Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 November 1876 — Page 3

Th© Ilensseher Union. RENSSELAER. • - INDIANA.

I keep them in the old, old box That Willie gave me yean ago. The time we parted on the rocks; ilia ship lay swinging to and fro, At waiting in the lower bay. 1 thought ujy heart would break, that da tj t ’'i i ■ • '*t*■ ■■* 4 wi t>tt i' i The picture with the Pennine eyes le Wi lie st kiih-dear, that’e ymmfe Blaiie, J l - Who took the West Point highest prize; He went half crazy lor my sake. Here are a lot of rhymes he wrote, And here's a button off hia coat. id tbU hia ring! My deadest May. never took a ring from Mm / Thia waa a gift from ll«»ard£lay. Juat see, the pearls are gifting dim. ’UWy eay that pearls are teatth—what stuff! looks a yttla rtugh. He was as handsome as a prince— And Jealous I But he went to Rome Last fall. He's never written since I used to visit at his Aome— ' im A lovely place beyond jrort Lee: . His mother thought iffeworra of the! Oh no! I sent hit letters back. * These came to me from Washington. Jtawipok, why ajtswnendous pack! t HtoalwMs Wywte jna three for one. Ikuowlusi d io treat, hint 111—' . . Hoar Jack!—he fell at ChancellorsyUlrThe vignette"—all that lot—are scalps I took in London, Naples. Nice, At Par s, and among the Alps: „ TMse foreign Invent act like geese. But, dear, they art siteh handsome men. We go to France next year again. This is the doctor's signet ring. —These faded floweret oh, let me see: Why, what a very curious thing! Who could have sent those flowers to me f Ah! now I have it—Count de Twirl: B« married that fatcfbebie girl. Hfe hair.waa red.—Ton need not look So sadly at that raven tress. You kjtow the head.that lock forsook: . You know—but you could never guess! Nor would I tell you for the world AhOH Whose brow that ringlet curled., ■> r Why won’t I tell? Well, partly child, Because you like the man yourself; But-most, because —don’t get so wild! _-l have not laid bfrhWtboklidM’--He’s not'a bygone., In a year, Hl teliyon atlkbont Mm, deaf.. —Mary Ainge de Vert, in ScribnerjorJsecembet.

TILLIE’S THANKSGIVING.

