Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 January 1876 — Page 6
THE MAIL
A PAPER
TOR TIIK
PF.OH.I:.
1»7G. If
Awrican* (VItfury Hence indulge in Reminiscence.
QIKSTION
Now, papa. tell me truly, did the people use to travel In steamboats and in railroad can,on wa n-r and on land* .ind did they wollow in the sea and drag along the gravel.
Like fishes In the river or like lizard* ou the sand? Confliied to a dead level they must hav had a bother To keep from breaking down and running
Into one another.
A NSW Kit
"Wiey did, my daughter oft I've heanl my father tell about'em, And bow they used to Jump the track and run eaeh ot'.ier down But Willi xir levitant balloon we vc learned todo without Vm,
For now we fly around the skv In an etnorloa, «, Like "iii»een l'ele«te," In which we float along I he a wire now, Five hundred feet from Mern tosUin anu paddles at the bow.
They ustnl to huvett cluBisy ^8 thej cftll el a "telegraph"—
CM irir|iii|'»«
A slow conimunleatlou lyrtwcen places far asunder— ,, Its jKiles and wire atuf chemicals I sure would make yow laugh. They haud't harnj*«ed up the will, nor guessed tbatfwerwas In It To hall a distant Irlend and get an answer
In a mlnirfe.
There's telescopes—why look at ours—see wha* we are arriving at! Wo- our tiei£hhors now *t Mitra anu
Murcury ami Vt-mix.
\V7^ yWttp Home signal* with them anu find out whnt thry're driving at /Our microscope* reveal the ways of all the monad genus, And show ivs how spontaneously the Ilea Is
Be" llL nothing are creati*!
generated,
And iiow th»5 bugs an*l butterflies from
My child, lean out the flying ship far downward larboard looking
You see the bankrupt blackened shafts whence Lackawanna coal Was spread throughout the land, to light and warm, and do the cooking
That was before we learned to bore a thousand fathom bob-— In every townahot-air shaft rlgtit through the shell of urunite Draws light and heat from out the Inner furnace of the planet.
VV'liat progress we have mad*?!. Our biologists have found The''"missing link" of Darwin In the the talking ape of Alunessey A'nil now we know a murderer is mentally unsound
Instead of choking him to death wo doctor him for lunacy. Our philanthropic scientists have proved jn uianv treatl«e««, Thiit crime is a disease as much as mumps or meningitis is.
At that time people used to It ill the slice* and hogs and cattle, An-i bull and fry them on the tire and eat them just like savages But now w* have our patent rotary J'ooacondenscr. that'll (ii every mouth enough to eat and bun-
IMi hunger's ravages.
I'orrrina pint, of nitrogen and mix in the accou•**i"**11 f^irBon and wilts in appetiilng form of liuinan nutr tnent.
Uu: ]et i.-. not be proud. If niai» aspirlng lo the utars, I'.y his own will suereeds in overcoming gravitation
Hrown, who visited the moon, succeeds lu Hading Mars. And plants among the asteroids a 1 ankee signal station, Our commonplace Inventions will seem tame enough, and inany'il Think us behind ihe times as we the folks wf the Centennial.
W. A. Crotl'ut, in Graphic.
JUSTIN HARLEY.
A HOMAXC/-: OF OLD VIRGINIA.
SV JOHN KSTKX t'lWKE,
VtiUiorof "Dr. Vandyke," "Surry of Kagle's Nest," -'The Virginia 'omedlans," Ac.
IIAPTKR LXXIII. KVKI.VN til.ANI).
