The Syracuse Enterprise, Volume 1, Number 35, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 2 September 1875 — Page 1

, J. P. PRICKETT, Editor and Proprietor.

. VOLUME I. 1 -

' FRESH TOPICS. This is tlie best yet. It is from an Kn- , gliah paper, of course Jefferson Davis, the American rebel, lias been invited to atldram the Winnebago natives. N. B.— Winn»‘b*K< K's are a tribe of Indians, formerly of Wisconsin State, but now removed to an agency in Nebraska State. ” Another blasphemer has been brought to grief by his wickedness. Louis Burke, of Burkesville. swore fearfully lieeaiwe th*' storm destroyed his crop’. His tongue clove to tbe roof <rf his-mouth, and he died the next day. Hana is another illustration es the * truth of the old proberb that “ honesty j is the best policy A Rhode Island farmer went to Newport the other day and confessed to « grocer with whom he had been dealing for years that he had cheated the latter to the extent of f 5 by short count on eggs. He was rewarded , for his honesty by the grocer’s admission j tint ho also had been cheating, having at one time passed a counterfeit $lO bill on the farmer. This is tlie nineteenth century, and . this the laud where education is free as i air, and where the groundless superstitious of the old world arc considered pn>i>er subjects for merriment or derution, but still tlic people in the neigh- ; borhpud of Wells Beach, yt, harbpr the notion tliat any one who will take a dip in their river, on June 2R, will be exempt from aickuess for one year, and on that dab* hundreds of the credulous lav© I themselves in the magic waters. ****—a. j A (.rxrtpux in India invited a num- j Iter of friends to dinner, ami they ac-1 cepted the invitation, but none of them ap|K*ansl, and the dinner was spoiled. \ Accordingly he sued them for the value of tlie viands wasted through their lack ’ of courtesy. Th* lower court gave him judgment for the amount claimed, but the superior tribunal reversed the decision, n'inarking that if the principle first affirmed were correct the risk of accepting invitations would bo very serious iiu teed, WrTll ■ "*"* <•-. ‘ ‘‘ •• Photios" has written a tett’r to the Milwaukee Sentinel eulogistic of tlie ixlitors of Chicago. According to j “I’boeiun," Mr. Med ill, of the Tribune, is “ tlie greatest living editor in the United Stott'sMr. Storey, ,of the Timet, is "th** ablest newspaper director,” while Mr. Sullivan, of the Journal, is “ by far the most practical editor jn Chicago," and has sucre?-? ted in making *• thc~ licet evening paper in the country.” All of wh*eh blarney shows that “ Phocion” must be exceedingly anxious to secure tbe patronage «rs one of three editorial prodigkw. - A atauvnjua attacluneut lias long existed Iwtwven Joseph Hfaire, of Rock Wharf, V*., and a rateable horse of which Hines, who is a negro farm hand, has tlie cam. Hinre always slept with the animal, and wax unwearying in his attention to its comfort. ttreeatly this feeling of love between man and brute culminated in an extraordinary manner. * The horse wt» so badly injured by collision with a gate tliat it-wivi necessary to kill him. The negro protested, and vowed that if the luirao was killed Im* would die, too. Without paying attention to the threat, tlie horao was taken to the edge of tlie wharf and shot. At the discharge of the gun tlie negro jumped into the river, and although aid was instantly thrown to him, he would not avail himself of the opportunity to save his life, ami was drowned. Tax ci-Preaideuta of tins generation have not been remarkable for longevity. For tiie that time in nearly a century there is no ex President living. Except Fillmore and Buchanan, bo one of our Preai dents for thirty years has reached the al kitted thret'score and ten. Before Polk and after Washington not one, except Harrison, who died aged "ixty eight, left the world al lew than seventy-three. The series is noteworthy. Washington died al sixty Seven, but John Adams lived to ninety-one, Jeffareoo to eighty-three. Madison to eighty-five, Monroe to sev-enty-three, John Quincy Adams to , eighty one, Jackson to seventy-eight, and Van Huron to righty- At thia point a signal change occurs. Polk died al fiftyfour, Taylor a*, sixty, Fillmore at seven ty-four, Pierce al sixty five, Buchanan at seventy aevon, Lincoln at fifty-six, and Johnson naw passes away at rixty-seven. The first ten of our Presidents averaged 77.8 yean of life ; the next seven averaged fit 7 years.* Tint recent agitation in the English Ptaiiament over PttmaoU a shipping bill was occasioned by the bold and feaikwr manner in which that gentleman made charges against the British maritime community. His pcHMteocw is finally rewarded by the passage of the bill fram'd to remedy the evils he alluded to. Mr. PHmadl says that tbe town, of w Great Britain enosed timac ofvanv other ■iritiine’nalicm.imd mwW due to what is known as “club insuraßcr,” that is, a number of maritime insurance Companies club’ together and take extra marine risks, principally on It seems thU for tiie W threeymm and ahalf there have been 4,011 vessels which torn stoin SfiWbWi misrin’. Os thorns M»w«eragnbriyria-edto Lloyd’s Rcgiatar and wtoe un--^m i. the S for three and a half ending the soto of het Jane, and it to a fearful ene. These . Ktossmo gmemny te the ousting „d >nia*inr teiriumn. and Rmra is no resirting tbe eoMhotott, from ths facts given tbe pnhiie from eßobd sootcm by Mr.

