Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 1, Number 8, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 20 August 1870 — Page 2

i®

."V

Rural.

[From the Pnilrio Farmer.]

EXPERIMENTS WITHCURCVLI OS. Tho person who discovers nn effect unl method of guarding against tho depredations of the plum and apple curculio will confer a lasting favor on mankind, and will add to tho productive wealth of tho United States millions ot dollars annually. For it is not to be gainsaid that the depredations of the Little Turk are more destructive to the fruit, especially of the West, than all other diseases, insects and enemies combined. For most diseases we have a remedy against enemies we luivo a defence. The birds and various parasites are our allies in a war against other of the insect tribes, but when we attack the Turk it must be single handed. He revels in whale-oil soap, wades through the strongest decoctions of tobacco water with the evident relish of a genuine lover of the weed lifts his proboscis in derision at the offensive odor of guano—in short, no preparation A-et discovered disturbs his equanimity, or turns him aside from his favorite work of destruction. His coat of mail is proof against any enemy that lias vet appeared no bird yet being found that, living or dead, will touch him.

The study of such an insect cannot fail to be of interest as well as profit. With the hope of making some new discovery that would aid us in further investigations, or lead to good results in some other direction, have given a good deal of time and attention to this enemy, whose origin, nature, and modes of operation are enveloped in so much mystery. I confess the results have not been satisfactory but little if anything new has been discovered. What I have learned by experiment only confirms the views'advanced by others.

Of his origin and native land we know nothing, though from the manner in which he adapts himself to the extremes and rigors of our climate, it is a reasonable presumption that he is one of the Aborigines of our country, that he belongs to that worthy class, the old settlers." My first inquiry was for his winter quarters. This point 1 think has been definitely settled to bo the earth. To test this', a plum tree was selected that had never matured a single specimen of fruit, though 12 years old. For the space of three feet from tho body of the tree, the ground was made free from weeds and grass, and was made as smooth as possible each morning the surface would be perforated with a greater or less number of openings, but no curculios could be found. At the suggestion of Dr. Hull, placed at night near the bod or stem of tho trees, 'pieces of board or bark, after the manner of the Michigan traps. (ere I found, adhering to the under side of these, curculios corresponding verv nearly in number with tho perforations in tho surface. Here seemed the remedy, but after clearing the traps I spread niy sheet and jarred tho tree, and never failed to bring down from eight to twenty-seven each morning. But where did these come from Evidenllv from my neighbor's plum trees, where no such precaution had been taken. This trapping and jarring was continued from May 26 until July 7 since then more luivo been caught under tho traps, and but few have (been jarred, this July 16. but few were token '—honco I judge tho season of ffetivo work is over.

Tho appearance of these coming out of tho ground differ from those taken from tho tree, in having a lighter color and in having tho protuberance on the back less clearly defined—a difference duo to ago and atmospheric influences. Taken from tho gn unil and placed in a glass for exposure to the light, in three or four days they assume lie form and color of the others. My observation is that they have a decided preference for free stone fruit hence they do not travel to any groat extent over our common wild plum. A neighbor of mine has a fine largo tree of what is here called tho Wild Goose plum, and though within a hundred yards of my tree, not a single plum h:is been injured bv tlieni. How far tl^is observation will be sustained by facts in otl.o -cases, I cannot tell but hope this point will be noticed by others, who will report the results. If true, it may prove a valuable guide in selecting varieties for planting. It has been observed.too, that the egg is nearly always found deposited in the open space between the pit and pulp: and in the apple it is almost invariably found in tho seed lobe.

The mode of attack is to puncture the fruit with a crescent-shaped cut. In this the egg is deposited, which hatches in from three to ten days, assumes tho larva or worm form, which by feeding upon destroys the fruit, which soon falls to the ground, carrying the larva near its future home. Within a week from the time the fruit falls, this larva comes from the plum, descends into tho ground, assumes the chrysalis form, in which and where it remains all winter and comes forth in the soring to renew its depredations. The depth to which it descends is an unsettled question— all analogy would go to show anywhere below the frost line its ability to penetrate a stitV, clayev, wet soil inay well be doubted. Hut now for the remedy:

Coutiug from below he is familiar with the smell of sulphur—he relishes lime—it took as long to drown him in ninety-eight per cent, of alcohol as it did in cistern water but "Paris Green" he turned away from in evident-dis-gust, and exhibited symptoms of ••pointer's colic." Here, then, is a remedy—a preventive but, alas, not available tor in the language of leading Western horticulturist, Paris Green is certain death to big bugs as well as small ones. Another and harmless suhstance was experimented with. Two specimens were taken: one punctured and soaked in a strong decoction of salt water: the other taken fresh from the tree loth were placed in a jar with a number curculios. They did not stiug cither of the nlums, though thev manifested decided aversion to the salt one. If this should prove an antidote, a rejort from the orchards near the sea coast would throw light upon the subject, for tho wilt spray or dew falling upon tho tree and fruit would guard against the ravages of the insect.

Whether any new truth has lwen developed may IK* questioned. One fact is clear, I have saved from one tree nearly •ne-half bushel of tine plums. I lost"at least an equal amount, but this was not a source of regret, as the tree wan too full. W'M. STEY KNSON.

CAULIKVILMC, 111.

A RWtPHiT of Hast id gepo rt. Mass., has found unplM on his trees baked by tho intense heat of the sun during the past few il«vs to the depth of half an inch.

The brittlewort, or single tVll plants, visible only by th* microscope, are so numerous that there is hardly a spot on tho fac«» of tho o=»rth when* they may not bo ftmnd.

Sunday Reading.

wifA^FrfiENf

ltY JANK CHKWIMU-N.

What then Whv, another Pilgrim HOUR An(l then a hush of rest, divinely «rantcl AMI then a thirsty slajje, (all me, so long I)

Ami then a brook, just where It most Is wanted. What then? The pitching of the evening

Ami then, perchance a pillow iout and thorny Ami then some nweet ami tender message sent

To cheer the faint one for to-morrows if What then? The wailing of tho midnight wind.

A feverish sleep, a heart oppressed and aching \ml then a little water-cruso to tlml

Close by my pillow, ready for my waking.

What then 1 am not careful to Inquire I Know there will be tears, ami fears, and sorrow And then, a loving Savior drawing nighor,

And saying, "I will answer for the morrow*." What then For all my sins, lils pardoning grace

For all my wants and woes, Ills loving kindness For darkest shades, the shining of (iod's fare

And Christ's own hand to lead me in my blindness-.

What tnen? A shadowy valley, lone and dim And then a deep and darkly rolling river And then a flood of light, a seraph's hymn.

And Clod's own smile forever and forever

THE VARIETY OF DEA Til.

A fine idea, expressed in fino language, is in the opening phrases of Rev. Hugh Thompson's eulogy of the late Bishop Kemper, delivered at the Episcopal convention of Milwaukee. The coj speaker said: 'As no two lives have ever been alike on be

earth, so no two deaths have ever •on. There is as vast a variety in men's dying as in their living. '"There are deaths that, apart from all regrets and sorrows, impress us with a painful sense of discord. They come before the work is done. The story is broken off. The drama has no close. The music jars into sudden discord, and ends. We stand about the grave, and from the earthly side there is a blank sense ol neompletcness. We are cheated by a promise that was never tilled. There is another confusion amid the many confusions of this lower world, another discontent with its apparent lack of purpose.

Such are always tho deaths of children and the very*young. With no vision of another world, where tho great Clod of all worlds has work and uses, these deaths seem utterly unreasonable.

And we may add to these, dea lis in opening manhood, just when the hand has learned its cunning and the brain has gained its strength, when to the young man, with promise of noble results, and high in courage, hope and principle, death comes ancl ends the story before the first page is written, takes tho tools away and suspend the 1 ibor before the first blow is struck.

And besides these, the deaths that come in middle life, when tied to family and friends, and social duties, the center of a thous lid interests, with his work all about liini unfinished, a work he is doing well by all men'sjudgment, a work which we think none but he can do so well, or it may be do at all, death summons a man in the midst of his highest uses and most splendid successes, and all is broken off in the midst, and loft fragmentary and chaotic. To tho deepest sense of loss there is added this further strain upon the intellect, to bear a loss that, from this side, seems needless and irrational.

Those deaths may come suddenly, by slow decay, or by tho accident, as we call it, of a moment, but tliey are none the less to our reason a shock, and a contradiction to our sense of fitness. We call them 'untimely deaths,' unreasonable in doing so, but that we are taught ly faith, and not by sight.