l.velvn sat down, resting her hands in !:o/ lap. She held her head oroct, but iicr eyes wore lixed upon the carpet, nnd the lone lasheOmlf concealed them. Tl'.ers was in her attitudo, the carriage at her person, nnd the expression of lior ft fAeo, which was exceedingly pale, sotnothing cold, constrained—almost disdainful. The lieree struggle between love ntnl pride bad made Its mark there any one who knew hercharaeter might have that the high spirit of the Hland.s wrestled in her with that other welluLrh absorbing sentiment, which, little by little, in spite of all her attempts to control it, Jjud become a part of her
Harley tvftH not less agitated, and by emotions even more conflicting. He bud persuaded himself that the voting ianv
en red nothing for him—that his suit was hopeless—and had determined to uoawav with St. Leger without visiti:g J^landdeld apin. He had, however, been compelled to go thither in order to arrange the business of the deed with •fudge Hland, and the painful interv&w with the L-uly of the Snow 1. id fo'tlowed, moving him deeply. Then
Mirt t'loir.enlina had amused in him a very HVrent sentiment—a sentiment «t Hii^cr and disdain, which he had been scarcely "hi" to conceal under the form* of polftenes»: and lastly. Kvelyn 1ml .upearcd i|xm the scene, electrifying Iiiui with the generous espousal of the poor woman's
cause.
It was as a sequence to all these tryin~ciiKiti ns, that ho now found himself face to fnco with the woman be loved so
race to :aco wiin urn 7'
feollng
»«umb"d everv feollng but com passion
B1,uU'udernes».
in men
2
..
"'3
•3
•*C "13#'
ll 1
Her face ............
thin and
pa\Q,-.s,t-c wore ml rings around her «... eve® n-v. and then her lips trembled a reader prefers the phrase-tlm nart little. ^-Harlev stood looking at ber, the scene, the sound of whnelH every emotion disappeared—an
tenurn0HS sul0t0
expression
bun. and his
lecK|0
aad sweetness.
gentle and full of a
'So we have me^gajn he aid in a low toue. "I d»d to see you again. I »°rry
1
you looking so
v.'ry pav. You are not .*n The earnest voice brongfi^ color to the white cheeks, •y I am—well. I am not „be
^Yoo are very for from well. vh«t *1 has changed you so But
I
am ititt,^,
SukI 1 no right to- intrud£. Dfc&on me,. And yet," he went on. ^sotnotbirg is excusable in a friend ». jj^nVi V'fr' to a friend—some neglect ef uereusony: and we were friends once— '3 were vre x»t I have remained yours, ", do not know whether you have •emained mine. I fear you are no lotucer such—something has come )HtJ*n us. But let us part at least without unkind ness. I should be sorry to take awa* with mo, at a last memory, jhtot eokf look—your face looking so
I® our last greeUng," Harley went
•«, "Ti*»e and distance are hard mas*r*_tbey separate people, is the grave
4
does, or, what Is worse, tbey make mends indifferent to eaoh other. I am nothing to you,
perhaps,
to
but—again—
lot 08 part without unklndness. I can nek that, and offer you mv hand—it was all I intended to do, In begging yon to come back for a moment.'
Harley looked at her, jnd aaw per color come and go—her bosom labor with long breaths. She did not make anv movement to offer her hand, in re
sponse
his
pUtlUieS til lll IW». ll»»o na.- uauu, ..... j-j hope—and—do vou know what awaited lfuf, Mary, dear, some other thing" are quite _,, as full of wonder ,— i. i:»n«
own half-extended toward
her. But she was no longer the statue of ioe which she bad been, and instead of going, as he had intended, he was carried away l»y a sudden Impulse to utter what was pressing like a weight upon his breast.
I am weak ho said. "I thought I was proud and strong enough to act like a man. But I am a child—I have no jprido for you!" lie stopped for a moment, and went on more oarnestly still: "Shall I tell you what I mean? last parting has same privileges. The friend you may never see again can drop ceromony a little. My life has been a sorrowlul one, and I am going to let you form your own opinion of that. At twenty I was engaged to be married to a young girl of rare beauty. I thought she had given me her wlio!e heart, as she told me so. Tho day for my marriage was fixed. I came full of joy and
Harley's voice shook a little. "The woman who bad become the dream of my life—whom I loved loyally, passionately—as a boy loves—this woman had fled, on that very day, with another person!"
Kvelyn raised her head and looked at him—her eyes lull of wonder, ber cheeks flushed.
And the man," Harley continued, "who did me this wrong was one with whom I had been brought up as a brother. In mv absence he had supplanted me, winning the heart of my affianced. They went away—were married—they were unhappy—She left him—j'ou. have seen her in this rximjust now—a poor, unhappy porson, who repented long ago of the wrong done me—whom I have forgiven from my heart!"
