an event happened which, but for my precious pedigree, might have changed the color of my whole existence. We had received 1 invitations to a ball given by a certain Lady Aylmer,, who always made a point of asking us to her entertainments ; and, though I was beginning tmbe very weary of gayeties, to decline was out of the question; so, after some deliberation as to our attire, etc., an acceptation w r as sent, and when the evening arrived, we, accompanied by our mother, crushed ourselves into a hired carriage and set out for Aylmers Court. We were received as usual, most cordially; and after a few Ranees were over I became conscious of the presence of a gentleman who seemed to regard me with some interest. He was a very nice-looking man of about thirty, rather fair, and with a small mustache slightly inclining to rbd. He was not tall, neither was he very short; his figure was good, and he had a soldier-like look abouf him which I rather admired. As usual, I was well supplied with partners, and. when Lady Aylmer approached with the individual I have just described and introduced him to me I was very glad I had a spare dance still left, for which he at once engaged me. I did not batch his name when Aylmer brought him up, and when my*.

THE RENSSELAER UNION.

RENSSELAER, JASPER COUNTY, INDIANA, DECEMBER 9, 1875.

eldest sister inquired who my netv acquaintance was I could only say he was Capt. Somebody; I fancied Bruce was the name. “A good name,” remarked Margaret; 11 1 daresay he is a relativeof Lord Bruce.” But I was doomed to undeceive her shortly, for on addressing him as CapL Bruce he smiled and told me hi? name—his name being Bebb. 1 Bebb, I thought—what a funny name! However” it did not prevent my thinking him very pleasant, and being secretly glad when lie-told me he was quartered at Norton-Folgate for some months to come. To be brief, after several meetings, Capt. Bebb, whose name had transpired in my family, began to pay me marked attention; but although in rny inmost heart I liked him, still I was well aware that for a “ Howard” to ally herself with a Bebb would be regarded as an impossibility by my family. He came to calif-endeavored to ingratiate himself witlrtny mother and sisters—sent me bouquets, books, music, and, in fact, did all lie could to show his preference, which in my heart of hearts I would fain have shown was mutual. But how could I ? My sisters, alarmed by my evident leaning toward him, instituted a system of ridiculing him which, had he only faintly guessed, would, I felt sure, have prevented him from ever again entering our house. His personal appearance was stigmatized as the most vulgar that had ever been seen; his hair, which was really brown, was always alluded to as carrots, and a shuddering tit frequently overtook Louisa, as she described the horror she had experienced when, on one fatal occasion, he had shaken hands w’itli her, and his hot, clammy clasp had almost 'given her a fit. Perhaps, owing to this, his name degenerated from Bebb into Blubber, and several times my mother herself narrowly escaped addressing him as such, so persistently was he called it behind his back?. A dead pig having been found mne morning in the sty, I was strongly" advised to go down to see the likeness, .which, from my partiality for Blubber, my sister felt sure would be interesting tome. I am ashamed to confess that I had not the moral courage to refute those un-called-for calumnies; these incessant, cruel taunts were enough for 'me; and when I did receivela proposal of marriage from Capt. Bebb my answer may be imagined. I refused him, and cried myself to sleep for many nights afterward. But the deed w T as done, and Capt. Bebb was not the one to ask again, and I heard soon afterward that he had left NortonFolgate. Seven years had passed away—still w r e were “ going out to parties;” J unwillingly, but my sisters more persistently than ever. But, alas! times had changed for us; partners were no longer plentiful, ami we were obliged to be thankful to the few who asked us to dance or offered to escort us to supper, and who were, generally speaking, mere boys, whose nursery days seemed like yesterday. However, rather tliah, return home without having danced at all, I w r as indeed glad to take a turn with them. But on one particular occasion, at a ball in the Assembly Kooms, even the boys failed us, and the three Misses Howard were standing together in a most palpably family group, when the entrance of a large party gave us some momentary diversion. •» It w-as the Aylmers Court party —Lord and Lady Aylmer, tw r o or three dowagers, a bevy of bright-eyed, pretty girls and several gentlemen. Amongst the latter, who should I recognize but my old friend and rejected admirer, Capt. Bebb! He was looking remarkably well— happy and handsome; no resemblance to a pig was possible now, surely, and for an instant a wild hope shot through my poor heart that he might sec and speak to me again. He did see, but instinctively I felt he hardly recognized me. Seven years iiad not improved me—with a bitter pang I felt that. He bowed and passed on with a young and pretty girl leaning on his arm. Oh! the mortification of”that evening—the w r eary, desperate longing I had to hide myself somewhere; but there I stood, a faded “ wall-flower,” youthfully attired in white tarlatan and blue satin ribbons, unnoticed, neglected and, yyhat I felt, far more, uncared for. . Whether lie meant it or not I could not tell, but he seemed to be perpetually passing where I stood. At last my sisters consented to go home, and Margaret, having secured the arm of a weak-minded little curate, who 5 © tiered his other .arm to my mother, the three walked across the ball-room, followed by Louisa—proud, erect, and indignant at the want ot apprpciation &he had met with —and myself with downcast eyes* and. a burning face. The cloak-room seemed a haven to me and the drive home was comparative bliss, although it was embittered by remarks from my sisters on the reappearance of Capt., or, as he was now, Col., Bebb, and the announcement that, “ after all, Nelly might have done worse.” Yes; Nelly knew that now, as many another foolish girl or elderly young lady knows when it is too late: anti, in my quiet corner, a few heavy tears dropped -Silently upon my crimson shawl when I remembered how I had allowed myself to be influenced, by ridicule, to reject what I felt sure would have secured the happiness of m3 7 life. But our ball-day's ended at last, for our mother died, and after that Marga*et and Louise gavo up the gay world,' and devoted themselves to mothers’ meetings, Bible readings and various other laudable occupations, to the great satisfaction of the curate I have before mentioned. We settled down in our little villa, and are how three confirmed maiden ladies, without much to make us care for life beyond the daily colorless routine which makes “ each day-twin imqge of- the last.” •• Once a year we go for a month to the sea-side, and during our last visit there I became much interested in some children, who, accompanied by their nurse, used to make their appearance at an early hour every morning on the sands. I was so fond of children that I soon made their acquaintance. Little Amy was four, and the elder girl about a year older, whilst there was a boy of about twe —Master Charley, las his nurse called him. It

