Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 2, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 January 1872 — Page 6

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:«*. QUESTS OF THE HEART. brough th* gathering twilight from the dripping Mvet, JL irlth a tremulous rustle

Soil falls through the The rain ft And stir* wl

The dead aud the dying leave*: While ufar, in the midst of the shadows, I hear the sweet voloes A bells Come borne on the wind of the autumn,.

That fitfully rises and swells, A •.,••.• I Tliey call and they answer each other—" They auswerand mingle again— A* the deep and the shrill intheanthem

Make harmony still In their strain As the voices of sentinels mingle In mountainous regions of snow, Till from hi 11-top to bill-top a chorus

Floats down to the valleys below. The shadows, the firelight of even. The sound of the rain's dlstaut chime, Come bringing, with ralu softly dropping,

Hweet thoughts of a shauowy lime The slumberous sense of seciuxion, From storm and intruders aloof, We feel when we hear in the midnight

The patter of rain on the roof. ami When the spirit goes forth in its yearnings aaiijj To take all it* wanderers home "V Or, afar in the regions of fancy,

Delights on swift pinions to roam, .f FS I quietly sit by the firelight— So The

Hrelight so bright and so warm— For I know that those only who love me Will seek me through shadow and storm. i'-wS But should they be absent this evening,

Hhoultl even the household depart— ,JV ./ Deserted, I should not be lonelv There still would be guests lu my heart.

The faces of friends that I cherish. The smile, and the glance, aud the tone, Will haunt me wherever I wander,

And thus I am never alone. With those who have left far behind them The Joys und the sorrows of time— Who sing the sweet songs of the angels .sj

In a purer and holier clime! Then darkly, 0 evening of autumu, Your rain and your shadow* may fall My loved and my lost ones you bring me—

Sly heart holds a feast with them all.

Octavia Hadleigh's

T..Story.

Where and how shall I begin it? Unlike Canning's knifo-grinder, I- have a story to tell but to live a thing und relate'it are so different.

I wonder if the humble moth, safely sheltered beneath the protecting greenery of some household cabbage, ever feels a thrill of envy when the gorgeous butterfly, with wings all ablaze with velvety maroon and gold, alights close by him? If so, the moth inust feel just as I felt when Cornelia Bydexter sat in our poor little irlor th it November day with her cli tins and rings, and looped up draperies of cashmere, and primrose-oolorod kid gloyes buttoned with links ot gold.

It wan rather hard for I could rent (Mn her the old days when Cornelia and I went to school together, and I wrote her compositions for her, and 'looked out the hard words in the

French dictionary. Thero is no republic like a school, and Cornelia was thankful to be allowed to sit next to ""'••sine then and now she actually presutned to patronize me no, not exactly that, either, for Cornelia Bydexter, notwithstanding her lack of brains, was an honest, warm-hearted sort of girl. But the poor are sensitive, and though I was pleased to see my old school-mate, the pleasure wus not unmixed with bitterness.

Yes, tferepoor and the fact stared me in tlio face wherever I ventured to look. That we had been rich was no matter of consolation. The room was 'tilled with ill assorted relics ot furniture that had once been splendid in rosowood shine and gleams of satin and bro. atolle. The carpets, now worn threadbare, wore of royal velvet and

Axminstor, and the whole apartment bore vestiges of that shabby gentility, that poor pretense of newness aud freshness, which is more pathetic by ^ar than the undisguised front of poverty. 1 was tired of arranging the curtains so that the darned holes should tall in the innor folds. I was weary of putting glued chairs in the least used cornors, and setting inenod china vases sin the shadowy nooks of mantel and table. Whore was the use Did not everybody see through our miserable devices? Wo were poverty-stricken, and thero was an end of it.

Aud yet poor papa sat there In that forlorn, second-rate little room like a viscount in his recoption chamber. "Dear ipa! ever since his paralytic stroke he had seemed to belive in himself to a degreo I could not possibly attain to, and to Imagine that the world also put faith in him. Nor would we have had it otherwise. And dear mamma, who could not look aught else than a lady in spite of mended laces and oft-turned silks, never told him of the daily contests with unpaid butohor, dissatisfied baker, and clamorously insolent candle-stick maker! and Jeanette und I, just at the age when life ought—according to all we had read and heard—to wear its sunniest aspect, grew up in the shadow, crying softly to oursolvos when it was bitterest to endure In silence, for it was p.irt of our domestic creed to keep all the disagreeables from poor papa.

