••• -i#,-,.,..:' T*WfWr"'* •*"'•i•, * «KKWS rBOM TUB WAR.1 |g» women ait at a farmhouse door, Bwtly reading the news, ~ J jjlr softly around them fair twuigos an«<» Her tender shadows and dews -J sXi1 <•>•• j *4 . » paiiles in the cloudless hea p«»c<> rests on the landscape fair, JItsiI jvaoo, like a holy spirit of love, Broods in the balmy air. Bat *«t one ray of peace illumes M. Those sad and wistful eyes, .a- WMeh search that printed record As tuariners p6*rcb tho ekics. at their faces: one like a rose Ifcwh with the beauty of May; Tpfce other, pale as a waning moon Seta through thin clonds of gray. •Jfot though one in young and the other With the, same soft glory they shin*; War thev'rc tinted with tendereat light and ahad«fl By Love, the artist divine. Waw. fast as a radiant vision, fades . Ttra glory of the western skies; "JSat the' readers read on--unmindful Of Hi '*, gave the paper before their eyes. "" nothing to thorn the charms of that hour-- The italic of meadow and hill; gpinu- bowed down with a weight of car® Are blind to the beautiful still. DMpferthe shadows of twilight fall, ; More hushed grows the dewy air, suddenly breaks on the holy Aq.oick, wild cry of despair. Tfc» younger glances have found It fliwt-- tkat record so sad and brief : , ,, at Korraily woundedtwo dread words1- Winged arrows of dread and grief. ! •» Mortally woundedlook again; 4LMs! it is all too true; . . •aw the brave alone, but the fond and fair Hre mortally wounded, too. jfo. ou the battle-field far away, ' : ffay, in their quiet home-- Tfaf and the mother, who never mare Stall see their love,! hero come. " J'. Tta ^ass will grow where the warrior fell, » tod sweet wild flowers may bloom <|n fee verv turf once blackened and burned the fearful fires of doom. ' Art Che smiling summers, that come and go, Oatt never, never heal The bleeding bosoms which felt to-day ifcutiettung sharper than steeL -«• Mfcsrtally wounded!" oh, dread war! M«siy a victim is thine, 3in those who hear your terrible voioa, Go thundering along the line! If w give proud namea and echoing hymns, Ab<1 build up monuments graud Tb tip1 gallant spirits who suffer and fall ba defense of their native land; X«t «w yield a tenderer tribute still--. ted tears and a pitying sigh-- Tbthe uncrowned heroes who silently sink, And die wheu their heroes die. --Jtnam&m.9U*. in " Lyrics of Loyalty/* A BIT OF LICE. "Ws a perfectly exquisite piece of Jioe, papa." "I dare sajvFlor." *'iput I warn von to look at it" "Ishouldn't know any more about it if I did." "W^B, then, I want you to buy it." *Bny it! What for?" ^'Why, for me." M Pay five hundred dollars for a hand kerchief for you ?" "Yes, indeed. All other girls have rsfeam, although certainly this is a little, ifee Heast little, nicer than theirs. I don't 3ui0w why Lucy should have a liand- ««i«ier handkerchief than I, just because |M*> .v&L-'a married. Anybody else would say at VM enough to be married, *nd so let me have the handkerchief. Married 'women have everything--love, and lace, and diamonds. Now, papa, just take OBft you pocket-book." It was a coaxing «iw ^>b id " Do you suppose I carry $500 bills in my pocket-book?" " It makes n© odds. Your check-book, fliea. I have set my Heart on it, it's such * beauty. If you only look at it--look a& the wreath of flowers, all so delicately shaded; here the close work in the light, you a e, there the open work in the shade, so perfect you can quite fancy ^kc «alors; and all done in this one thread. See, papa, there's a dewdrop, that round hole in the mesh." "Nonsense, Flor; I. can't see anything 43£ the kind there." " That's because your eve isn't educa ted, sir. Mine is; for I have studied other people's laces till I could almost •wrwi them. That's a good man ! I knew yoxi would, You always do. One, two, three And then there was a shower «€ kisses and tinkling laughter. An/1 that was the conversation of a million- awe and his daughter that Lucian Mal- wia heard over the transom of the next room to his in the hotel where he staid avat night a year or two ago, seeing neither people nor handkerchief, and ^hast at the thought of a handkerchief • usskng the awful price of $500, which - (wcf ^ue-thiru of Use mortgage on his lii& that he was trying to pay off, Jiaart axd soul--a conversation that now recurred to him in a moment of real «g<roy, the housemaid stood before feiiiQ holding a little limp rag in her hand that she had just snatched out of the washtub, and that last night was a bit of •torafir lace that Miss Rofe Mercier had v?