never occurred to me to ask what their surname was, though they became quite confidential as to their small affairs generally. Papa and mamma were in London, but they were coming down soon; and.at home they had all sorts of possessions, from ponies and a tiny little basket-carriage-downward— Would I like to see them ? But what was my name if I did come? “Helen,” I answered; “but they call me Nelly at home.” “ That’s my name,” exclaimed the elder child. “ But what is your other name ?’-’ “ Mine’s Nelly Bebb. My papa is Col. Bebb, and he’s got a Victoria Cross and lots of medals.” “ Your papa!” I answered, staggered at her announcement, which I found was indeed what I instantly supposed. They were the children of my rejected admirer, Capt. Bebb. The little group on the sands had a strange fascination for me after I kpew it, and furtively I conveyed many little gifts to the children. But our prescribed month was now over, and though the weather w T as enchanting our rules were like those of the Medes and Persians —go home we must. So we went; and my last glimpse as we droye to the station was of two little friends, a joyous trio with Col. Bebb, a shade stouter than of old, but looking bronzed and jovial; whilst beside him stood a bright-faced, pretty little woman, who had accepted the happy fate which I, in my senseless girlhood, had declined. But it ig over—regrets are vain, and though my heart feels young still I am fast fading into old age now. My experience, recorded here, may make another wise, for out of the depths of my bitter disappointment 1 have written the short story of my mistaken existence. For, though doubtless there are many happy old maids, woman was not made to lead a single' life. Home ties, family cares, troubles and anxieties may be her lot; but if she is loved, and if she makes herself the center of. a little kingdom— p_Qmv-.perhapaj buL prcckmsrrrehehas jo3 r s to, balance the cares, love to smooth over the troubles, and a strong arm to shield her from danger. With that around her she is a tower of strength; she possesses that which makes life’s bitters sweet; nor can she ever have to record what I, the-poor, neglected old maid, do here—the history of a Life’s Regret.— Chambers' Journal.

Divers’ Dangers.

