Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 February 1877 — Page 3

TM Rensselaer Union. RENSSELAER, . - INDIANA.

HOW NOT TO SETTLE IT. [Rea* toi the Barvwd Claa« of ’B#, by Oliver • Wendell Holme*, Jan. 4, W77.J I Ilk* at time* to hear the steeple chime*. With sober thought* Inwreulvelv that mingle, But iometime*. too, I rather like don't you! To bear *e imulo of the eleigb-belb’ Jingle. I like full well the deep resounding swell Of mighty symphonies with chords inwoven; But sometimes,too. A song of Bum*—don't you! After » atormy pMrtw of Beethoven. **• ’ * j If I could make you cry I wouldn't try; If yon base hidden smiles I’d like to And them, And as Well I ought to know, The lipa of laughter have a skull behind them. Yet when I think we may be on the brink Of having Freedom's banner to dispose of, All crimson-hued, because the Nation would Insist on ending its own precious nose off, I feel, indeed, as If we rather need A sermon such aa preachers tie a text on. If Freedom dies because a ballot lie*. She earns her grave; ’tie time to call the sex(I' . ' But, Jf a fight can make the matter right. Here are we, classmates, thirty men of mettle: We’re strong 1 arid' tough, we’ve lived nigh long enough—, What if tjie Nation gnve it us to settle! The tale would rand like that Illustrious deed When Curtins took the leap the gap that filled Thus: ,I‘lTive-soore years good friends, as It apAt last this people split on Hayes and Tilden. “OnsaiitidrliA ' See, the choice is 8. J. T. I’ And one-half swore as stoutly it was t'other; Both drew the knife tp save the Nation's life By wholesale vivisection of each other. “ Then rose in mass that monumental Class—'Holdl hold!’ they cried, 'give us, give us the daggers!' •* Content I cententl’ exclaimed with one consent The gaunt ex-rebels and the carpet-baggers. ‘Fifteen each side, the combatants |ivide, Bo nicely balanced are their predilections; And tint of all a tear-drop each lets fall, A tribute to their obsolete affections. “Man facing man, the sanguine strife began, Jack, Jim and Joe against Tom, Bick and , Harry, Each several pair its own account to square, Till both were down or one stood solitary. "Aad the great fight raged faitous all the night Till every integer was made a fraction; Beader, wonldstknow what history has to show As net result of the above transaction! “Whole coat-tails, four; stray fragments, several score; A heapjpf spectacles; a deaf man’s trumpet: -Six lawyers' brie;s; seven pocket-handkerchiefs; Twelves canoe wherewith the owners used to stump It; Old rubber-shoes; old gloves of different hues; Tax-bids nnpaid—and several empty purses; And, saved from harm by some prote< ting charm, A printed page with Smith’s immortal verses. “ Trifles that claim no very special name— Some useful, others chiefly ornamental; Pins, buttons, rings and other trivial things. With various wrecks, capillary and denial. “Also, one flag—’twas nothing but a rag, And what deviqe it bore it little matters; Bed, white and blue, but rent all through and through. forever ' torn to shreds and tatters. “ They fought so well not one was left to tell Winch got th j largest share of cuts and slashes; When heroes meet, both sides are bound to beat; Ttfey telescoped like cars in railroad smashes. “ 8b the great euflt that baffled human wit Ahd might have cost the lives of twenty millAs all may see that know the rule of three. Was settled Just as well by these civilians. “As well. Just so. Not worse, not better. No, Next morning found the Nation still divided; Since all were slain that inference is plain They left the point they fought for undecided.” If not quite true, as I have told it you— This tale oftnutual extermination. To minfla perplexed with threats of what comes furnish food for contemplation. To cut men’s throats to help them count their voles Is asinine—nay worse—ascidian folly; Blindness like that would scare the mole and bat, And make the liveliest monkey melancholy. I ray onae store, as I have said before, If voting for our Tildens and our Hayes’ Means only tight, then. Liberty, good-night! Pat* up your ballot-box and go to biases I Unfurl your blood-red flags, you murderous hags, YouwietuJeuaes of Paris, tierce and foamy; We 11 enlKhr stock in Plymouth's blasted rock, stakes and migrate to Dahomey I —Atlantic Monthly for February."