^ii«A4tier handkerchief, and had given liim to hold during the gallop. Good ^wwjis, how nas lie ever going to re store it * He was a young lawyer, just entering npcm what in time would probably be Una practice, but which was now rather «npirical. He had started in the race Sot wealth and honor with good legal ibikty, good name, and good morals, ,aad with no other impediments than a Etfie patrimony in the shape of a modest dwelling in the suburbs, which he had ween obliged to mortgage for the means •w iget a part of his education and his profession, which mortgage he was striv ing to pay off, that he might begin the clear of the world. He was a toaiwlBome fellow, this Lucian Malvin, «n ambitious one, too, in some degree, ami very nearlv as proud as Lucifer. Hie used to feel many a pang in the as sociation with those so much wealthier ffcau Limself to which certain circum- •; Bteaces had subjected him. He had had -an important case accidently thrown into his h ands, and had acquitted himself so -mell t-iiat the wealthy client took him up mud vrould not let him down; and when JjAcIan remonstrated that it was out of bw power to keep up such association, JWMI was mortifying to his pride beside, rUtm disnt had assured him it was not yrkit, but vanity, that was mortified, that the way to be wealthy as those lie met was to keep their company and their cases; and he -had thought, on OK whole, that perhaps his friend was rfgkt, and that, if he began to yield with . mt ignoble motive, he had nevertheless baoome very fond of the ways of people whom wealth had > given every eppor- of culture and grace, and who kni- w hew to treat life like a work of art. SSoveover, it was not a little that he was petted by various of these good people. Oertaaa motherly ladies mad© him at ifeftEiie with them, and won his confidence Mm2 affection, notably Mrs. Barnetta. .Parents with good rent-rolls of their own, as Mrs. Barnetta used to tell him, were not so inconsistent in the matter of rent-rolls m of virtue and talent in their daughters' husbands; and he was invited here and invited there, and given to un derstand a great deal more than he chose to understand. Proud as Lucifer, as it was previously stated, he was going to marry no heiress of them all and be the thrall of her money; he would not marry a rich woman--he* could not marry a poor one. When he married he was going to give, not take, and at present he had nothing to give. Perhaps he would have been a nobler person if he had not been quite so strenuous in this matter of obligation; but then, as Mrs. Eternetta said, he would not have been Lucian Malvin, and Lucian Malvin was a very good fellow, after all, and there are few of tus but have our faults. It was among these people tlifit he happened to meet Rosa Mercier. She had come from a distant place, and was visiting his pleasantest acquaintance; and certainly the house was pleasanter still after her sunshiny little presence dawned upon it. It seemed as if, lor instance, there never had been any flowers in the house before, although it had always beeii overflowing; it seemed as if there had been no music there, no light, or color or cheer; and now the place was too dangerously delightful for a young man who did not want to marry to* frequent. She was such a lovely little thing; not exactly beautiful, that is, she would not have been beautiful in a picture, but in flesh and blood, and in Lucian Malvin's eyes, she was exceed ingly beautiful, with her soft color, her clear dark gaze and her bright hair that broke into a cloud of sunny rings about her sweet face; such a gentle gaiety went with her wherever*she did; such a tender grace of manner, too, in the in- tervals of her buoyant spirits; her voice was much a warbling voice, her ways such winsome ways. Lucian Malvin felt that ho must forswear her presence unless he wanted to make life a burden to himself, and he ceased going to Mrs. Barnetta's where she was staying, almost as suddenly as the day forsakes the hor izon in that dreary season when twilights are not. • But if he could shut himself out from the Barnettas, he could not shut Miss Rosa out from general society ; and go where he would, he met her almost nightly, laughing gayly, singing sweet ly, dancing lightly, till he declared to himself that, if this was going to last, he must indeed cease going out at all. But that was a little too much; he did not know how positively to deny him self the mere sight of her. Yet things were growing very precarious when he could not take a book but he saw that blushing, gold-enringed face slide in be tween the pages; when he could not make out a writ without being in danger of slipping her name into the blanks; when he heard the delicious voice mur- muriug in his ears when he waked, and walked all night with the little spirit when he slept. He made a compromise with himself--it was all be could--and declared that at any rate he would not dance with her again. It was an idle effort. He might almost as well have danced with her as have stood looking at her, quite unconscious of his general air, and all the lover in his glance. Mrs.