During the recent operations on the Vanguard two of the divers narrowly escaped death. The first instance w-as that of a man named Rowe who went down quickly to his work knowing that he had not much time to stay below.." In his rapid descent the pressure became suddenly increased to such an extent that he lost his senses. The signalman above twice gave the signal “All right,” and, receiving no response, ordered liis men to haul up. Rowe, however, was fast entangled in the spare rigging floating about, and it was only by the combined strength of seven or eight men that he was eventually brought to tlie surface quite black in the face. A few minutes more under water and he would have been dead. The .next case was that of went down to the bridge of the Vanguard, in crossing which he slipped and fell on the deck. Stunned by the sudden increase of pressure, he was unable to answer the signals, and was in consequence at once hauled up into the "boat in ah apparently lifeless condition. Restoratives were applied, but it was two hours before he revived, and he is still in the hospital under medical care. The greatest .danger the divers experience is from the ropes, sails, shrouds, etc., which incessantly move in the water below. As the tide, which here exceeds the rate of four miles an hour, sets in one direction, all the various mov-ing-objects go with the stream, and the diyers, wdio have to w-ait until the watftr is moderately still, go dowm clear of all embarrassment. As, however, the tide reverses its course, the moving mass returns upon them, and they often have to cut their w r ay through to gain the surface. Notwithstanding all these difficulties the divers—and especially two of them, White and McCblloch—have successfully reached the hull, which lies in deep darkness, and measured the-hole in the side by means of notching a wooden lath carried down for the purpose, and placed against the aperture. The Denayrouze lamp, which had been materially useful in removing the rigging of the ship, was not taken down on this occasion, inasmuch as the divers required the use of both hands in endeavoring to escape entanglement by some stray 7 rope. —London Telegraph.

Remarkable Surgical Case.

The Reform School at Jamesburg had a boy under its care who was suffering with a bad face. It appeared to assume the character of a null formation of bone just above the jaw and about parallel witli the nose. A running sore was connected with the supposed malformation. It was just below the right eye, and very painful. Physicians have been baffled from time to time to know what to do in the matter, and. to ascertain precisely the cause of his distress, last Saturday Mr. Allinson took the boy to Jefferson Medical College at Philadelphia. Prof. William H. Pancoast went to work at the case. The professor supposed, while he was operating, that he was cutting against bone, but he soon found that he was cutting against iron. After considerable labor, a breechpin of a musket, two and a half inches long and’an inch wide in the thickest part, was found imbedded in the face. It was taken out in the presence of nearly 300 students, and, when the operation successfully performed, cheers went up from the whole audience. It was then ascertained that the boy was injured about fifteen months ago by the explosion of a musket, and, strange to say, nobody had any knowledge that the piece of the musket-lock had been imbedded in the boy’s face. The boy was kept under medical treatment, but at the last-accounts he was doing well.— Trenton (N. J.) Gazette. - —A mean Chicago man has nailed to his door a card bearing the statement that “ Everybody shuts this door but you.’!

A Beefsteak.

The following extract is taken from the London Queen: L facetious friend declared that ah though he cared little for “a steak in the country,” he liked a steak in tow ; n. The sublime idea of a beefsteak is by no means fixed. By traveling .across the sea it changes, if not its inherent essence, at any rate its phenomenon or outward manifestation, and presents widely different features under various skies. In England the beau ideal isa rump steak, and the “ point,” when a noble fringe of fat encircles a plump triangle of lean, is most 'highly esteemed. As to the thickness to which these steaks should be cqt, doctors differ. A large majority rule in favor of a thick steak, but an intelligent and voracious minority declare for a thickness of half or almost three-quarters of an inch, on the ground that steaks of this thickness require only “ one- good turn,” and when broiled over a clear fire become equably cooked throughout—a condition deemed impossible in those of greater density. In choosing steaks great regard should be had to the color and grain. Pinky-look-ing beef is always immature, and, if tender, tasteless; while coarse-fibered meat, albeit occasionally of high flavor, gives, overmuch exercise to the masticators, and is, moreover, apt to put a heavy strain oh the digestive organs.. Perhaps the finest and most perfect steaks I have ever seen were cut from Christmas cattle, and w r ere not only fringed, but marbled with fat. In these cases the apparent waste was considera-. ble; but the sublime sensations experienced in devouring the lean amply compensated for any loss incurred b} r an undue proportion of fat. Perhaps the principal reason why : steaks are so miserably skill is showrn in the management of the fire. A good bright fire topped with charcoal, or, in default of pure carbon, with coke, will produce the intense heat without smoke absolutely necessary tajcook A steak to perfection. The bars of the gridiron should be thin, and not too close together. When these are thoroughly heated, they should be rubbed with a little fat, and are then ready to receive the steak, which, after being severed from the parent rump and trimmed, should undergo no preliminary treatment, save a slight dusting with pepper. Salt should never be put upon the steak till it is cooked, as it causes the juices of the meat to flow; and the steak should be turned, and only once turned, w 7 ith a pair of tongs or a couple of spoons, ana should by no means be “prodded” with a fork. All the hammering of steaks with cleavers or cutlet-bats should be avoided, and the use of hideous contrivances resembling gigantic “back-scratchers,”, for punching and clapper-clawing the meat to make,it tender, should be eschewed. Turned only once and broiled for about ten minutes over a clear fire, the steak is cooked, and should then be sprinkled with salt and served on a tremendously hot dish, garnished -with horseradish. Confirmed steak-eaters insist that nothing beyond pepper, salt, mustard and horse, radish is needed with a steak, except a mealy potato and a slice of ptale bread. Hot horseradish-sauce is an excellent companion to a steak. Mushroom-catsup is also liked by many, but should always be made hot. The sight of a numan being deluging a prime, hot steak with cold catsup arouses stormy emotions in the bosom of a true steak-eater. The practice of cutting steaks from the sirloin prevails in America as well as in France. The truly national practice is to cut clear through the bone, and then it is called a “ porter-house steak.” There is a story current “on the other side” to the effect that, on landing in New York, a gentjeman of the Hibernian persuasion, endowed with the lightness of heart and of luggage often enjoyed by the “ Irish emigrant,” was enthusiastically- received by a jovial compatriot, who, having enjoyed the free air of Manhattan for about six months, and being already 7 a thriving citizen,! invited the “ new chum” to eat a steak with him forthwith. Rushing into a restaurant, he ordered a “ double porterhouse” and was quickly served with that very agreeable species ot the genus steak. “By the powers.!” yelled the new comer, “to think that my mother’s son should cross the salt" sea to eat a mutton-chop made of beef!” This Hibernian definition actually gives a perfectly clear idea of the famous “ por-ter-house steak.” These handsome cuts are broiled and often served with mushrooms, making a capital dish for at least two persons.