The Syracuse Enterprise.

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Plimsod, that the great majority of these vessels are sent to sea with a fill! cquip- . ' ment of crews, with the deliberate pur- . pose of being sent to the bottom in order , to secure the insurance. Tlie ship owners of the United States, upon finding vessels unseaworthy, have been in ' ’ the habit of sending them to Great . • Britain for sale; bnt as Plimsoll’o bill lias now renderetl England a very poor : market for rotten ships, it will be well J f<>r onr insurance companies to keep i ' tiieir eyes open, or urge upon Congress the jiassage of a bill similar in its provisions to that of Mr. Plimsoll's for the protection of their interests and those of the liardy mariner. POLITICAL MEMORANDA. Ex-Spkakkr Blaixx is to deliver the t address at the Cumberland County (Pa.) Fair, in October. Gkn. Jos. Hawlxx, of Connecticut, I has friends who mention his name * in ; ‘ connection with tlie Presidency. Tira favorite for tlie Democratic nom- * inution for Governor of Pennsylvania seems to be Judge H. P. Ross. _ J A WRRBSFOxnxxT of tlie Boston Journal, who lias given time and study to the t thing, says John A. Weaton will be ttie 1 i next Democratic candidate for Governor ' in Maasaehusi'tU. The discussion of a <nccee’or to Bato ator Hamilton, of Texas, includes the t names of Gov. Coke, cx-Gov. Throckmorton, the Hon. John H. Iteagnn, and i Hon, John Hancock. Bkvxk uomi nations for Congress liave ' thus far been made in Mississippi, Five I <*f tlie candidates are “ Colonels, ’’ one is. * a “General," and one is a “ Major;" the privates are yet to be heard from. Sailer, of Ohio; Walker, of Virginia; ■ Lainar, of a»d Hanks, of t Masrachusetta, are said io be holding plaoes in the teckgrunnd >• possible i compromise oaudiilatre for tlie Speakership of tlie next House of Represents tivre, in cam' Kerr, Randall, Wood and Cox sucoeeil in killing each other off. Ix Baltimore a Citizens’ party lias been formed chiefly with reference, to local affiura, but whioii, it is thought, may play a part in the State canvaaa. Tlie principal planks of the platform are , I tlie preservation of tlie public schools, j taxation of church property, official. economy, opposition to sectarian appro- j priatious and to the eniployment of convict labor by a»utractora. THE SHIFTIirti CEXTER OF FOPVIATIOX. In Prof. Walker's statistical atlas of, tlie United StiiU’S, there is a curioru* computatioa of tlw movement of what is called the “ canter trf population " since 1870. The populations of counties are | supposed to be grouped at their geographical centers, and then each indi- • vidual being asKumetl to be of tbe same gravity as ejtery **tli*v, mu! the country i lieing asstuntsl to be a plane surface ; without weight, the “ center of popula- ’ tion ’’ is determined by computing the point at which the country could be pivotcil so that the weigld of the people on one mile should just balance the weight of the people on the otiier side. According to the table computed, in this I way, tbe center of popnlaliim has moved I rtraulily westward sinec 1700, but has I shifted very little to the north Or south of the 39th degree' of latitude. In 1790 . the ‘•center” was twenty-three mill's cast of BdtimoF*-. In ten years i‘ moved 1 forty-one miles and was eighteen miles west of Baltimore. In 1810 it was deflected somewhat to the south, and had 1 moved thirty «X miles ; in 1820 it bad moved fifty miles farther to tlie west an»l south; and in 1830 it had readied its most southern point, and was tiiirty-uiue-milcs west of its former position. In ' tlie next ten years it moved a little to • : the north and^fifty-five miles to the* ■wests; and in, the following ten years • turned slightly to the south ; and again . moved west 55 miles. Between 1850 and 1860 tbe greatest western movement I (eighty-one miles), was oertkioued by t the settlement of the Pacific coast. Ini 1870 the center had again shifted forty-1 two miles to the west and slightly to the I north, ami had reached a point fortyeight miles east by north cf Cincinnati. ‘ Tlie total movement from 1790 to !870 was 399 miles due west. The variation north and south, taking the extreme; north and south positions, did not ex- ; ceed twenty miles. The movement was i to the west and slightly southward from 1 1790 to 1830; almost due west from 1830' to 1850 ; and to the west and aiightly-i northward from 1850 to 1870. | ■ ■■ ‘• PRIlirTKR'n djbtYL* ■ /Tlie origin of the term “printer’s r devil” has been traced back to Aldus i Manutiiu*, a printer of Venice. In the II eotehtishment of this worthy was a negro ■ I boy who rendered awriatance in the mul--1 tifarious work of the office, and who, on . account of his dusky color, was believed f by the superstitious to be an enuamry of r ' From this nol tion of tbb «rifol«K ihb boy gffined the sodbriqWof “printer's devil?’ by . which ho was known all over Venire. | To dissipate the rifficrikras superstition 1 ianutius ana day pn>»Kr4y nrhibitiSTHto 1 wWi** 4to>ounceiljmsuL “X Akhs Maauiiua, printer to famlfimhaod blood, w aud pinch » him. , . . ... .. —. : I Boxtoo, rs - fibs fast trotter Grafton from Mr. Richard » Penmstrm, of Lexington, Ky., for $35,- . OOOi Grafton has trotted a mile in 2J5j.