Yes," said papa, nodding his head as ho sat in his gorgeous Turkish dressing gwwn by the window, his slippered teot on an embroidered ottoman, aud one white, slender finger Inserted between the pages of the book he had been readlug all the morning—"yes, you are quite right, Miss Bydexfm ter: Ootava is growing very pretty."

And I could feel myself blushing scarlet, between my delight at receiving a compliment from papa and my embarrassment at feeling all the family eyes im Miss Bydextor's Included—fixed upKiSon me. "It's a shame she should be shut up here!" said Miss Bydexter in her soft soprano voloe, "when all the world is getting ready to e^joy itself. Come, .'Octavia, what do you say to going to

New York with me this winter?" Wife," said papa, loftily—somehow the mautier was just as natural to him ?a* the air he breathed—"why don't we send our little girl to New York. Miss

Bvdexwr's kind offer ought not to be slighted, and it really would be a groat advantage, socially speaking, to the child."

Visions of Broadway, seen through the sunshine of a Dwmbw dav, of the Fifth Avenue and Central Park, Stewart's and Dolmonloo's, of brass bands and lighted ball-roouis, shot dixsUy across my brain for an instant, as a hungry man dreams of unlimited (bod. I felt tne burn of the kindling lights in "iny eyes as I looked from papa to mamma, And then common sense, for a moment frightened off her throne,came back to me, and I knew how impractieabl was. turous cry.

to U1U| iuu »•«'». uvn le, not to say impossible* the plan But Jeanette uttered a little rap-

Oh, Octavia, wouldn't It be nice! If we only bail the money!" Yea—ir," mamma answered, with

that soft moonlight sort of smile she '13 dear-

has at times. "But you know, my

But papa would not allow her to finish the sen tence^ A deep mahoganycolored flash, mounted to his foi and I saw his brows meet darkly

If Octavia wishes." he said, "I can err ©sally draw a ooeck for her expenses.

upon the bank

Mamma' hreathed quick and abort

Jennetto opened wideiier honest bine

*J"It would be delightful!"laid Miss Cornelia Bydexter, to whom one or two hundred dollars was no more than thoy would be to the lillies of the field, who, "toil not, neither do they spin." And poor mamma* Whp knew

very

well that th# hundred and fifty dollars at the bank were imperatively needed for the already over-due rent, skillfully engineered the conversation away from the jocks and shoals which porteud the shipwreck of our domestic peace.

Yes, indeed," said Miss Bydexter^ unconsciously following mamma's lead and plunging into the great "service channel.1' IWe been very badly treated but servants area thankless race. Louisa has left me, the ungrateful thing! Forty dollars a month I was paying her too." "That is a great sum to pay," said mamma, and I knew the pang with which which she was thinking that this was exactly the sum in which we were indebted to Dr. Mortimore. Not a large amount in itself, to be sure, but enough to make us shrink from encountering him. Had I not gone a quarter of a mile out of my way, only yesterday, to avoid the necessity of passing nls door? Alas! Alas! do the rich ever dream of the thousand barbed arrows of mortification which dally and hourly pierce the souls of the poor? I think not."

Well," said Miss Bydexter, playing with the ivory handle of her diamona studded eye-glass, "she wasn't exactly a servant, you know, Mrs. Hadleigh more of a companion. She read to me, and did my hair sweetly, and kept all my laces in such charming order. I shall never, never be able to replace Louisa. I offered her fifty to stay with me, for I didn't know how on earth I was going to mauage without her—just as I was going to New York, too. But she got a pack of silly nonsense into her head about some young Frenchman or other that she wanted to marry. Marry, indeed! Such people havn't any business to marry, and I am sure Louisa will live to repent it."

Thus Miss Cornelia Bydexter rattled on, quite certain that tiie trivialities of her daily life must possess deep interest for her auditors, for no one had ever ventured to tell the millionaire's daughter that she was a fool. I heard her without hearing, although I was listening all the time—the plan which hud ll.ished into my head seemed so ridiculously visionary and yet so simple. And when she rose to take her leave lrose too, trembling slightly and clasping ray hands nervously together.

Papa," I began, "I—I have been thinking about it, and if you and mamma do not object—" "Well?" Papa looked a little surprised perhaps because it was so seldom that I ventured to express an opinion of my own.' "I should so much like to go to New York with Cornelia!" "You dear little thing!" said Miss BydexLer, smiling, and patting my hand with her mother-of-pearl-handled fan "you will be exactly like a fairy princes."