A profound silence followed these words. The deep tones of tho speaker showed how much he was moved.
You know now" he said, without waiting for any reply, "why my life has been so melancholy, and why I went away to divert my ruind from its brooding misery, by new scenes. My whole life was embittered, and I could not remain here. was away a long time— came back in response to a summon* lroin my uncle—and—shall I go on? Jt is useless, perhaps—worse than useless and yet, why not speak and tell you all? —it will make no difference! True,it will cut nie to the heart—but you shall know everything!
I catne back a sad, dispirited man, growing old at thirty—and saw you I hated the very sight of women—to bo frank with you—and that day, in the Jilaekwater, I found myself holding a woman in my arms—you—your head lving on my breast, your anus clinging around niv'neck. But lbrme you would have been* drowned. \Ye feel kindly toward persons when we have saved their lives. I went home thinking of you—that was ail. But I saw you again rode with you, walked with you, listened to your voioo in tinging and you changed my life! Is tlii3 avowal uncalled for--useless—absurd Yes I feel all that, and never intended to make it. Iut I have begun and I will finish. With every meeting I came to love j'ou more you grew to be the sole thought of my life—and—and the result has been this interview—when you are listening to me with ill-concealed distaste—wishing mo to leave you, no doubt!—wondering how a man can be so weak, so deficient in decent pride—so childish, as to come whining about himself and his love, to ono who cares nothing for him!"
Harley's tone was bitter almost. He spoke vehemently, and his brows were knit. But a glance at Kvelyn melted him suddenly. She was utterly pale now, and her head had sunk upon her bosom. Again pitv and tenderness drove away every other feeling, and he said, in a voice of deep sadness
You know all now—it was better to tell you. At least I go away without laboring under these imputations. Yon will l»e able to respect mo at least, and will, I hope, think of me—not unkindly. shall not probably come back to Virginia. 1 am wellnigh ruined, as I have lived too carelessly, and my estate is so much encumbered that it will probably bo sold but that gives me little concern —except on Sainty's account. And now havo said everything—far more than intended to say. I am going, nnd will not detain yoc any longer. (Jood-bye,
Ovelvn!" He" held out bis hand. She did not take it, or move. Ho looked at her for an instant, his heart throbbing hesitated—and went toward the door.
Suddenly he stopped and turned round. The young lady had burst all at once into 'passionate* sobs, covering her face with her hands.
Do not go!" she faltered. Harley came back quickly, his face flushing.
One of tho hands covering her faco was helil out toward him. lie took it, pressed it passionately to his lips and said, tiood bve!"
But tho "hand would not lie released. It held his own. Kvelyn!" repeated Harley, with vehemence, his eyes full of astonishment and jov.
She "raised ber head and looked at him. Her coldness had completely disapieared. She was all sunshine and tenderness.
Io not go!" she repeated, in a sort of whisper, the beautiful face light-
mrt 0
pit*iv.nately—whom he ha« not expect- jnKUp with an exquisite smile, "why i«d to see again. A single glance at her,
whisper, the beautiful face light-
sj,ould
vou 1k unhappy?'
vr'
An hour after this scone, of—if the of ,,. as heard at the door Judge Bland emerged from his coach and a moment afterward the old counsellor came into the apartment.
hoa"i
*h«'»onr Judjre Kiand emer
As he entered, he gravely saluted Harley. havo bad news for you, my dear sir," be said. "Your uncle Joshua is dead!"
Dead exclaimed Harley. He was seized by a third attack of apoplexv this morning, and sent for you and your brother, and myself. I presume the message did not reach vou. He lived but an hour after iny arrival. He had sent for me on business con-
N-ted with bis will." *arley received this intelligence with sints^j, jjrlpf. poor un^e!" he said "if I could only ha\«t s^en him again!"