ssrxir years. BX ■ . H . XBWHA L. U'bcn California'* golden veins were bared, A quarter-century or more ago, I And al! her atreama were thought to roll a flood I PaetoUas to FtoMtoh hnvia* ; When many bode their early homea adieu, ' To wander over trackless, arid wastee, ' Or brave the terrors of tb- faithlem* mate,— | Oso left nia home upon PenoteooCa bank, lAired by the dariling hope ot maasiog wealth Upon that far-Rmote and wondrous shore. ! Nor left he only chUdhoodh home behind: I A Wvmblteg hand was laid within hia own. And qaivering lipa rehearsed the tale of love. Yet t waa foe her he left those vrtceotue scenes, For her be ventured where the knife uplift Os oarage men might rend the toeka ahe loved,— Thons locks companion to the treasuredone That nestled near her heart. Farewell was said. Nought aiguilles tt to portray in fine The manner of their parting. Twaa like all Dividing of enamored souls. Between Bls pine-dad liills and Sacramento's tide | H<- passed through perils direful of the wave And wwd. The angry ocean, seething round His bead, made wilder music than the pines That proudly tossed their plumy crowns aloft | O'er fair Penotiaetit'b rates. FnH many a time His arxtor waned; but still the thought of her Whose hopes were blent with his, whose prayer? each night ’ Wsra wattod <w tosete ptainna to the Throne. Upheld him in each fearful strait, until Hi* journey had an end; Arrived within The monf sin gwage, there met h» view no road Os milvl ascent to affluence, but a throng I »Art wary wwkens in the grudging earth. ‘ * AU tlr.dCTsdwea, bnt with a dauntless In art. With pick and pan he etrwggled day by day To Win the wealth be ouoe bad hoped to find By slighter toil. Months rolled away, but still No rich result; and year succeeded year Os patient, hard endeavor. • For one whose youthful feet bad seldom trod , Beyond Ute pate of cosntuoa r.?ctitude, Daily association with the rite ; Waa ever bard to !>ear. Nights overfilled With ribald mirth and sickening debauch ■ Contrasted ill with th<*c he knew of yore— z Tboef calm and beautiful autumnal nights When from the steeple of tbe tilth' church The bell poured forth its evening melody— An Ini Ration to the bouse of God. And had the evil days on which he fell ' Nat rtau*tim< a Wn rvlterad by |M"*vea fond That r ached him from afar, hia life Had been a enrw-. But better days were near. The faithful toiler, in whatever field. Is rarely cheated of his just reward. Thus, when tbe sun that smiled on him that morn, As dow n Peaobacct’a winding course he rode. Had seten times brought the aummir tn.h a tratei His bettered fortune urged a quick return To ih’-ac for whom bi» h< art bail yearned so long. . Betimf a a letter was dispatched to tell The waiting one bow short an interval IM Ume moat speed ere he should clasp his own. No morn waa e’er mosv heavenly bright foe her Thu that on which the glad words met her eyes That he was on his way. Her heart, so full. Knew no restraint; and as the laggard hours I Too atowly lucagated their accustomed round, ‘ Ttnis aaiiag she ftoto a aweet excess of joy : i There’s a green little arbor adown by the stream. Where the wild roses wave in tbe breeze; Then often I sat in the shade with my love Ere be thought to cross over the seas. In that same lovely spot, when the roses are blown. I will greet him again, ne'er to part ; With n y head on hu breast, I shall hear, as of old. The proud beat of hie generous heart. ' Ah! the txpri'r will look fairer, the roses more '' bn «*‘’ . And the bird* will bunt forth into song. 7 J. I When I ait. as of old, in the ahade with my love, With my love who has tarried so long. No sad, that morw, obscured the face of day, But grandly o'er the far sierra's crest Uprcwe the sun in peertea* brilliancy; The *urf rolled lazily upon the strand; i No portent glosrered from out the welkin blue, As gentle breeze* wafted from the hay A vaaael freighted with more precious store ! For her than ever golden veins can yield. I But oft, dewtgw* of sinister intent Are clothed in flattery's most attractive gatb. So with the fiekl* sea. Not many days The dancing wavcMa wantowa.l in the path The good ship tins t reed on her branewwrd course. The swift outriders of the equinox, , Horsed wm the whirlwind, followed in her track; 1 The heavens stottmed a paß-bke drapery ; Deep corrugation* furrowed all the tea. And wind and wave waged frightful war. But what avails ton puny strength of ran Contending with tbe frenzied elements T : A ccmbMl so ufiMual must be short. ' ' ■ Ates! no more Penobscot's bank shall know The bounding footstep that once pressed It* turf; And many an aching heart Shall took in vain Fur those who ensue not as the year* go by. • • • • •. • • • Tbe summer* and the winter* conae and go. And With them take the btoom from that fair cheek , So long expectant of another kiss. Which, unlike that of unrateattog Thue, ■ Should leave no boOow token of ite tosteh. , Within the eyes that beat with fend reproach ’ Upon her (peer whra he said farewell, ; A vacant look betrays the mind dethroned, j And rtill she wanders, when the wildrose tdossne, i Dowa by thrrtvrt to toe dear eld haunt. ' And waits —and waite—feg him to come again. ■ THE TRACT I CAE ROVER, Xnd His Afw/fcr-a/'- Fsct-CwwrtaAij*. It «M agreed on all hatuln that Ned , titoae wn* * efery praetieal fellow. He j wa*a Ivoker in the city. He had been ! a very poor man at one time in his life, ' and had to work very hard. His indwijtoy hat!, in the end, however, met its doe reward. At middle ago he was com 1 1 ortahly circnnutaneed. When he an- . nouneed to his friends, therefore, that ’ he thonght of taking to himself a wife, it waa thought generally that the step Jhe meditated was a prudent one. And ’ when he