“A HARD WINTER.”

r'Lawks-i-mtisgy, Joe! don’t it look nice jin there ?” »“ Tea ;.Wt it's awful cold out hero. Injun summer they calls thia time o’ Sat, but I don’t see no summer ’bout it. d yer ever know such a wind?” “ Ain’t it summer in there, though?— see the big fire they got. Do yer a'pose them'fdllra in there is ever cola like we? I’m very cold, Joe,” he added, mournfully; as the chili M ovetnber blast swept round the corner from the Avenue, and the biting dampness made its way through his Scanty clothing. “ Wa’al, it is hard on a little chap like you,; but don’t cry; it’s going to be a hard wintei, (young un, and yer mustn’t begin tpSrel now. This ain’t nothin’; atop till it snows and freezes’before yer make a fiW We’ll go up that there stoop oppo-Mie-rthere ain’t no draft in the westibule —and there we can get a better look at the fire, and see what the swells is a-doin’. I'll tell -yer-all Jbout’em. Bless yer, I knows the fam'ly. “ Does they know you, Joe?” ■ • ‘•'Wa’al, I wouldn't like to say that for <&rtaitt. “• Yer see, there ain't nothin’ werry pertlcklar about my personal appqaftHMft, and Jirey mightn’t know me from any other feller ’bout my size, but I k nows them. Fust, there’s the old jl jf Who’s, ate?” “ She! why, she ain’t nobody. It’s the ynung ’oman what’s the hull concern. She lives with her.*’ ""Whatfor?” X “Why-, cos it ain’t proper for aharnsopae young woman to live, all. alone. But you can’t know anything ’bout the wayaof perlite s’ciety—how should yer?” ?‘Howdo you know?” *•« Wa’al, yer see, life has its ups and downs. >'t When I was a little feller ’bout tCe Sljib bf yba. I was loafin’ round here q&0 day, art) Jeems—Jeems is the Mg fel■r who yttgrs tin buttons on his coat and tight yelldr breeches tucked inside his boot-legs; yer’ll see him‘round MrawWes ip ,a minute or twp if yer ttvSah—-Jeems wanted a letter put in the wk ofe the lamp-post for his missus. Feldon’t* like movin' round nflSflL.tkew gite so accustomed to takin’ theirexerclse rfdin’ on the kerrldge ’longside the river, and they grows so fat and e Xn {Moot h’s amawrul trial to ’em. When he coms out with the letter he catches sight of me, andT axes' me If I was a lad ,at cpold bo trusted, and would I like to teahi an honest penny. I see * yes,' and he guvs me the letter. * It’s werry important,’ says Jeems. ‘lt’s from my