Out-Door and In-Door Life.

The vital question of physical health is one whicji cannot "be overlooked with impunity in any system of education. The development of the brain at the expense of the body must be regarded as oue of the doubtful boons; of civilization. 1 Our so much vaunted superiority to former generations in culture and the diffusion of intelligence, in the inventive arts and in the accumulation of wealth, we purchased to a great degree by the deliberate, if unconscious, sacrifice of habits which go to make men strong, vigorous and longlived. Our puny students in academies and colleges, whose brains are put through a long curriculum of studies, ancient and modern, too frequently go through life without any development of the physical man, or with only a temporary and spasmodic muscular training, too violent to last, which is soon abandoned, leaving the student weaker and flabbier than before. If may be true that in the United States the mass of men are surrounded with unfavorable conditions of climate for attaining that vigorous robustness which is so much more common with educated Englishmen. Physiologists tell us that the dryness of climate, the torrid heats and the blazing suns of America have a steady tendency to wilt and dry up the physical vigor of those who pass their lives here. Yet observation shows that the habit of vigorous exercise of the best kinds in the open air is as valuable in developing the muscular vigor and fortifying the system against the easy inroads of disease and decay in America as it is found to be in other countries. The traditional Yankee,

it is true, is lean, lantern-jawed, wiry and Spindle-shanked; but this traditional Yankee, however he may pervade the stage, does not live everywhere, even in New England. We have our solid citizens of full habit, rosy countenhnces, bluff and hearty manners and abundant flesh, just as Great Britain has hers. There may be something in the moist and open climate of that island which is favorable to the juices of the physical system, and is better adapted than our dryer climate to make men hearty and mellow; but that all the race of John Bull are sturdy, rosy, happy and long-lived, while his American ccftisins are thin, dyspeptic, reckless livfers, and candidates for an early grave, is by no mapns true. In both countries, the truth is, rational living is productive of desirable results, while an irrational regimen is sure to bring about a premature decay. Hereditary qualities apart, the pliysupie of each man is mainly determined for him by 7 his method of life. He who cultivates indoors almost entirely, keeps late hours, loads his digestive organs with rich and stimulating foods and drinks, and spends his time almost exclusively in sedentary pursuits or idleness, will pay the penalty by physical degeneracy ana, unless he have a constitution of iron, by 7 premature decay 7. He w 7 ho acts through life upon the principle that the outside of a house is greatly better than the inside, who takes abundant and wholesome exercise at proper seasons, sticks to simple food and regular sleep, never burns his candle at both ends, but works vigorously and plays vigorously at intervals, will stand a good chance of a long life and a merry 7 one. Artificial exercises are of little account in accomplishing the much-desired end of physical vigor. Men compelled to live in cities, and whose lives must be largely sedentary, turn instinctively to gymnastics which their avocations deny them. But aside from the fact that gymnastic exercises are almost wholly performed within doors, a circumstance which itself robs the exercise of more than half its healthful effects, the processes are far from being such as are best calculated to give just and permanent development to the physical man. Many of them are violent, and nearly all of them' train the muscles at the expense of other bodily organs which should have equal play. Walking. is tar better, and riding on horseback (which bids fair to become a lost art, so far as regards the mass of men in modern civilization) is worth all the gyiftnastics ever invented. Rowing is valuable exercise for some men, while riding in a carriage, though of some value as leading to an absorption of fresh air, is, properly speaking, no exercise at all. We are all such creatures of habit and of fashion that it is much to be regretted that some new and attractive methods of exercise, or some revival of old ones, could not become