further stated that he had made an offar of his hand to one Georgiana 1 Warren, the daughter <rf a wealthy merchant, and that his offer hod been accepted by the lady, we erf course hastened to tender our heartiest congratulations an that oceaatou. Ned Stoue spoke of the matter in his own rimple, sober way. ••WeU. you know, I’m getting on,” hw raid, “and if I’m to marry, it’s about t time I should think erf setting about it. You’re very kind. I think I shall lie i very happy—in fact I have no doubt oi . it—as happy as a fellow baa a right to axeottobe. One has no right to expect too mneh, of course. But I’m quite fend of me. Shoix not too young or f loo old,Dot too. good-looking, nor yet shouldn’t make a good sort of ahutiband ‘ Jfaxhaps Fm no* veqr *ori of old Warren, the father, and perhaps he isn’t 1 meantime I must try and make the ImW -of the old imm’s humor, and not run , counter to him more than I can avoid.

— .. -- ] SYRACUSE, INDIANA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2.1875.

And it seems that the old fellow would be no fonder of anybody else who might want to many his daughter than he is of • me. You see it’s our affair— Georgiana's and mine—and hot his ; though it’s hard to make him see ft in that tight But I dare say it will come right in the end. That's what I tetl Georgiana when sire i takes up with rather gloomy views about her father’s temper. She has good sense, . and, I think, looks at the matter verymuch as I do—only, of course, she can’t help feeling that he is her father, whereas, thank goodness, he ain't mine.” It will be seen that Ned Stone was not a lover to “ sigh like a furnace.’’ As to writing a woeful ballad to his mistress’ eyebrows, I don’t fancy he could have accomplished such a feat, even if his life depended upon his doing so. The thermometer of his love stood at temperate, with no tendency toward an upward rise. The “ marks of love,” as they are generally understood, were not iliscemi- ’ ble upon him. j He never said a word as to the agitated state of his breast, nor to the excitement of his feelings. He did not regard Miss i Warren as an angel or a goddess. Probably he would have been the first to con- , tradict any allegation that might have I bee* made to the effect that she was ‘ anything of tlie kind. Mirs Warfen aj>- ; peared to him what she seemed to e veryi body else—a nice, sensible English girl. I called upon Stone one evening. He was alone. He looked a little grave, and I lif Id a small sealed packet. We discussed ' various indifferent subjects; then I inquired concerning Miss Georgiana. “’Oh, haven’t yon heard 1” he answered. “ But of course you couldn’t have heard. The affair is off. Our engagement lias come to an end.” “ Yon don’t really mean that 1” I asked in surprise. ‘•Yes; the thing's ‘broken off,’ as people say. It’s a hard job, and I’m sorry for it, but it can’t be helped.” Had the lady resented his serenity and discharged him ? I asked myself. \ As though he had heard the question, he went on : “ It’s the old man’s doings. z I hope he is satisfied now. He’s th6j most unreasonable and disagreeable did fellow I ever had the misfortune to meet.” I “ Bnt what did he do / He fell out about the settlement; that was where the hitch arose. I’m sure I did all I could to please him./ I gave up condition after condition, quite in opposition to the advice of my solicitor. I told him to settle what ijioney he proposed to settle on his i daughter—it wasn’t much, after all—just as he pleased —1 didn’t want to touch a/ half-penny of it He might settle it, I told him, just as strictly as ever he plrascd, or he might settle nothing at all npon her, if he liked that better. It was his daughter I wanted, and not his money. And tor my part I'd take care my wife never to want. I undertook to insure my life for a large amount, and to assign the policy to trustees tor her benefit, in case of my death, covenanting, of course, to have the premiums regularly paid to keep up the insurance in the regular way. I thought that a fair arrangement, but it did not content him. , “He wanted to tie my hands completely. He hadn’t a hap’orth of confidence in me. He gave me credit for no sort of affection for his daughter. He insisted that any money that I in future might become possessed of, I should covenant into a settlement. It is absurd. ,Os course I couldn’t consent toft. I had j business to consider. Os course my wife and children—if I had any—would reap the benefit as much as I shall. I ; told Georgiana exactly how the matter ■ stood. She’s of age. I asked her whether she’d marry me without the old man’s 'consent Poor girl! She was in an awful | way. But she did not care to do that j She shrank from offending her fattier, so there's no help tor it—the thing’s broken off, and I’m not to bo married, it seem* Ibis time, at any rate.” He spoke rather sorrowfully, but still without the slightest trace of ill temper. I endeavored to console him in acom- ' mon sort of away. , | He evened a small packet he had been holding in his hand. “ This is pleasant,” he said quietly ; “here are all my letters to Georgiana. Ah ! and here is a little present I gave her, sent back to me.” There were not many letters Their contents I con'd guess; little enough like conventional love-letters, probably i * like unhnntatir eoaaporitioas, yet simple , and Io the purpose, and practical enough. The present was a ring—a large diamond, heavily set in pure gold, just the valuable, simple, substantial present which I could have fancied Ned Stone selected for bis bei trotbed. “ I suppose they’ll expect me to send ' lack Georgiana’s letters to her.” ••Undoubtedly.” " It’s the usual way when an engaget nß*ntecon>e to an end 1” *• Certainly ; it’s the usual way.** He rubbed has chin and seemed to re- ; fleet a little. ••• * • » •‘Have a cigar t” he said, presently, and let's talk about something das. t This is not the most agreeable sub- ’ jeet in the world. Tell me what i j yon have been doing with yourself late- • lj S [ We toll to talking about this, that, and the other. Presently I went away. - As I went away he said quietly, “I think bl* shall try and see Georgiana once mores II fora particular reason.” / 1 I did not ask what that particular rea son was, and he did not tell me. « t | A few nights afterward 1 saw him i again. He was at no time subject to . ’ much change of mood, or at any rate