I ato, spre Tillies spirit must have slid down to'earth on a sunbeam, it is such a shining bit of spirit, always turning its face toward the cheerful side of events, as a sunflower turns its disk to the Al Children, you know', are wise in some one talent or trait, some one good or bad quality that grows faster than the rest of them; and Tillie, who is very childlike in most respects, and even behind others of heP age in her studies, is very old in hope. Her sistar Mary, though two years her senior, has not half Tillie’s courage, and is veiy much inclined to if you could, spend a week at their house,.! think you would laugh at the funny likeness flfey bdar t'q Their • '»« < • ( ■ ■ Mr. Treadway looks out of the window,; and if there is a cloud anywhere visible, he is sure it is (going to 'rain - ; but little Mrs. Treadway oh the rattiest day in the year is always seeing a thin place some, where iu the clouds, and is sure the storm won’t last much longer'. If it still goes ou,jhe always says “how much this will hdlp<the crops,” or “ the cisterns - wete almost-dry,” or something else that reminds you of refreshing drops from the full reservoir of her grateful heip-t. well and is neat and orderly and worries too much, and Tillie learns from everything that flies and walks, and is not as careful as she ought to be about getting those dreadful tlxfjfe-cofnered tears in her gowns and pinafores, but she has a lovely trus> in everybody’s good intentions, and she promises, with tears in her eyes'and no knowledge of grammar in her small head that she “won’t never do it agattt—nieycr;*’ • The two sisters sat in the nursery one Sleasant November day, dressing their oils. ... “Olf! say, Mary,” saidTlllie, suddenly, “ let’s have a Thanksgiving dinner.” ’’“'Why, we always have one, of course. DOn'tyou remember last year it was at Aunt Mary’s, and ttye year before at grandmother’s,' ahd this year it’s going to be—, ’ “Oh! dear,” interrupted Tillie, “do you s’pose I mean our reg’lar grown up dinner? not. I mean one all to ourselves.” . “Whaf for?” asked practical Mary. I* don’t* sec-any Use in it ” -..“Wily, Mary Treadway, I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself,” exclaimed Tillie, pursing <Mp her small mouth in great indignation. “ Diun’t you hear the mini^tpr T scrap of paper, the'prdeviation, you know ; didn’t he say there wasn’t nobody in church but that had pught, to keep Thanksgiving.” Poor Tilhe! her eagerness destroyed all traces of the educated society she was in the habit of Meeting. “ I don’t keep Thanksgiving much siftin' right against the leg or a table and wafting, for everybody to get'helped, when I am just as hungry as a bear. It just makes me feel eroes.” :1 . ■ 1 ■ Mary could hardly help laughing at the scowl that tried to keep tight hold of her merry sister’s forehead. We've £ot such a let of things to be thankful for, you see,” continued Tillie. “ I don’t know Whether we have or not,” put in Mary. “ you Know papa’s clerk ran away last week with $500.” “Pshaw!” interrupted Tillie, “that isn’t much. Papa’s got a new- overcoat, . you know, and we’ye got our blue sacques and white satin bonnets. I guess that’s morq good than that old SSOO is bad.” Maty thought of that blue plush sacque aided in her drawer, and of the They just soiled her, and Were, dear unto t her feminine soul. ’ “Then,” said Tillie, lowering her tone and growing confidential. “There’s mother, you know, I’m awfully thankful she his wavvi brown hhir andr&# teeth. ' What if i she was like Mrs. Thorn*t<tn,' Witb snipping bead-catchers all, . s»pnd) har-..forehead and make-belfeve teeth! I guess you' wouldn’t fyel very thankful then, Mary Treadway. Besides that.Tom’shomp-V-“9h!don’t cpeakof (hat, Tillie,” said Mary, quickly, the tears springing to her eyes. You know be And to come home, because he- was ad bad at school, ana mother's nearly ... broken-hearted about him. I heard father tqjking with him xesterdayin the library,trying to get him to Write tr letter of apbldgy to the teachers. Sndho'WXXiMn'tj, Pin afraid, Tillie, Tom’s going to grow up a wicked man and be a—lS—lt—thorn in our flesh,” said Mary, With great Beftbusness, but something of triumph in the Way she man aged to round the sentence, • ■ Tillie was stunned by this speech Oi

Mary’s. Tom waa her pet and admiration,'and all the Thanksgiving spirit flew avniy from her heart for a few brief seconds; nut then she thought of the dear fellow, and her usual cheerfulness returned. ‘’Well, Mary, don’t you see wo’ro thankful we’ve got him tiny-tiny, even it he is a little speck naughty. He’ll get over it, mavbe,” (or as Tillie said, “nwfcfts,”) “ and oh! I’m awful glad we’ve got him —'cause he’e the darhngest broth, er ever was. We’ll both ask Goa to make him mind papa —then he can’t help doing it, you see. Our dollies must come to dinner, of course, and they’ll be thankful, ’cause we’re their mothers, and we’re pretty kind ones, ten times kinder’n Bell Smith is to her dollies, and they ought to be happy, for they might have been darPey dolls just as well as lovely white ones. Betty'll give us some bread and chicken and 'pickles and cheese, and we’ll have my dishes.” “ Well,” said Mary, who was usually dragged along by the wake of Tillie’s enthusiasih, ana whose thoughts were still busy with the disgraceful conduct of that bad brother Tom. * It was only two days before Thanksgiving. Tillie was as blithe as a bird, flitting here and there, and chirping over her enormous preparations. Charlotte Amelia had to be dressed in pink silk with a white muslin over-dress, and all the white stripes on Jack, the sailor doll, needed to be carefully sponged before he was fit to dine in ladies’ society. Mary Ann, who lost half her nose by a fire-cracker on the Fourth of July, was forced to submit to becoming a waitress and was duly fitted and costumed for the occasion. Natalie, fresh from Paris, always appeared in an exquisitely conscientious toilette, and was fortunately ready for any American occasion. Every dish in the nursery was thoroughly washed and dried, and through it all, dear little Tillie was saying to herself, (though you would never have imagined it, for she seemed to be hopping about and talking every minute of the time,) “ Please God, make my darling, darling brother Tom good—please, please do!" Oh! what an earnest asking it was from that loving sister’s heart. The nursery dinner was to be at one o’clock, and they weie to bl all through to sit down at the great table in the diningroom at three. Tillie had proposed dressing for the occasion in one of mamma's long over-skirts, and Mary had followed her example, being, impressed by thegraceful train of the unlooped skirt, as Tillie swept grandly across the room. A pair of mamma’s coquettish convalescent caps of muslin and valenciennes, with bright bows, gave them the appearance of two very dressy and engaging matrons, for some mysterious reasons, suddenly cwt short. As papa and tnamma came in to see their table and help pin on their imposing head gear, Tillie noticed that their faces were brighter than they had been since Tom calrie home in disgrace. Her heart gave a bound of joy, and she ran out to find her brother and have him take a look at her wonderful table. She ran across the drawing room, and looking over her shoulder at her train, as she sped along, went plump into Tom’s arms. “Oh! dear, how you scared me," she said, rubbing her forehead. But Tom aid not pinch her or tease her, as he was apt to do, after the manner of most boys. He lifted the quaint little figure in his arms and sat down quite soberly in an arm-chair, holding her face close to his shoulder.