* Barnetta beckoned him to her side; he stood there just as Rosa came up from her promenade and left the arm of one cavalier to be carried off by another. "You are not dancing, Mr. Malvin?" she said. "Oh, would you hold my fan and handkerchief ?•' He followed them with his eye again as the music crashed into a dashing galop. What right had that other man with his clasp about thiB darling ? Why did he suffer it ? What decency was there in the society that commanded such sac rifice ? In his embrace--whirling wildly to this wild music ! " You do hate him, don't you ?" said Mrs. Barnetta in his ear. "If looks could slay--" he started. Was he car rying hi? heart upon his sleeve for daws to peck at? "Oh, I don't pity you a bit," laughed Mrs. Barnetta, low- toned. And, putting out her hand, she took Rosa's fan and opened it as she talked. "Anybody," sasd she, "with such a power of making misery, ought to enjoy it" "I--I beg your pardon, Mm Bar netta, but if you read me riddles, I must ask you also to be their Sphinx." " Oh no ; it was the function of the Sphinx to propound the riddles, not to solve them." And Mrs. Barnetta laughed her low, pleasant laugh. "You do not come to us any more," she said. "And, as I used to be in your confidence be fore you deserted me, l ean imagine the reason. I do not like to say that it is very shabby treatment of an oid friend. Of course 1 can *ot say tlkat it is rude. But if you do not dance with Miss Mer cier this evening I shall be fearfully offended. I am not going to \mve my little treasure made unhappy for the sake of the safety of the prince of all good fellows himself." Lucian changed color so suddenly that Mrs. Barnetta put out her hand in affright, half expecting to see him fall; but in a moment be was himself again. " Do you. Is Miss Mercier " he began, and paused half way. " As if I should say another word, and had not already said altogether too much!" said Mrs. Barnetta. tsThere, she has left dancing and gone for an ice. What do you think of round danees, on the whole ?" And they were to all ap pearances, deep in discussioa of the sub ject when Rosa returned and swept her late partner a courtesy, and took shelter on the other side of Mrs. Barnetta. Perhaps she had seen the way Lucian's eyes had followed her, and it bad given her a certain illumination that made her shrink. Just then the band began eae of ther Hungarian waltzes, a sweet as>d raptur ous measure that set the blood itself t® dancing in one's veins. Why not ? One last dance, one last moment of ecstasy, ere he went out forever into loneliness. Directly he crumpled the bit of lace imto Ms pocket, and was bending before the little Rosa, who seemed suddenly to have lost all her light gaiety, and who put out her hand to him with a conscious burn ing blush upon her faoe that his heart reflected in a melting glow. And theji there was no thought of pride, oar of ne- gahon, or forgetting; the music was swinging them at its will; they circled in each other's arms to its delicious and delirious movement -- eternity would hardly have any bliss for lovers beyond the bliss of this moment, Yet, only a moment was it, a few moments, a brief sweet space of half-conscious time; and then a faint recognition crept through its spell and warned Lucian of the poison in this honey. He was in the act of surrender; he was about to seal his fate and that of his dear girl; to take her away from her father's wealth and her luxurious ease and condemn her to the carking cares of poverty. All his nature rebelled; he chose not to be swayed by this melody of horns and strings; he would have no passion, neither music nor love, so master his soul as to become the element in which it swam, an exclusion of thought and fear, of sight and sound, and all other emotion; and, with his imperious de termination, he chose to break the en chantment; the real world crept back upon his senses; he heard the tune, be yond this cloud that wrapped them, breaking again into its distinctive meas ure, and, exerting his will, he controlled their steps, and paused at last beside Mrs. Barnetta, and with a low bow, and without a word, gave Rosa back into that lady's care, and passed into the crowd and out of the place, and home to his lonely rooms. 