Where the similarity existed nobody knew, nor did Miss Bydexter take the trouble to explain. Sh^was accustomed to have people take her meaning for granted.

Mamma looked at me in a bewildered way, a sott reproach shining out of her eyes. I could road her face as if it were an open book. Before papa she dared not say out the truth: "We want the money for our rent! Oh, liow can Octavia be so strangely forgetful ol our household needs?" "Very well," asserted papa, in his grand, Lord Chesterfield style, "Jeannette, bring me my desk. And fill that musty old inkstand with fresh ink. Do you liear, child

And while Jeanette, who knew that ink in our house was among the things that were, fluttered into the corner bakery to borrow a little out of the gray stone bottle that always stood on Mrs. Bailey's cash desk, papa went on talking loftily of the probable pleasures that I should enjoy in the great metropolis of tho Western world. "I am told that the coming season

Sromises

to be particularly brilliant in

ew York," said papa graciously "and I only wish, ladies" with a stately bow towards Miss Bydexter, which would have done no discredit to "Deportment Turveydrop" —"that I was young enougn to be your escort. Jeanette, you nave been a long time bringing that ink but nobody hurries themselves to perform my behests nowadays."

Papa," pleaded poor Jeanette, turning red and white, ''I went as quiok as I could."

Papa did not notice her words, but with shaking hand and many an unnecessary flourish, he drew the check for the last hundred and fifty dollars we had in the world until the next dividend day, six months oft, should reinforce the*fountain of Pactolus. And all to deceive Miss Bydexter, who wasn't deceived in the least.

Here, my daughter." be said, folding it deliberately and handing it to me, while mamma looked on breathless dismay, and Jeanette's eyes grew bigger aud bluer than ever.

I followed Miss Bydexter down to the door, snd the wheels of the big chocolate-colored Bydexter carriage were thundering off over the uneven pavement, when mamma came down also, looking pale and perturbed.

Octavia, my daughter," she began, "how could you—" "Hash, mamma!" I put my hands with a little hvsterical laugh, over the soft maternal lips.

Here is papa's check do you suppose I would take It?" But," persisted mamma, looking, if possible, more bewildered than before, "I thought you were intent on going to New York?"

So I am!" "Then how?"

Mamma, I am going to have forty dollars a month. I am going as Oornelia's companion. Pshaw! why do I mince matters? I am going to be her maid, uothing more nor less."

Forty dollars a month!" Mamma's Aided eyes brightened. "But Cornelia Bydexter's maid!" And her countenance fell again. I could not but smile.

It will be no such a terrible matter, after all, inainina. On the contrary, it will be fun. Cornelia is good natured as she can be, and you know very well I am an adept in hair dressing, and lace-inending, and frill-fluting, thank* to the best of mamma*, who knows everything, and has taught her daughters the same!" "But what would your papa aay?" gasped mamma, hardly as yet realising the conditions. I felt myself grow MO.

Papa! Bat he mujt never know. We will keep our counsel, mamma yon and I and Jeanette. All that need be told to that I am going to New York with Cornelia Bydexter, and that is true eooofrh."

And mamma toek me lovingly into her arms. Octavia, ought we to ask this sacrlfioe |*m yon T*

Nobody aaksit, mamma it is *y

it ..f* .4... sr.*m SPHT*

TERitfl-iiAUTE SATURDAY EVENIMG MAIL. JASUAKY S7. »87fr

own free-will offering. And oh, mamma, I oould not lookDr Mortimore 5n the face when I remember that his Mil has lain unpaid for aix mouths

And mamma, also remembering this sterQpst and most uncontrovertible of facts, hsd no more to say. "It seems so strange V' said Miss Bydexter. .. "The idea of your being my maid, you dear aristocratic-looking little thing! And you used to write all my compositions for me at school, too!

Dear,

dear! only to think of it! Take care Octavia, that bunch of curls comes in first nnder the braid, you know. And how came you ever to think of it?"

Nonsense!" I cried briskly. "The long and short of it 1s that I want money and you do not-'—so don't let's say any more about it." £apa talked vain gloriously of "my daughter in New York!" Poor papa! he had so little left to be vain and glorious about. Mamma remained wisely silent, and Jeanette, who was addicted to hero-worship, firmly believed that her elder sister was the noblest girl in the world. While Dr. Mortjmore—at least, so I afterward heard—contracted his brows and thought that people who could afford to sena their daughter to pass a winder at the Orand hotel, might at least pay his very moderate bill.