young missus, Mina Maud Congdon, to the Rev. Howard Langly; it’s as how he’s to dine with her next Monday, and too mustn’t on no account lose it.’ So Itakei it werry careful. You never seen a letter like that, young ’un—aech a little, smooth, shiny, white thing, with the least little bit of writing on one aide and a postage stamp, and on the other a lot of big letters all sorts of colors, snarled up in a tangle till yet couldn’t make ’em out wat they was, only they looked like a little bokay printed right in the middle. And then how it smelt!—just like them nosegays you see the gals a-sellin* on the corners of Broadway. I was awful ’fraid I’d sile it, cos my fingers never is clean, there bein’ no conveniences for gittin’ ’em so where I live; but I took hold of it by the corner and got it into the lamppost box without a bit of a smudge.” “ Who else did yer know!” “ The cook took a fancy to me, and many’s the preakfast I eat sittin’ on a bench in the back-yard. They used to give me the drumsticks off the fowls; there ain’t nobody in that house would eat drumsticks—Lor’ bless you, no; second j’ints was what they wanted—but I liked the drumsticks.” “Oh, Joe, wouldn’t one go good now!” “ Don’t be unreasonable, young un. Times now is too hard for people in your sarcumstances to hanker after poultry. Git in this corner. That theer wind is cornin’ from the northeast, and it won’t hit yer so hard jest here. Ye’re sech a little feller yer might be blowed away, and yer’ve got a mar to fret about yer—l ain’t. Hullo! there’s a cove goin’ to stop at that house yonder. Wonder would he like a feller to hold his hoss! Think I’ll ask him. It don’t do to let an opportunity slip such times as these. Look out and don’t freeze, young un—there’s a good time cornin’.” So Joe swung himself off the stoop, and little Jemmy, left all alone, strained his eyes more wistfully than ever to catch the gleam of the fire that warmed Miss Maud Congdon’s elegant breakfastBonnie, beautiful Maud! What would envious little Jemmy have thought if he could have seen the lovely mistress of that wonderful great house, with all its stately grandeur and luxurious elegance, as she lay, not fifty yards away from him —only a street ana a massive stone wall separating them—her sunny head buried in the soft blue cushions of her chair, crying and sobbing with a passionate sense of pain and misery beyond the reach of reason to control? “ Auntie! auntie!” she called out, as her gentle friend and relative entered the room. “My child, what is the matter ! Have you seen Howard again ?” The only answer was a low moaning cry, as the sobbing girl wound her arms round her faithful friend, and buried her face in the gentle bosom that had sheltered her so often. “ Where did you meet him!” “ Last night at Mrs. Stevens’, where we went after the opera. He only came in for a moment. I was dancing at the time. He gave me one look as I passed him, but there was something in his eyes so kind and gentle that all my old love for him came back with redoubled power, and such a sense of misery poured itself upon mysoul that I wondered why God so formed His creatures that they can endure such torture and still live. Oh, auntie! did he ever love me?” “ No, darling, I do not think he ever did. He certainly admired you—as who does not!—and circumstances threw you much together; but what has Howard Langly, the hard-working clergyman, whose parish is in the poorest portion of the city, whose life is spent among the poor and suffering, listening to their complaints and ministering to their necesak ties, to do with Maua Congdon, whose talent, wealth and beauty place her in a position with which his life of care and 'toil and sacrifice can Have neither contact nor sympathy?” “ And yet, auntie, I would fling houses, lands and jewels to the winds if by so doing I could secure one glance of love and tenderness from Howard’s eyes, such as I fancied he used to give me during the happy days gone by.” “ But, Maud,” continued the gentle lady, “with all this passionate love for your cousin, with all this wild longing ior,affection from him, what have you dwer dona to show Howard that you sympathized with his efforts or understood his labors? You have never attended his church or offered to assist him in his work——?’ “ Oh, auntie, stop! My money has been his to distribute as he liked, but I cannot stoop to tricks and artifice to win his love. Would you have me emulate the admiring spinsters of his congregation, undertake district visiting, seek interviews with him in his vestry-room, follow him about among the poor, ana surfeit him/With a mawkish sentimentality under the cloak of charity and religion? Oh, no, no; I cannot do that. But how can I live without him!” “Oh, Maud, how wrong, how wicked you are! How little you understand life, with all its responsibilities, its demands for patience, self-sacrifice and unselfishness ! Can you never learn to look beyond yourself, to shake off this terrible egotism that pervades your whole existence, and in endeavoring to understand and ameliorate the woes of others, find a medicine for your own? Lift up your head now, darling, and look Out of the window. Do you see that poor little flhivering boy who is shrinking behind the'shelter of that opposite door-post, and loffiflng so wistfully over here ? Let us call him in, and listen to his story, and try to help him. It is what Howard would do.” “ Call in your, ringed boy, auntie, if you will. Is there more pain in cold and hunger, think you, than I aifi suffering now?” In a few minutes Jemmy was standing in the midst of the beautiful room, gazing first into the brilliant depths of the wonderful sea-coal fire, and then at the bright loveliness of its youthful owner. The little street Arab was bewildered by the warmth and luxury into which he had been so suddenly drawn, and irresistibly attracted by the beauty of Maud, as she asked his name in her soft, low voice. Then he went over to where she sat looking at him, and laying his hand veiy gently on her delicate dress, he said, looking earnestly into her eyes, “Is you got any little-boys?” Maud repressed an involuntary shrinking as the dirty little paw was laid upon her knee; but as she saw the piteous look in his eyes, the tears came into her own, and she answered him very gently, “ No, Jemmy; why?” “ Cos they’d be so happy;’’ and a great sigh broke from the quivering lips of the wretched little fellow. “Ahntie,” said Maud, “I think I would like to klw him if he were only clean.” “Well, Maud, have him washed. Jemmy, would you like to be washed?"