1 It was daybreak before he sought re pose, walking the floors till then, hardly knowing what he did or what he thought, but iuieiiL upon, conquering lumaelf. He would give the world for Rosa Mer- cier's leve, but he would not give his pride. To him that pride meant self- respect; to marry her, the child of opu lence, meant either to sell himself for a price or to reduce her to trouble and weariness in which her love might soon wear out. He did not doubt that love now; without a syllable's speech he felt sure of it. While it thrilled him wildly and deeply, it cast a sudden shadow of regret; he only hoped, and cursed his fate that forced him to hope such a thing that presently the love would pass, and some one who would make her happier would claim her. At length, with male dictions in the act, he emptied his pockets of the gloves, handkerchiefs, and trifles there, and went to bed, with the sun coming througg the curtain, and, worn out in body and mind, slept, to the blessed and thorough oblivion of all the world. " Like that," said Lucian. "Oh, that is too good!" cried Mrs. Barnetta, with a peal of laughter. "It is too good, it is too absurd ! What creatures men are ! Did you imagine that this bit of finery was worth all that --this little strip of grass-cloth and Ger man lace 1 No wonder the young men do ®t marry then! My dear Mr. Malvir, this miserable handkerchief cost exact ly $2.50, and was nearly worn out at that. Did you imagine, too, that my poor little Rosa could wear 8500 hand kerchiefs, without a cent to her name ?" " Without a cent to her name?" cried Lucian, springing to his feet. " Exactly. Aha ! Is that the trouble? Now why didn't you come and talk it all over with me in the way you used to do, and save yourself this vexation, and save my little Rosa too ? What an absurd boy you are ! Another would have waited to hear that she was an heiress; you wait tohear that she is penniless. Well, she is, if that satisfies you, except for what I shall leave my little god-daughter when I die--which will not be at present, D. V. And there she is in the next room now. But, bless me " Lucian had not waited for the rest of the invocation. He was already in the next room, and Rosa was already in his arms*--Harper's Bazar. to be instructed in the scientific prin ciples which underlie wholesome cook ery. The horrible pies, fried meats, hot bread, and other dyspepsia-generat ing compounds, together with the inex plicable concoctions produced by the verdant Milesian handmaid, let us hope, are doomed to disappear; and instead, our kitchens are to be tenanted in future by culinary artists able to prepare, pal atably and healthfully, the vast variety of food this country affords.--Scientific American. CENTRAL AFMC%'.«^4 •* When lie awoke it was late in the day. All his trouble rushed over him, but in a moment all his will to repel it rose too. He dressed himself leisurely; he meant to call that night on Miss * Mercier, re store her handkerchief that he had for gotten to give back after the dance, and in some indirect way let her know that he intended never to marry, and so seal hie doom beyond hope. He went into the next room when he had completed his toilet, and after attending to one or two other affairs, looked for the hand kerchief that he remembered to have taken from his pocket and to have tossed upon the table there. It was not on the table; it was nowhere in the room. In a panic he rung the bell, and when it was answered, instituted an inquiry concern ing the thing. Yes, indeed, Susan had seen it, and thought it was so yellow and soiled she would take it down and wash it. "Lots, sir, it was the dirtiest little rag," she said. " Just straw-color. And I thought I would give it a run through the tub and blueing and make it fit &o bo seen." . " Good heavens!" be cried, wfth * horrified flash of remembrance of having somewhere heard that the yellower lace was the more precious it was, and that it never was washed on any account except by people who did notmng else. "Let me have it at once." And in five min utes afterward Susan stood before him holding up a little limp rag, and with a pang as from the blow of something un known and dreadful, the conversation that he had heard a year or two ago, swept back upon his recollection. Five hundred dollars t And gone to grief in a moment I And he could no more replace it than he could fly, with out what was the same to him as abso lute ruin. Of course, he must replace it; he could not be indebted* through the stupidity of his servant, or through any other means, to Miss Mercier in that sum. Without any doubt she val ued such a bit of lace ; and if anything were needed to demonstrate to him the wisdom of the course he had decided on, and the uttter absurdity of having dared, for a single moment, to look with love cm one of these darlings of fortune, it was the fact that her handkerchiefs aloae were items of $500. What