The Syracuse Enterprise, Volume 1, Number 13, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 1 April 1875 — Page 1

J. P. t PRTCK,ETT, Editor and Proprietor. ‘ ' X? . Y " . I _ , v..yr

\(J I, [ M I’jr I.

■ .J SQCAWDERJNG LIVES. n ■ — si • ;** . Tbb Haberman wade* in the surge, Tie woodman lays ax to the trees. The* are each <4 the breed of heroes, •>riThe manhood attempted In strife: Stroup bands that gtf llgLtlv to labor, ,Tr»w heart# that take comfort in life. • la eaota is the seed forCplenfeb The world with the vigor it needs—- • The renter of ffßnest affections, The itu pulse to generous deeds. « But the -bark drinks the blood of the fifties; The sailor is dropped in the sea. The enjd by tdfi Cannon, v □k woodntan is crushSd'by his tree. tach prodigal life that Is wasted in many achievements, unseen But lengthens the days es the coward, lad strengthens the frafty and mean. The blood t>t the noble is lavished That Use saltish a profit may find; * God sees the lives that are squandered, And we to His wisdom are blind. . —B<tyard Taylor. OLD TICKLEBY’S CABIN. ■ T— —‘ i Von! How the wind did bluster and blow and cavort around the old aabin—-<)idTi«kJcbyX^bimnait_wM-known by *H the everybody ebe Viih'by chahce had beKra of 1C It was called Old Tickleby’s Cabin because it was inhabited by old Peter Tickleby. Il _ didn't belong to anybody, for it stood on the village common-ground and had once been a school house—a longtime ago—long before Old Tickleby had moved to that section, or, indeed, before Old Tickicby was born. ‘ There wan only one man in the village whoeonid-remember when the old log cabin was built, and hew as ao nervous and old and deaf that you couldn't get any satisfaction out of him about if. The old cabin stood just at the edge .of a narrow strip of woods, which, from the r shape, seemed to invite the north wind r'atbef than protect the shaky structure. strip <>f wood was the southern boundary of a long and wide that sloped abrup ly off at this edge to the banka of a deep creek, and rossequentiy the old cabin mt in a gorge And a lovely gorge it was, with the great, mossy oak trees growing on the very edge of the stee.p banks, and their white and smoothly syphed roots sprawling out of the side of the bank and over into the wa'er, like the skeleton fingers of some huge giant that lay burjed on lhe ! slope. The wind came rushing like a mad spirit down the gorge. The gusts were sudden and short, but pounded at the door of Old Tickleby’s cabin, and Jerked and pried at the crannies betwyen the logs, and rushed down the old mud chimney, carrying with it a roll of smoke, and then out again, like a boisterous, playful young monster. WWr Tlrklhby sat on a low, split-bot-tom chair before a very ghost of a fire that hovered undecided!?, over two rugged knots of poplar wood in the great open fire-place. He held, or. rather be clutcW, a piece qf paper inhit hand, and be held to it with an air of deter*mlnaiion, and one that plainly accused the wind of thievish intentions. When- I ever the sullen knu> would leap jntqza j momentary blaze be would peer with such an agonised, anxious look at the paper, Saif he were trying to look into ( dtf very soul. Y Old Peter had gotten a letter from th* wsfotMce that afternoon. The Poettnastswtald there was no doubt of its being intended for hint, because it waa a long, red package, sealed with dark-colored wax. and <>n it was written: “Peter Tickieby, Nnq., Ik-Ugfield, Co, Ken.” , ■ Old Tickleby then took it, because he had no 'excuse for refusing it further. He thrust it nervously into bis great fpavera a! a roeket aadwralkod tatwhdy through the deepening sunset and the cutting east wind to his domicile, determined 1Q encourage no idle and senseless L curiosity. But a man being reminded eternally of ! anything will at last regard it with some ' consideration. So old Peter, the mure ! he tried to forget the long red letter the | MAR he saw the,peculiar, sawdike writ- | IM on tbs direction: every time he thrust i : nis little, old, shriveled-up hands into Lis great fat pockets they encountered the L ■objectionable package, and were forth.with withdrawn, as if from fire. Bo he Soon became curious, and then raving, ' staring anxious The old pedagogue—for Old Peter was th* village schoolmaster. although I have not mentioned it before, la fact, the pedagogic pursuits of the old man wore the least important of hix Occupation*; he wan so old in years and so old-fash-ioned iar ideas that the precocious children Sfthe generation of which I writ* jrere fain to bold him in derisiop, and Wdar this the old man’s spirits had toir. fly Woken. For more than a twelve, month his occupation, litas that of a more famous personage, had no* been gone, andnow in the dead of a sever* winter ho was in lack of some of the necessaries and all the comforts of life. The neighbors around, as a general thing, were charitable when want was la right the proverbial turkey in the coop of on* Job, wmtid tavs starved silently rather than have asked charity: And thus he had lived a solitary life this winter until his wood, the thoughtful summer provision of the old man. had dwindled under „ the demands of an unprecedented winter Into a few knotty.sticks. He wan privident of these >*' The old pedagogue, as I intended to I my, entered his cabin and'seated himself in his low ehair and nervously sought for his spectacles. Then he remembered, j whh a burst of indignant and angry contempt for hi* failing memory, that his spectacles had been lost these two days “““ No he was compelled to smother his eampanttwitetity with rms|ii|ilMni of reading and then rtattag bb eyes f<* pot in the feebleltghi of and at I*4 I Thea as MM»«t ip tconjcct uftb Imi could | entertain in regard to that letter, he was I K.