«■- A a.'" . J. X u “I’d ruther n<X,” said Jemmy, with a frightened look. “ Why ndt, you dirty boy ?” .. “We isn’t used to it, yer see, down where I lives. They does it to us sometimes at the * House of Industry.’ They killed a little feller that way last week down there. It’s werry cold, bein’ washed, and it’s so nice here!” and the tears began to roll down Jemmy’s cheeks. The prospect of being washed appalled his very soul; but when he looked at his dirty hands and soiled clothing, and at Maud’s sweet countenance as it bent over him, he reconsidered the matter, and said, “If I’ll be washed, will you kiss me?”. “Yes, indeed, Jemmy," replied Maud; “ aad we will have no cold water either. Would you like to be my little boy, you poor little thing?” Maud’s heart was melting toward Jemmy very fast, and when she saw the radiant expression that illuminated his face at her suggestion, she forgot her weariness, pain and passion for the moment, in the happiness of the friendless little boy. “May I, missus—really—really?” Poor little Jemmy could hardly bring himself to believe that anything so wohderfuj could really happen. “ Really and truly,” repeated Maud, smiling down upon him. “ And if you will go bow and be washed, I will go home with you and ask if I may have you. Wha owns you, Jemmy ?” “ Only mar, and she’s got six of us.” “And can spare one easily,” laughed Maud. An hour afterward Jemmy and Maud made their way down Broadway, through Worth street to Baxter. Oh, the nauseous smells, the sickening sights and sounds, the loathsome horror, of the place! Jemmy led her into one of the rickety old tenements, and in the highest story she found a wretched family huddled together in one room, and a haggard, sickly woman came forward, whom Jemmy called “mar.” The bargain was soon concluded, the hopeless mother only too glad to accept the kindness offered to her child, for whom she could do so little. As Maud turned away and commenced the descent of the dingy staircase, a tall figure in closely-fitting clerical uniform blocked the way, and, looking up, she saw the strong, quiet features and Beautiful eyes of Howard Langly. “ Maud, what brought you here?” “ Please, sur, she came to git me, and I’m her little boy,” explained Jemmy, who dreaded something might interfere with Maud’s arrangements regarding his small self. “ Jemmy has told you, Howard. lam proposing to subtract this small fraction from the great sum of human wretchedness;” and she laid her hand gently on the head of the boy. “ But what brings you to this part of the city ? Your parish is on the west side of the town.” “ Yes, but I was sent for this morning by a poor creature here whom I knew formerly. He is lying sick in the room above us, wretched, suffering and alone. It will be a hard winter for the poor, so many are out of employment, and, early as it is, the weather is bitterly cold. We shall have a hard struggle to combat the wretchedness and disease that cold and hunger bring in their train, and, great efforts must be made to bring assistance to the poor creatures.” “ Could I help you, Howard?” “Do you really wish to?” And an eager, questioning look came into his eyes, accompanied with a glance of admiration such as he had never bestowed upon her before. “ I will try, if you will tell me how.” “ Was it kindness to that poor boy that brought you to Baxter street to-day, Maud?” “Yes, Howard,” smiled Maud; “it was affection for Jemmy, pure and simple, that sprang into existence upon an acquaintance of half an hour, which made me forsake the sacred precincts of the Avenue and come to Baxter street to-day. Have I your approval, most reverend sir ?” “ God bless you, dear!” What a wealth of tenderness went into those four words! Thdn, with a single clasp of the hand, he stepped aside to let her pass, and Maud went On, with Jemmy clinging to her skirts. What had happened to Baxter street? Whence had come the light that lit up the loathsome tenement until it shone like a palace? what made the filthy sidewalk seem a path through fairyland? and whence came the glory that gilded the horrible surroundings with such a strange and wonderful beauty? Only Maud saw the illumination, and she thought it came from the light in Howard Langly’s eyes. Thus Jemmy went to live in the Fifth avenue with Maud, whom he worshiped with all the strength of his grateful little heart. He had a coat now full of bright buttons, like that of the wonderful Jeems, Joe used to tell him about. His principal duty was to open the great doors of the vestibule for the entrance of Miss Congdon’s guests. And the one who sought admission oftenest and received the warmest welcome was the Rev. Howard Langly. Maud’s first expedition to Baxter street was not her last. The barriers of indolence and selfishness that inclosed her heart had been shaken by the appealing touch of Jemmy's little hand, and melted away altogether through the ennobling influence of Howard’s grave and earnest teaching. More and more chilly grew the searching winds, coming steadily from the north; louder were heard the sad stories of privation and suffering among the poor; and, cold and grim and bitter, the winter settled down upon the city. Faithfully and earnestly Howard worked day by day, endeavoring to alleviate, so far as lay in his power, the misery he saw around him; and Maud shook herself free of the many claims that society made upon her, to follow him in his wanderings and assist him in his arauoue work. Bide by side they breasted culd and sleet and snow to carry comfort and consolation to the wretched homes where disease and destitution were holding their horrid carnival. Together they set themselves to work to arrest the progress of the war of destruction waged against their helpless fellow-beings oy starvation and sickness, stalking together hand in hand. Many a hungry mouth they fed, many a shivering form they clothed, and many a bitter and despairing heart they cheered and comforted. But to Maud and How ard it seemed as if little had been accomplished by their earnest effortsin compar ison with all there was to do, and their hearts were often heavy with the thought when they returned to their homes in the gray twilight, weary with their day’s work. When Maud reached her house at evening, after her visits among her poor friends, Jenuny was always waiting at the door ready to receive her, full of eager questions ana overwhelming in bis loving attentions. Then he would follow her to her room, and, after convincing himself that she had everything about her that could contribute to her comfort, she would