a shame! what wickedness! wb&t a pre posterous folly! How could a young man many? He burned' with indigna tion then. Bfct to replaoe it; one-third of the sum he was saving to redeem his little property frcm mortgage--all the money he really had in the weald beyond that for MB daily expenses! It was the ruin of his hopes, his ambitions, liis pride, thaifc scorned »o to be anybody's- debtor; it threw him back in the race bow long! But it muet be done. Be had a trills over $500 in the National Solvency bank. He drew his cheok for the nec essary sum, and lolded it away in bis- pccket-bo^fc, and then went nbout bis- business til) nightfall, when he came back to his dreary room* and made him* self ready to call at Mrs. Barnetta's. The night had never seemedtso beaa<- tifiil, the stars so large and kean and far above the earth, so remote a»d cold-- they typified all the dear and happy things of life forever removed from him. heart was chilled a^d his face was white when he stood at li»t in Mrs. iarnetta's drawing-rooaQ, and; she float ed forward to meet him. Hie had not asked for Miss Mercier. " It is a delicate errand, Difiss Barmefc- >ta," said he, with a. dreary attempt at smiling. "But the truth is *that my maid, in her officious kindness, has -ione such damage to a bit ®f Mia® Merger's property that I must ueplac® it. And I have come to beg you, out of your friendship for me, to transact the atfair^ if such an article can be replaced here. I believe these little trifles are rather costly, and, if you will procure ene"-- and he laid the cheek he had drawn that morning and the lifctle limp ra$ in Mrs. Barnetta's hand--"as like the original as possible, I"---- " My dear Mr. Malvin, what in the world are you talking of?" cried Mrs. Barnetta. "Have you money to throw about in this way ? Five huudred dollars --what is it for ?" " To replaee Miss Mercier's handker chief, if you will be so good as to make the purchase." " Like this ?" said Mrs. Barnetta, hotd- • ing up the limp rag by one corner. A Gentlemanly Robbery. A correspondent writes from Cadiz, Spain : On Monday the diligence from Seville to Huelva was robbed at 10 p. m., hardly three miles from San Lucar la Mayor. Every one in Huelva is giv ing the most contradictory versions of the affair, but the story is as follows: The robbers were ensconced in some dry trenches near the road, and some among the growing crops near Molinillo, when a passenger saw that, although the night was calm, the wheat-ears were moving In a moment up sprang twenty men, five of whom were mounted, and /cried 4 Alto /' (halt) to the coachman. The horses were stopped, the postilions thrown to the ground, one being hurt. Then the robbers drew the diligence a a good way off the main road, made the passengers lie down on their faces, bound them with cords, and then pacified them in their terror by saying, " No one here shall be harmed ; it is not our purpose to harm any one." To one gentleman traveling with his wife they said, " Your wife is as safe here as in her own house ;" and they behaved like gentleman to all. They then asked Don Antonio Sund- heim for the keys of the cash-box, which contained $42,000 for the wages of the Rio Tinto miners. On his refusal they began to maltreat him, but one of the leaders interfering said, "Never mal treat Don Antonio." They then asked the conductor, " How many cash boxes ?" "Niae." "Coine down." One man had 20,000 reals in gold in a belt around his waist. They took his revolver and spared his gold, their object evidently being to rob the coach of the Rio Tinto mine property. The robbery was com mitted by men who knew the time and way of sending the monthly payments. Some of the robbers had their faces blackened ; some seemed to be gentle- meu and not in their usual clothes. They did not commit the robbery like men used to such deeds, as they actually left behind them one of the cash-boxes. They plundered the private passengers. The whole amount stolen would be, per haps $39,000. They took the cash-boxes away strapped on the coach mules." 