The Syracuse Enterprise. I yd-'!'" f-'I t*’-' ■ I.' - ' » !-..»< » ?. '« ■.

startled from his meditation by a 1 tremendous clatter of the old door. It seemed as if a hoatud. assailants had all taken a good start and flung themselves against the old crazy thing that hung a living lie to the namn-Af-d Old Tickleby jumped up quicker titan any of his pupils had under the aid of his hand at their goat collars, and stood looking at the outrageous door, so calmly hanging, as if in tumble depiction of any ch&ge Old Ticklehy might harbor : in Lis mind? Then the came sighing softly through the q-evices at the top and bottom dr thd aoof, 81 Increasing steadily in volume until it was a hollow sound between a howl and a whistle. Then it died awsy into« jreeh f* hutnah sigh tlial Old Tickleby bent forward un consciously, as if expecting a cry of distress. He held his attitude until nlfhis expectations died out, and then, as if a new thought had struck him.be drew up straight and glanced .furtively around hie room..- » r , He hesitated a moment, and then walked to the door"and then tmattttad again. He looked around at the fire and glanced nervously at the open closet by the side of the fire-place. Old Tgttiehy opened the door, or helped the sm*tius blmio jt rk it open -, for t*e gale casto rushing in so wildly that it fairly shook him on his old, weak legs. He scrambled ti* the sill and looked eagerly out into the dark moonlight. ' But be*nftgtrt'*hjtvri~T‘etrCt! with the strong eyes of the man in the fairy story, and he c*uld havqkeen nothing bu| the old oak trees and the frozen crick tltfct glittered so eoldly in the moonlight. ■ Old Tickleby’s eyes could scarcely see these, they were so weak, and when he had push I'd the door to and gat down, chilled, the tears Were standing in those kind old eyes and running down off the end of his very tMn n.we. fie pulled out Ids old red handkerchief and wiped them, and the* ,h*>irred the dying embers of the two knotty sticks and coaxed them into a blaze. Then be hud ;led hi* thin old legs up and Yubbed his hands briskly o?cr his knees. The wind sighed again, bin he merely raided his 4fkad and looked thoughtjully over his shoulder But he again looked in the closet, and, on second /ontid«ration, arose and closed the door and set a chair against it. Once more he drew tire paper from his pocket and gaxed anxiously at it. Then he replaced it. Old Tickleby got up from his seat and turned down the covering of his lounge that stood so stiffly in the corner, more like a bier than a couch. Next he came back to the fire, and, kneeling by> his chair,he invoked' his flod in pniye/. It waa but the simple Lord’s Prayer, but the Innate goodness us the old man’s heart was well attested by the addition of a blessing he craved for all the world; the faint romance in the old man’s life was faintly shadowed forth in an allusion 10 the uqjust enmlty bf a brother, and a prayw fw hM SnUgltteMneat and happiness. i z Scarcely * ronumo* : yet a Sad Stoty' *f Old Peter’s life. A story of the rivalry of two brothers; their earnest efforts at elidet brother. Then, as the yuuthagrew iaageehd statwre, the breach widened, until Peter openly offended bis brother. A bittyr struggle ensued, and then they parted, aad, for twenty years no word passed between the two—the deadly hatred of npe refusing reconciliation; the gentle pride of the other fearing to propene IL As age .grew on apace it became a great hope of Old Peter's thpt all the misanderstanding of a Ufelime would be swept away, and that he might take his brother kindly by the hand ere he died. Ohl Tickleby stood for a while gazing upon the flickering firy, with, perhaps, some sad thoughts of his lite id his mind, and then economically Min*d the brands Land extinguished the embers in the ash* i «s, laying the suborned portion aside for ! nse to morrow. " He got into bed with his dothea on, for . his other covering was scant, and cud- , died bis knees up almost to his chi ft in a i vain kndeavor to set. warm. The wi*d rushed in the cracks, and scampered around the room, and surged up Into the fire-p’ace, and at last made a dash at Old Peter. It shook the old counterpane and flapped the old brown blanket, and dived under the clothes after Old Peter. And then out again and quiet. Old Tickleby, however, wouldn’t mind it—be had some other occupation—he was pondering and conjecturing and im--4Mhl about that letter. What if that letter—that very same red letter—contained an offer of a ritua a profitable -situation at that! Ms stopped at this, for he was gudty of of hi- railing age. Bhat if he was called to th* charge of a good school, and then Old Peter Just thought what kind of a school he would like. And bow he’d teach;and how he’d discipline; how he’d rate by love, and make all his papUa love and respect him. OBt WTWW would be! And then there would be no more more iMistinM 11 nni map* drepair. Witir tbtw-pte&nre bright upon hii m,iad Old Peter actually fell into a doze. Than as .** grew wanner it deepened tn fact, it had crept away altonthen But when the old man slept pentMfuilj’it creptin again and looked on his fee* and away. Aamworax tbe inuea creek, whfstMng through-the oakTbott, rashing under the great past the bumble church, without so much as a greet* tag tq the tower. It was aearoridmghi,ai»daßwamistak, able sound sleep was on Old TicklebyThea coming stealthily up the Utti* gorge; slipping noiselessly under th* KU IKk.IMw,I». laad then thpMMuMM4tfk*MNM*tal

| SYRACUSE, INDIANA, THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1875.