creep quietly down-stairs and waft pa tiently for her to appear. “Jemmy,you little fire-worshiper,”ex-claimed Maud, one evening, as, rested and refreshed by a bath and a fresh toilet, she entered the drawing-room and found the child standing upon the hearth, gazing earnestly into the depths of the brilliant fire. “What are you thinking about?” “Thinking how nice and warm and comfortable it is here, and how dreadful it used to be out in the streets all alone in the cold:” and Jemmy shuddered at the recollection of his old, sorrowful life, and the tears came into his eyes. “ Oh, Miss Mand, you are so good to me, and 1 love you so!” Then he came close to where she stood, and softly kissed the hand that hung at her side on a level with his lips. “Dear little Jemmy! Have I made you happy, little boy, since I have had you wliji me ?" And she knelt down beside him and drew him tenderly to her breast. Thus Howard found them, locked in each other’s afms, with'the ausky shadows of twilight gathering around, and the ruddy fire-light gleaming on their happy faces. Tenderly he bent over them, and, gently raising'Maud, transferred the clinging hold of her yielding hands from the neck of the boy to his own broad shoulders. “ Will you give her to me, Jemmy ?” “No,” said Jemmy, stoutly; and as Howard led her to a sofa and seated her by his side, the boy followed them, and buried his head in her lap. “Half of her, then, Jemmy?” smiled Howard. “Y-e-s, half—perhaps,” said Jemmy, his regara for Howard struggling hard with jealousy in his generous little soul. And thus, with Jemmy’s arms around her neck and Howard’s round her waist, Maud sat, subdued and silent with the sense of her own exquisite happiness, until Jeems. The Magnificent, in all the glory of holiday attire and preternaturally shiny boot legs, broke in upon the quiet scene, and announced, in his most solemn tone, “Dinner!" “ Oh, horror!” shrieked Mrs. Grundy—“only the assistant at St. Jerome’s.” — Harper's Weekly.

PERSONAL AND LITERARY.

—The truth about it is probably given in the Brooklyn Argus. “In the first battle of Bull Run between Mr. Bennett and Mr. May, day before yesterday,” says that paper, “both parties, it appears, threw away their knapsacks in order to facilitate their flight. A farmer picked them up and found in each a long tin tube and a small pouch of Connecticut cured beans.” —lt is a good deal to begin life as an ordinary baby, to grow up to the position of a poor boy, and in a few years, with nothing but shrewdness and pluck as capital, to take the world by the nose and pull it down to you. The dead Commodore takes nothing with him, and that is something of a consolation to cheap people, but he was a conqueror so far as this world goes, and he is entitled to the utmost credit for his great success. — BoChester Democrat. —The late Charles Kingsley, while he held the Professorship of History at Cambridge, in England, in a lecture to a workingmen’s club said that he would advise his audience to study science chiefly, and not history. The more he studied history, he said, the more difficult he found it to attain certainty concerning any fact whatever, whether it occurred or not. In science, however, every fact might be verified; it would occur again ana again in the same circumstances. —A plea for Frank Walworth, the parricide, who is now in the State Insane Asylum at Auburn, is offered by a correspondent of the Albany Timet, who says that “Dr. Gray, Superintendent of the State Lunatic Asylum, is reported to have repeatedly said, and the writer himself has heard him say, that Frank Walworth never should have been sent to prison, and that his eminent legal counsel could have successfully vindicated him had the defence been conducted solely on the hypothesis of insanity.” —Mark Twain looks like anything but a humorist. Two deep wrinkles between his eyebrows mar a face otherwise as fresh and fair as a boy’s. His slight figure, his nervous way of twitching his hands andfstroking his mustache, and the apparent embarrassment of his manners, suggest a modest clerk or an overworked bookkeeper. He rarely laughs, at least openly, although his friends say he constantly grins internafly at the funny .people and situations that force themselves on his busy brain.—Horsford «7nnn.) Letter. —The new medical journal, the Evolution, has a very bloodthirsty, but at the same time a rational, doctrine in regard to dueling. It wants to have everybody killed whenever a. duel is fought. “ One of the best duels we have had in this country,” remarks the cynic, “ was when Alexander Hamilton was killed at Hoboken. It was sad to lose so eminent a statesman, but it put a stop to this most barbarous and retrograde custom. ... Of this brutal pastime Frederick the Great took the correct view. Officers had his permission to fight duels, but the survivor was shot.” —Conductor Henn, who was in charge of the train which went through the Ashtabula bridge, went on duty again the other day. A passenger who was on his train when he went over the new bridge for the first time told a Toledo Commercial reporter that he noticed that as tiie train neared the bridge Henn seemed very much agitated. The horrors of that awful night cf terrors seemed to come over him so completely that the great drops of perspiration rolled down his face, and he grasped the seat nervously for support. When the train passed off the biiilgc on to terra Jirma be ex claimed, “ Thank God I’ m <> T e r » 811(1 now I’m not afraid to go over it a thousand times.”