The month of March was wearing itself away, and April sunshine was pencilling the sky with golden threads interwoven with crystal lines of rain, when one day I astonished Dr. Mortimore by walking into his office. He looked up from his books in some surprise.

Miss Hadleigh! I supposed you were in New York." I have returned with Miss Bydexter. Next week we go on to Washing ton."

Dr. Mortimore made no spoken an swer, but there was a peculiar, inscru table expression in his eves. Was he thinking of mamma and Jeanette on the tread mill ot patient poverty, at home Was he faticyiug it a modern edition of Cindrella and the proud sisters? Involuntarily I spoke, with rising color and tremulous voice:

You are entirely mistaken, Dr. Mortimore but it's my province to explain."

I said nothing." But you looked a great deal." Please to interpret my looks," he said with an amused face.

My cheeks burned, and I bit my lips to repress undignified anger. I laid down a pile ot crisp, rustling bank notes on the desk beside him.

Be so kind as to receipt your bill,

sjr."

He obeyed in silence, and I walked away, as he afterward told me, "with an air ofan eighteen-year-old Semiramls." And— ,, [The rest of the MS is in a bold masculine handwriting, as different from Octavia Hadleigh's delicate up and down strokes as it is possible to imagine.]

And Octavia, on the contrary, notwithstanding, I shall take the liberty of finishing this confession after my own fashion.

I called that evening on Miss Bydexter. The lair Cornelia was jubilant.

I never had a pleasanter season," she declared. "I havn't been ennuyee once. Octavia is such charming company."

She is with you at present "Oh, yes. She is uiy maid, yeu know." "Octavia Hadleigh !—your maid?"

I must have looked my astonishment, for I saw its reflex in Miss Bydexter's face.

Why, to be sure. Didn't you know it?" And Miss Bydexter who was no adherent to the theory that "silence is golden," poured out the wchole story.

Of course I wouldn't tell every one," she said rather guiltily, as if, remembering some hitherto forgotten charge of secrecy. "But I know you would appreciate it—and she is so sweet, and they are so poor!"

Is she at home?" I asked. "No she has gone around to.her father's. But I expect her back every minute." .. "I will go and meet her," said I. "went accordingly, thinking with a strange thrill at my heart, ot that pompous egotistic old father who sacrificed them all so regardlessly on the shrine of his selfish ease and the pale, patient mother, and Octavia herself, the fairest and most dutiful of daughters, and I believed her all this time to be a butterfly of fashion, forgetting utterly the' piteous exigencies of her home.

When I first heard of her going to New York with Cornelia Bydexter I fully determined to put her away from my heart. Now I know how impossible it would have been. I know that I loved her all the while I was "forgetting" so systematically. I met her in the rosy dusk, as stately as a princess, as beautiful as a flower.

Octavia," I said, "I have misjudged vou. Will you give me a chanee to explain "Certainly, Dr. Mortimor."

But there is aquestionl should like you to answer first. "What is it?" "Will you be my wife, Octlvla?" The question wss asked in a lowered voice of intense suspense, and was answered frankly, after a moment's hesltation.

I will."

I suppose I "explainod satisfactorily afterward, for Octavia understsnds all about it, but I really don't remember how or when it was done. But she is oontent, and that is enough.

Miss Bydexter hsd to look out for another "companion," and to this day old Mr. Hadieigh firmly believes that Octavia was one of the belles of New York society in the season 18ft-.

And so she ought to have been.

1

A SCOTCH minister in preaching a sermon against intemperance, a vice very prevalent in his parish, has just used the following language:

Whatever ye do, brethren, do it in moderation, and a boon a' be moderate in dram-drinking. When ye get up, Indeed, ye may tak' a dram' and anither just before breakfast, snd, perhaps, anlther after but dinna always be dram drinking. If ve are out in the morning, ye may just brace yoursel' wi' anlther dram, and tak' anither in the forenoon but dinna be always be dram—dramming. Naebady can scruple for ane just before dinner and when the dessert is brought in, and after it's ta'en awa and perhaps ane, or it may be two. in the course of the afternoon. juat to keep you frae drowsying and snoosling opt dinna be always drinking. Afore tea, and after tea, and between tea and supper, and before and after supper,la no more than right and guide but let me caution ye, brethren, not to be always dramdramming. Just when you're gaun to bed, and when you're ready to pop into't, and perhaps when ye wake in the night, to tak' a dram or twa to no more than a Christian may lawfully do but. brethren, let me caution yon not to arink more than I have men tioned, or maybe ye may pasa the bo«nds of moderation."