Again, thero arc deaths that come upon us with tho sense of a complete harmony deaths that ends lives as the sunset ends tho day deaths when the long, full days' travel is finished. Youth prepared for work in a faithful, apprent icehood manhood did the work like a master. Patiently, a-i tho years passed, ho appointed duty was fulfilled, tho prescribed burden borne. And now, at last, all finished, death comes to summon the laborer to his rest. "They are deaths to (hank Clod for— these deaths that end a long and fruitful life with a perfect close. They come with the calmness of summer sunsets, tliat end the day, with tho dreamy regret of Indian suinmor that ends tho year. They seem to belong to tho diviner harmonies of the other world, to be a visitation of (lod's eternal order here among the uncertainties and confusions of time."

\DR. FltAXKLiy OX DEATH.

Wo have lost a most dear and valuable relation, lint it is the will of Clod and Nature that those mortal bodies be laid aside when tho soul is to enter real life. This is rat her an embryo state, a preparation for living. A man is not completely born until ho is dead. Why should we grieve when a new child is born to tho immortals? We are spirits that bodies should bo lent us while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow creatures, is a kind and benevolent act ot God. When they become unfit for these purposes, and afford us nain instead of pleasure—instead of aid become an incumbrance, and answer none of the intentions for which they were given—it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may got rid of them.

Heath is that way. We ourselves, in some cases, prudently choose a partial death. A mangled, painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth parts with it freely, since pain goes with it and ho who quits the whole bodv, parts at once with nil tho pains and diseases it was liable to or capable of making.

Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasure which is to last forever. Ilis chair was ready first, unci ho has gono before us we "could not conveniently start together. Why should you and I IK? grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him

BEYOND PRICK.—I have in my house a small handkerchief not worth three cents to you. but you could not buy it from mc. A woman brought it, "anu said to my wife: "lam very poor I would give him a thousand pounds if I had it. but 1 brought this. I married, the fairest prospects before me but tny husband took to drinking, and everything went. The pianoforte that niy mother gave me. and everything, was sold, until, at last, I found" myself iu a miserable room. My husband lav drunk in the corner, and niy child, that was lving on my knee, was restless: I sang, ''The light of other days has faded,' and wot my handkerchief through with tears. My husband," said she to my

IMPORTANCE

JAY KV".

*JR*

OK A

1 ISItRE-H AUTE SATUKD EN1NG MAIL, AUGUST 20. 1870.

Nvlfte, "met yours. He spolco afow worta and gave lilTO a grasp of tho lutnd, now ftr six years, my husbiuid has been' to mo all that a husband e«in bo to a wife, nml we are withering our household goods togothor again. I havo brought your husband tho very handkerchief 1 wot through that night with tears and I want him, when ho is speaking to remember that it has wiped away tlioso tears from mo, I trust in Got!, forever." These nro tho trophies that mako men glad.

MORAL. HAIINKHH.—

Dr. Hollows says :—"Success, usefulness, virtue, happiness, peace,salvation, hoiivon—all depend unon our ontering life fitly armed in suitable moral harness wit proper convictions as to what the exposures, dangers, and temptations of body and soul aro, and with such settled rules, habits and principles, such an established revoronco for God and dutv, as must doprivo tho world of all its power to deceive and botray."

No HOPE OF RECONCILIATION BUT THHOI'UII CHRIST.—Plutarch relates that Thomistoeles having highly offended King Philip, and not knowing how to regain his tavor, took young Alexdor tho King's son, in his arms, and so presented himself before tho sovereign. Philip, perceiving his son smiling unon him, nad his anger thereby ajieiscd and soon pardoned the offender.

FAITH.—Faith accomplishes our salvation onlv by bringing into piay me power at" God—it is not faith, but tho virtue faith draws out of Christ, which justifies.

SocUATES diod like a philosopher Jesus Christ like a God."—The Blind Preacher.

Young Folks.

Contributions containing Enigmas, Charades, Kiddles, Puzzles, Ac., are respectfully solicited for this Department. They must invariably be accompanied by answers.

Answers to Enigmas, ifce., in last week's paper: Riddle No. 1.— Weathercock.

Phunny Phellow.

t'4,

Charade No. 1.—Pcabody.