New York Street-Lamps in 1697 and 1876.

It appears that in the seventeenth ccna, when the city of New York was but : more than a village, there was for a' long time no system of lighting the streets. On dark nights, each citizen who ventured out-of-doors was expected to provide himself with a lantern; and at long intervals one might see a lighted lamp hung in front of the door of some wealthy citizen. were charged to enforce the duty, “that every seventh householder, in the dark time of the moon, cause a lantern and a candle to be hung out of his window on a pole, the expense to be divided among the seven families.” This was probablv considered an excellent way of street-lighting at the time. But what a change would one of the Aldermen of 1697 find, could he now follow

ou some moonless night the double line of gas-lamps extending from the Battery to Fordham, a distance of fifteen miles! Who would not like to accompany him as he silently passed over the well-paved ways, once so wild and swampy, and to see his astonished gaze as the long lines of lighted lamps revealed tall fronts of stately marble stores and brown-stone houses; and on through the beautiful Central Park, and—still further, over well-made roads—out into the open country beyond it, yet still within the city’s limits? Do you think that the ancient Aiderman would recognise in the great new oity the quiet village that he once knew and loved ? —St. NichoUtfor February.

Wild Fruits in the Black Rills.

» Dr. R. D. Pobteb writes from Deadwood City to the Louisville Courier-Jour-nal ; Strawberries grow to great profusion la all the valleys, mountains and foot-hills in the Black Hills. ‘Thousands of acres of ground are covered with the vines. I have seen as large stools of the wild strawlierry plant in the hills aa I ever saw that was cultivated on the hill system in the States. The berries ripen in July. 1 have seen some very fine specimens growing wild on the mountain sMe. I have no doubt that as fine (strawberries could be grown here as at any point in the world, if the improved varietier were brought here and properly cultivated. I have in the last few days seen whole acres of- vines looking as fresh and green as any Fawcett, Dravo, or Decker can show at this season of the year. The Black Hills is the home of the red raspberry. Near Garden City, on Falsebottom Creek, there is a raspberry thicket five miles long and half a mile wide, and the vines stand as’thick on the ground as wheat; the vine resembles the Clark raspberry. The berries have a finer size, color and flavor than the Clark raspberry, at the same time are more prolific than the Philadelphia berries. Thousands of gallons of these berries were picked by the miners and carried in baskets from six to ten miles to Deadwood, and sold at one dollar per gallon. I have never seen a black cap raspberry in the hills. Blackberries flourish in great abundance on the foot-hills around Centennial and Crook City. I have not seen them in the mountains. Wild currants are very plentiful along the gulches, red, white and black. . The fruit compares favorably with the cultivated variety in the States.' The wild gooseberry plant almost reaches the dignity of trees. On Sawpit gulch I have seen the plant growing as high as my head; the fruit is large size ana abundant. Wild cherries, or choke cherries, as they are commonly called, are very abundant; the bushes are a little taller than the gooseberry, and in season are loaded with fruit. Some persons eat them, and seem to like them very much. lam very fond of fruit, but I don’t take much stock in choke-cherries; but they certainly would make a very pretty ornament to grow in the