Tillie," he said, after he could speak, for it’s very hardjVOU know, for a proudspirited boy like Tom to eat humble pie, “ You’re the dearest little sister that ever a boy had, and I thought you might have a better 1 hanksgiving if I told you that somehow I couldn’t help minding father, and I’ve written the letter. It was tough work to give in, but, you sec, I heard you and Mary talking the other day—the door was open—and—” What Tom would have said was entirely smothered, for Tillie’s arms were about his neck ar d the pretty cap was knocked all awry by the series of joyous hugs she was inflicting upon the repentant boy. “Oh! you are the darlingest brother. I knew you’d get over it —now come and see our table—it’s perfectly beautiful. ” Everybody thought Tillie’s face was “ perfectly beautiful,” as she tripped back into the nursery with Tom striding beside her, and as she gravely assisted the dolls to their portion of her fine dinner, the prayer of the last two days was changed to a song that went on and on through all the courses and through all the hours of the afternoon, until her tired head was fairly on the snowy pillow, and it was all made up of two short words—“ Thank ydu—thank you —thank you —thank you." So Tillie’s make-believe dinner was a real Thanksgiving one after all.— Paige Dwight, in Christian Union.

Decidedly Lazy.

Laziness was his foible. He had that unpleasant quality in its supreme condition. The throne of indolence was vacant on our coast until Cyrus lolled forward and fell into it. He was own brother to the snail, and no relation whatever to the ant. Even his cautious father, discoursing of him one day, acknowledged that “ boy was rather-chicken-hearted about work.” Unaided locomotion was distasteful to him. If sent bn an errand tn the next cottage, he waited patiently for an opportunity to transfer himself bodily into the tail-end of somebody’s passing wagon, considering it better to be thus assisted along than to assume the responsibility of moving forward on his own legs. He spared himself all the fatigue possible to mortality, and overcame labor by constantly lying in wait for “a lift,” as he called it. He was the only sea-side stripling I ever met who eschewed fishing. Most boys are devotees of the rod and line, but Cyrus was an exception. The necessary anterior search for bait was too much for his inertia. Clam and worm might lie for. ever undisturbed, so far as he was concerned.*' - -l His dilatory habit rose sometimes to the audacity of genius. He could consume mire hours* in going a mile to the village postoffice and returning with the mail than one would credit, unless his gait came under personal observation, We took a kind of exasperated delight as we used to watch him trailing along the ground, and we felt a fresh wonder every day at his power of slow procedure. It seemed a gift, an endowment, now for the first time’vouchsafed to mortal inertneed. The caterpillar would have been too rapid for him; he would lose in a race with that dull groundling. He seemed to he counting myriads or some 4 thingitithe road. When he cautiously and •laboriously lifted up one foot, it seemed an eternity before the other followed it. He would frequently drop getting over a stone wall, and Jiis .recumbent figure was imprinted under all the'frees by the road-side.—“ A Peculiar Case," in Scribner for December.

INCIDENTS AND ACCIDENTS.