* seldom betrayed any variation of that t kind. But it struck me that, if ahy- ! thing, he was in better spirits than i usual. I ■ " You did not mention,” he said, f “ what I told yon the other night, that my engagement was broken off?” >1 I explained that I had not mentioned t i it, for a particular good reason. I had , ’ not seen any person whom it would in- • terest to be informed of the fact. “ It’s just as well,” he said; " because ' the engagement isn’t broken off; or rather it’s on again.” ; “Indeed ! I’m very glad to hear it.” > “ I told yon I should try and see Geor- ’ giana again. Well, I knew that she often II went with her father aud other relations ■ to the zoological gardens on Sunday. So I went to the zoological. I soon discovered her with Warren and a lot of 11 other people. She saw me, and understood by my sign that I wanted to speak on the quiet. Well, she lingered behind a little, and when the rest of the party went to look at the kangaroos, she slipped with me into the snake house. She looked a little frightened, and the tears were standing in her eyes. “Sol put ray arms around her—it didn’t matte? to me who saw, you know —and told her there was nothing to be alarmed at, aud that I only wanted to say a word or two. I told her I was sorry I had not sent back her letters, as I ought to have done, but the plain fact of the matter was, I couldn’t do it” "You love me still, then, Ned f” she said. | “Os course I do, Georgia,” I said, i “ who’s been telling you I don’t t” She began crying bitterly. “ Come, Georgia,” I said, “ let us get married whether papa likes it or not; only say the word.” “ She didn’t say a word. Poor child. She could not speak for crying, and she looked at me, and gave me such a tittle nod, and then she began laughing through her tears. It was the prettiest sight you ever saw. Os course I kissed her ; and then I turned, and who should be standing dose by my side but old ! Warren! “Georgia gars a little-scream, and then tried to make believe that wo-were looking at the boa constructor. But of course that didn’t work, so I said to old Warren, in a cheery sort of way, and putting out my hand cheerfully, Mr. Warren, Georgia and I are going to be married ; that’s quite settled. But you and I may as well be friends all the same. We’d much rather have your consent than not. Suppose you give it to us ?” “ He was so astonished that, before, I think, he anew quite what he was doing, he’d taken my hand, with all his friends standing around and looking on. Os course he could not go back after that. And—and so—the thing was settled.” I congratulated him heartily. Presently I said, byway of change How lucky it was that you didn’t send back Miss Warrep’s letters.” “My dear fellow, that was what I wanted to explain to her. I couldn’t send them back." •• You found them dear to you ?” At last, then, he had been betrayed into a feeling of romance. “ Not at all,” he exclaimed ; “ I could not send them back, because I hadn’t kept them. I destroyed them. ” “ Destroyed them.” “ Yes : what was the good of them I I only keep business letters; they’re regularly docketed at;my office. But for Georgia's letters, they were no use. I made them into pipe-lights.” “ You didn't tell her that?” “ No, —I hadn’t time. I never arrived at an explanation about the letters,” "Then, my dear Stone, let me en-_ treat yon whatever you do, don’t give Miss Warren yoUr explanation about the matter.” “ Why shouldn’t I!” 1 "Don’t you sect She thought you didn't send back her letters for a senti- > mental reason, because they were so dear 1 ; to you that you could not possibly part with them ; and so, in point of fact, that little misunderstanding of hers led to the re-establishment of your love I affair.” Do you think so ?” he said, mus- “ But if Georgia has made any mis- ' take about the matter, I think that lam bound to set her right.” “ My dear 8ton«, take my advice, for I I fear of actidcnt ; set her right after the r * wedding ceremony, not before.” Whether or not he took my ail vice, I 1 i am not aware. He was maned in due k j course of time to Miss Warren, and I ’ know that lady was heard to declare that she married the best husband in the world. njrarHOF a r.urors I Jean Valjean, the hero of Victor Hugo’s " Les Miserables,” is dead. His real name was Martin Foisemolle, and . he was a native of the village of Verves, in the province of Seine-et-Oise, in Btamee. In 1842 he was sent to the . galleys tor life for kilting a priest who seduced his wife, and was pardoned in ( 1852, by Louis Napoleon, for displaying . great heroism during the prevalence of . cholera in 1849. After bis pardon he t went to Persia, and made a great fortune . aa a physician. A few years ago he returned to his native village, and spent , the remainder cd his days in amusing . himself with children, of whom he was E very fond, and exhibiting his old eon- | viet dress to visitors. He had no lack of admiren during his last residence in . Eranee, tor lbs French worship their heroes, eapeoiaMy when they are rich or I JNkwtyTllll. ■ > Cxufokkta ladies have struck against b wearing ear-rings.