PUZZLE No. 2.

-*v. L. E

Love mc.—LOY3XIG. is

PUZZLE No. 3. -A,

14

100, 11, ltiOO, 1,100, 500, 50, 500, 1,100', 250. L. E,

PUZZLE No. 4.

Pol POL Pol. Pol S. T. Pol. /. L. E.

ENIGMA No. 3.

4

.'

I am composed of 2-1 letters. ,„ My 5, 0, 7, 4, 10, 13 is a girl's name. My 19,18,10. 22,17 is a river in Vermont. My 15,1, 3, 20 cooks use. My 21,13,22,14, 8,10, (i is a Southern State. My l, 23,!), 13, IS is a boy's name. My 8, 22, 2, 2-1 is a kind of money. ,, Jly whole is a true saying.

HERE is the famous riddle, for the solution of which £50 was offered. The prize has never yet been claimed. It was written by Miss Stewart:

The noblest object in the world of art! The brightest gem that Nature can impart, The point essential in a lawyer's aase,, The well-known signal in the

peace.

J'~

The farmer's prompter when li plow, The soldier's duty and the lover's vow The planet seen between the earth and sun, The priz3 that merit never yet has won, The miser's treasure, and the badge of .Tews, The wife's ambition, and tlie parson's dues.

Now if your noble spirit can divine A corresponding word for every line,.. By the first letters quickly will be shown Au ancient city of no small renown.

GEOMETRICAL PROGRESSION.

When the" game of chess was first mado known there was a rich and powerful prince so well pleased with it that he, in an outburst enthusiasm, offered to grant any favor tlie inventor deemed it proper to ask.

The inventor a keen, shrewd, farsighted man, wishing to teach him that even to an heir of royalty some things wcro impossible, very modestly replied that lie would only ask one grain of wheat on tho first square of the chessboard, two on the second, four on tho third, and so on in geometrical progression, till the last, or sixty-fourth square.

The prince laughingly assented to this, to him, very moderate demand, but ho had not gone far towards granting it before he discovered his mistake, ami his utter incapability to perform that which he had promised to do, for he saw that he had not, nor over would have, wheat enough on his whole domain to grant his novel request.

So much for a traditional story, the authenticity of which I will not vouch for but having felt some curiosity upon the affair, I have taken great pains to work out the long and tedious problem, and also to actually count enough wheat to give the exact number of grains in a bushel, and tho number in a square foot, and upon which basis I have made the following calculations, some of which appeared in print several years since, while some arc entirely new, the whole of which I will vouch to be correct.

The number of grains upon the 64th square is 16,446,744.020,019,900,416. Now if four grains laid lengthwiso equal an inch, and the circumference of the earth is 25,000 miles, we have wheat enoi gh in the last square to encircle it 3,307,343,442 times. In a bus. el of wheat there are 927,600 grains, which, if divided into the number of grains in the last square, gives us 17,730,426 929,732 bushels.

Allowing the population of tho earth to number 1,200.000,000, and each one to consume 10 bushels yearly, and there is enough wheat, to sustain this vast number 1,477 years, or a period nearly as long as from the birth of Jesus Christ up to the present time.

Place this wheat in a (ftdumn one undred feet square, and it would rise to an altitude of 38,110,520 feet, or nearly 7,500 miles. Place it in wagons, each one containing 100 bushels, and allowing 30 feet to even' wagon, we would have a train 10,073,532,803 miles in length —long enough to reach from the earth to tho sun 106 times.

This example in geometrical progression teaches us a lesson we should always remember—teaches us not to despise a thing because it is shiall, for it, like the grain of wheat upon the square of the chess-board, may lead to unlook-ed-for and wonderful results.

TITE OSTRICH.

Far away in Africa, where there is a burning sun overhead and little more than sand under foot—in waste and desert places where few animals try to live—is to be found a strange, large bird, six or eight feet in height, which looks so much like a camel that it is sometimes called the "Camel-bird." This strange, large bird is an ostrich.

It has a long narrow neck almost bare of feathers. The wings are small, and

cannot bo used to fly with, but help It, to run. Its legs ure long and very strong, mid its feet, which have but two toes, aro something like a camel's, and can boar groat fiitif^ie. It« eolor Is A rusty black, with white wings and tailfeathers.