W W S S S W a W W II I mmm.

BIO BABIES.

The babv sitting on his BDother's knee stretches out his hand and screams for the beautiful, beautiful gas-light. Nothing else will pacify him. In vain an offer ia made or an orange, sweet as well ss beautiful—of Aunt Millie's watch—of the round golden head of grandpapa'a cane—of all the glittering and jiugling things in the rooqn. Baby will have none or them. He stretches and screams for the lighted gas. He gays, "Da, da!" and signifies bis wishes vocally to the best of his ability, and finally grows quite apoplectic with rage or sorrow or blighted hopas in respect to that bright delusive, dangerous thing.

Well, he cannot have it having only recently learned to hold up his own head, and not having acquired the accomplishment of walking, he canuot help himself to that gaslight, as be assuredly would if he could. Providence in the form of Mamma and Aunty, will not help him to it. Fate, masquerading as grandpa, sternly refuses to lift him up to it, so that his little fingers may grasp it close the great joy must be forgone the great hope relinquished. He turns at last ungrateful to the loving bosom, and even with slumber stealing over him arouses himself now and then to give a short screaui and a vague grasp gas-ward, until his eyes are shut, and he sleeps in his crib, with marks of bis mental struggle still upon his countenance. Then those elders laugh. I wonder whether there are any big guardian angels, who make allowances lor us, who sometimes laugh at us, as they keep our burning, tempting, shining toys from us.

For you and I have striven for many a dangerous plaything, which would have burned us, had we grasped it. We have turned from the fair bosom of Peace to pant and sob after fairy bauble, whivh would have been life's curses had we won them and with a certain portion of free will, which Biby has not, we have sometimes fought our way over all obstacles, and through all discouragements, to goals more dangerous than Baby's gaslight. The Providence that watches over us always seems to throw some little obstacle before us and that which would bring to us some woe.that shimmers with delusive brightness on our horizon, If it does not hold us down, as mamma does Baby, it refuses to lift us easily to our prize by the aid of grandpa. Ah, how hard we fight against fate, sometimes to rue our conflict afterwards! The men who struggle for gold, fling aside all natural affection, ana forgot the joys of charity to heap it up in piles the men who with bright children at their knees envy their millionaire neighbor so bitterly the men, who for some worthless creature's love, cast purity away, and bid good-bye to honor those others who pine awav, or with rash hands take their own lives, because one other mortal out of all the world has no love for them, or because some cruel heart has broken its vows to theirs—what -are they but big babies? And so are you, dear reader, and so am I for each of us is longing for some bright flame quite out of our reachdangerous, perhaps, if we could grasp it—and we shall lie in onr coffins at last, as Baby lies in his cradle, with the marks-of our struggle upon our face, where smiles of content might have rested, had the things offered us but have satisfied our longings.

THEANTIQ UITYOF INVENTION To Noah is attributed the invention of wine. 2,347 B. C. Ale was known at least 404 B. C. Backgammon, the most ancient of our games,

^.-•8

was

invented by

Palamedes. of Greece, 1,224 B. C. Chess is of later date, and organized 680 years before the Christian Era. The first circus was built by Tarquin, 605 B. Cj, and theatrical representations took place as long ago as 562 B. C. the first tragedy represented was wrttten by Thespls. 536 B. C. So it seems that the ancients were not as destitute of amusement as one would suppose. Is It not possible that the great philosopher, Socrates, delighted In chess that Sophocles amused liis little friend by taking tbem to see the gladiators and the tragedians, and that even immortal Homer could play a fair game of backgammon.

As for musical instruments, they possessed the psaltery, harp, lute, and that most ancient instrument, the cymbal, which is spoken of as long ago as 1,580

C. The flute was the Invention of Hyaginus, 1,506 B. C. organs were invented bv Archimedes, 220 B. C. and Nero played upon the melodeous bag-

^fn ^household furniture, glass was used by the Egyptians crockery was known to the Egytlans and Greeks, I 490 B. C. carpets were in use 800 B. C., clocks, which measured time by the falling of water, were invented 158 B. C.* sun-dials, which had been in use previous to the invention of the waterclo'ik date from 550 B. C.