JFAJRM AAD HOME, ' ZWn» Jtakiega. Tun farmer who hung an old coat in his field to frighten birds away and afterward found a young brood in one of the pockets lias lost faith in scarecrows. Cloveu hay is the most valuable hay that we have for feeding to cows. It is good as a milk producer, and the value of the manure of a ton of it is worth nine dollars, while the value of the manure from a ton of herd-grass is worth only about six dollars. A oobkespoxdent gives a very simple and easily tried means of driving rats from the premises, and which he says is very effective. Take copperas, the quantity to depend upon the number of buildings or places infested, pulverize it very fine, mid sprinkle it in all the buildings—in fact, in every place that they are in the habit of frequenting. In a few days, according to the writer, all the rats will begone. There is a growing opposition in England to the acceptance of the statements of the agricultural chemists that food which is consumed by a feeding animal pfodnees a quantity of manure the value of which is greater than that of the food consumed. Farmers who consider themselves reasonable, practical men, cannot understand how a ton of feed worth S2O can after it is eaten leave behind it $22.50 worth of manure. The Wire Worm.—J. M., in Countri/ Gentleman, states that he soaked liis seed corn in a solution of copperas and saltpeter, using a quarter of a pound of each to a bushel of ears of tight corn. All this seed thus treated grew, and none was lost by the wire worms, and now he always soaks his corn in this solution for twelve hours before planting. He has also observed that he never has been troubled with the cut worm since thus treating his seed corn. There no time for directing the growth of plants, grape vines, fruit trees, etc., so good as when that growth is most rapid. Growth may then be cheeked and the sap and vigor of the plant turned in any desired direction of development, provided it be done with reasonable care. When a large timber is to be removed it is best to wait until the most vigorous growth is past, and this is usually about mid-summer. The scar will not bleed at this time, ai d the wood exposed will become close and hard, impervious to water. An experienced horse-trainer in California says: “ The education of my colts has in a great measure been accomplished by kind treatment. The horse is so constituted that by proper management and kind treatment, his confidence and affections may be acquired to such a degree that his will becomes completely absorbed in that of his friend and trainer. I will say, further, that the horse naturally possesses a far greater degree of intelligence than he has ever been given credit for.” The best preparation for a wheat crop is a good clover lay. This should be turned under by the first of Angust, to give time for decomposition before sowing the wheat. If the plowing is not done till the first of September, when the wheat is to be sown, another month must pass before any real benefit can occur to the growing plant. Lime sowed oh the clover before turning it under assists materially in hastening decomposition, and if plowing has been deferred until nearly seeding time, it will be found very advantageous. Taking one year with another, I have observed that a good, healthy growth in the fall is essential to in growing wheat, and the ~farmer cannot take too much pains in trying to secure this growth.— J. 11., in Ohio Farmer. nnntrtfir Kranmtttf. Fill your fruit cans as full a-< possible in canning fruit. Vixegah Ihn.—Beat up one egg with six tablespoons of sugar, three spoons of vinegar, four spoons of water, one spoon of flour. To be baked with one crust. To Give Silver Plate a Luster.— Dissolve alum in a strong lye, skim it carefully, then mix it with soap, and wash your silver utensils, using a linen "«■ To Clean Boots and Shoes of Enameled Leather.—Water is sufficte-nt to remove any dirt which impairs tire gloss on enameled leather. It may afterward be rnbbed with a dry flannel Butter can be kept in warm weather by setting it under a dish containing an unglazed earthenware crock, inverted. ' Wrap a wet doth around the covering vessel, and place the whole where there is a draught of air. , Tapioca Jelly.—Wash a teacupful of tapioca—soak it for three hours in cold ' water—turn off th*? water and pour over ft one quart of boiling water. Add a ■ grated peel of one lemon; sweeten to 1 taste, and boil for one hour. To Dm Corn.—Place the corn in the ' stove ore n without removing the husk. ‘ Let ft heat through, then strip and cut ; frran the cob and dry in the sun or in the stove oven, as is most convenient. ' This is said to make a good article of its ' kind. > Corn Cakes.—Grate half a dozen ems , of green corn, stir in a cup of milk, add , flour with which yeast powder, in the proportion of two teaspoonfuls to the . quart has been sifted, until tiie whole is i a thick batter. Add two or three eggs , well beaten and a pinch of salt Fry as ' better cakes, or bake in gem rauas in a quick oven. A pleasant breakfast dish. t Tomato Pie.—Take fully ripe toms toes, scald and peel the skin off, then