8P*ke
1 1
ofvotL and informed me
that every fc«img of kindness he bad over had for you ha& been complete!/ •bliterated by your last interview. His will sufficiently Indicates that fact, and I may inform you of its purport without a breach of professional reaerve. He gives yon the UlUvale estate,.together with about ten thousand pounds in Iltodon inrestmehts leaving the Klin wood
&
TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENHSTG 'mail
property and his own estate of Oakhlll to your brother. I drew op his will only a day or two sfneo, and the execu tion of it aeemed to afford him great lief. He was csriying owl, be aaid, wishes of his brother George,"
re-
tbe
CHAPTER LXXIV. ST. U30BR DKPART8.
There is something selfish in neas. The old pass away, while young are clasping hands and it is of the blooming face beside him, more than of the pala, peaked couhtenanoe yonder, that the lovor thinks.
But Harley rodo back to Huntsdon saddened, in spite of his new happineas and his face was one of the most sorrowful that was seen at the funeral of the
f'enerous
eld planter who went to sleep
the remote graveyard beside his brother George. Harley returned to Huntsdon just in timo to see St. Leger shut up his traveling valiae, and prepare with a heavy heart to set out for Williamsburg.
We need scarcely say that Harley had suddenly abandoned his design of going to Europe, and had informed his friend of the grounds of his change in his plans. Ho was engaged to be married to Evelyn Bland, and as that young lady had expressed no desire to make a foreign tour on the occasion of her marriage, he had abandoned his own resolution to travel, and would remain in Virginia.
St. Leger sighed. All that gees without saying it, to use the delightful lingo of our French friends, nion ami," ho said, smiling rue^ fully. "You were glum—and were go ing. Your face has burst forth into sunshine—you stay Very well. Thank Heaven, you are happy once more, my dear old Harley! You deserve it, if ever man did. liut think of me."
Of you!" I am going away—for ages perhaps and—and—you know what I mean to sav." i' Yes—that yon are leaving Fanny. But romomber 'that she is going too." "Are you certain?—absolutely certain, Harley I can hardly believe in such luck." 8he is going in the spring. You saw her I his morning. Slje must havo told yon."
Yes but the news is almost too delightful You see, I speak without blushing and stammering—you are in love yourself, you poor old fellow! and will be charitable." "I am always charitable for you, St. Leger, you are the best friend and companion I over knew. Y"es Fanny is going to the Chateau de Goutran, on the Loire, with her father and mother in the spring he has gone to make bis arrangements, and will soon return. During the winter, Fanny and her mother will reside with Puceoon. TTiey were urged to stay at BUndfield, but FanDy shook her head, exclaiming, like the little angel she is, 'Oh! no! no! I could never stay awav from father He has been mv clear, dear father! and I must see all I can of him!'— meaning Puccooo, you know. So tbey are here but a little while—then they go to France, and need I tell you that a run across the channel is an easy matter? You can hardly be anything but welcome at the Chateau of the Count© de Goutran. where Jta belle chatelaine to. be, i*"»nny, is your fi-ionU
St. Leger's face glowed. Yoo are right, old fellow And an hour afterwards they set out together for Williamsburg thence they proceeded to Y'orktown, and there, with a close pressure of the hand, parted.
As long as the vessel was in sight, St. Leger made farewell si^ns to his friend. Then a fresh breeze sprung up the bark plunged her cutwater into the waves, and llarley had seen the last of his friend for years.
He rode back slowly and sadly toward Huntsdon but with every mile passed over his face grew brighter. There was some one now to take the place of the absent in his heart. Through the clouds burst a brilliant flood of sunshine, and that opening through whieh the bright light fell was just abovo the countryhouse of Blandiield!
CHAPTER LXXY. KI'ILOGUH.
If ihe bride is happy that tho sun shines on, Harley and his brotherSainty had no fault to find with the day fixed on for their double-wedding.
May had como into tho world, with all its wealth of tender grass, and budding foliage,and singing birds and roses. The old domain of Bland field smiled and held out arms of welcome. The airs wcro mild and sweet the path down the hill led to a fairy land of flowers the little stream ran laughing under the groat weeping willows and the distant river, dotted with white sails, broke into silver spangles in the wind.