—An Irishman Lynch, belonging in Gardner, Me., died in the town of Whitefield, In the same State, not long since, and on preparing the body for the tomb, Government and other bonds to the vahie of soine SIO,OOO were found in a pocket that was fastened about his person. Those who knew him supposed he had some property, but did not think it was in this form, or so large in amount. • —There is an eccentrle gentleman in Virginia who is haunted with the idea that he will die in the poor-house, although he is in comfortable circumstances at present. He has erected a handsome marble shaft bearing his name, in the cemeteiy of that institution, blank spaces being left to be‘filled in at his death, and now only waits for fate or destiny to strip him of his property and make him a candidate for his expected position. —Another man has been found in London whose crime is that he has too much faith. His child had scarlet fever, and he refused to call a physician, but went down on his knees and asked the Lord to cure the boy. The Judge said that the prayer was undoubtedly a good one, but that it ought to have been accompanied with chamomile tea. He then sentenced the criminal to three months’ hard labor, declaring that it was not because he prayed, but because he did not practice. —A very unique case was brought before a Waterfora (Conn.) Justice, recently. It seems that a woman of that village expected the death of one of her children, and borrowed a dress of a neighbor to wear at the funeral. The child recovered, which caused its mother so much happiness that she went to a tonic beer party, wearing her neighbor’s dress, and spilled some of the beer on it. The owner of the dress demanded compensation, which was refused, whereupon she appeals to the law. By the advice of the Justice the affair was settled without atrial.

—Newburyport, Mass., boasts the most terrible infant yet. He is something over five years old, and the other day stole five dollars from his father and went out to invest it. He went to a store and bought a pistol and cartridges, and after practicing awhile with it happened to meet a young playmate, at whose head he presented the weapon and threatened to blow his brains out if he did not “ hook Jack”—meaning play truant from school.' The good boy got away, however, and told his mother, who complained to the police, and the fierce young renegade was arrested. Several plugs of tobacco were found in his pockets and a quantity of candy. After being confined awhile he was set at liberty, on his father giving bail for his good behavior. —The Jackson (Miss.) Times relates the following wonderful escape of an infant from a horrible death: The child was lying in its cradle with a mosquito-bar spread over the top, and a little sister, about three years of age, and a little colored girl about the same age were the only occupants of the room. The elder child held a chip in the fire and ignited it, and in shaking it to and fro to extinguish it, the mosquito-bar was set in a blaze, and the quilt and sheet burned, and even the mattress was burned at the head. It happened that at that moment a young brother opened the door and discovered the situation of affairs, and the fire was extinguished. The infant lay in the crib smiling at the flames, and neither she nor her clothes were scorched. —Cincinnati papers of a late date contain reports of die death of Micajah Bailey, a provision broker of twenty-five years’ standing in that city, through the error of a drug clerk, who put up prussic acid for a harmless mixture prescribed by the physician. Mr. Bailey was suffering from a strain received while acting as a pall-bearer at the funeral of an acquaintance. He had taken to his bed, and his physician had prescribed an ounce of prussiate of potash dissolved in four fluid ounces of water, a tablespoonful to be taken every four hours. The druggist compounded the cyanide instead of the ferro-cyanide of potassium, and the patient died one hour after taking the first dose. The druggist admits his fault and says he is prepared to stand the consequences. —Francis Graffatte, the Frenchman found guilty, in this city, on Saturday, of murder in the second degree, for killing Simon Hoover, in March, was found dead on the floor of his eell this morning. I was at the jail until midnight, when all appeared right. Graffatte was quiet afterthe verdict, and spoke in jail only when praying. He exclaimed, frequently: “ Oh, Lord! what will my sentence be?” “ Oh, Lord! they will hang me to-mor-row!” No one heard any unusual sounds. Death was effected by tying a towel to a rafter in the cell, and a handkerchief to that, 1 with a noose. He hung until the noose slipped out and the body fell to the floor. Sentence was to have been reserved until Saturday, to allow him to dispose of his property, valued at s2o,ooo.—Waterown (N. Y.) Dispatch.

Modern Insanity.

The letter of our Boston correspondent cals attention to a form of insanity so marked as to receive a special designation as the New England type. It is Characterized by intensity. It is recognized by its acute nervous excitement and a tendency to self-destruction. There is more brain activity in it than in ordinary forms of derangement. Some of the French reports show a growing tendency in the same direction in that country, and perhaps it is one of the results of modern life, which is so largely mental and sympathetic in its characteristics. An intellectual people, living at a period of remarkable intellectual activity and excitement, taking recreation of an intellectual form from the theater and novel and lyceum, will naturally break down at the point where the greatest strain comes. And the point to be specially guarded against in our systems of education and life habits is the too violent or continuous tensions of the intellect, either in study, business, politics or social excitements. The muscular side of life, the sentimental side of human nature, should have an ampler provision and receive more attention than we have made for them. The brain must be balanced by biceps, and the exercise of the heart is more important for health and happiness than the undue exercise of the intellect in any direction. Statistics show that insanity is rapidly increasing in modern life, and perhaps the specific form ft is taking in Massachusetts indicates the principal cause of its in-, crease. It is sad to think that a small State like Massachusetts has 4.000 insane people in it. At the modern English rate of valuation these insane people represent a total of $7,500,b00; and when the buildings now in process of erection for their treatment are completed they will represent a cost of $3,500,000. But such mathematical calculations of cost and care provoke rather than satisfy. We scorn all such financial estimates of the