Bricks were made 2,247 B. C. the lathe was invented by Talus, 1,240 B. C. The compass was used by the Chinese 1,115 B. C. Bellows are the invention of Anarcharsis, 569 B. C.»* 3

DURING the past year London has lost eight hundred persons by the small pox. It is no wonder she grows nervous and talks about sanitary precautions. One of the compensations of the Prince's illness is the new Interest it has awakened in the sanitary condition of the countiy. The poor might perish by the thousand, and nobody stir a flngeror ask why they died but the prostration ot a few nobles in mid-life, and the dangerous illnees of the prince have set all England to enquiring into the condition or the drains and cellars and tenant-houses. Of course the poor are not worth saving on their own account, but they must be cared for or they may kill the rich with their filth, ana communicate pestilence to Princes. Really this is a philanthropic age.— [Golden Age.

OCT in an Illinois town the Educational Committee are considering the case of a schoolmaster who bit the uose off pupil who wouldn't behave. The teacher offers in his defence the suggestion that the boy looks better without a nose, anyhow. And he says It will save bim money, too—for, supposing the boy lives to be eighty years of sge, and that he would haveexpended three dollars a year in handkerchief^, and ten dollars a year for washing tbem. he would make a clear saving of nearly eleven hundred dollars during bis lifetime. just by losiog that one nose. The boy's father seems to look at the matter in an entirely different light, and he wants damages. But then, some men are so unreasonable.

GRACB GRKBJTWOOD,in her lecture on **The Heroic in Cortmon Lifb," tells a story of the wife of a member of the Arisona Legislature, whose house, when her husband was absent on his legislative duties, was attacked by Indians. She shot six, and the next day wrote to her hosband: "Dear John, Apaches attacked the ranche. I have won the fight. You need not come yourself, but send some more ammunition.** y*

*j*

••u.nj j»

1

ANENOLISH VIE WOFA MERICA. Over and above the advantages as to means of living," there are inducements of no unimportant kind to settling in the

United States* Not, indeed*

for tne wealthy and well-to-do classes, the upper ten thousand," to whom emigration is known aa away of getting rid of the surplusage of "the lower orders." People accustomed to the amenities ana amusements of aristocratic and plutocratic life in the Old Country would be like fish ont of water in America. Jaiqee de la Plush and Carolina Wilheliuina Amelia Skeggs would think it a horrid place. Lord Lundreary would wonder what a fellow could do there. Yet even among the highest orders of rank and intellect there are inanv who would enjoy life in the States, whether men, like Goldwtn Smith, who admire the politioal institutions of the country, or like Principal McCosh, in sympathy with the academic culture and high moral tone of the seats of learning, or l.ke the late accomplished and lamented Earl of Aberdeen, who regretted having to leave what he called "a land of fteedom and common-sense." But for the great middle class of Englishmen, and for the operative classes, whether in town or country, there are mativ points which they would admire and enjoy in the States more than even in England. There is a higher social and moral tone throughout the Union than in the best parts of the Old Country. Education is more diffused, religion is more influential, the Sabbath is better observed, and Christian ordinances more honored among the whole body of the people. There is a spirit of manly self-reliance and sturdy independence, which, although at first repulsive from thebrusquenessof manner which it induces, comes to be respected. The poor serf-like clodhopper of our Euglisli counties soou holds his head erect as a well-paid and free laborer. Aud the farmers remind one of the yeomen freeholders who once fofmed an influential portion of the British Commonwealth. Now that slavery is extinguished—the last legacy ot misrule bequeathed by the mother-coun-try—the immigrants as well as the native population more thau ever exhibit what Washington described as "attachment to and confidence in their form of government and the prosperity of the country." And this applies to the manufacturing as well as agricultural classes of immigrants they are as a rule better paid, better housed, better clothed, bettar fed, better educated, more contented and more independent in Bhort, in moral as well as physical condition, superior to the same class ia the Old Country.