Bland field was a scene of bustle and rejoicing. The grounds were full of coaches wtth theirglossy four-in-hands and fat old negro coachman. To every trough was tied a thoroughbred, champing his bit. The porch and drawingroom overflowed with youths and maidens, in lace and embroidery and ixirtly old planters, and elegant old names, had come to honor tn* occasion with thoir presence. All the pleasant people of a pleasant old Virginia neighborhood had gathered together and prominent in tho throng, behold the gorgeouslyclad Miss Clara Fulkson, who bursts lnt. smiles, is delighted with herself and all around her, and exclaims, with rapture and a littlo scream, to everytody. oh, my dear! isn't this perfectly dolightly? Was there errr a happier occasion than this.' Did you oversee a finer looking bridegroom than Mr. Justin Harley, who I always predicted would win our little rosebud I had positively set my heart upon the match!"
Miss Fulkson is still gushing, screaming, accenting her words forcibly, and— candor compels us to add—talking everybody nearly to death, when the gentleman'whose good fortuno she always predicted is silently summoned from the room. All eyes are turned toward the door, a silence follows, and then, listen There is the rustle of brocade, like the wind in the oorn, us the splendid procession ot gay gallants and little maidens sweeps dovn tbe staircase, and enter the drawing-mom, where the parson, in his black gown, with his prayerbook open, awaits them.
The ceremony ends amid a burst of congratulations, mixed witb kisses. Then the violins, grasped bj' excited minstrels,'" strike up, and IJlandbecomes a scene of grandest revelry. Never were lovelier little maidens, brighter eyes, or rosier cheeks. And tbe brides were "the admiration of all" —tbe one, Annie, witb her plntnp little figure, her sparkling eyes, and raven curls and the other, Evelyn, with ber tall figure, her brown hair, and her exquisite grace as she moved, half lost in the white cloud of ber bridal veil.
Meg ield
Harley's lofty form rose above the throng, and his grave sintle was full of happiness. As to Mr. Sainty Harley, that youth kissed all the bridesmaids, shook hands with everybody, and rushed through cotillions, minuets and reels with the wildest enthusiasm and abandon.
For tbey bad a "regular old Virginia
U^HIJIUHJJNI
frolic" after the wedding, not following the bad fashion of our modern time, when eouples hurry through the ceremony, rash to the railway, and fly ofV to hide themselves, as though ashamed of the enormity they have committed. The violins filled Bland field with their merry music—tbe profuse supper scarce interrupted for a moment the gay revel —and the birds waking at dawn in the old poplars and oaks, heard the violins still playing, and mingled their songs with the music and tbe laughter.
Have you never, worthy reader, gono to visit some old country neighborhood, made frieiKls with everybody, returned, and lost sight of them, and years afterwards met some one who could tell you all about them
If your heart is warm—and I would not wound you by doubting that—you ask a thousand questions. What has become of this one, and what is that one doing? What has cbanMd? what remains the same? The old friends of your bright davs keep their plaees in your heart and I like to think that perhaps these figures of my fancy have also their little corner there.
A few words will tell you all about tliein. Harley went with his biiie ti
Fettle
down, a msrried man, at Hunf«don, which looked no longer sombre with Evelyn as its mistress, The London investments left him by Colonel Ilartright paid off all his debts, and having come into possession of the great Glenvale estate, ne abandoned the scheme of drain ing the Black water Swamp, whicli re mains to this day the haunt of the doer and the whip-poor-will. JJSainty took possession ofOakhill, aHd became a great fox-hunter.
At Blandfield no changes whatever occurred, and Miss Clementina and Miss Clara Fulkson grew gradual I old together, becoming every veur louder and fonder of gossip.
And our little friend Fanny—the reader, I think, will like to know somethingof her and Puccoon, and the Lady of the Snow, whom we left beside ber bed at Blandfield. In the spring Fanny accompanied her father and mother to France, having spent the winter with Puccoon, now well and hearty again, in spite of his forebodings and sevon years afterwards, nearly day for day, she returned to Huntsdon, leaning on the arm of her husband—Mr. Henry St. Leger.