value of man or weman. Who can teß the worth of a father to a family depend. ,ent on hia support aud oversight ? What figures can represent the value of a mother to her little ones, or a devoted wife to her husband, or a beautiful and brilliant daughter just unfolding into womanhood! The preventives of insanity in modern life do not begin to receive the attention they deserve. Every fetv months the community is startled by some fresh statement of inhumanity to the patients of Insane asylums. In some instances these complaints are well founded, and each new outrage on this class of helpless dependents elicits.an outburst of publie indignation. But what is. far better for society at large than any rhetorical indignation or sentimental sympathy is the increasing attention the ablest physicians in this country and Europe are giving to every form of mental derangement, and the light they are throwing on the proper treatment of all diseases of the mind. It is acheeriqg fact that about all that has been done to alleviate the condition of this unfortunate class of sufferers, and eventually restore them to themselves again, has been accomplished within the recollection of living physicians. Whathas been done for the insane within fifty years, when they were caged as wild beasts and chained in outhouses and immured in dungeons, encourages the hope that it will eventually be ranked as one of the generally curable disorders of the human system. But to reduce the insanity in modem society to the lowest possible point is a far more difficult yet far more important undertaking — N. Y. Graphic.

In Case of Fire.

The season is at hand when fires most t revail, and when the precautionary ints of the late Dr. Hall are most important to be heeded. They are as follows: Keep doors and windows"of the structure closed until the firemen come; put a wet cloth over the mouth, and get on all fours in a smoky room; open the upper part of the window to get the smoke out; if in a theater, church, or school room, keep cool; descend ladders with a regular step to prevent the vibration. If kerosene just purchased can be made to bum in a saucer by igniting with a match, throw it away. Put wire work or glass shades over gaslights in show windows, and in liedrooms with curtains; sprinkle sand instead of sawdustMn floors of oil stores; keep shavings an* kindling wood away from steam boilers, and greasy rags from lofts, cupboards, boxes, etc.; see that all stovepipes enter well in the chimney, and that all lights and fires are out before retiring or leaving the place of business;, keep matches in metal or earthern vessels, and out of the reach of children; and provide a piece of stout rope, long enough to reach the ground, in every chamber. Neither admit any one if the house be on fire, except police, firemen and known neighbors; nor swing lighted gas brackets against the wall; nor leave small children in a room where there ar? matches or an open fire; nor deposit ashes in a wooden box, or on the floor; nor use a light in examining the gas meter. Never leave clothes near the fire-place to dry; nor smoke or read in bed by candle or lamp light; nor put kindling wood to dry on top of the stove; nor take a light into a closet; nor pour out liquor near an open light; nor keep burning or other inflammable fluids, in rooms where there is a fire; nor allow smoking about bams or warehouses.— Scientific American.

The Intelligent Coal Dog.

A late illustrated weekly has a picture of a big fat coal-dealer and a lean individual, who asks the former for a place as a coal-cart driver. The dealer says: “ You can’t get it; coal has fallen in price, and we have to employ the heaviest men we can find as drivers.” Of course the driver had to sit on the cart while the cheap coal was being weighed, and a few hundred pounds of flesh did not materially injure the coal dealer. A well-known Memphis coal-dealer not long since had a big dog of wonderful sagacity. He (the dog) stayed around the coal-yard, and whenever a coal-cart was hauled on the scales the dog always took a stand under the wagon like a coach-dog. He weighed nearly 100 pounds, and was weighed as coal thousands of times, and nearly every coal consumer 'in the citv purchased that dog at so much per pound, consequently he was owned by everybody. The matter went on for months, and was only discovered by a funny incident. A negro wanted a barrel of coal, and wheeled a hand-cart with coal on the weighing scales. The clerk in the office worked at the scales and hallooed through the window: “ Take out a lot of that coal.” The negro did so, and kept on until al! the coal was out of the cart. The clerk tried the scales again, but the pea indicated too much. “Take out more coal,” shouted the clerk; “curse it, you have a boat load of coal on that cart!” “Look ye beah, boss,” replied the negro, “the coal is all out, and I’ll have to take the wheels off the cart if you want to lighten it.” The negro looked under the cart, and seeing the big fat dog at his post, exclaimed: “ Good heavens, massa, you’s selling me that dog for coal.” The dog was missed in a few days, and was found dead on the scales, the animal having taken some poison accidentally, but he came back to die at his post. It was a fine example of “ faithful unto death.” — Memphis Ledger.