AtfffliDERER ON ORATORY. While still a very young man, on account of his uncommon ability and legal acquirements, Mr. Richard Coleman was made Judge of one of the Eastern circuits of Viginia, in the year 18 -. Having hitherto led the life of a student and scholar, he had no extended reputation except among his brethren, and as connected with his profession, and had never been in politics. Shortly after be went on the bench a most ooldblooded and cruel murder was perpetrated in the district, by a very notorious ly bad man. The murderer was apprehended, tried and convicted of murder in the first degree. Judge C. proceeded to pronounce the sentence, the first be ever had to, which he had prepared with great care, and, as he himself said, the best of which he was capable, and which he had in Niinilar sentences been obliged to make the basis of them all. Such was the solemnity of the occasion ami the fervid eloquence of the Judge that all who listened to the sentence passed, were moved to tears—all except the prisoner at the bar, whd was observed to be looking at the ceiling, and to pay no attention whatever, appearing wholly indifferent to what was going on. After he had been remanded to jail, one of the junior members of the bar, having bis curiosity excited, and Judge C. also wishing to know what effect his eloquence bad had upon the criminal, went into the cell where the prisoner was and inquired of him how he felt when Judge C. was passing sentence on him. "What?" said the criminal, "whatdo you mean?" "I mean when the Judge was telling you that you were to be hung, and urging you to prepare for the awful doom that awaited you." "You mean when he was talking to me?" "Yes." "Oh, I never paid no 'tention to Dick Coleman— he ain't no public speaker nohow."—Galaxy for January. ........,

CONQUERING DEATH. To be philosophical is to be arnfted against the worst that may happen. When out of the unborn no shapes may come to daunt the firmness of our souls, philosophy has crowned us with its greenest laurel. To anticipate to-mor-row is to master it to stand against an undelivered blow is to break its force. Thus to regard death as near at hand—as likely to occur at any hour (all say. but tew feel this)—not only strips death of much of its grimness, but also elevates our responsibility and keeps fresh our consciousness of duty to our fellows. He who lives each day as If it might be his last finds himself, like Buckingham, half in heaven. No thought of shirking, of evasion, of repairing next week or next year the wrong of this week or this year, suggests itself to him who calmly sees the sun go down as if it might never rise again. Nor is this a sad or cheerless state, as msy be supposed for the wellbalanoed mind, which esteems death only a part of life—a link in the great chain of cause snd offect—cannot be shadowed or depressed by a clear perception and a constant consciousness of the unavoidable. There is a selfcontainment. a spiritual equipoise, a tranquil feeling of restfulness in an understanding so well eqnipped for all contingencies which an unsettled snd undetermined soul can never know.— [Junius Browne in Galaxy for Febru-

A FEW FACTS ABOUT THK POPS*.— The whole number of fopes from St. Peter to Pius IX. is 257. Of these 82 are venerated as saints, 63 having been raartvred 104 have been Romans, and 103 natives of other parts of Italy 15 Frenchmen, 9 Greeks, 7 Germans, 5 Asiatics, 3 Africans, 3 Spaniards^ Dalmatians, 1 Hebrew, 1 Thracian, 1 Dutchman, I Portuguese,'1 Candiot, and 1 Englishman. The name most commonly borne has been John. The 23d and fast was a Neapolitan, raised to the chair in 1410. Nine Pontiffs have reigned less than one mootb, 80 less than one year, and 11 more than 29 years. Only five have ^occupied the Pontificial chair over 23 years. These are St. Peter, who was Supreme Pastor 25^rears, 2 months, 7 days Silvester I., 23 years, 10 months, 27 days Adrian, I.. 22 years, 10 months, 17 dsys Pins VI., 24 years, 8 months, 14 days Pius IX., who celebrated his 25th year in the Pontificial chair, June 16th, 1871.

TUB Postmaster General is solicited by alive Yankee to sweeten the mucilage on the backs of postage stamp*.

THE GIRLS THAT ARE OLD.1

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Wfe say that our friend is passed. Is she past her intelligence, her good-na-ture, her power of entertainment, her wit, her usefulness generally On the contrary, abe has usually but just attained experience enough to enable her to comprehend and join in conversation above the mediocrity of gossip, titter, and compliment her gayety is not mere giggling, but there is in it something of the flash of encountering intellects she has directiou enough to be silent, and knowlege enough to speak on occasion no longer raw,or shy,or painfully self-conscious, her manners have a charm of ease that gives ease to all around her. If she has accomplishments, they are practical and mature, and you are spared, lor instance, the familiar horror of a school-girl's music. If she baa not the rosy loveliness of her youth, she has a knowledge of the arts of the toilet that makes her dress perfect, and herself an attractiveobject. in fact, she has only just become oapttble of enjoying and giving enjoyment in society and so far from the young idiots who call her passee having any right to slurs in her regard, it is she who should herself beau arbiter of society, and have authority to pronounce whether or not they are in any sense fit to enter its charmed circles. Indeed, it may well excite all the wonder that it does among Europeans that*he young are here allowed to absorb all the enjoyments of our social life—the youns who have nothing but their youth or their beauty to give whose minds and manners are almost totally untrained and insufficient who are indeed, objects ot pleasure to the eye, and wherein they yield other pleasure or profit, do so rather in a subsidiary way than in the main. We do not wish to undervalue the elements of innocence and freshness which the young bring with them, but we maintain that the virtue of years, with their knowledge, of the world we live in, and their preparation for the world we hope to live in—their wisdom, their grace, and their cburity —are of at least equal value, and deserve equal recognition in the places where men and women meet together and we protest against the curving of

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the "contumelious lip" over the claims to courtesy and consideration of the woman beyond her girlhood.—[Harper's Basaar.