St. Leger had purchased an estate near Huntsden^fnd came to live and die in Virginia and the first thing that Fanny did was to go to Puccoon's hut, where the trapper still lived with her dear old Otter, throw her arms around his neck, kiss him, and cry upon his breast, calling him her dear father, and take him away with her. whether he would or not. to live and die under her own roof beside her.
So everybody was happ3r, you see, kindly reader and romances should end t!*.us, if only to reconcile us to human life, I think a littlo harder sometimes, but not so hard, perhaps, as it is represented to be.
Let these personages of our drama— these puppets of our fancy—he happy, therefore, in their Puppet-iand ..
iiiV
[THE ESU.J
THE story of "Justin Harley" is completed in this issue of The Mail. We can supply a few sets of the The Mail—sev enteen numbers—with the story complete. Sent postpaid to any address for fifty cents.
A TO UCIIING INCIDENT.
Dixie," the Washington correspondent of tbe Chelsea Telegraph and Pioneer gives the following touching incident in a recent issue of that paper:
In traveling we often meet with persons of different nationalities and languages. We also meet with incidents of various character, some sorrowful and others joyful and instructive. One of the latter character I witnessed recently while traveling upon the cars. The train was going west, and the time was evening. At a station a little girl about oight years old came aboard, carrying a little budget under her arm. She came into the car and d?liberataly took a seat. She then commenced an eager scrutiny of faces but all were strange to ber. She appeared weary, and placing her budget for a pillow, she prepared to try to secure a littlo sleep. Soon the conductor catne along collecting tickets and fare. Observing him, she asked if she might lie there. The gentlemanly conductor replied that she might, and then kindly asked her for her ticket. She informed him thnt she had none, when tho following conversation ensued
Said tho conductor, "Where aro you going?" She answered, "I am going to heaven lie asked aga'm, "Who pays your fare?"
She then said. "Mister, does the railroad lead to heaven, and doos Jesus travel on it
Ho answered, "I think not. Why, did yon think so Why, sir, before my ma died, she used to sing to mo of a heavenly railroad and you looked so nice, and talk ed so kind* I thought this was tho road. My ma uted to sing of Jesus on the heavenly railroad, and that lie paid the fare for everybody, and that the train stopped at every station to take the people on board but my ma don't sing to me any more. Nobody sings to me now, Anil I thought I wo«N take the cars and go to ma. Mister, do you sing to vour little girl about heaven You have a little girl, haven't you
He replied, "No, m.v* little dear, I have ro little girl now. I had one once, but she died some ti«ne ago, and went to heaven
Again she *sked, "Did she go over this railroad, and are you going to see her^iow
By this /ime ever 7 person in theconch was upon bis leet. and most of thorn were weeping. An attempt to describe wtiat I witnessed is almost futile. Some Mid "God bless that little girl!" Hearing some one say that she was an aneel, the little girl earnestly replied, "Yes, my ma used so say that I would be an angel sometime."
Addressing herself onoe more to the conductor, sne asked him: "Do you lave Jesus? I do, and if vou love Him lie will let you ride to heaven on His railroad. I am going there, and I wish you would go with me. I know Jesus will let me into heaven when I get there. He will let you in too, and everybody who will ride on his railroaJ—yes, all these people. Wouldn't you like to see heaven and Jesus, and vour little girl?"
These words, so innocently and pathetically uttered, brought a great guah of tears from all eyes, but most profusely from tbe eyes of the conductor. Some who were traveling on the heavenly railroad shouted for joy.
She now a»ked the conductor. "Mister, may I lie here until we get to heaven
He answered, "Yes. dear yes." She then asked. "WUI you take me up then, so that I might see my ma, your
little girl, and Jesus? fbr'I do want to see them all." The answer came in- broken accents, but very tenderly spoken.. "Yes, dear angel, yes God bless-yotr!"
4
Amen!" was sobbed from mora than a score of voices. Turning ber eyes again upon the conductor, she interrogated him again.
What shall I say to your little girl when I see her shall I say to iter that I saw her pa'en Jesus' railroad? Shall I
This brought a fresh flood of tears from all present, and the conductor kneeled by her side, and embracing her, wept tbe reply he could not utter.