fashionable. In England nothing is more common than to. see ladies on horseback, dashing vigorously 7 about the country and taking daily 7 part in that most exhilarating exercise with their friends of the other sex. In our own cities and villages a lady on horseback, though not quite unknown, is so rare a phenomenon as to excite cries of surprise from all the gamins of the street. English women, too. even of the most aristocratic circles, are great walkers, making nothing of five, ten and fifteen miles at a stretch. How many American girls are there, whether belonging to our boarding-schools, or with what are called completed educations, gifted with all the accomplishments, of the parlor and ballroom, who could stand a rapid walk of ten miles without being laid up for day's ? Yet there is nothing in the world more to men and women than the habit of active every-day walking or riding. There is nothing like it to give the glow of health to the cheek, the stimulus of fresh air and motion to the nerves, and the combined rest and strength which healthful recreation always brings to the mind. In our golden autumn weather, which sometimes lasts for months and always for weeks, when there is anything in the sky overhead and the fields and woods around to invite us abroad, why cannot our neglected limbs be bropgiit into healthful exercise ? Why 7 do not our people of fashion, who would like to livelong and be happy while they live, get up walking parties or riding parties, and make frequent inroads upon the surrounding solitudes of nature, now dressed in the gorgeous hues of autumn, that come but once a year? Why do not the sedentary classes, whether people of leisure or hardworking,^cultivate the diversion which A hour or two of vigorous open-air exercise a day would confer oh their too-monot-onous lives? If we cannot have the games and field sports of old England, the tussles at toot-ball, the boat-races on the rivers, the steeple-chases and cricketmatches over downs and heaths, through , hiil and dale-; if we have a national or a natural antipathy to recruiting ourselves in these ways, might we not at least cultivate the open air a little more while pursuing such recreations as we can establish a liking for? Are there no games worth a reasonable man’s attention but in-door cards and, out-door croquet, those everlasting resorts of so many young people who stand sadly in need of more strings to their bow ?—Cincinnati Commercial.

The Petrified Forest in Nevada.

From David Rideout, who has been engaged in preparing a section of a petrified tree for th c e Centennial Exhibition, we learn the followiagrelative to the petrified fqrest in the desert of Northwestern Humboldt: On the plain, about thirty miles west of the Blackrock range of mountains, stands one of the greatest natural curiosities ever discovered in'Nevada. It is a petrified forest, in which the stumps of many of the trees, now changed into solid rock, are still standing. There are no living trees or vegetation of any kind other than stunted sage-brush in the vicinity. Some of those ancient giants of a forest which flourished perhaps thousands of years ago, when the climate of Nevada was undoubtedly more favorable for the growth of luxuriant vegetation Ifhan at present, rival in size the big titles of California. Stumps, transformed into solid rock, stand in an upright position with their roots imbedded in the soil as When

SUBSCRIPTION; $2.00 a Year, In Advance.

growing, measuring from fifteen to twentysix feet in circumference; the ground in the vicinity is strewn with trunks and limbs, which retain Jheir natural shape and size. Mr. Rideout, determined to secure a section of one of these trees for the Centennial Exhibition, with two other men spent twelve days in cutting it from the stump. This was accomplished by drilling all around the tree and separating it with wedges. The specimen is three feet high and eighteen feet in circumference, and its estimated weight is three tons. It stands on the stump from which it was severed, ready to be loaded, on a wagon. Mr. IlideOut does not feel able to incur the expense of bringing it by team to the railroad, although he had once made arrangements to do _ so. He is anxious to call the attentiofi of the Centennial Commissioners to the matter, and see if they will not furnish the means to get it to the railroad. The countiyin whch it is situated is an inviting fieltl for geologists. Winnemucca (Nev.) Silver Stale.