Tho feathers of tlie ostrich aro very beautiful, and aro preserved carefully by tho hunters and sent to Kuropo antl to America, whore they aro dyed and uHod to trim bonnets and hats. All our little readers have seen ostrich feathers, but do any of them ever stop to think when they see one of these feathers how it was oiieo growing far away in tho greatest desert in the world, on a real live bird taller than a man?

Tho ostrich feeds on tho tops of such plants as grow in the desert, and it can go along time without water. Its cry sounds at a distance so much lileo that of the lion that it is often mistaken for it.

Ostriches go in small flocks of one male with from two to six females. Tho females lay their eggs all in one nest, each laying 10 or 12, and then take turns during the day sitting upon tlieni to hatch them, while the male sits upon the nest at night. This he continues to do after tho young birds arc hatched, to protect them from ja-kals, tiger-cats, and other enemies. These animals are sometimes found lying dead near the nest, having been killed by ono stroke of tho foot ol this powerful bird.

Ostrich eggs are very good to eat, and one of them is equal to 24 hens' eggs. They are about six inches in length, 12 in circumference, and weight about 3 pounds.

Those birds can run faster than the fastest horse still, the Arabs hunt them, and manage to catch them. When the hunter has started the bird, he puts his horse upon a gentle gallop, so as to keep tho ostrich in sight without coming near enough to frighten it and set it running at full speed. Finding itself pursued, it begins to run at first slowly. It does not run in a straight line, but in a circle, while the hunters, crossing the circle or running in a smaller circle, keep near the bird and do not tire their horses. This chase is often kept up for a day or two, hunters taking turns to rest their horses. The ostrich at last becomes tired out and half starved, and finding it impossible to escape, it tries to hide itself in some thicket or buries its head in the sand, foolishly believing, because it cannot see, that it cannot be seen. The hunters then rush at full speed and easily kill the bird, taking care that no blood is allowed to get other feathers.—Mrs. E. li. Duffey,in Children's Hour.

PRAISE YOUR WIFE.

Praise your wife, man, for pity's sake, give her a little encouragement—it won't hurt her. She has made your home comfortable, your hearth bright and shining, your food agreeable for pity's sake tell her you thank her, if nothing more. She don't expect it it will make her eyes open wider than they have for ten years—but it will do her good for all that, and you too. There are many women to-day thirsting for the word of praise, the language of encouragement. Through summer's heat and winter's toil, they have drudged uncomplainingly, ancl so accustomed havo their fathers, brothers and husbands become to their monotonous labor, that they kiok for and upon them as tliey do upon the dailj' rising of the sun and its daily going down. Homely, every-day life may be made beautiful by ah appreciation of its very homeliness. You know that if the floor is clean, manual labor has been performed to make it so. You know that if you can take from your drawer a clean shirt whenever you nt it, somebody's fingers have ached in the toil of making it so fresh and agreeable, so smooth and lustrous. Everything that pleases the eye and the sense has been produced by constant work, much thought, great care and untiring efforts, bodily and mentally. It is not that many men do not appreciate these things,and feel aglow of gratitude for the numberless attentions bestowed upon them in sickness and in health but tliey arc so selfish in that feeling. They do not come, out with a hearty by, how pleasant you make things look, wife" or "I am obliged to you lor taking so much pains." Thev thank the tailor for giving them "fits" they thank the man in the full omnibus who gives tlieni a seat tliey thank tho young la'clv who moves' along in the cone rt room in fact, they thank everybody and everything out of doors, because it is the custom, and then come homo, tip their chairs back, and their heels tip, pull out the newspaper, "grumble if wife asks them to take the baby, scold if tho fire has got down or if everything is just right, shut their mouth witlia smack of satisfaction, but never say "I thank yon." I tell you what, men, young and old, if you did but show an ordinary civility toward those common articles of housekeeping, your wives—if you gave the one hundred and sixtieth part of the compliments you almost choked them with before they were married—if you would stop the badinage about whom you are going to have when number one is dead—(such things wives may laugh at, but 'hoy sink deep sometimes)—if you would cease to speak of their faults, however banteringlv, before others,—fewer women would seek lor other sources of happiness than your cold, so-so-ish affection. Praise your wife, then, for all the good qualities she has, and you may rest assured that her deficiencies are fully counterbalanced by you!" own.