yard. Wild grapes grow in great abundance in the valleys along the foot-hills, although I have never seen a grape-vine near the mines. At Crook City and on the Red Water, I have seen grape-vines six inches in diameter. The fruit is of the variety usually called fox or winter grapes in the States, and contains too much acid to be very palatable. But, owing to the dryness of the atmosphere here, I have ns doubt the cultivated grape could be raised in great perfection, especially the Concord, Clinton and Norton’s Virginia, and other hardy varieties. A grape would never mildew or rot here, and that the season is plenty long to mature them is proven by the ripening of the wild-grape, which is a month later maturing than die cultivated varieties in the States. Grapes grown here would be very rich in saccharine matter; consequently would make good wine. Wild plums grow in great variety on the foot-hills. Whole acres of plum trees are found near Crook and Centennial cities. Plums as large as the green gage, and of equal flavor—red plums, blue plums, yellow plums and white plume grow in the greatest profusion, and not a curculio to molest or make them rotten or wormy. I don’t think there is a curculio in the Black Hills. The high-bush cranberry, full of fruit, is a beautiful sight. On the 10th of September, I took a bushel basket and went up White Wood, Creek to look for cranberries. After going up the creek about a mile from Deadwood, I found myself in a cranberry thicket, the bushes of which were about ten feet high when standing erect, but at the time I saw them the tops of the bushes were beni nearly to the ground with the weight of crimson fruit. The high-bush cranberry resembles in the fruit the cultivated berry of the States, not quite so large or acid, but of much finer flavor. In one hour I gathered a bushel of berries, and ate some of the best of pies, jelly and jam made out of them. I have no doubt the high-bush cranberry could be cultivated in the States with good profit, as they grow without irrigation or overflowing, as is the case with the low-bush variety. Bands berries, red and black -haws grow here. Hazel-nuts grow here in great quantities. Apples, I think, would dowell. The season is too short for peaches. It was a sad case. They loved each other fondly, but John was poor and couldn’t think of marrying until he could support her, but Maria laughed at his excuse, and said she didn’t care how poor he was, she was sure they would both be happier than to live single any longer. “Come,” said she, “lotus be married, and I will live on bread and water, and will do my share toward earning our support.” “Very well,” John replied, “if you really feel like that, T am willing; we will set up housekeepin&at once. And if you will fuinish the oread I will skirmish around and see what I can do about the water.” - Why is it that at eleven o’clock p. m. a man will go to the cupboard and collar a piece of chicken or a fragment of steak that he sniffed at in lofty disdain and wouldn’t touch at the table, and will gnaw and pick and snore over it, until every bone is as white and glistening as an ivory sleeve button? We can’t tell, unless it is an indication of the same perversity tliat leads him, when the bone is finished, to stand before the towel rack and wipe his greasy fingers on his coat-tails.— HawkRemarks . the mystified Norristown (Pn.)Herald: “A wonderful evolutionary freak has just come under our notice. A year ago one of the illustrated papers pictured the New Year coming in as a comely and tripping maid. This year the same paper represents the same year going out as a gray-haired, tottering old man. Will Prof. Huxley explain?"