• The fore part of this w-eek a little romance in which Lockport parties figured developed itself, and may bear relating. Some years since—eight or nine—on a steamer from Liverpool bound for New York might have been found, if you had on a searching fit, a family named Stewart, consisting of the father, mother and several children, among whom was Mamie, who was destined to be the leading character in this story. She was then a rather small girl, pretty and winning in every respect. On this same vessel, acting in the capacity of steward, was a young man of good appearance and address named Frank Brown. We can’t say whether it was a case of regard grew by degrees during the rather lengthy voyage, but let it suffice to state that an intense affection for each other came into existence and was a continued one, as the end will manifest. Well, like all things the ocean trip ended, the separation came, and the Stewart family finally settled( in Lockport as their residence, and the “ briny deep” soon divided the loving twain. Here let it be said that no doubt eternal constancy was declared before the separation. The years passed on one by one, and Mamie grew up into an extremely pretty little lady of sixteen summers, well educated, and might have created a big furor among the young men had she so chosen, but she didn’t. She was the personification of truth to the memory of Frank. But what had become of Frank all this time can’t be told; but any way, who should appear in this classic burg about a year ago but that very gentleman? Years of seeking had they-. proper reward at last. It is one of the occult things as to how he lit upon the right place, but it was no doubt through that strange magnetic attraction that no one explains satisfactorily. Frank had ever remembered and adored his Mamie of yore, and all was lovely. But now comes the trouble. Parents don’t take any stock in Frank, for some reason or other, and Miss Mamie is not permitted to see him, it appears. However, “cruel parients” are sometimes circumvented, as you are aware. As all events they used to meet occasionally; every now and then Frank’s name was registered at one of the hotels, and he and some one else might have been seen together promenading the quiet back streets in the evening. This lasted several months, but finally drew to a focus. Last Friday evening Miss Mamie requested her parents to call her early the following morning, as she had some particular business to attend to. The young lady walked down town, but fails to return at the customary hour; parents get anxious, and begin to search for her. All to no purpose; no Mamie could be found. The explanation of this singular disappearance is that the eight o’clock train that morning bore the young lady in Frank’s company to New York, where, all preparations having been made long beforehand, a quiet, pleasant little wedding took place last Monday evening, and while you are reading this Mr. and Mrs. Frank Brown are on a steamer bound for Havana, their constancy rewarded, their trouble! o’er. May they 7 be happy, live to a green old age, etc .—Lockport (N. Y.) Cor. Buffalo Courier.

Mr. John Davis, a farmer in Sullivan Township, County Grey, owns a horse which has a habit of getting out of its pasture-field. The other night the farmer, as an experiment, tipd the horse’s fore-feet together, and left him, hoping that his scheme would_cure the horse of, or at least prevent him’ indulging in, his bad habits. That night a pack of wolves visited the neighborhood, their howls being plainly heard by the occupants of Mr. Davis’ house. In the morning, however, thej- had disappeared, and the farmer having business some distance away, left to transact it. His children, going to school, had occasion to pass by the past-ure-field in which was the breaehy horse, and, remembering the visit of the wolves during the night, they went in to look after the horse's safety. There was the animal, right enough, apparently, but standing in a singular position away off in the field. The children approached nearer, and the horse’s appearance seemed more strange. At last they bolfily came ' up close, and discovered the cause of the animal’s strange Condition. A large gray wolf was under hi§ fore feet, pinned down to the ground, so to speak, by the chain fettering the horse’s limbs, and secured in suclT a way that escape was impossible. The plucky horseliad evidently been attacked by the savage brutes, and after a gallant fight he had not only routed his assailants, hot managed in this singular way to capture one. No one being around to relieve the horse, he had to hold his captive till Mr. Davis returned —five hours—when the wolf was dispatched, his scalp taken to a magistrate, , the bonus, got for it, and the brave horse treated to an extra feed of oats. With the exception of a few bites on the neck “the horse that captured a wolf’’ came out of the battle comparatively uninjured. —Barrie {Com.) Gaeette. m —Man, leads woman to the altar; in that act his leadership begins and ends.

NO. 12.

A Romantic Elopement.

Bow a Horse Captured a Wolf.