At this juncture the brakeman called out, "H The conductor arose and requested him to attend to bis (the conduetor's) duty at tho station, for be was engaged. At this point I was obliged to leave tbe train.
CHILDREN'S NER VES. On the street tbe other day we saw a fretful motner roughly shaking and, chiding, for "beiag so cross," a sensitive child, who shrank in nervous terror from the liarsh blast of a toy trumpet, sounded in bis ear by a jolly little urchin, who evidently had intended to give pleasure, not pain. The frightened child, with pale race, trembling lips, and pathetic little suppressed sob, struggled manfully to conquer bis nerves and his wounded heart. "Cross" was clearly the very last word that should have been applied to the suffering littlo fellow, whoso nerves were set a-tremblo for at least one whole dny—not so much by the shock of the discordant blast, which a few kind words might have smoothed away, as by the subsequent rough handling and rougher tones of his mother, and by his own very great effort at self-command
Of course, the cruelty of this mother was unconscious, but not, on that account, much the less culpable. It should bo the business of those who have the care of children, not only to seo that they have proper food ana clothing, but also to study their characters, disposi tions, and nerves. Notwithstanding the attention that scientific physicians are now paying to the nervous system, we cannot yet expect to know the reasons why a noise, an odor, a touch, that is in, nocuous to most, to a few may cause terror, or pain, or faintness, or death. Yet, by observation, we may find out what affects unpleasantly the nerves of the child intrusted to our care, and, by avoiding as far as possible exposing it to the causo of its nervous fears or irrita tion, and by gently soothing it when 8u?h exposure is unavoidable, gradually inure its nerves to boar with fortitude the painful excitement.
In this way we have known nervous antipathies to be overcome when a contrary course would have produced serious consequences peihaps, even death.
A littlo girl whom wo knew was thrown almost into convulsions at the sight of a dog or a cat. The parents would not allow either animal to be about their premises and, with equal good sense, would never permit the child's terrors to be spoken of in her presene. Ii, by chance, one of t'- obnoxious animals approached her, she was always taken up. as if by accident, and her attention diverted. After a time, she gained courage enough to look at the causes of her terror, when their beauties and good qualities were pointed out to ber, though she was never asked to touch them. Now the child lias grown to be a young woman, conspicuous for her fondness for all animiws, aud especially for dogs and cats. Had her parents abruptly attempted to make her conquer her antipatnv, its impres sion would, in all probability, have oeen so deepened that sho could never have risen above it. In a similar case, of which we have been told, tho child died in convulsions, induced by being compelled to touch a horse, the object of its nervous terror. On the other hand, by weakly humoring such fears, talking about them in the presence of those subject to them, and thus allowing, or leading, their minds to dwell upon them, the unfortunates may be all their lives subject to the bondage of an unreasoning terror.
A striking instance of tho danger of disregarding a nervous drrtad is related in tho memoir of Charles Mayne Young, A young gentleman had been appointed attache to tho British Legation at St. Petersburg. On his arrival at that capital, he was coneratulated by the ambassador on being in time to witness the celebration ot a grand fete, and invited to accept in tho great church a seat among those reserved for tho ambassadorial party. Though, in such cases, an invitation is equivalent to a command, the attache begged to be excused. Being pressed for his reasons, he gave them with much reluctance.
There will bo martial music," he said, "and I have an insuperablo objec tion to the sound of a drum. It gives me tortures that I cannot describo. My respiration becomes so obstructed that it sterns to m* that I must die
The ambassador laughed, saying that he should esteem himself culpable if he allowed his attache to yield to a weak nessso silly, and commanded him to be present at Lho fete
On the day appointed all were in their places, when suddenly was heard the clang of martial music and tho beat of the trreat drum. The ambassador, wi'.h ironical smile, turned to see the effect upon the "young hypochondriac." The poor fellow was upon tho floor, quite dead. On a post-mortem examination, it appeared that the shock to his finelystrung nervous organization had caused a rupture of one of tho valves of the hearf.
If then, as we see, the adult, with every reason for subduing nervous an tipatbics, apparently so unreasonable and ridiculous, finds it impossible to do so, how can a little child be expected.to control or explain them ?—[Scribner.