AN ELOQUENT TRIB UTE. I have in my band," said Edward Everett, "a gold watch, which unites beauty and use in happy proportions. Its hands, face, chain, and case are of burnished gold. Its gold seals sparkle with the ruby, topaz, sapphire, and emerald. I open it, and find the works, without which this elegantly finished case would be but a mere sholl, are

ONE ORANDE AMER1CA NE. When Montaland got on from Paris, last year Fisk had just said farewell to "Josle," and so he took extra pains to make a good impression on his beautiful prima donna. On the first sunshiny afternoon after Montaland bad seeu the Wonderful Opera House, Fisk took her out to the park behind bis magnificent six-in-hand. Passing up Fifth avenue, Montaland's eyes rested on Stewart's tnarble bouse. "Vat ees sat?" she asked in broken French. "Why, that Is my city residence," said Fisk with an air of profound composure. "C* est magnifique—C' est grande!" repeated Montaland in admiration. Soon they came to the Central Park. "Vat ees zees place?" asked Montaland. "O! this is ny country seat these are my grounds—my cattle and buffaloes, and those sheep over there compose my pet sbeepfold," said Fisk, twirling the end of his mustache a la Napoleon. "C' est tres magnifl-

3erment.

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made of brass. Looking farther, and asking what the spring which pnts all' these wheels in motion is made of, I

Ir6n, therefore, is the most precious metal, and this watch is an emblem of society. Its hand and figures, which tell the hour, resemble the master spirits of the age to whose movements every eye is directed. Its works of brass are middle class, by whose power and intelligence the master spirits of the age are moved, and its iron mainspring, shut up in a box, always at work and little thought of, Is the laboring class, whose constant labors are absolutely necessary to the movement of society, and who, when injnied or disordered, bring loss »nd disorder upon every other class.'

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am told it is steel. I ask, what is steel? They tell me it is irou which has undergone a certain process. So, then, I' find the main-spring, without which the watch would be always motionless, is not of gold—that is not good enough, 4 —nor of brass—that would not do—but of iron.

ue!" exclaimed Montaland in bewil-13 "Mr. Feesk is one grande t:. Americano!" By-and-by they rode back and down Broadway, by Stewart's store. "And is sees your grand maison, too?" asked Montaland, as she pointed up to the marble palace. "No, Miss Montaland to be frank with you. that building does not belong to me," said Fisk, as he settled back, with bis hand in his bosom—"that belongs to M. Gould!" fn

WHBTHHR It maybe dicided that a republican 6r a monarcbial form of government is the best, in one respect $ the former baa a decided advantage over the latter. A Republican Chief Magistrate may call in a homoepathist practitioner, or quack himself with patent pills to bis heart's oontent but a Royal personage must always be killed or cured by a regular orthodox allopath. But there is no evil that hath not its compensations, and Royalty never has to bother his brains as to who to send for when he is sick, but takes bis physicians like bis illness as a dispensation ol Providence who chasteneth whom He loveth. And this is something, if not more.—[Gold-

en Age.

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Too TBCTK.—A few friends will go and bury us. Affection will rear a stone and plant a few flowers oyer onr graves: in a brief period the little hillock will be smoothed down, and the stone will

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fall, and neither friend nor stranger! will be concerned to ask which one oi the forgotten million of the earth was buried there. Every vestige that we ever lived upon the earth will have vanished away. Ail the little memories of our retnemberance—the lock ot, hair encased in gold, or the portrait that hung in our dwelling, will cease to have the slightest interest to any living being.

JOHH HAT and Bret Harte are understood to be bidding for the exclusive right to manufacture a poem out of the following touching incident: A Topeka man, while travelling at night from Topeka to Abeline, was attacked by two mounted heroes and robbed of $300. He told tbem that he was destitute, and they, with the magnanimity of their class, gave him 96.40, and sent him on his way with a full heart and a sore head. The recording angel willbut it is useless to anticipate the oomlng poem.' •-•&