— - — — T —. —- cut in slices and lay in a shallow dish, sprinkle with sugar, add a little butter, cover with a crust, and bake till the . crust is done. Then turn the pie on a plate crust downward, and spread over the tomatoes the white of an egg beaten with sugar. Set in the oven till the egg stiffens. This is more wholesome than lemon pie and almost as good. ONE U USD BED YEARS AGO. In view of the proposition made that, at our approaching centennial, we adopt the costumes of a century ago, it is pleasant to know that those costumes were eminently becoming to the wearers. The gentleman in those days wore when he went out, a wig, white stock, white satin embroidered waistcoat, black satin small clothes, with white silk stockings, and fine, broadcloth or velvet coat. At home, instead of his wig, he had on a velvet cap, and sometimes a fine linen one under it, and his coat gave place to a gown, frequently of colored damask lined with silk, while fancy colored leather slippers covered his feet. A gentleman’s snuff-box was as indispensable as the cigar is now, and courtesy was shown in taking the weed in this form with ft friend. Ladies wore those elegant silk and brocade dresses which are still so much admired, and their hair, dressed with powder and pomatum, was elevated much higher above their heads than the most soaring and ambitions locks of their fair descendants of to-day. The clergy wore wigs, gowns and bands in the pulpit, and the cocked hats winch they wore in the street distinguished them from their brethren of to-day, whose white cravats, sometimes make it difficult to discriminate between them and hotel waiters or ordinary.diuers-out. The houses, in those days, with their sj»acious halls and ample fire-places and stair-ways, were very suggestive of solid comfort. The pnnch-t>owl was a notable article in families of substantial means, and its contents a customary treat for company. Hotels on the scale of our modern caravansaries were unknown ; but there were taverns and coffee houses where a good deal of solid comfort could be secured. In fact, our forefathers believed in comfort, and would be astonished to see what a scramble their descendants make of life. THE HORRORS OF SURGERY. A young Rhode Island surgeon, Dr. Clarence T. Gardner, lately removed a large tumor from the throat of a lady, the alternative being its removal or the death of the patient. The operation necessitated the removal of a large part of the jaw and the knocking out of several of the teeth, the patient being, of course, under the influence of ether. It is, perhaps, questionable that life under such circumstances is desirable, but the skill shown in such a surgical operation is undeniable. People often live after the performance of the most horrible operations, and come to look with something of complacency on the bottled portions excised by the sturgeon’s knife; but in the long run death seems preferable to life as the hideous fragment of one’s former self, and happily it comes to pass that patients seldom survive these great operations. There is now liviitg in Cleveland, Ohio, a lady who, lender treatment for curvature of the spine, lias bad six different incisions made in the vertebral column, the marks of which, as so many large cavities, site now bears, The treatment to which diaries Sumner was subjected by Dr. Brown-Sequard, who ran a white hot iron along his spine, will be remembered as a useless ’experiment, and nearly everybody can recall similar horrors in his own circle of acquaintance. And yet physicians themselves say that surgery is the only branch of their science in which great advances have been made for centuries. HOW COFFEE CAME TO BE USED. ■ ■ ■ . • ■ - • ■. ■ • ' It is somewhat singular to trace the manner in which arose the use of the common beverage of coffee, without which few persons in any half or wholly civilized country in the world no’ ■ make breakfast. At the time Columbus discovered America it had never been known or used. It only grew in Arabia or Upper Utopia. The discovery of its use as a beverage is ascribed to the Superior of a monastery in Arabia, who, dedirous of preventing the monks from sleeping at their nocturnal services, made them drink the infusion of coffee, on the reports of shepherds, who observed that their flocks were more lively after browsing on the fruit of that plant Its reputation spread through the .adjacent countries, and in about 200 years it had reached Paris. A single plant brought there in 1714, became the parent stock of all the French coffee plantations in the West • Indies. The Dutch introduced it into Java and the East Indies, and the French and Spanish all over South. America and the West Indies. The extent of the consumption now can hardly be realized. The United States alone annually consumes it at the cost, on its landing, of from fifteen to sixteen millions of dollars. FHfEBUS, WHAT A NAME! Mias ** Prockie ” E. CoggQßhall, youngest of the late Hon. T. W. Coggeshall, of Columbus, who has been spending vacation with friends in this 1 city, left for Otterbein University, West--1 erville, this morning. The Christian ’ name of this young lady—Proclamation ' Emancipation—is one in which she well ‘ may, as she does, feel a just pride, she ’ having been bom on the day that Presi- ’ dent Lincoln’s proclamation of emancik pation was issued—her eccentric but patriotic fatlter thus naming his new - born child in honor of the event.--I .-tlrron fJeucon. ,

TERMS: S2:OOa Year.

- NUMBER 35.