j1 '-iiit if 'i

MAKIXH WILLS.—There are various wajrs of making a will. Lord Civile, the celebrated English general, wrote his at his club on a sheet of note-paper in a half dozen lines, and itwasdulv proved. A certain hostler in articido mortis, crawled to the

corn-chest,

rais­

ed the lid, scrawled his parting injunction on the wood withfa piece ofchalk, got a jxst-boy and a stable-man to witness nis signature, and the box-lid. being taken off its hinges, was accepted as a valid instrument. An eminent English queen's counsel made his last testament in theso words "Every thing to my brother Tom and. being duly attested, tho document was found sufficient. On the other hand, it was remarked of the great artist. Turner, that could draw every thing but a will, since, wishing to leave five hundred thousand dollars to found an asylum for decayed oil-painters, his intention was defeated owing to imperfection in the witnessing.

IS TITE KNOWLEDGE OF ENGLISH QIlAMMAR NECESSARY TO THE WRITING OP GOOD

ENGLISH A correspondent writes us that the practical working men of this country need a practical grammar in order to cnablo them to attain that facility and accuracy of expression, essential to a lucid communication of their ideas. Tho present works upon tho subject, he thiUKH, aro overburdened with rules, olmervations, and quotations, and are not adapted to tlie uso of such as wish to learn to write and speak correctly in tho shortest possible time, and without tho aid of a l.ving teacher.

As this bugbear of grammar is, we know, preventing many valuable ideas and suggestions from receiving the publicity tliey deserve, we propose to devote li brief spaco to its demolition.

First, then, wo say that the use of correct and forcible lauguage, either in writing or spoaking, is purely a matter of habit. No one in writing can afford to stop and apply grammatical rules to every word and phrase ho employs, and no writer does this. If he had these rules all at his tongue's end, they would not enable him to use good language, unless good language is the daily habit of his life. Many of these rules are of extremely doubtful character, so far as the English language is concerned, and more are so loaded down with exceptions that they are practically useful only to critics in dofining and pointing out errors of style and construction in such literary productions as depend for their merit more upon their style than anything else. Tne use of good language cannot bo put on and off like a coat. He who accustoms himself to loose forms of expression to-day will to-morrow speak loosely when he perhaps desires to be accurate.

Many of our most able writers and speakers know little or nothing of grammar as a science, and one of the most forcible writers among the contributors to our present magazine literature has recently written a series of articles for the Galaxy, in which he has sought to prove that most of the definitions and so-called rules of English grammar are shams even going so far as to entitlo ono of his articles The Grainmarless Tongue," meaning by the expression, grainmarless tongue, our vernacular. It must be confessed, too, that he made out a pretty strong case.

If, then, the use of good English is not to be learned from English grammars," how is it to be learned? We answer, by familiarizing ourselves with good language, by studying the meaning and derivation of words, by the habitual reading of such authors as are accepted authorities in the use of language, and whose writings have established its usage. This will not avail, however, if an attempt is not made to shake off bad habits, and acquire good ones.

But it is not necessary to possess the most happy style of expression to communicate important facts. An old professor used to remark that most people can write and speak forcibly if tliey have any thing to say, meaning that they must possess some complete idea, well thought out, beforo they attempt to utter it. A man having an idea thus mentally wrought out, may misplace capitals and mis-spell words, but he can scarcely fail to make himself uiv derstood i'or his thinking has been done in language, and tlie natural expression of the idea must be nearly or quite as clear as his thinking. Hut if he try to assume an artificial style quite foreign to that which he is accustomed to use, ten to one lie will fail to make himself understood.—Scientific American.

MIND

AND

MUSCLE.—Brown, who has

bean editing a weekly paper at a small town in an adjoining State for some time past, weiit through here a few days ago, on his way to New Orleans in search of employment. Smith met him in the reading room of tho hotel just before he loft here, and asked him how he happened to abandon his paper.

You see," said IJrown, "Green and I started tlie thing in copartnership, and as lie is nothing of a writer, it was agreed between us that I should edit tho paper, and he should do tho press work, etc. This arrangement struck mo after a while as being unfair, so 1 said to Green one day, Green, I don't like the way the work in this office is divided. I'lhink that inasmuch as vou merely work with your muscle, while I work with my brain, you ought to allow mo a little bigger share of the profits. Brains ought always to command a higher price than muscle.'