A Conductor Who Was Living Within His Salary.

There were several good stories told at the conductors' banquet Thursday evening, but the one that created the most laughter was that which was related by Conductor McElroy, from Pennsylvania. He said that a conductor on an Eastern railroad was approached by a seedy looking indi vidual, who wanted to get a free ride, as he didn’t have money. “All right,” said the conductor, “go forward into the smoking-car, and I’ll fix you all right.” Soon afterwards the conductor appeared in the smoking-car to collect fare from (he passengers. He took up faro from everybody except the dead-beat and another man, who happened to be the Superintendent of the road. The Superintendent noticed that he had overlooked this man, and asked him why he had done it. “Why, that’s a conductor,” was the reply. “ His appearance doesnot indicate it. Look at those clothes,” said the Superintendent. “Well,” said the conductor, “he can’t help that. He’s a conductor on a Western road, and he’s one of those fellows who are trying to live within their salary, and that’s what he has come to.” This was satisfactory to the Superintendent, and the man obtained his ride without further inquiry. Mr. McElroy stated that there was nothing personal in the story.— Omaha Bee.

The Position of Constantinople.

Long before the time of Constantine the growing Roman Empire required an Im perlal center nearer to its geographical center than its old capital oft Urt Ti!*er; and certainly, if Constantine had fixed hia new capital with the aid of modem science and art, he could not possibly have choeen a site which would prove so natural a political center as the one he actually selected. Compare it to-day, considered aa the capital of a great euiptre, with Rome, or with any European capital. There is not one of them all that can sustain the comparison for a moment. Constantinople sits like a queen on the one great highway between Europe and Asli. Her site is easy of defense. She has a magnificent harbor. She is facile mistress of the sea on either side, by means of the straits of the Bjsphorns and the Hellespont. What is the site of London, or Paris, or Berlin, or Vienna, or St. Petersburg in the comparison! Nowonder.the Osar has long looked with envious eyes toward the Golden Hom—to the capital city of the Greek Church and the Greek Empire. No wonder that the whole “Eastern question" has long hinged on what is to be done with Constantinople and the highway which she controls. Europe cares little! about the outlying possessions of the Bultan; but it is a vital question with every chief. European State who should hold the key city of all the East. Let Russia, with her already enormous possessions in both Europe amt Asia, hold Constantinople as her southern capital, and she will not be long in showing Europe who is mistress of the whole Eastern continent. While the Ottoman Empire was still at the height of her power, while the glory of her arms made all Bouthem Europe tremble, this fear and dread was because she held her seat at Constantinople, and thus sat mistress of the “two seas ana the two sands." But later, when the ancient prowess of the Moslems gave place to supineness—when the Turk, who Was a strong man in his ancient home, became effeminate in these sunnier climes, the fear grew to be, not lest the Turk should encroach upon Europe; the dread was not because he holds his seat in Europe; but there is disquiet and anxiety lest he be unable to hold the position he has conquered, lest be become a prey to the teeth of the huge Russian bear. And this is no idle fear, for given any strong and Intelligent European government seated here, andr-she I rules the world.—Dr. Herrick, in Galaxy for December.

Will He Succeed?