. f Old. Peter »as sound asleepMiqy could sec il. 'oie wind chuckled, almost sbofct&i with jrieer raced arorfmEtfie i room, shaking the door, rattling the win- ■ dow, and stirring the dead ashes. And then the two companions dived into the bed; and oh ! how they hustled Old Peter. Thqg tore ti* scant covering from his face afid beheld his smile—and a silence deep fell on them. Then the wind, in shame, sighed through the door that it had shaken wide open, and silently and stealthily the fell companion strode over the cn«y threshold, nor cast one luuk backBehoW’ at the verydoor step “stood a great white steed, which I almost would have was a snow-drift, and mounting thia off it rushed. And Old Peter Tickleby still smiled. The morgingdawned; it wq clear and cold, the fifln over the horizon, and then mounting the tree-tops shot its warm rays conciliatingly over the wide common, now covered with a mantle of cnsp snow. They glittered in the white-fringed branches ot the trees that stood uakad and silent on the banks: and one rich, clear beam stole softly through the half-open door of the old cabin, and played tenderly and caressingly on the features of Old Tickleby. They threw a generous warmth on his countenance, and awßito bl <hswering sympathy resteeffo'h ' the faiin, bluish lips, and. under the cherishing warmth of the supbeam, seemed to expand over the features and light them with a look of perfect peace. His eyes closed so * calmly and the benevtoent ex-pre.-si«n <W' am bnremorseful heart was so surely impressed in his lineaments, that whet the ray of light had wandered over the face and white hair, tossed carelessly over the pillow, it seemed as if a halo, and the .old man looked almost divine in his silence. With the opening of the day the chimneys of the cottages sent up the pale blue wreaths of smoke that circled away over the trees, and ere long an early riser would venture out of bis warm shelter and seek to know the cun dition of his stock; and anon a single foot track broke the boundless level of the snow, and as the day advanced the village street was slashed by deep prints of ponderous wagon-wheels, and then t|ie paths, more decided, were beat firm and clear. • : ' 1 A farmer passed “through the little' town with wagon laden with tobaeco, bound for the distant city, wrapped snugly in a monstrous shawl that encompassed his wholg bod/Jrom shoulders to knees, fits pantaloons stuffed warmly in his great boots that needed only the fairy attribute of swiftness to make them “ seven-league boots,” and his homemade mittens of yarn pulled over his, brown, horny hands. He disappeared over the hill. Teyhaps half an hour elapsed, and he was seen* hurriedly Returning on foot. And then, ere long, it was whispered through the village—whispered in very horror —that some nameless fate had overtaken Old Peter Tickleby, and mowed the old tia* down i* his cabin. The path"before long was plainly diverged from the road, and led to the door of the cabin. Curious men, women and children thronged the way, and the efid cabin was Crowded. The farmer stood near the bed, and after tM» discussion upon the manner of< his death had been settled he gently drew down the covering, and 10l in the dead man's hand was a paper clutched? tightly. “ Friends," said he. “ here’s a letter or epistle of some kind that may shed son}|i light on this occurrence." The combined grocer and Postmaster approached tmlpeered rlosriy, *nd repijrdk I Ft■!lF I>. >4 “ I delivered that there letar to hfin yesterday evenUf." A man in the crowd proposed reading it. So the Postmaster disengaged the letter from the grasp of the dqad haod, and refitf? 1 ******** -1 Prrsa Ticxtaav, K»q.: We, the counselor* for the deceased, give you due notice that the will of George Tiekle-: by, deceased, wiii be proven in the County Court of J—— County at Its ia*t March term. Too arc supposed to b« »legatee. Wiicox AGcbbixs, Attorneys. "Ah!" said the old fanner, "the old man don’t need no wills now. He wont have no more trouble. No more freezing. No npre agqny of thonght. No more lonesomeness. No more despair!'* —Y. K. AUuan, Jr. k Modoc at Chore*. O.xx tolerably good thing is reported of that amall section of the Modoc tribe now on a tour throughout the country at the expense of and for the profit of two or three white men. One of these Indians recently taught several small boys how to conduct themselves in church.. The Indiana, it seems, took Lexington, Ky ,in their tour and chanced to be there ot them at tended the Baptist Church to observe the white man’s way at propitiating the Great Spirit and smoothing the path toi the happy hunting-grounds. As a mat* cure seats directly to front of the noble red men where curiosity could be thoroughly gratified. When the sermon began the boys tufned round and stared at vhc gtog a bit m the gaae of open-mouthed wonder. The Indian, as a rale, tsjstiNcaiJ but he was not stoical enough to endure the gimlet look of those boys, which be* ly forward and seized a boy’s head aa though he a scalp, but he didn't make any attempt to secure that trophy, fie simply twisted the boy’s head around until it looked to the direction of thd minister, and at the same time a significant gesture to the other boys caused them to look the same way. Never did boys pay better attention to a sermon than did those of Lextogton during the in him big IffW* ft tcndcot I teJTerA (toreime to edited by s