All that may be true,' said Green, but look hero, Brown, con.idering th" large amount of muscle I've got, and the verv small amount of brains you've got, I don't think you have any rightto sav a word.' "After that," continued Brown, "I felt that in justice to myself I couldn't assoeiat on equal terms with Green any longer, and so sold out niv interest in the Concern anil left.

LIGHT

IN

TI

IM I V.—Worn.ui rights

is gaining ground in a new and singular quarter, although one in which it is needed—Turkey. In Constantinople, a grand change is gradually working in the matter of female education, thanks to the efforts of Munif Eflendi, who is endeavoring to establish a Normal School for the training of female toachrs. This will doubtless prove an important step toward the deliverance of Turkish women, and the elevation of Turkish domestic life, now so barbarously tyrannical. The idea th:ft women must receive some education has been gaining ground in Turkey for the last few years, and the example of the successor to the throne will aid its growth he has just placed one of the ladies of his household in the family of a European physician for ment.il training, aud she has even adopted the European costume.

The late Rev. Dr. Betliuno once entered the crowded cab of a Brooklyn ferry-boat, and while looking about for a seat, suddenly heard himself addressed by name. Turning roftnd. he found a man standing, who said lector, take my seat it is an honor to give such a man a seat. Ever since I heard of that big church iu New York trying to get you away bv given" call of $5000, and you said jouM soe'om d—d first, I have had trreat respect for you, and I think it an honor to give you a seat." jp

i.

THE New York Sun wints to see Spain thrashed, because she "dishonors the ashes of Columbus." Those ashes

WHATis DUETO WOMAN.—Whatever are Spain's own private property, we else you may abuse, never, never abuse woman. Always remeinl»er you had a mother perhaps you hive a sister, maybe a wife. It is cowardly mean, unjust. If any act deserves the pillory, it is this. The fact of her sex should make her exempt from all that is coarse unkind, or cruel. No gennine man ever yet abused a woman. As soon expect *to see a dart of lightning in the blue sky of June, a rose in the snowbank "of January, a gift from a miser, a great act from a mean soul, as a real man abusing a woman.

believe, and if it amuses her to dishonor them, why, let her do it. Besides, if Columbus, instead of discovering this country for Radicalism to ruin, had staid at home and attended to his own business, nobody would ive known that ho left any aahu».—LouusviUc Cour-ier-Journal.

AorusTat one of the Montgomery (Ala.) hotels, who lias the unfortunate habit of sleeping with his mouth open, recently awoke in the morning to find his set of false teeth stolen.

SOMETHING FOR LADIES. Blondes should wear blue or grocn. Blue imparts orange to the blonde, thereby enriching the whito complexion and light llesn tint, and improves their yellow hair. Green is becoming to blondes who have little color,becauso it heightens tho ninlc of the cheeks and the crimson of the lips. If tho blonde has much color she should indulge much in blue but if she wears green, it should bo very dark, or else it will impart to the countenance of tho wearer a brick-red hue. Orange makes si blonde look still paler or yellow in fact, it becomes neither light nor dark beauties, and should not be worn near the skin. Red increases the effect of whiteness in the blonde, and suggests a greenish hue to the pink of tho face.

Brunettes should wear yellow or red yellow has the effect of neutralizing the yellow in the orange complexion of the brunette, and at the same time increases tho

AHI,

thus giving

freshness to tho black-haired beauty. Red is chiefly to be used to increase the whiteness of the brunette's skin, and it should be used sparingly, even by tho darkest ladies. Blue should be carefully avoided by all brunettes with much orange in their faces, as it imparts orange. Orange, of course, does not suit an orange complexion, or any other for that matter. It gives the brunette a dull, whitish, jjluish pa'.licl appearance, without increasing her red, as does yellow.

In the same way those facts may bo applied in furnishing one's house. Tho drapery of a room should bo blue,green, amber, or yellow. Blue and green tend to increase the color in the face of all standing near it. Hence the popularity of blue and green reps with blondes. Amber anu yellow hangings and furniture are suitable only for brunettes. Rose-reil, wine-red, anil light crimson curtains give a green tint to a lady standing near tlieni and are therefore objectionable. Dark crimson draperies tend to neutralize the natural color. Wall paper should be yellow, light green, or blue. It should be remembered that the color of the furniture should bo in proper contrast to that of tho drapery and wall papor. Thus yellow and blue hanginge should accompany blue furniture crimson and gold," or white lace hangings, should accompany green lurniture, and vice versa.