In nine cases out of ten, no man’s life will be a success if he does not bear burdens in his childhood. If the fondness or the vanity of father or mother kept him from contact with hard work; if another always helped him out at the end of his row; if, instead of taking his turn at pitching off, he mowed away all the time —in short, if what was light always fell to him, and what was heavy about the same work to some one else; if he has been permitted to shirk till shirking has become a habit—unless a miracle is wro f his life will be a failure, and the blame will not be half as much his as that of weak, foolish parents. On the other hand, if a boy has been brought up to do his part; never allowed to shirk any legitimate responsibility, or permitted to dodge work, whether, or not it made his back ache, or soiled his hands, until bearing heavy burdens became a matter of pride, the heavy end of the wood his from choice —parents, as they bid him good-by, may dismiss their fears. His life will not be a business failure. The elements of success are his, and at some time and in some way the world will recognize his capacity. Take another point. Money is the object of the world’s pursuit. It is a legitimate object, it gives bread, and clothing, and homes, and comfort. The world has not judged wholly unwisely when it has made the position a man occupies to hinge more or less on his ability to earn money, and somewhat upon the amount of his possessions. If he is miserably poor, it either argues some defect in his business ability, some recklessness in his expenditures, or a lack of fitness to cope with men in the great battle for gold. When a country-bred boy leaves home, it is generally to enter upon some business the end of which is to acquire property, and he will succeed just in proportion as he has been made to earn and save in his childhood.

If all the money he has had has come" of planting a little patch in the spring, ana selling its produce after weary months of watching and toil in the fall, or from killing woodchucks at six cents a head, or from trapping muskrats, and selling their skins for a shilling; setting snares in the fall for game, ana walking miles to see them in the morning before the old folks were up; husking corn for a neighbor, moonlight evenings, at two cents a bushel; working out an occasional day that hard work at home has made possible —he is good to make his pile in the world On' the contrary, if the boy never .earned a dollar; if parents and friends always keep him in spending money—pennies to buy candy and fish-hooks, satisfy his imagined wants —and he has grown to manhood in the expectancy that the world will generally treat him with similar consideration, he will always be a makeshift; and die fault is not so much his as that of those about him, who never made the boy depend upon himself—did not make hiip wait six months to get money to replace a lost jack-knife. Everybody has to rough it at one time or another. If the roughing comes in boyhood, it does good; if later, when habits are formed, it is equally tough; but not being educational, is generally useless. And the question as to whether a young man will succeed in making money or not depends not upon where he goes or what he does, but upon his willingness to do “his part,” and upon his having earned money, and so gained a knowledge of its worth. Not a little of this valuable experience and knowledge the country boy gets on the old farm, under the tutelage of parents shrewd enough to see the end from the beginning, and to make the labor and grief of children contribute to the success of subsequent life.— Humane Journal.

Price of Food in Old Times.

Amid the never-ending comments on the high price of provisions, it is difficult for us to realize the fact that a time existed in Britain’s history when wheat, as food for 100 for a whole day, was worth only a shilling, and the average price of sheep four pence. In the reign of Henry I. the price of wine was raised to six pence a quart for red and eight pence a quart for white, in order that tlwsellers might be enabled to live by it. when wheat was at six shillings a quart or (eight bushels), the farthing loaf was to be equal in weight to twenty-four ounces if made of the whole grain, and to sixteen ounces it

consisting solely of white. And. when wheat was only one shilling and six peace four ounces, and the whole grain ninetysix. Think of purchasing* a six-pound loaf of good wheaten bread for a farthing I Inßhe nineteenth year of the reign of Edward 1., the price of provisions of the ■City of London was fixed by the Common Council at a tariff by which two pullet* were sold at three half-pence, a partridge •r two woodcocks for the seme, while a fat lamb was to be six pence from Christmas to Shrovetide, and the rest of the year four pence. In the fourteenth century Parliament fixed the price of a Ist ox at forty-eight shillings, a shorn sheep at five shillings, two dozen eggs at three pence, and the best wine at twenty shillings per tun. An act of Parliament, passed in 1588, settled the value of beer and pork at a half-penny per pound, and veal at three farthings.— JCnglish Magazine. ■ :

Individual Styles, Etc.