" 1 ! 1 " ■ ''l V i Lr. ■ r» ctiift. ’ - - The “ Imperial Almanac,'* published in the first inMance by the Board Os Rites at Pekin, and bf the various provincial authorities, does not, so far as we aroarare, mention beforehand tbb roaring eeMpM* ®f the sad wnA moon; but, the imperial astronomers, some time previous to their occurrence, notify the Board of the very hour when they may be expected to be visible, and ibis information uat once transmitted, through the high provincial officers, to all the subordinate officials throughout the Empire, irhoee duty it is to, * sav'd’ the sun and the moon” from being devoured by some celestial monster; for the Chinese nation at large has no definite notion of the actual cause of eclipses, as may be inferred from the terms by which they denote them, viz. r ‘Jihmhih" and " Yueh-ahih”—literally meaning an eating of the sun and moon tespeclively. The agent in the matte? is usually thought to be the omniverous dragon; but some believe that there is a dog chained up in the sky, who, when he c«n get loose, sets off to eat the moon! These absurdities are bad enough, but a well-educated Malay writer, who was an acute and intelligent observer of men and things, remarks, in his recently-published autobiography, that •? half of the Siamese say that the sun is'bpnginarried to the moon, but the dislikes the junction and so runs away, and the sun after her,' and as he snatches her it becomes dark.” ; The Chinese view an eclipse with wonder, mingled, to a great extent, with fear and terror, and most of them take some steps to aid the sun or moon, as the case may be, in the hour of need, the principal agents employed being, of course, gongs and gunpowder, without which no ceremonial observance of any k<nd is complete. The officials, at their teveral yaniens (official residences!, go through a regular set ceremonial on these occasionsThey call in the aid of Taoist priests, and an incense vase and a pair of large candlesticks, containing red candles for luck, are placed on the table in the hunting, or audience ball, but sometimes in the court in front of it. When the eclipse is beginning the red candles are lighted, and the official enters, dressed in his robes of state. He takes some lighted incense-sticks in both hands, and bows bw In front of the table, waving the sneense about according to custom before placing It tn the vase. He next proceeds to perform the ‘ceremony *> of “kowtow” (literally knock-head), kneeling down thrice, and knocking his head nine times on the ground. He then gets up, and huge gongs and drums are beaten to frighten the monster «jvay; and finally the priests march around the table in solemn procession, repeating prescribed formulas in a sftag-song toflV, until the termination of the eclipse. The officials are, of course, always supposed to be successful in their endeavors to rescue the sun and moon from their perilous position, and the ignorant masses in China fully believe the happy result is brought about by the ceremonies just described. They have seen the orb more or less obscured, or, as they have it, swallowed up by some monstrous beast, and after a time returning to Us fdrmpr condition, and they are quite satisfied that the deliverance has been effected by their own exertions and those of the officials. We have also heard that on these momentous occasions some of the people beat in their own houses a species of winnowing instrument made of,bamboo splints, in the hope that the din they raise may aid in averting the dire calamity from the sun or moon; and on the occurrence of an eclipse of the latter sailors on board native junks always beat gongs with very great heartiness and good-will, and the noise they thus make is sufficient to drive-anyone but a Chinaman distracted. We do not for a moment affect to suppose that Chinese officios generally actually believe in these absurd customs and mummeries, though they are obliged to observe them in obedience to the behests of their imperial master and in deference to the superstitious feelings of the populace; for fully two centuries ago the Roman Catholic priests, who were then in high favor at the court of Pekin, taught them the main principles of astronomy, how to foretell eclipses, etc.;'and many weßeducated Chinese are acquainted, through the medium of translations, with some of our best work* on this and cognate subjects. In times gone by the errors and igno rance of the Chinese in regard to eclipses have sometimes been made the pretext for offering insane adulation to the Emperor. It is on record that in the twelfth moon of the seventh yekrnf Chen Trang, of the Bug dynasty (abogL A. D. Wffi. an eclipse of the sun, which the astronomers had predicted, did not take place, and that the ministers congratulated Hia Majesty, skis for bis sake so unlucky an omen bad been dispensed with. If the Chinese view aa eclipse with fear, still more are they alarmed at the advent of a comet. ” Aecerding to theyshape and appearance," Sir John Davis tells as in the CJbftwN, “comets are called ' by the Chinese broom stars, hairy star*, and tail stars, and they are said to point the tail toward the region of whose ruin they are the presage. The Chinese affect to draw preaages from the appear anee of eomets, and here they bring into ' play their fooUsh theory of the five 00l ore. If the appearance be red, no particu- : iar consequences are to follow; if dark, ) they expect the overthrow of regular governments and the success of nW tons,” etc. The comet of last summer enured considerable alarm among the ignorant, and was by them, in accordance f with their superstitious belief, ooa- • netted with the invasion of the island of Formosa by tffe Japanese. But during I the reign of Hsi Tsung, of the Tang dy- [ nasty <A. D. driidril pbe nomenon appeared in the sky to bewilder and terrify the superstitious Celestials, for two meteors shot across the ketnas ' with a wlotioB; repeated ly each other's teach, the appearance of littia peediari t tea aad I tricities of the Chinese win doubtless