i aitcnunstm inn. , —An old settler—fish-skin in the coffeepot. —A Joint committee—two doctors working over a sprain. —lntelligent public spirit—open advocacy of our views. o. / —Everybody—that portion of the community, small or great, which sides with us. —One of the earliest printers on record —the Emperor Trajan, who set up a Roman column. —Men with the best of Intentions often leave other people to cany them out.— N. 0. Eopublican. t —Overskirts are altogether out of fashion in Paris, and soon will be here. The style is drapery. —A gentleman said, when a pretty girl trod on his toes, that he had received the stamp of beauty. —A hesitating, tardy or glum yielding to the wishes of another always grates up. on a loving heart. —Tom Hood said the reason wire duelists chose two assistants before fighting was that in case they were killed they might have two seconds to live. —Traders and merchants in the Black Hills give miners S2O worth of goods for an ounce of gold dust, while the bankers of Cheyenne allow $17.00 in cash. —The Portland Prete has Just paid one dollar to settle a SIO,OOO libel suit, and the Rochester Democrat says that, “ considering the hard times, it was too much.” —The swell of the period has a new collar. It is like that worn by curates and English hostlers—straight all around and not broken in front. In event of any one wearing this collar and falling, decapitation must surely ensue. —Danbury’s absent-minded man attended church the other evening, and placing his hat on the stove backed up to the cabinet organ to warm himself. The sexton discovered the mistake, and hastened to the rescue of the hat and organ. —The Glasgow Timet catches its breath and remarks:“ It is to be hoped the lovers of the pulchritudinous flaky congelation of aqueous particles may get their enteric bailiwick stuffed to satiety with the splendid opportunity afforded by the hibernal solstice.” —When you imagine woman’s work to be an easy one, compared with the labors of your heated office, just stay home some Monday and volunteer to hang up the washing in a yard where the wind comea along on fast-mail time, and the mercuqf " tries to bore through to China. —The Chrittian Monitor addresses itself to its mother readers thus: “Take your youngest child when about three years old. Let him have everything he wqnts; let him make as much noise as ever he likes; let him eat and drink as much and whatever he has a fancy for; give strict instructions to his papa, his big brothers, sisters, visitors and servants, that he is never to be punished in any way for anything he may do, and never contradicted in anything he may say. By the time he arrives at the sweet age of seven, your youngest child will ba a nice pickle.’—That Duel.— if. They met in the Know, with their seconds uound. And the man with the longest leg* measared the ground. And with great big hone pistuels they bla-sed away. And May he missed Bennett and Bennett miiaed May. Then they madly reloaded their art' lleree; Their courage and boldness was handsome to see; In taking their plaees they delayed not a minute, When Bennett missed May and May didn't hit Bennett. Then the seconds came no and declared with a«Nanimons voice that the thing would now dp; Bo they each took a drink and ebook hands all around, Umber-ed nn their ordnance and marched off the gronnd.-JV. Y. Graphic. —A. chap who had, perhaps, read * newspaper , item about how a street-car was cleared of passengers in short order when a man in the center of the car announced < that he had the small-pox, tried the game on a Gratiot avenue car yesterday. Getting aboard the car on Monroe avenue, he sat down beside a big-fisted man and remarked: “ I don’t suppose you object to riding beside a small-pox patient, do Gin?” “Not in the least,” replied the g man, “ but as some of the other passengers may, I shall heave you out!” Thereupon he took the joker by the collar and leg, carried him to the platform, and shot him far out into a big snow-drift. — Detroit Free Preet. —lt is curious how superstition springs into life at sea. Of all the monsters that swim the deep or haunt the land, there is none so powerful as this, aad none like this that is omnipresent. It can be fought or ignored upon the flhore, but at sea it loom up from the green hollow of the waves, and lifts its ghostly hands from every white curl of their swiftly-formed and swiftly-falling summits. It is in the still atmosphere, in the howling wind, in the awful fires and silences of the stars, in the low clouds and the lightnings that shiver and try to hide themselves behind them. Reason retires before its baleful breath, and bven faith grows fearful beneath its influence. It fills the imagination with * thousand indefinite forms os evil, and none are so strong as to be unconscious of its power.— Dr. Holland, in Scribner'e Mon My. —For simple and convenient dresses, easily put on or off, and which may be worn at home at almost any hour, there is nothing more appropriate than the princesse dresses, which ladies now have made of dark blue, plum or green cashmere, trimmed very slightly with pleatings of silk of the samecolor. Only afew yards are required for making the dress, and, if the lady has the ingenuity and taste to make it herself, she can at small expense have a pretty dress, aa comfortable as a wrapper for the morning, suitable for receiving afternoon visits, and, with the long wraps now in fashion, entirely appropriate for the street. Dressmakers who have puluuaise patterns that see popular with their customers make princess© dresses by these patterns, simply adding to their length and breadth. Black cashmere and inexpensive biack silks are made up in these usefill dresses, and brightened with cardinal facings on the flounces, inside the long-looped bows, in the collar, and on the cuffs and pockets.— Harper't Eaear. —Joseph Coberly, of Denver, went to Sydney, Neb., a short time since to purchase horses, which he is reported to have done. Since that time he has been missing, and foul play was supposed to have befallen him. But it is now reported that he was frozen to death two miles from Fort Morgan, and that his dead body has been found, with his faithful dog lying dead upon it. —Aman in Bing Sing, N. Y., planted nitro-glycerine, and the other day he went to dig it up. His pick struck the can and all the neighborhood thought an earthquake. But the man, O, whore he?—Heston Globe.