Formerly many ladies followed the fashions at the risk of making themselvee individually ridiculous in appeataaee, but now such necessity (if this it were) ladone away with, and one may dress in style, and at the same time consult one’t own peculiarities of person. Many ladies are too slight and otherwise too small to warrant their wearing a polonaise to good advantage. For them are shown elegant styles of overdress and basque, adapted for heavy fabrics, and for much or little elaboration, as may be wished. These basques are now carried to perfection in fit and elegance, many having simulated vests, while the back is cut in imitation of a gentleman’s coat. The appearance of the latter, garment is further carried out by the coat-fronts being closed from the bust to the waist-line, and here branching shandy, to show the lower points of the vest, which is closed with tiny vest-but-tons. A real pocket or lappel at the left aids in completing the Resemblance to a. dress-coat. The simplest forms: of the polonaise are the favorite ones, those styles ‘ prevailing where it is drawn smoothly and closely across the front and hips, and having all the drapery laid ia. broad, flat pleats at the back? A handsome basque, finely adapted to stout figures, has two side-bodies, both ending m the arm-holes, thus ' obviating the wrinkled appearance seen' so often in thia part of a basque. It has also double-darts brought near the center front, and closes with a cord-lacing over a knife-pleated reverse • For the house, yofee and pleated waists find considerable■ favor. Cheap, dark materials may be made thus, and the edge of each pleat piped with a Corresponding er contrasting shade of silk.' Often when a bright effect, is desired cardinaLxcd-pip. ings are used. An odd and stylish design is that of lengthening the skirt portion cd the back of the basque, so as to supply the overskirt. It is eut square at the bottom, and is looped in the center, into a novel and graceful drapery. With this for the back overdress, an apron front Simply Is required. ’His an extretofjy. pretty ?tyle and one much used at present, All overskirts illustrate the popularity Of cldre draperies, but some of the more recent novelties are exceedingly dressy and elaborate. A very showy design has a narrow front profusely trimmed, while the side gores haverather full gathers at the seams, but placed low down. The back Widths are very long; and are effectively,looped by means of.tapes. For bridal dresses three are beautiful designs as well as elegant new materials. A popular mode of making these dresses is the baiqupform. They have either Pompadour squares, or are cut half high both back and front, with mere straps over the shoulders-’They .are closed either with buttons and button-holes, or several rows of small buttons. Lacing with cords, however, takes precedence of all other styles. Sleeves vary greatly, some preferring short sleeves with elaborations of lace, flowers and ribbons; others selecting the charming sleeves reaching only to the elbow, and incasing the arm snugly. ■’ .. wm.-' To the general satisfaction of all, mixed toilettes continue in undiminished favor, but there are some welcome variations in the manner of combining. For example, the skirt is of a solief shade, with the polonaise or overdress And basque of a Corresponding color, but different material, while the trimming is altogether different from either r fabric. Handsome toilettes of damasse and wool, silk and stuff materials are'the favorite, while the richest and • most expensive combinations are of black silk ana black embossed velvet. Pretty modes of combining basket suitings or other inexpensive black goods show a center front and back of silk, with a cashmere collarette piped with silk,, falling low upon the bust. The cashmere sleeves have silk cufis, and ribbon bows decorate the front, the sleeves and. the termination of the collarette.— H. Y. Cor. Chicago Tribune.

Diamonds.

“Please tell me how much that trar of diamonds is worth*? . I asked a cleric at Tiffany’s the other day, pointing to a tray about eighteen inches longandtwelve wide, on which .were rings, crosses, necklaces, brooches, etc., of “purest ray serene.” “ Well, about $400,000, madanie.’* They were the celebrated, or a part dt the celebrated diamonds Tiffanv had on exhibition at the Centennial, and. said to have been removed on account of the proprietor’s fear of robbery. They ate beautiful beyond compare. Two set as ear-drops are as large as marble each. An ornament for the hair is shaped like a peacock’s tall when spread. The brilliants m this ornament are each as large as the heaA-eC a . lead pencil. There are pearls and emeralds mixed with the diamonds, but not many. Four hundred thousand dollars 1 Just think of it for precious wares, covering eighteen inches of blue Velvet. The poor clerk who was guarding the tray looked nerVous. He was watching everybody standing near the case in which it lay and if but a finger rested on the glass he grew doubly sensitive .and watchful. He made me think of a woman at Loqg Branch one summer who carried $50,000 worth Of diamonds in a pocket under her skirt, and her hand fast on the skirtoyer the pocket. She kept saying; “Dear me; I look queer with holding all the time to my dress so; but I’ve got so manv diamonds, and I mutt tak-j care of them.” She slept, and wafted, and ate- with those precious stones concealed; but she wept to bathe in the ocean, left them in her room, and in one-half hour they We stolen. Sdme of them have been recovered, after great expense and trouble.—AT. r.JMter to i —The late Ptof. Snell, of Awheret Colleeo, kept a weather record tor more than thirty yean, taking- observations titfde timeeaday. Since his death his daughter has continued the work.,