call up a smile to the face of an American reader in this latter half of the nine, teenth century; but they are not alone in their superstitious absurdities, as witness the-following anecdotes, which ap peared in the columns of a Loudon paper in July, 1873. “During a stortn which lately raged around that place (Clermont, in France) the lightning struck the steeple of a chapel in a neighboring commune, just as four persons were assembled therein to ring the bells in order to drive away the terrible visitor.” Again : “It is on record that in 1852 the Bishop ot Malta ordered the church bells to be rung to mitigate the fury of the gale!" Mindful of these and similar superstitious practices prevalent among some classes in civilized countries, we must look with a lenient eye on the follies of the Chinese, and hope that the day may not be far distant when, through the aid of the civilizing influences now at Work among them, they will be brought to be. hold in a more appreciative manner the the heavens.— Marpar't Baur. Young Coville and the Farmer Boy. T"- ~ - Yovsi; Coville was out looking for a ride Friday afternoon. He had his sled with him, and he wanted to fasten it to a horse-sleigh. An opportunity finally presented itself. It was a farmer who was driving, and he had two good horses, His sou sat in the back of the sleigh; watching the varipus village boys. He was a pale boy, with a broad forehead and a soft brown eye. No one character as well as children, and when Master Obville looked into the open countenance of the farmer lad he put after the sleigh with all his might, and, catching up to it, threw'Miimself on the tail-board, keeping bis eye firmly fixed on the farmer boy. Then tlje farmer boy suggested that young Coville get on his own sleJ and he would hold ' the rope for a little way. The offer was accepted at once, and Master Coville mounted his own sled, where he rode in ' triumph, to the envy of every boy he passed. Getting toward the suburbs the farmer, who was qtfite deaf, hurried forward his horses, and Master Coville tried to look ahead without smiling, but it was impossible, the speed was so exhilarating. When the party got by Granville avenue young Coville told the farmer boy that he guessed he’d be going back, and if he’d kindly drop the rope he’d confer a favor. The farmer boy smiled a rural smile but did not relax his hold on the rope. Young Coville smiled too, but rather feebly, and again repeated the request. But the soft brown eye was musing, and the rope still remained in the owner’s grasp. Young Coville began to look scared. It was after five o’clock, and would be dark in an hour, and here he was sailing out into the country at the rate of eight miles an hour. “Let go of there, why don’t you?” he asked. The farmer boy smiled—one of those blossoming smiles which told of green dells and moss-fringed brooks. “If you don’t let go of that rope I’ll just get into that sleigh and mash yer b’emed old snoot!” suggested young Coville, which was a v6ry imprudent statement in view of the faet that every muscle was engaged in keeping his seat. But the farmer lad did not let go. He kept his hold of the rope and kept up the smiles, the waving grain and blooming daisy smiles. “ Oh, I'll make you laugh on the other side of your mouth if you don’t let go of that rope,” shouted young Coville, as he saw the paved sidewalks give way to foot-paths, and gardens dissolve into broad, snow-clad fields. On they went, the farmer lad smiling so beautifully, and young Coville grating his teeth and shouting the awful things he would do in the future. About four miles out of town, and as they were passing through a heavy wood, the farnier boy smiled a broad smile and let go of the rope, and as the sleigh darted away the rope passed under the sleigh, bringing it up so suddenly aa to throw young Coville heels over head into the snow. When he got up, the sleigh was going over a hill and his tormentor was throwing agricultural kieses at him. It was late at night when Master Coville reached his home, but when he went to bed there were thirteen snowballs, soaked with water, freezing slowly but surely on a board in the back yard. —Ztaadury Jf«M. A Bath in the Dead Sea. Ma. C. A. Kixosbcby writes as follows in Fortat omd Otrewm of a bath in the Dead Bea: “ Reaching at length this most remarkable of all the seas and lakes on the globe, we prepared to take a bath, and such a bath I can hardly ex-j peel ever to take again. I had previously bathed in numerous seas, lakes and rivers, but never did I enjoy such a bath an this. The specific gravity of the water is such, from its bolding in solution so large a proportion of salts (Sty per cent ), that one floats upon its surface like a cork. At the time there-was only a gentle ripple upon the sea, and being a good swimmer I al once struck out into deep water. I soon found that I could not only swim and float with wonderful ease, but that I could actually walk wthe water, sinking only to the arm-pits- Discovering this fact, I made tor ,fl»e shore, and taking Dr. C., one of our party, who could not swim, by the hand, led him into the sea where the waler was many fathoms deep. At first he was quite reluctant to follow me, but he soon gained confidence on finding there was no danger of sinking, and he enjoyed the novel both asasueh aa if he bad been in expert swimmer. Should the bather allow the water to get into bis eyts or mouth be would suffer considerable abatement to his enjoyment, i on account of its extremely salt, bitter and irritating nature. No fish can live ■fin Uris sea; batvarioua kinds of docks abound here at certain seasons of the ar <w M ordinary sea writtemperature was thn body was such as ttf develop those senwtionspertajning tothe • in the world, give W ♦ bath in tiHpTj J *. ’