4 /"•"J1 &H-. The Countries in the Fight. There is a good deal of difference in the provinces and principalities which are battling more or less with Turkey at this time. Servia is the largest and more powerful State, with the most spirited and progressive people, and has reached the highest stage of material and moral development. Montenegro is the ether independent power in alli ance with Servia, a small State with a mountainous country and no rich meadow lands from which to accumu late wealth ; her isolation has given her people a singular mixture of austere virtues, barbaric ignorance and warlike ferocity. Between these two lies Bos nia, a province of Turkey, a part of which is Herzegovina. Bosnia contains about 600,000 male population (the women are not counted in the Turkish censue), very evenly divided between Turks and ChriMianSf the former repre senting converts from the old nobility, the latter thie descendants of the ancient serfs. Next to Servia, on the Danube, lies Bulgaria, another province of some what different race and character, al though Christians. All of these people belonged to the old Servian empire, which was overthrown in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but in Bulgaria the nobility were exterminated, leaving the serfs, who have never attained the political spirit of the provinces nearer Christendom, although they have cluag to their religion. Tbey have seceded from the Greek Church, and constitute a Christian communion of their owa. They are thoroughly under the Turkish thumb*, and are not counted good fight ing stock.--Springfield (Afass.) Mepn&~ lican„ How Silver Hu Declined. Just previous to the discovery of goH in California and Australia, the lowest price for silver in London was 59|d, which was- the average for 1848. The highest yearly average price since was in I859> when it was a fraction over 6211. Prom 1800 to 1872 the market was quite steady, though the general tendency all the while was to a< lower range. The average for 1871: was 62£d. In June and July, 1875, the price fell to 55$d, and abo«t two weeks ago it dropped ~to 47Td> which is the lowest figure in at least fifty year a. From this point it rose to 49jd lteb Friday. Comparing the lowest price of 1859, the depression is a fraction om 24 per centum; while a sisailar comparison with the rate a year ago shows a decline of only 14$ per eeatam.--San Francisco Bulletin. A College of Cookery. At last a practical step has been taken toward emancipating the people from the evils of bad cookery. We know of no department in domestio economy which is so sadly in need of reform, es peeially in the United States. Mr. Wil liam Emerson Baker, of the sewing ma chine firm of Grover & Baker, has given to the Governor of Massachusetts and to lour other trustees a farm of fifty acres and $50,000, to form a college of cook ery. Cookery is to be taught as an art-- which it certainly is--and the pupils are . . . . Mr. Stanley's I>etteri. " [From the New York Herald.] Wife submit to our readers thia morn ing the first instalment, in full, of the scries of letters from Mr. Stanley, in Central Africa, of which, in a» special dispatch from London, we published a brief summary some ten days ago. In this narrative of Mr. Stanley's ex- Elorations, though modestly presented, is skill, courage, prudence, sagacity and fertility in resources in every emer gency of doubt and danger cannot fail to attract the reader's attention. It will next be perceived that on the verge of his most important field of research he would have been checked and driven baok but for the invaluable assistance of his faithful friend and generous ally, the intelligent native King, Mtcsa, of the rich and populous country of Uganda. To the. timely and liberal support, in men and means, from thia en lightened African barbarian we are indebted _ for the discoveries of Mr. Stanley in that most interesting land under the Equator lying between the great lakes Victoria ana Albert Niyanza. We sympathize with the devoted explor er in his disappointments in consequence of the ferocious savage tribes whicn barred his passage through their do mains and thus prevented the full recon- noissance of that Wonderful region and of the Lake Albert which he had contem plated. Nevertheless, as Pacha Gordon and Prof. Gessi, between them, have ex plored lake Albert from end to end, we hope to be able to pr 3sent a complete map (a few points only excepted) of both those great lakes, and of the water sheds between them and around them, and of the enormous drainage which, from that vast and rainy equatorial basin, gives through those great lakes his ample and unfailing volume to the grand old Nile. From Mr. Stanley's researches on that great divide, as we "may call it, lying be tween the lakes Albert and Victoria, it is itself a country of many beautiful lakes and lofty mountains, fertile valleys and plains, in habited by warlike tribes of savages, through whose dominions there is no passage to the intruding stranger except at the head of a power ful army. In the drainage of this divide tributary to the Victoria lake and in the Kagera river, which is a chain of lakes, Mr. Stanley thinks he has discovered the true parent of the Victoria Nile, from the comparatively heavy volume of the stream. We adhere, however, to his first opinion, that in the Shimeeyu, which, rising