A GOOD ONE.

Old Judge Barbour, of Virginia, aflor enjoying the highest honors, and retiring to private life, was prevailed upon to be a candidate for a local office. The opposition trotted out an illiterate, rough-and-tumble politician named Bilf Maples, against tho old man. In accordance with the strict rules of eonducting a political campaign in those days. Governor Barbour had to take tho stump with Maples. Maples could always beat liini in abusive harangues. The final speech of the campaign mado by Maples was abusive beyond all precedent. Tho following is Barbour's reply, which we think is the most complete thing in its way that wo ever read. Said the Governor:

Fellow Citizens: When I was a young man, now nearly forty years ago, your grandfathers sent me'as their representative for four terms to tho J-loiisaot'iiologat.ns, and 1 was clioson Speaker of that body. At a subsequent period I was twice elected Governor of Virginia. Afterwards, and for ten years, I represented this renowned commonwealth in the Senate oftho United States, where 1 was the confidante and perhaps I may say tho peer ofMaeoni, King, Gaillard, Pincknoy, Van Buron. Mr. Jonu Quiiiey Adams subsequently conferred upon mo a place in his cabinet, and for three years I shared his counsels in conjunct ion with Clay, Wirt and Mc Leaii. I was th*n appointed envoy extraordinary, and minister plenipotentiary to tho couVt of St. James, whore it became my duty to conduct negotations with tho conqueror of Nepoleon. Judge then, fellow citizens, of the ineffable disgust I feel, after such a career, and in my declining years, at finding myself hero to-day engaged in a low, pitiful country contest with su ha disagreeable little euss as Bill Maples."

S.\N A.\''i«•.—There is inoro street-life in San Francisco than iu any oily of its size in the United Slates. In Kea'rney, Montgomery, and California Streets," one walks in a crowd like that of Broadway—a crowd wherein you detect a dozen nationalities at once, all of whom seem to havo something to do, yet none ot whom, apparently, are 'oing any thing. I find myself constanily drawn out-of-doors, and am always surer of meeting my acquaintances abroad than at In me. Tho air uid aspect of the place, as in London, ire attractive, iu spile of fog, wind, and lust. In fact, the climate seems to ex-:-ite and stimulate, without giving tho [•apaeity for steady, solid work. Tho place is already quite cosmopolitan, alhougli not so completely so as the people suppose. The Chinese element is not much exhibited in tho business part of tho city tho Gorman, French,' Spanish, and Italian characteristics are hero and there inan:P. stcd, but I only notice an increase of Irish blood, in the ast eleven years. This element throatns to become predominant, as it a 1 ready is in Now York—and with the results.--Iiayard

Taylor.

liirKKNs's WILL.—In his sermon upon the death of Mr. Dickens, Dean Stanley readth" following extract from his will, datci. May 12, 1869

I direct that my name bo inscribed in plain English letters on my tomb. I enjoin my friends on no account to make me "the subject of any monument, memorial, or testimonial whatever. ... I rest my claims to the reniombranoa of my country upon my published works, and the remembrance of my friends upon their exjK rionco of me in addition thereto.

I commit my soul to the mercy of God, thrqugh our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ and I exhort my dear children to try and guide themselves bv the teaching of the New Testament in its broad spirit, and to put no faith in any man's irrow construction of its letter."

In that

simple

but sufficient faith,"

said the dean, Charles Dickens lived and died. In that faith he would have vou all live and die also and, if any of you have learned trom his works the external value of generosity, purity, kindness, and unselfishness, ana to carry them out in action, those are the best 'monuments, memorials, and testimonials,' which you, his fellow-coun-tryinen,

can

raise to his memory."

I In CAN KEEI» A HOTEL,"—A cleric in a Pennsylvania hotel has demonstrated his ability in this pirticul ir by a truly magnificent scheme which he basin view. It is a circular hotel, to rest on a pivot like a loeomotiv turntable. The object is to give to every, guest a front room," (tli it being ui, almost invariable request) by ius^igning guests to tlie places then in iron', and turningto the rear upon the adwnt of others.