—i—— gounff Readers. TBB LITTLB WHITB LIB. I was in trouble beyond any doubt— I was in trouble—and how to get out? “Tell a white lie?” said the devil to me. “Tell a lie! O! how dreadful! But what would it be If I should’—though I never shall fell one,” said I. “ Don’t be frightened,” said he, “we won’t call it a lie— A few words in their way quite as good a* the truth, And for this occasion far better, forsooth.” But my little white lie, when I told it, grew blaek t Then, O! how could I hide it or how get it back? For it never would do to be caught in a lie. For ’twas known that a very good youngster was I. I must manage in some way to keep it from sight; , i. ” Tell one more,” said ‘"twill make it all right” But my two grew to three, and my thres were soon four, And my four gave rise to a dozen or more; ' Till I felt in my soul suclj_a sense of disgrace, I had scarcely one friend I could look in the face; And at night to my room I went creeping upstairs— God is truth! could J sleep without saying my prayers? But my fears and my conscience thus followed about, I was really half glad when the lie was found , r ■* out; A For it was-— it Is ilwajs the way with a lie— And all said that a very bad youngster was I. Good or bad, I have learned in one thing to b« wise. And shun ju the future all little white lies. —AT. K. Orphan’s Frioxi. ROBBIE GOESj TO LIVE IN A PLAYHOUSE. 4 Chesteii and Robbie had been to se4 their little neighbor Eddy, where they had a feast of candy and cakes, and about an hour after their return home the unusual dainties they had been indulged in began to make Chester a little uncomfortable—though he did not know what was the matter. Nothing seemed pleasant or good to him, and he talked to Robbie tilfme made him think it was much nicer over to Eddy’s house titan it was at home. When they had worked themselves up into a proper state of fretfulness the two boys came in to mamma, who was reading by the last rays of light. / • “Auntie,” said Chester, “ we don’t Want to live here any more; we want to go to live with Eddy's mamma.” “ Indeed," said mamma, laying down her book and looking at them, “why so?’’ ' “ ’Cause Eddy’s mamma is nicer," said Chester, coolly; “ she never makes us eat bread ’n butter; have as much cake *s we can stuff.” “Au’ tea! ’tsreal black, too!” broke in Robbie, “ an’jam—’thout any bread.” “ And sugar,” exclaimed Chester; “ we can just help ourselves." “An* Eddy’s got more things!” said Robbie. “ An’ we like his house better ’n this old thing,” said Chester !yMamma was not surprised at this in Chester, for he was a very- uneasy little boy always, and she knew that the things he had eaten had made him unhappy, , but she was rather hurt that Robbie should want to leave her. After a moment she said: “So my little boy wants to, go away from his mamma—does he?” “ Y-e-s,” said Robbie, hesitating, as he remembered the wonderful things over at Eddy’s. “Course he does, ’cause it’s nicer there!’’ sai<| Chester. “Well,” said mamma, “I’ll tell you what you may do. If you don’t want to live with me, you may go and stay in your play-house till to-morrow, and then, if Eddy’s mamma will take you, you go there and live.” “Oh, goodey!” shouted Chester. “ Bring out all your things, Robbie, and we’ll go livfe in the play-house.” They quiekly loaded themselves up with treasures—consisting mostly of chestnuts and the two pieces of cake, and, bidding mamma good-by, went out. The play-house was in the back yardand was a very nice one. It was built for a chicken-house at first, but mamma did not have very good success with chickens, and after they had all died off she raid Robbie should have it for a play-houae. So one day a man came there with a saw and a hammer and some other things;, and he took down the roosts, made a nice door with a knob and a lock on—just like grown-up doors—and a neat little window looking toward the, house. Wheq he went away another man came and whitewashed !! all over, and covered the old chicken yard all up with green blockalof grass and made a little walk up to the door, and then it was as cozy a house as one could have. Then mamma put down a carpet, and papa sawed off the legs of a small table and put up a shelf for Robbie’s dishes. Robbie spent a great deal of time in his house and had made several things for it. One was a bench made of a box. with kgs of sticks of wood, which he found in the wood-pile, nailed on. Another was a stool made of the end qf a square plank, with pieces of lath for legs. This article, however, Was inerely ornamental, because the legs were not strong enough to %ear Robbie. In fact they wouhi hnrdly hold the plank alohe, and Robbie said he couldn't sit on it, it was eo tipsy. •‘Noe, Robbie,” said Chester, when they had taken possession, “we most have something to keep off bu’glars.” “I know what!” exclaimed -Bobbie. “11l take the hatahet—l can hatoh their heads off.” “ Tes, an’the hammer," said Chester. “If one cornea, I’H just—smash in his head ” The hatehet, ®>d hammer mid a whitewash brash, that Bridget had left on a bench hpttak kitchen door, were carried info the house, the door locked, and the them. CW!■ They could not go to sleep, however,}