below the fourth degree of south latitude after a course of 400 miles northward, is discharged into the Vic toria lake, we have the real head stream of the Nile. The most interesting to the ethnologist of all the discoveries of Mr. Stanley is the pale-faced race of evidently aborig inal Africans, inhabitating the temperate climate of the elevated slopes of the great mountain Gambaragara. Our trustworthy explorer says that he has seen some half a dozen of these people; that they are a handsome race, and some of the women are singularly beautiful; that their hair is kinky, but inclined to brown in color; that they have regular features and thin lips; but that " their noses, though well shaped, are thick at the point." After the tribe of dwarfs of the west coast of Equatorial Africa, unearthed by Du Chaillu, and the strange races discovered by Schwein- furth in the country tributary to the Bahrel Ghazali, one of the great feeders of the Nile, we can en tertain no doubt Of the exist ence of this rac® of pale-faced Africans, gradually bleached by the moist, and temperate climate of Mount Gambara gara, through many generations, to their present light complexions. In a woru, there are as many different types ©f the Africa® family in Africa as there are of the so called Caucasian race in Europe. Usong-wo, a country bordering on Lake Albert.. Mr. Stanley describes from re port " as a very land of wonders," with its salt lakes, its hills of rock sa!^ its plains encrusted vrith salt and alkali, its large dogs of extraordinary ferocity, "and a race of such long-legged natives that ordinary mortals regard them with surprise and awe." And why should we doubt the existence of even these long- legged Africans, when, near the south cape of the continent, there is a short- legged race of natives, the most repul sive caricatures of humanity gifted with the faculty of speech ? Turning to the geographical results of these explorations of Mr. Stanley within the equatorial basis of the Nile, he has definitely determined the area, the length and breadth, the configuration, the coast line, the affluents and outlets of the great Victoria lake and the char acter of the countries and of the nu merous savage tribes on its borders. He lias also penetrated farther into the elevated plateau between the two great lakes, Victoria and Albert, and has learned more of its geographical fea tures, its natural auiiosities, and its war like tribes than any preceding explorer. In all these trying and periloaa labors, and particularly in the friendly relations established with the King, or Emperor, Mtesa, Mr. Stanley has opened the way for the Christian missionary, colonist, and trader. ̂ '.< LEEDLX YAWCOB (STRAtHM*I f - - * • I|i*f von funny leedle pojr JU L,- Vot gomes schust to my knee; Btr qncerest sehap, der Greatest rogue , B* runs, und schutnps, and echBMl^U'AHiai^ ^ ^ ^In all bartaoff der house-- 8bt vot off dot ? he vas mine eo£ .. Bfine leedle Yavcob Stranss Be got der measles und der irniniL' TJnd eferyding dot's out; He BbiUs mine glass off lager bfeiy . Pootg schnuff into mine kraut B« fills mine pipe mit limburg Dot vas der roughest chouse; I'd take dot vrom no oder pov ' iBut leedle Yawcob Stranaa Kfc dakes der milk pan for a - , Und cuts mine cane In dwo ' T© make der sbticks to beat It Mine cracious dot vas drue! f I dinka mine head vas schplit abwrt. c He kicks up soock a touae , . ;1 .. , But nefer mind, der poys vas feW- Like dot young Yawcob Strauaifefei ; Be asks me questions sooch as dale : Who baints mine nose so red 1 Who vas it cuts dot schmoodt blace ondt Vrom der hair ubpon mine h»dT Und vhere der plaze goes from der lamp Vene'er der glim 1 douse-- Bow gaii I all dese dings eggsblaln To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss? ^ I iomedimes dink I schall go vild ' Mith sooch agrazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf MAt . Und beaeeful dimes enshoy: •' But ven he vas ashleep in pea, So onset an ft mouse, I prays der Lora, "dake anj>dings, But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss." --Hartford Times. Pith and Point. SPBINKLE ashes on the icy sidewalkis. A DIFFICULT look to pick--One from a bald head. A POiaxK way of putting it--^Troubled with a chronic indisposition to exertion. THEY pretend to have a young lady in St. Louis so kind-hearted and lazy she will never beat an egg. AN Indiana man has just been neatly scalped by a stroke of lightning, and he speaks of it as a very wigged perform ance. KTDNKR is the looking-glass THAN the ine-glass, for the former reveals our defects to ourselves only, the latter to our friends. IT is suggested that the display of coffins at the Centennial must be in. tended