KKKP NT It A JGHT AHEAD Pay no attention to slanderers or gos-sip-mongers. Kaep straight on in your course and let their backbiting* die tbe death of neglect. What is the use of lying awake night, brooding over the remark of some falso friend, that runs through your brains like forked lightning? What's the use of getting into a that ha has been by some has more esc things can't
worry and fret over afloat to your disadvaa meddlesome busybody, time than character. Tn possibly Injure vou, unless, indeed, you take notice of tnem, and in combating them give thorn character and standing. If what is said about you is true, set yourself right at once if it Is false, let it go for what it will fetch. If a boe stings you, would you go into a hive and destroy it Would not a thousand come upon you Ii is wisdom to say little respecting the injuries you have received. We are generally losers. In tbe end, if we stop to refute all the backbiting* the
and gosslppings we may hear by way. They are annoying, it is true, but not dangerous, so long as we do not •top to expostulate and scold. Our characters are formed and sustained by ou'selves, and not by others. Let ns bear in mind that calumniators ma/ usually be trusted to time and the slow but »t*sdy ustioe of poblic opbUdn,
,J,HE
1
is
Saturday Evening
MAIL,
FOR THE YEAR 1875-a
A MODEL WEEKLY PAPER FOR THE HOME.
TERMS
One year, (with ohromo) 8ix months, (without chromo) Three months, (wltliqut chromo) 50 cts.
Mall and office Subscriptions will, invariably, be discontinued at expiration ef time paid for.
Encouraged by the extraordinary success which baa attended the publication of THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, tkepubllsher has perfected arrangements by which it: will henceforth be one of the most popular", papcni In tbe Went.
THE CHOICE OF
Two Beautiful Chromos-'
Presented to each yearly subscriber, from and after this date. These beautiful pictures! Just from the hands of the French chrom artists, are faithful coplesof oil paintings by the artist W. II. Baker, of Brooklyn. One, entitled I v, \,t
"Cherry Time"
Represents a bright faced boy, coming from the orchard, bountifully laden with the redripe fruit. The other, entitled
"Lily of the Field"
Is a beautiful little girl, with «ue of the sweetest of faces, gathering lilies in the Held. One is a wood soenc, the other has an open meadow in the back ground. They are of striking beauty.
For one dollar extra ($3.00 in all,) wo will send The Mail one year and both clirwnios mounted ready for framing. Tlu-se pictures are catalogued and sold iu the art stores at FOUR DOLLARS EACH.
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BILL OF PRICKS.
The Mall one year and choice of Chromo 82 W The Mall one year and Beth Chroiuos mounted 3 Otl The Mail one year and Both Chromos
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CLUBBING WITH OTHER PERIODICALS. We aro enabled to offer extraordinary inducements in the way of clubbing with other periodicals. We will furnish TIIE BAT-. URDAY KVENJNU MAIL, PRICE J2.00 PER YEAR, and elthe1'of the above Chromos with any of the periodicals enumerated below at greatly reduced rates. These periodicals will be sent direct from the offices of publication. Here Is the list:
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Chromo 00 Overland Monthly, price 84.00, The Mail and Chromo 5 '.0 Harper's Magazine, price 844)0, The Mall and Chromo 5 £0 Gardener's Monthly,price82.00,TheMall and Chromo 3 59 Young Folks Rural, The Mail and Chromo_ 2 75 The Ifwrtery, price 81
JO, The Mail and
Chromo 8 10 81. Nicholas, price 83X10, The Mall anil Chrorao. 4 40
All the premiums offered by the above pnb licatlons arc included In this clubbing arrangement,
CLUBBING WITH COUNTY PAPERS. We h*ve made arrangements to furnish THE ftfAIL, with Chromo, and any one of 3 the ewspapers in the neighborhood of Ten/ HatJte all for 83.00.
JUST LOOK AT IT!
Tfie Mat!, price four County paper, price........ The Chromo, worth
Total
All these—(8HJOO)
82 00 2 00 4 00
88 00
foi 83.00.
Address T. S. ffmi AU, Publisher Saturday Evening Mail, TEKREHAUTE, ltfB
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