and to their surprise they found that their cake did not taste so good as they expected*, and at last Chester proposed that Robbie should go to the house and get some bread and butter. “ But we don’t b’long there now,” said Le. “ That’s no matter!” said Chester. “ Knock at the door, and ask her. ■ She always gives it to folks. I’ve seen her.” So in a minute mamma, who was in the diningroom, heard a faint little tap on the side door, and opened it. “Me want some bread an’ butter,” said Robbie-, meekly. Mamma looked at him as though she had never seen him before. “ I haven’t any bread and butter for children who don’t live here,” said she. “ You’d better run home, little boy.” With a choke in his throat Robbie turned and ran to the play-house. Chester was very indignant over this repulse,. and shook his head and talked about running sway. Meantime it was growing dark, and Bridget lighted up the dining-room so bright that the light shone in at their little window. Mamma told not to put down the curtains. So by their w indow looking over into the cheerful room, while Bridget went about and set the table, without their little trays, and leaving their high-chairs standing against the wall. Pretty soon she put on a great pile of fine white bread, and a nice slice of golden butter, and then came a dish of clear apple-sauce, and a plate of fresh gingerbread. After awhile she rang the bell, and the family came in; and the two boys, leaning On their window-sill and eagerly gazing at them, saw them gather around the table, and mamma began to pour the tea; but she looked very sober, Robbie thought, and the choke came up in his throat again. Then they turned away from the window, but their little house looked dark and gloomy, and they felt forlorn and homeless. SO in another minute there came another knock at the side door, and when mamma opened it a very perfitent little, figure sprang in, threw his arms around her neck and burst into tears. “Oh! I want to live with you,” he sobbed, as soon as he could speak. *“ I’m your boy; J grew just for you, an’l’ll never go ’wsy again!” Chester walked composedly in, and said gravely, though with a husky voice, and a suspicious '.Ujklc gasp now and then; i “ I want to stay-in this house—’cause you’re my own—>dnt, an’ I’m willing to eat —bread and butter.” Mamma comforted Robbie, and rang the bell for Bridget to bring plates and high-chairs, and soon they wereseatedin their old places eating bread and butter with ravenous appetites. But every few minutes Robbie would turn around and throw his arms around mamma’s neck and sob, and cry out r “ Oh, I feel as if 1 should cry, when I think about going away from you to live!”— Christian Union. k Dangerous Cradle. ' Here is a true duck story': One ‘of the wild ducks, that sometimes swim in the pond near my pulpit had it from an eider-duck who has seen the cradle. Away off at the north of the north coastof Scotland are the Shetland Islands; so steep, cold, barren and lonely that flocks of sea-birds go there at certain times of the year to build their nests and lay their eggs, thinking t,hat they will not be disturbed in such a place. But the eggs have their value: so the few and poor inhabitants of the bleak and rocky islands are willing to descend the most dreadful precipices and climb the moat difficult heights to find them. Near the coast of one of the islands, but separated from it by a tempestuous channel, stands a very high and nearly perpendicular pillar of rock. Here, on this steep and desolate height, the seabird come in great numbers, year after year; but at last a man, who could climb even more dreadful precipices than the hardiest Shetlanders would dare to scale, went in a boat to the foot of this rock and climbed up its steep sides, carrying with him a pulley anil a very strong rope, one end of which was already fastened on the highest point of a neighboring island on the side nearest the pillar. Ar riving, after much toil and danger, »t the summit of the pillar, the man managed to get a rope through the handles of a stout basket, and then fastened the pulley to a rock. Here, then, was away by which the islanders could get over to the pillar. By getting, one at a time, into the basket, and swinging at this dizzy height over the foaming channel, the islanders could pull themselves across by means of the rope and pulley to obtain the eggs. I forgot to say that the pillar of rock is called* the “Pillar of Noss’” and the basket is called the “Cradle of Noss.” A cradle that, perhaps, birds might like to rock m, but not such a one as a quiet, stay-at-home J ack-in-the-Pulpit would recommend to his dear St. Nicholas children.—” Jack-in-thc-Pulpit” St. Nicholas for April. The Two Bills—A Fable. 1 Two bills were waiting in the bank for their turn to go out into the world. One was a little bill—only one dollar; the other was a big bill—a thousand-dol-lar bill. ‘ While lying there side by side they fell a-talking about tgeir usefulness. The dollar bill murmured out: ■ . ’ “Ahl if. I were as big as you what good I would do! I could move in such I high places and people would be so careful of me wherever I should go. -Everybody would-adaaiae- me wniwantto take me home with them; but, smaHaalanS, what good can I do? Nobody cares ,much forme. lam too little.to be of any use.” . i ’ ** Ah! yes -, that is ‘so," said the tbou-sand-doHsr bill - and ft haughtily gathered up its well-trimmed edge that was lyipg next the little bill in conscious superiority . ” Thal is bo,’’ it repeated-. “Jf you were as great as I am—a thou•Wl than you are—then you might hwe to do some good in the HUte mannoring MU.»4 kindly gl.« il u.pnor - •

TERMS: 52.00 a Year. =±lT„7- 'HI '

NUMBER 13.