, —_ — —. — B , TO MY FIFE. , O, browned in many a sunny clime, » And scathed in many a strange mishap. Still soft ascends thy circling smoke 1 Before my after-dinner nap. f Each putt recalls a fleeting joy 1 That passed, like it, in smoke away, r And left, like thee, about my heart t But ashes of the blissful day. Each spark recalls a glistening eye That dimmed, like it, with Time’s swift flight A falling star that sped, like thee, Through dreary shadows of the night. > Thou little world of fire and smoke, t And ashes of the happy past; , Perish ail other friends beside Save thou, my dearest and my last! PLEASANTRIES. 1 A bad position—lmposition. Roll-call—The baker’s visit. Why do housekeepers preserve so . much fruit i Because they can. i yWKx is a church bell more aflable tluin i a church organ? Because one will go > when it Is tolled, bnt the other will be ; “blowpd” first. I It i» scarcely creditable that a Chicago . told by a doctor that she > must die, wailed but, “ Oh! I hate to i die and have women stand around my i coffin and make remarks about my turnt up nose.” I At no time in a man’s life does he feel I so much the need of being self-possessed I as when he is seated in his best clothes i at a family dinner-party next to the • small boy with greasy hands who has a • penchant for gripping the first coatsleeve in sight when he gets too much i molasses oh his fingers. A Frenchman, mow noted for his con-. i ceit and for a certau/amount of success with the fair sex than for the cleanliness i of his linen, was posing the other day before a beautiful and witty woman, when he delivered himself of this rather arrogant sentiment: “ Women, I change them as Ido my sliirts.” ’“Ah,” said the fair one, looking attentively at the collar of his shirt, “ I should never have believed you so constant.” Last evening, a man standing in front of a Griswold street barber shop, was seen to feel of his face and was heard to soliloquize : “ Yes, I ought to be shaved. They Charge ten cents for shaving 1 , and ten cents buys two glasses of lager. I can’t say that getting shaved helps the constitution any, but doctors recommend lager as a healthy tonic. Therefore, it is my duty to myself to invest my money where it will do the most good, and here goes for lager."— Detroit Free , Dress. On a Baker street car the other day, a . woman having a sleeping babe in her arms j uncovered its head and turned the little ' one around so that the breeze blew in through the open window full upon it. t An oldish man, probably the father of ! several children, moved about uneasily for a time and finally said : “ Madam, don’t you know that your babe will catch its death-cold there ?” “ No, sir,” she promptly responded. “ Well, it’s just such carelessness as that which fills our cemetery with little graves,” he continued. , He saw that she didn’t understand natural philosophy, and he turned mid looked out of the window,— Detroit Free * , . > Joaquin Midler is reported -by the Brooklyn Argus to have said that he doesn’t like to walk with Olive Logan, she squeezes his arm bo. The Argus doesn’t believe that Joaquin objects to being squeezed, however, and in proof quotes this from one of his poems: In palmy grivee, with maiden fair, Neath Occidental treee, I’ve atrolled, but met no maiden yet From whom I’d take a equeexe. He subsequently relates that he showed 1 this verse to Mrs. Miller : l I read the lines to Mrs. M„ And sharp was her reply : I know your liase, deceiving ways—1. Miller, that’s a lie.” And Mrs. Miller was undoubtedly ' right. POPULATION OF NATIONS. According to population China takes the highest relative rank among the principal States of the world. According to ( territorial extent, Russia is first. China has 425,213,152 inhabitants in an area of L 3,924,627 square miles, while Russia, . third in population, having 82,172,022 r inhabitants, has an area of 8,404,767 t square miles. The British empire is second in rank, both as to inhabitants, j 199,817,108, and as to area, 4,677,432 ‘ square miles. The United States is fourth in area and fifth in population ; ’ while Germany is fourth in the latter - ‘ and eighteenth as to the former. Ger- ' many had 41,058,139 at the last enumera tion in 1871, and the United States 38,- “ 558,371 in 1870. Everything indicates ' that the latter has since grown more rapidly than the former. The area of ’ the United States is 3,603,844, and that ‘ of Germany is but 212,091 square miles. , Other countries stand in order of population as follows : France, 36,102,921 ; Austria-Hungary, 35,904,435 ; Turkey, ‘ 35,350,000; Japan, 35,000,000; Italy, . 29,796,253; Spain, 16,301,851; Siam, 11,800,000 ; Brazil, 10,196,328 ; Mexico 9,176,082; Sweden and Norway, 6,001,310; Belgium, 5,087,105; Pwia, 4,- - 400,000; Portugal, 3,995,152 ; Nether- . lands, 3,674,402; Peru, 3,199,000; i Colombia, 2,900,633 ; Morocco, 2,750, s 000; Switzerland, 2,669,147 ; Chili, 1,r 938,861; Denmark, 1,784,741 ; Bolivia, a 1,742,352; Argentine Confederacy, 1,u 736,922 ; Greece, 1,457,894; Paraguay J 1,200,000. As to areos, Rusm, Brazil . .nd Mexico i- portion to inhabitants, wh ile Belgium, i- iir-t it Italy, the N^hertatl 8 * flmro; . -a - among the most P°P States in propo**® area ’ «