for the deadheads. special benefit of the BRUSH, the Cbshier of the International railway, recently fled from St. John, N. 33., with some $30,000 of the company's funds, and, on reaching Boston, sent $300 to his wife to enable her to join him in the States. Instead of obeying his instructions she at once handed over the money to the accountant of the railway. She will earn a living for herself and family as a telegraph operator, and will not share the dishonest gains of her husband. AN impecunious individual was heard to mutter, as he finished reading a rail road liahd-bill headed, "Through with out change," "That's the read I shall take ; no fault to find with them terms,' A WAG, noted for his brevity, writes to a friend to be careful in the selection of his diet. He says, " Don't eat Q'cum- bers; they'll W-up." FROM a boy's composition on hens, in the Boston Courier: "I cut my uncle William's hen's neck off with a hatchet and it scared her to death." THE Turks are trying to compel the citizens of Bucharest to take an oath on the Koran. See here! Isn't it about time to give that Bucharest.--Graphic. SYMPATHY is sweet--sweeter than moonshine or molasses--but you can't safely fool around a sea sick man with too much of it, so long as he has strength enough left to kick. * " SMAIIL thanks to you," said a petu lant plaintiff to one of his witnesses, " for what you said in this ease." " Ah, sir," replied the witness, "but just think of what I didn't say!" " MY DEAR," said a gentleman to his wife, " our new club is going to have all th&homecomforts." " Indeed!"sneered the wife; "and when, pray, is our home to have all the club comforts ?" THIS is the season of the year to get off the old joke about the city girl who goes up to the cow-yard fence, and, draw ing her muslin dress up and about, says coyly, " Oh, cousin John ! which is the cow that gives the buttermilk ?" A SHOEMAKER'S son has secured the naval cadetship in Fernando Wood's district, and it is hoped it is not the last of him, but that he will toe the mark, welt the enemy if he ever gets a chance, and get his share of the booty.--jV. Y. Com. Adv. A CHINAMAN'S teeth began to chatter over the ice cream. He buttoned up his jacket and swallowed another mouthful. That settled it. He jumped from the table and started to where the sun could shine on him, exclaiming: "Whoopee! Plenty cold grub! No cookeenuff! Fleese belly all same like ice wagon!" ON a recent Sunday at Lowell, Mass., a collection was taken up at one of the churches. As the box reached a pew oc cupied by a lady, her daughter, and little son, the two former found themselves without a cent of money. Master Hope ful reached over and deposited a cent in the box, and then whispered to his sis ter, " There, I just saved this family from being whitewashed." ' •»i» WORKINGMAS WORSHIP. We may differ in some things--may differ in all, We are some for the Factory--some for the HaU; We may look up to Cotton, o* on it look down-- A President wish for, or rev'rence the Crown:» But (so long as to office assist UB he can) We ail love and respect, sip, the true Workingman-- Yes ! all other titles we place tinder ban, For the highest of lordships--my Lord WorklngmfcH --Punch. " I GIVE and bequeath unto Mary, my wife, the sum o' £100 a year," said an old farmer. "Is that written down, mas ter'/" " Yes," replied the lawyer; "but she is not so old ; she may marry ag^in. Won't you make a change in that case? Most people do." " Ay, do they ?" said the farmer ; "well, write again ; I give and bequeath unto her the sum of £200 a year. That'll do, won't it, master ?" " Why, it's just double the sum she would have if she remained unmarried," said the lawyer; " it's generally the other way--the legacy is lessened if the widow marries again." "Ay," said the farmer, " but him as gets her'll deserve it." The Proposed Territory of Pembina. In the speech of Hon. Jefferson P. Kidder, of Dakota, advocating the or ganization of the Territory of Pembina, we are told that the proposed new terri tory will contain 72,930 square miles. It will extend from the seventh standard parallel, which is about eleven miles south of the forty-sixth degree, to the British possessions from the Bed Biver of the North to the Yellowstone. It has within its borders 600 miles of naviga ble waters on the Red river, more than 600 on the Missouri, and over 300 on the Yellowstone, and in all over 2,000 mil**? of navigable waters. Lines of steamers and 200 miles of railroad are already op erated in the proposed Territory, and numerous extensions are projected. The population of Pembina is not less fWu 12,000, largely mad© up of farmers, and the country has superior agricultural advantages.