“ God bless you!” she cries, as vAth a smiling face she receives it. “My dear hungry children can now have some bread.” A thrill of joy ran through the little bill as it was folded up in the widow’s »• hand, and it whispered: “ I may do some good,though lam small.” But when it > saw the bright, happy faces of her fatherless children it was very glad that it could do a little good. , Then the little dollar bill began its journey of usefulness. It went first to the baker’s for bread, then to the miller’s, then to the farmer’s, then to the laborer's, then to the doctor’s, then to the minister’s; and, wherever it went, it gave pleasure, adding something to their comfort and joy. At last, after a long, long pilgrimage of usefulness among every sort of people, it came back to the bank again, crumpled, defaced, ragged, softened by its daily use. Seeing the thousand-dollar bill lying there, with scarcely*a wrinkle or a finger-mark upon it, it exclaimed: “ Pray, sir, what has been your measure of usefulness?” The big bill sadly replied: “ I have been frem safe to safe among the rich, where few could see me, and they were afraid to let me go out far lest I should get lost. Few indeed are they whom I have made happier by my mission.” Then the little dollar bill said: “It is better to be small and go among the' multitudes doing good than to be so great as to be imprisoned in the safes of the few." And it rested satisfied with its lot. Moral.—The doing well of little, everyday duties makes one the most useful and happy. — TneWell Spring. ITEMS OF INTEREST. ; Committee on ways and means— Wives. Scour* of the plain—Men who sneer at uomely women. An enterprising tradesman and an advertising one are synonymous terms. How rapidly in winter the coal in the bin becomes the coal that hath been! Doctors doubtless are the happiest when they see people get ali'tle ale in. ~’; The most aristocratic month in the calendar—March. It puts on more airs than any other. , Mme. Thiers says: “What makes men so unhappy is their inordinate thirst for happiness." “'"Another New York modiste has come to grief for smuggling feminine finery through the Custom-Houie. A horse, with more appetite ( . taste, ate up a Chinaman's pig-tail in San Francisco a few days ago. In Alabama mustard is only three cents a pound, and yet a burglar worked all night in a store in Selma and all he got was afourpound can of ground mustard. Ser ladies who were: girls together sixty years ago lately had a tea party at Burilville, N. Y. United years of the revelers, 442—an average of about seventy years. . ..' ' - r -.,, r The. Pennsylvania Legislature has passed a law allowing days of grace on all negotiable paper except checks on bankers and sight drafts or bills of exchange. “Do you want to kill the child?” exclaimed a gentleman as he saw a boy tip the baby out of its carriage on the walk. “ No, not quite,” replied the boy; “ but, if I can get him to bawling, mother will take care of him while Igo and wade in e the ditch with Johnny Bracer!”— Detroit Free Press. Harriet Prescott Spofford says: “ There are some men born to rule with a haughty, careless, sweetness, and othJ ers bom to die for them with stem and dogged devotion.” Harriet is right. Sometimes they combine the two,’ like th el ate Mr. Vasquez, of California. His sweetness was a little too cbreless, but his devotion was stern and dogged enough. ■ . -i. ? The Sultan of Turkey employs in his palace 6,000 servants of both sexes. He pays and feeds 800 cooks, 300 gardeners, 500 coachmen, and 600 more to do odds and ends about the house. To feed these people and their hangers-on 1,200 sheep and 2,000 fowls are killed every. day, and 60,000 francs for lights are expended. No wonder they call him the sick man of Europe. A question in Hardwicke's Science Gotrip as to whetherthe peculiarity of “eyes of different colors” was of frequent occurrence has called- out in response the mention of numerous instances. One correspondent states that he once owned a perfectly white cat which had one bright pink eye, while .the other was a very dark blue. The animal was .deaf. Another writer owned a cat with one green or yellowish-gray eye? and the other a clear, pale blue. The greCh eys was blind. Several cases of this phenomenon were brought forward but they were not confined to the feline race. They were mentioned as occasionally occurring among dogs, horses and men. The case of a boy with one “lovely violet eye, and the other a rich chestnut,” was cited; as also the cases of two men having—the one a yellow-gray eye, and a dull, deep-blue one; and the other a rich brown eye and a grayish-blue one. In these last instance* the sight.was perfect. It was in Paris? An elegant lady goes out shopping. While she is engaged there is a heavy fall of rain. The street* are flooded, and, to add to her distress her carriage stands on the far ride of * . larg?, open square which has become a lake. She signals to the driver* but, his horses being young, will not face the water. She stands on the edge of the curb, stamping her little feet and not knowing what to do. A gentleman passes and takes the situation iuata glance. Throwing hie cigar aride be steps up to the lady, seizes her by the waist, delicately plunges into the tide and lanfis her safely on the lower step of her carriage door. Recovering from her astonishment she turns around and mutle™- “Insolent!” The gentleman lose# STtime, but steps back to the lad* her by-the*wafet deftt-at. )y, where she -stood before. HI then tafcWl off his hat, bows politely and walk# away.